Although, of American parentage and possessing American citizenship, I had not the patience to wait for the entry into the war of the United States. With an English friend I enlisted in the British University and Public Schools battalion, when it was formed in September, 1914. And, although at the time I had no more notion of it than of becoming President of the League of Nations, that was my first step towards the transatlantic flight.
Those were wonderful days for all concerned in the early training of our battalion at Epsom. In knowledge of drill our officers started level with us. Several times I saw a private step from the ranks, produce from his pocket the Infantry Training Manual, and show a lieutenant where he had gone wrong. Doubtful discipline, perhaps—but excellent practice, for most of the original privates of the U.P.S. soon became officers of the New Army.
I was gazetted a second lieutenant of the Manchester Regiment in January, 1915, and with it saw service in the trenches before Ypres and on the Somme. Then came the second step towards the transatlantic flight. I had always longed to be in the air, and I obtained a transfer to the Royal Flying Corps as an observer.
I had the good fortune to be posted to No. 2 Squadron, under Major (now General) Becke. While in this unit I first experienced the mixed sensations of being shot down. One day my pilot and I were carrying out artillery observation over Vendin la Vielle when, at a height of 8,000 feet, two anti-aircraft shells set our machine on fire. Somehow, the pilot managed to bring down his craft in the British lines; but in landing it tripped over some telephone wires and turned a somersault, still blazing at various points. We were thrown out, but escaped with a few burns and bruises.
After a short rest in England I returned to the squadron. I soon left it for good, however. One dull, snowy day a bullet perforated the petrol tank of the machine in which, with Lieut. Medlicott, I was reconnoitering behind the enemy lines. As a result we were unable to reach the British zone. We landed in occupied territory; and I knew the deadly heart-sickness which comes to all prisoners of war during the first few days of their captivity.
I was repatriated after being a prisoner of war in Germany for fourteen months, followed by nine months in Switzerland. Medlicott, meanwhile, made thirteen determined but unsuccessful bids for escape before being murdered by the Germans in 1918, while indulging in a fourteenth attempt.
My two years of captivity constituted, strange to say, the third step towards the transatlantic flight; for it was as a prisoner of war that I first found time to begin a careful study of the possibilities of aërial navigation. This I continued after returning to London, where, at the Ministry of Munitions, I was employed in the production of the larger aëro-engines.
When, soon after the armistice, the ban on attempts to fly the Atlantic was lifted, I hoped that my studies of aërial navigation might be useful to one of the firms who were preparing for such a flight. Each one I approached, however, refused my proposals, and for the moment I gave up the idea.
It was entirely by chance that I became involved in the transatlantic competition. One day I visited the works at Weybridge of Messrs. Vickers. While I was talking with the superintendent, Captain Alcock walked into the office. We were introduced, and in the course of conversation the competition was mentioned. I then learned, for the first time, that Messrs. Vickers were considering an entry, although not courting publicity until they should have attempted it.