PART IION ACTIVE SERVICE
(Part II contains a series of incidents and adventures taken from the note-book of a British air pilot, stationed somewhere in the north of France, and are given in their original diary form.)
Somewhere in France,Friday.
Tucked away in a corner of an unused Flanders roadway, a long straggled line of irregular shaped huts and sheds surrounding a wide open meadow land, several acres in extent, is the aerodrome I have in mind.
On either side are the long gaunt avenues of trees and in rear of them, bare and low-lying arable lands.
No one can claim for it that it is a beauty spot. But it is comfortable, and above all one is able to obtain a bath there.
On the right are the officers’ quarters: three long, low, wooden huts. Within, a passage runs along the center of the hut; and on either side of it are the various cabins, each about six feet square, and providing just sufficient space for a camp-bed, washstand and chair.
A stove is at either end for warming purposes; and one bath is allotted to each hut.
The mess-room is contained in a similar building across the way. The furniture is not such that one would meet with, say at the Ritz or the Savoy; but it serves its purpose. Three plain deal tables, each covered with a spotless cloth. A dozen or so stiff-back wooden chairs, and one solitary easy-chair. The competition for the latter is enormous.
The general atmosphere of the place is cheery to a degree. Every member of the mess is full of good humor, quips and jests. Sub chaffs captain and captain chaffs sub, the while they attack plain wholesome fare with an unstinted vigor.
After dinner in the evening, an impromptu concert is started. One, an obliging musician, renders an excellent violin solo. He is followed by a gentleman of poor voice. The station orchestra, in which the penny tin whistle is the most prominent instrument, plays delightfully and harmoniously with the possible exception of one member in the extreme rear, who, having previously had some bread-crumbs gently deposited down his neck by an admiring colleague, finds some difficulty in reaching the correct notes. It is, of course, the star-turn of the evening.
There are good card-games to be had, when off duty. Also a gramophone and two pianos. Thegramophone usually will not work. Ludo is the rage to-day. Badminton, writing letters home, and visiting the neighboring town about complete the leisure time. There is, however, really not very much to do in the town, except to sit in the cafés, drink bad coffee, and try to talk French to the girls.
Any number and variety of pets and mascots are there. Cats and kittens, dogs of all breeds. A few hunters, with which some excellent rides across the sand-dunes can be obtained. A goat that wanders around the aerodrome risking life a dozen times daily from aeroplanes getting off and landing. And a parrot with a perfectly wonderful vocabulary of oaths.
Thus far we have been shown only the lighter side of the life. Now we come to the more serious work of flying across the lines. The strain on the nerves is so great that a pilot is only detailed for duty every other day. The work is distributed among the various squadrons and flights. One is responsible for reconnaissance work; a morning and an afternoon patrol along the coast for submarines, or a trip inland to have a look at a new gun emplacement, or to report on a new movement of the enemy’s troops. Another, the fighting squadron, is responsible for the bombing raids, for the battle flights, for convoying the reconnaissance machines, and for meeting enemy air attacks.
To the headquarters flight is allotted the photography, and any special and confidential job that may crop up.
Naturally there is the pick of all the machines, equipped with all the latest improvements and inventions.
One peculiarity concerning atmospheric conditions on the other side is, that either the weather is too misty for flying, or on the other hand, it is so remarkably clear, that it is possible to view the land from twice the altitude that it would be under similar circumstances in England. For the first two hours after sunrise there is invariably a heavy ground mist, and very little takes place save when an expedition is setting out for some distant spot, necessitating an early start. The late morning and the late afternoon are the most favorable times for flying purposes.
Almost the whole of the Flanders country is intersected by waterways and canals. This is of extreme value to the air pilot, and aids him greatly in the matter of navigation. Railway systems there are in plenty, mostly following an east or west direction.
The junctions of these railway lines are the nerve centers of the German Army in the field; they control entirely the supplies of reinforcements, ammunition, and supplies to the firing line. It is for this reason that so many of our own airraids have been made on Bruges, Courtrai, Roubaix, Lille, Tournai, and Douai. Each of these towns mentioned contains an important railway junction.
The large majority of the Belgian towns in the enemy country, immediately behind the firing line, have been totally deserted by their inhabitants and the soldiers alike; it is not considered either safe or desirable to remain within the area of a conspicuous landmark, of which the enemy artillery can obtain an exact bearing with the utmost ease. Added to this, frequent allied air-raids, and the accurate firing of the Allied artillery have reduced them to untenable masses of fallen masonry.
A point regarding aerial photography is worthy of note; if the surface of the earth has been disturbed in any way within two days previous to the photo being taken, that is, disturbed by the explosion of a shell, or a new path across a field made by the tramp of many feet, such disturbance will always show up prominently on the camera negative.