OVER THE HUN LINES.

Cromwell Argus, Volume L, Issue 2615, 17 March 1919, Page 7

OVER THE HUN LINES.

SOME THRILLING EXPLOITS ON A FIGHTING AEROPLANE DURING A BIG PUSH.

(By “ CONTACT.”)

The Germans dived in two lots of three. I waited, until the first three were within 300-yards’ range, and opened fire. One of them swerved away, but the other two passed right under us. Something sang to the right, and I found that that part of a landing-wire was dangling helplessly from its socket. We thanked whatever gods there be that it was not a flying-wire, and we turned to meet the next three Huns. We swerved violently, and they pulled out of their dive well away from us. With nose down and engine full out, we raced towards the lines and safety. 'Three of the attackers were unable to keep up with us, and we left them behind.

The other three Germans, classed by my pilot as Halberstadts, had a great deal more speed than ours. They did not attack at close-quarters immediately, but flew two or three hundred yards behind, ready to pounce at their own moment. Two of them got between rny gun and our tailplane, so that they were safe from my fire. The third was slightly above our height, and for his benefit I stood up and rattled through a whole ammunition-drum. Here let me say I do not.think I hit him, for he was not in difficulties. He dived below us to join his companions, possibly because he did not like being under fire when they were not. To my surprise and joy, he fell slick on one of the other Hun machines. This latter broke into two pieces, which fell like stones,. The machine responsible for ray luck side-slipped, spun a little, recovered, and went down to land. The third made of! east. THOSE FIRST TANKS.

In plain print and at a normal time, this episode shows little that is comic. But when it happened I was in a state of high tension, and this, combined with the startling realisation that a Hun pilot had saved me and destroyed his friend, seemed irresistibly comic. I cackled with laughter, and was annoyed because my pilot did net/ see the joke. We reached the lines without further trouble from anything but Archie. The pink streaks of daybreak bad now disappeared beneath the whole body of the sunrise, and the sky was of that intense blue which is the secret of France. What was left of the ground-mist shimmered as it congealed in the sunlight. The pall of smoke from the guns had doubled in volume. The Ancre sparkled brightly.

We cruised, around in search for others of our party, but found none. A defensive patrol was operating between Albert and the trenches. We joined it for half an hour, at the end of which I heard a ” Halloa !” from the speaking-tube.

‘ What’s up now ?” I asked. “ Going to have a look at the war,” was the pilot’s reply. Before I grasped his meaning he had /hut off the engine, and we were gliding towards the trenches. At 1200 ft. we switched on, flattened out, and looked for movement below. There was no infantry advance at the 'moment, but below Courcelette what seemed to be two ungainly masses of black slime were slithering over the ground. I rubbed my eyes, and looked again. One of them actually crawled among the scrap-heaps that fringed the ruins of the village. Only then did the thought that they might be Tanks suggest itself. Afterwards I discovered that this was so. HOW HEROES DIB.

The machine rocked violently as a projectile hurtled by underneath us. The pilot remembered the broken land-ing-wire, and steered for home. After landing, we compared notes with others who had returned from the expedition. C., we learned, was down at last, after seventeen months of flying active service, with only one break for any appreciable time. He destroyed one more enemy before the Boches got him.

C. was one of the greatest pilots produced by the war. He was utterly fearless, and had more time over the German lines to his credit than any one else in the Flying Corps. It was part of his fatalistic creed that Archie should never be dodged, and he would go calmly ahead when the A.A. guns were at their best.

Two observers, other than C's. senger, had been killed during the patrol. One of them was ” Uncle,” a captain in the Northumberland Fusiliers. A bullet entered the large artery of his thigh. He bled profusely and lost consciousness in the middle of a fight with two Huns. When ho came to, a few minutes later, he grabbed his gun and opened fire on an enemy. After about forty shots the chatter of the gun ceased, and through the speaking-tube a faint voice told the pilot to look round. The pilot did so, and saw a Maltesecrossed biplane falling in flames. But Uncle had faded into unconsciousness again, and he never came back. It is more than possible that if he had put a tourniquet round his thigh, instead of continuing the fight, he might have lived.

A great death, you say ? One of many such. Only the day before I had helped to lift the limp body of Paddy from the floor of an observer’s cockpit. He had been shot over the heart. He fainted, x-ecovered bis senses for ton minutes, and kept two Huns at bay until he died, by which time the trenches were reached.

Imagine yourself under fire in an aeroplane at 10.0C0 feet. Imagine yourself feeling giddy and deadly sick from loss of blood. Imagine what is left of your consciousness to, be stabbed insistently by a throbbing pain. Now imagine how you would force yourself in this condition to grasp a machine-gun in your numbed hand, pull back the cocking-handle, take careful aim at a fast machine, allowing for deflection, and fire until you sink into death. Some day I hope to be allowed to visit Valhalla for half an hour, that I may congratulate Paddv and Uncle.

GET A iiOVli ON. We refreshed ourselves with cold laths and hot breakfast. In the mess the fights were reconstructed. Sudden silences were frequent—an unspoken tribute to C. and the other casualties. But at lunch-time we were cheered by the news that the first and second objectives had been- reached, that Martinpuich, Courcelette, and Flers had fallen, and that the Tanks had behaved well. After lunch I rested awhile before the long reconnaissance, due to start at three. Six machines were detailed for the job ; though a faulty engine kept one of them on the ground. The observers marked the course on their maps, and wrote out lists of railway stations. At 3.30 we set off towards Arras. Archie hit out as soon as we crossed to his side of the front. He was especially dangerous that afternoon, as if determined to avenge the German defeat of the morning. Each ’bus in turn was encircled by black bursts, and each ’bus in turn lost height, swerved, or changed its course to defeat the gunner’s aim. A piece of H.E. hit our tail-plane, and stayed there until I cut it out for a souvenir when we had returned. The observers were kept busy with notebook and pencil, for the train movement was far greater than the average, and streaks of smoke courted attention on all the railways. Rolling stock was correspondingly small, and the counting of the trucks in the sidings was not difficult. Road and canal transport was plentiful. As evidence of the urgency of all this traffic, I remarked that no effort at concealment was made. On ordinary day®, a German train always shut off steam when we approached ; and I have often seen transport passing along the road one minute and not passing along the road the next. On September 15th the traffic was too urgent for time to be lost by hide-and-seek. THE EXHILARATION OF FLYING. We passed several of our offensive patrols, each of whom escorted us while we w’ere on their beat. It was curious that no activity could be noticed on the enemy aerodromes. Until we passed Mosay-Face on the last lap of the homeward journey we saw no Hun aircraft. Even there the machines- with black crosses flew very low and did not attempt to offer battle.

Nothing out of thci ordinary happened until we were about to cross the trenches north of Peronne. Archie then scored an inner. One of his chunks swept the left aileron from the leader’s machine, which banked vertically, almost rolled over, and began to spin. For two thousand feet the irregular drop continued, and the observer gave up hope. Luckily for him, the pilot was not of the same mind, and managed to check the spin by juggling with his rudder-controls. The ’bus flew home, left wing well down, with the observer leaning far out to the right to restore equilibrium', while the icy rush of air boxed his ears.

We landed, wrote our reports, and took tbcm to headquarters. The day’s work had been done, which was all that mattered to any extent, and a very able general told us it was “ dom good.” But many a day passed before we grew accustomed to the absence of Uncle and Paddy.—” Answers.”