TO THE FIGHTING LINE BY AIR.

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LX, Issue 16704, 24 July 1916, Page 2

TO THE FIGHTING LINE BY AIR.

THRILLING JOURNEY IN A BRITISH BATTLEPLANE.

By GORDON BRUCE, Special Correspondent of the New York '•Tribune."

Travelling from the heart of England to the battle lines in France in one of his Majesty's fighting biplanes; retrunin^ in a speedy scout monoplane— on these two voyages two^ great facts caem home to me. First, the realisation of what the aeroplane means m modern warfare; and, second, the remarkable efficiency which has been attained by the Royal Flying Corps, proclaiming the progress made by Britain in her struggle for the mastery of the skies. It was Well before noon when T reached the great English aerodrome. A long row of new biplanes stood before the hangars in the huge level field. "You may choose whichever m/ichme you l:ke," the commandant said. "That makes it easy," I replied. "I'll go with the first pilot who is ready." It was, it happened, Lieutenant Mead. I had made a good choice. Lieutenant Mead is tall, young, with keen grey eyes —the type the R.F.C. invariably selects, for this importantwork. He inspired conndence. And tihs is a grave matter, for the more one travels by air, as a passenger, the more particular he becomes abotu his pilot.

THE START.

Our aeroplane, a new product of the Royal'. Aircraft Factory, stood ready, grey, compact, powerful. Her struts and cables were massive. But two seats, arranged tandem order in the fusilage, were roomy and comfortable. Her motor, when started, gave fort a a pleasant throaty roar. We got into our caps and pneumatic jackets, made fast our goggles v and climbed aboard . "AH right?" called out the major vi comamnd. He gave an appraising glance at the planes, and let his eye rest on the Lewis machine-gun swung on a pivot beside the observer's seat. He smiled. ."It's a fine day," he said, "and you're liable to meet a Boche or two." Now- it's all right in theory—Mrs meeting Boches in mid-air. But I got. somehow, a different light on the m-t----ter. I was going to be a legitimate target, in enemy territory, for German machine g"i;t>. Cheerful -thought! A very good start the major gave me. A few sweeping circles to gain altitude, and we headed into the east, thus beginning the first long lap of our journey %vhich was to take us over England. Looking down at the brown, eii'tivated spaces and the soft green of the meadows, it was hard to associate the scene with war. Then, rudely, there would appear grim barracks, blocked in against the beauty of it all. Somehow they did not compose with those peaceful fields, nor did the long procession of motor-lorries and columns of marching troops crawling along the ribbons known as roads. After a .while the roads showed very white, as1 we reached the chalk and limestone country. Then we came into the cooler air of the coast. Below us, the sun and mist were dividing it evenly between.them. This did not make for smooth sailing. Where there was sunlight the plane would sink abruptly into the thinner air, then regain her lift as the icy breath of a clo«dbank struck our faces. And so we tore along through cloud and sunshine.

OVER THE CHANNEL

Abruptly, as we swept over the line of. white cliffs, we were swallowed up in dark clouds. On andu.on we flew. There was nothing in front of us, nothing behind us, nothing on either side. I turned to look at Mead. He nodded, and nosed the machine down, down through the blue vapour, until 1 looked ov,er and saw. as if it were at the bottom of a deep well of light, the grey water of the Channel. This grey surface was mottled here and there with patches of sunshine. Toy boats ploughed along leaving short white wakes. An occasional black smudge told of the presence of cruiser and destroyer. Then, the gloom en gulfed us once more. As suddenly as we entered the gloom, we emerged into the light of day. Below us the water ended in the pleasant sweep of the French coast, about eight miles distant} The rugged cliffs and the reaches of white sand &eemed to hold a walcome. . wi-i. Then came an unkind shock. Without warning, the revolutions of the engine dropped several hundred to the mintue—dropped far below flying speed; and slowly, but surely, we be gan to descend . Which was disconcerting, considering that we were flying m a land machine with nothing to keep bcr afloat. Instantly Mead steered for the nearest point on the coast. He was quite tool and self-possessed, even if the cliffs suddenly lost their beauty, and iutted. ugly and. forbidding. For my part, I wasn't sure that I would not prefer to take my chances m the Channel. It seemed a bit hopeless either way. . The pilot calculated rapidly, then headed her toward the largest open space on the shore. It probably was the worst landing spot in France. But he had no choice. In one last dive we tore over tlw coastline and down into a gullied pasture on a steep hillside. The plane missed a fence by less than a foot, and struck the crest of the hill at a speed which Mead afterward declared must have been one hundred miles an hour. As the wheels came into contact with the earth we bounced high in the air and plunged on down the hill. Three times this occurred, and each time we braced ourselves for the smash that seemed inevitable. But the wonderful construction of the machine saved us. iWth a final, crazy lurch we left the last hummock and alighted neatly in the mathematical centre of a slimy f ros pond, while frightened cattle flew m every direction.

"A GOOD 'BUS."

"Bit of luck," commented Mead, as vre climbed out and waded ashore "Takes a good 'bus to stand that.' T agreed, and also thought. "Takes a

good man to ma ice Mich a landing -without piling up". His first thoxight was to report to headquarters. Despite the isolation of the spot, two gendarmes were there within ten minutes, and before half an hour had passed an armed guard from the French garrison of a near-by town was pacing up and down. A British orderly appeared. He cam© from an Australian hospital a mile away, and said: —"The colonel's compliments . eH says he can arrange communication for you, and will you join him at luncheon ?" It was amazing to nd such an ahun--dance of aid in so bleak a place. The attitude of the French showed how fully the military of tn-e two nations are .co-operating. The commanding officer of the French garrison was most courteous, and plied us with offers of guards and assistance. Lornes were £oon on the way from aviation quarters and also from a supply depot a few miles away, which indicated how effective is the "system installed' at the front by the R.F.C. Long before the tenders arrived, Mead had discovered the source of the trouble. It was of a minor nature, and likely to occur in the very best of aeroplanes and automobiles. A nut holding a connection in the pressure feed device had worked loose, thereby reducing the flow of petrol. Two minutes wer sufficient to correct it. Tiie machine was run out of the water under her own power, and the only damage she sustained was tb.3 parting of a cable, caused by the shock of contact with the ground. Both the builder and the pilot had. done their part to save the plane. When it oanie to getting away again, Mead did what seemed impossible . I am fairly w©ll aware of the requirements in the matter of making a start.1 There wasn't a. level spot :n that whole pasture. Yet Mead selected & course where he had to dodge iiuramoeks and which gave him only about one third of the proper space —tools her jolting over the rough ground and plunged off the cdff over the water. But we came through. The construction again proved its worth. The motor held to its task, and we were off to the main aviation base of the British Army in France. Mile after mile of fertile fields in which women are handling the ploughs and cultivators lay below us. One had to look sharp inbeed to discover even v tiny plot which was unplanted; and I felt the prila which the whole world f,eels for the record France has madv. Northward we sped—toward where the great armies face each other. Oniy the eye could tell when we approached, for the steady roar of the motor, running with precision and smoothness, drowned all other noise. As far as the eye could see, over that vast expanse, were what might be taken for small volcanoes. Here, there, everywhere, the surface of the earth opened and belched forth a black substance, while an ominous cloud of smoke drifted lazily away to be dissipated in the higher altitudes. My mind was slow to grasp the meaning of it—that this was the work of artillery. Now and then from a patch of woodland the smoke would filter out. Three times m passing over villages 1 saw buildings vanish as if by magic. Only the smoke remained .

THE JAGGED WOUNDS.

And {Ken—then came those two jagged wounds—those two ugly wounds tj-oin which the lifeblood of nations ;s pouring. They ran side by side, no^v very close together, now diverging a bit to become parallel further along. s Sinister and ghastly, they stretched away into the distance. And as if.thsy were not raw enough, from time to time the shells tormented them, tearing vicious holes and doubtless hurling human bodj.es into the air with the mud and smoke. I was glad I could not see that. And so we came at last to tho headquarters of the R.F.C. It was pleasant to glide down and lajid gently on that.smooth green—to get away irom the-grim (evidence of what was happening so few miles away. Now. less than two months ago I visited that same aerodrome and inspected the equipment; and there is no comparison between what I found there at the time of my first visit and what is there now. The improvement is amazing. The average macibne in those hangare is better than the average German aeroplane. T he results on that front prove this to be true. Nobody coul.i look at that imposing array of battleplanes and scouts and bring serious charge against the organisation an.i efficiency of the lloyal -. lying Corps in France. And they are bringing down th«* enemy. They are getting in from six hundred to njne hundred hours of actual flying each day, and they are not afraid. When a man can get aboard an armed plane and scurry to an altitude of 5000 feet in five minutes, it ;« a token of accomplishment. And it is done there every day.

OVERRATED FOKKER

In a shed stood one of the de"adly" Fokkers, captured from the Germans. There was not a new idea in it. Just a lightly-built Morane copy. The British aviators fly it about the aerodrome just for a lark. They do not consider it safe enough for use in action. " The undeserved publicity which the Fokker received was Very disturbing to us," an important omcer told me. "The virtues of the craft were teoribly exaggerated; and it is a bad thing for a. man to go into the air firmly convinced that the ,ensmy has a machine far superior to his, especially when our planes have been able to overcome the Fokkers right along." My return to England was made in a fast monoplane with Lieutenant Passant. It was swift and absurdly easy. But there was one incident. It was when we were crossing the Channel at a height of almost two miles. Away down there, showing against the sunlit water, were three long white lines. They were like three great lines of breakers, except that they were straight and unwavering. It was not until Passant noticed them and descended a bit that I could make out what they were. Mere trifle. Only about thirty of his Majesty s war-

ships, steaming along in cruising formation, three abreast and one behind th c other in each line. Nothing I ever have seen was more inspiriting that the signt of those snips, moving with an indescribable grandeur toward an unknown destination, their snowy wakes blending into three perfectly straight lines. I thought of that other mighty fleet —the watch-dog of the North Sea, which holds the Kaiser's ships like rats in a trap. And, as the white lines faded into the distance, I concludied that England has not only a very respectable air service, but a pretty good navy.