"GET BACK, YOU ASS!"

Bruce Herald, Volume LIII, Issue 67, 27 August 1917, Page 3

"GET BACK, YOU ASS!"

AIR PILOT'S BRAVERY. WOUNDED, BUT HELD POST, Describing the many gallant deeds of the Royal Naval Air Service, a writer in 'The Times' refers to the recent aerial photographic reconnaissance on the entire . Belgium coast, from Nieuport to the Dutch frontier, the camera recording German works in progress at Ostend and Zeebruggge, and the activities of submarines and destroyers inside the basins, and showing locks, quays, and gun emplacements. The photographer records for the guidance of the monitors the results of the bombs dropped the previous night. The 'Chronicle' says the work of these photographic recorders, pilot and observer alike, differs from all other forms of war flying, their sole duty being to take photographs, not haphazard, but faithfully, of given objectives. This requires that they shall steer a perfectly steady course, regardless of all distractions, such as the bursting of shells or attacks from antiaircraft batteries and hostile Albatross squadrons. While exposing six plates, one recorder observed five hostile aeroplanes. One took a position abovo the tail, one ahead, and the other three glided towards him on the port side, firing as they came. Two diving machines fired over 100 rounds, hitting the pilot. A bullet entered the shoulder, breaking the left collar-bone, and emerged just above the heart, leaving a jagged rent down the breast. Both his feet were pierced by bullets. The observer held lire until the hostile aeroplane was within five yards. The machines were hurtling through space at a speed of 100 miles an hour. The pilot of the hostile plane, having swooped within speaking distance, pushed up his goggles and laughed triumphantly, as he took sight for a shot. That was the end of the fight. The British observer fired a shot into t!io pilot's face and watched him spin earthward in a trail of smoke. Then he turned his attention to his own-pilot. The British machine was hai-ely under control, but as the observer rose in his seat to investigate, the foremost gun fired, and the machine ahead went out of control, and (lived nose first in helpless spirals. Suspecting that his mate was badly wounded, the observer climbed out on to the wing until he was beside the yilot, who, faint and drenched with blood, had nevertheless got the machine back into complete control. "Get back, you ass!" said the pilot, through white lips, in response to inquiries how he felt. The observer got back, and looked round for the remainder of the enemy. These, however, had fled. i The riddled machine returned home, | and the pilot, though wounded, made a perfect landing. i