THE WAR PILOT.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 12070, 27 July 1917, Page 4

THE WAR PILOT.

fßy A BRITISH AIRMAN.)

(London "Daily Mail.") (Flying in war time is a grim, business. There is precious Utile that is"breezy" about it, and, to tell thd truth, the wo.r pilot is not a " breezy " fellow.

If you are interested in the type, fiHtidy the faces of any pilots you sae. There are the alertness and nuickness natural to the man who takes up flying, and there is abo a certain hardness. Small wonder if, after threei hours or so over the lines, his jaw should feel like iron. All the way, from the start to the return, the pilot's condition is one of incessant movement. Both feet and one hand aro engaged in flying. Quick, neat movements, continually correcting, even on a calm day. That is flying. Ears listening to the engine aiid for the. crack, crack, crack" of a. Hun attacking. Eyes moving continually ovpt the instruments relating to speed and height ,a.nd engine revolutions, over the <\arth, the other machines of the '' formation," and round and round, high and low, and especially 'backwards, first) one side and then the other, lest a Hun be diving on the tail. And iii tho midst of all, .suddenly, "Archie" (anti-aircraft;) shells bursting _ around in groups of six. "Arch-io" is a t renter strain on the nerves tliaji ghting. "It takes fifteen seconds," says a pilot, " for the anti-aircraft gunner to get a sight on you. Consequently you Rave to dedge, and d.> something different, every fifteen seconds." And there is plenty of fighting, too. for the British pilot always attacks, wbero tho Hun, unless in greatly superior circumstances, almost always puts his nose down and runs for protection first. A "WILD GAME.

An aerial fight is a wild game. See a man divo 4000 ft on to his prey, perhaps at the rate of 180 miles an hour. Docs ha feel exhilarated. No, his heart is thumping too hard, from the sudden change of atmospheric pressure. See the rapid manoeuvring, with, no lime to think, where one, pitted against three, is yet the victor. Then think of the flight home that follows, with control cables holding by their last* strands and only half the engine's cylinders working. Such things are common. . . . That is the. time to get home sure enough; but British pilots have, turned and fought in such conditions, because their principle is attack. Perhaps .is the formation returns to its aerodrome there will be one or two pilots who are off duty, watching the landings. The power to land a machine well under all conditions is tho greatest test of the pilot, and. consequently flying folk are never tired of watching: landings. "All back?" "No." "Who's missing?" "Oh, poor old ." "'Really! How?" " Shot down as Boon as we got there" "Oh, dear, any chance for him?" "Don't think bo; we saw his machine fold up." " Any luck yourselves?" . . . "Archies very bad this morning at ." And so on—a tale* of loss and gain, which is yet steadily ensuring victory. No "push" can be successful without aerial success, and no aorial success can be attained without taking risks. The side that takes the greater risks is likely to have the longer casualty list. That is the pilots' share in victory.

But after six months or so nerve begins to go. It is really a question of nervous fatigue brought on by overstrain. Probably no man living could fly four hours a day all tho year round, even in peace time. But when the signs of that overstrain begin to show the pilot is sent home at once on lighter duty for a rest. Is the war pilot afraid or not? Who knows? One pilot replied, "Yes, I am frightened to death all tho time—but, somehow, not a bit afraid."

A Hun pilot gets the Iron Cross, first class, automatically, after less than fifty hours' flying in Franco! Perhaps that is due to our principle of attack. It is not so easy for a British pilot) to get even a Military Cross, much less a D.S.O. or a V.C.; the standard is so much higher.