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Aviation History
1918
1918 - 0835.PDF
JULY 25, 1918. IRVXN COBB, the star American war-correspondent, whosedry humour some of our readers may remember in " The Red Glutton " (a moving account of his experiences as a captivebehind the German lines at the outset of war), cannot keep away from the front. We quote from one of a series ofarticles which he is writing for the Saturday Evening Post:— " In fine weather, the flying craft rest in the landing field,all slick and groomed and polished, like a landed proprietor's blooded stock, giving off flashes from aluminium and varnishand steel and deft cabinet work in answer to the caresses of the sunshine. Right here I am reminded that the temperamentaldifferences of the Allied nations are shown most aptly, I think, in the fashion in which the aviators decorate their gorgeouspets. Upon its planes, of course, each bears the distinguish- ing mark of the country to which it belongs ; but the bodiesare the property, so to speak, of the individual fliers, to be treated according to the fancy of the individual. '' Thus it befalls that an Italian machine generally carriesa picture of a flower on its sides. It is characteristic of the race, that a French machine usually wears either a valorous,sonorous name, or the name of a woman. But your average British airman is apt to christen his machine ' Old Bill ' or' Gaby ' or ' Our Little Nipper,' or ' The Walloping Window Blind '—I have seen all of these cheery titles emblazonedupon splendid aircraft in a British hangar, and just let it go at that." With a pen nicely tinged with corrosive he notes theGerman, " with tears in his voice, singing his songs of the home place and the Christmas tree and the Rhine maidenas he marches past a burning orphan asylum in Belgium." A young captain, whom he describes as "a very new,very healthy cherub," took him to a mess dinner—" a noble green salad, and good honest-to-cow's butter." Afterwardsthe official troubadour sang that battered ballad about the simple country maiden, and her smile it was sublime, " butshe met, among others, the village squire, and the rest may not be printed in a paper having a general circulation." And so he concludes : " I shall always think of them as Isaw them last—their number being sixty or so, and their average age twenty-two and a half—grouped at the doorwayof their quarters, with the candle-light and the firelight shining behind them, and their glasses raised, wishing us' Happy landings 1' " THE Hun aerial post between Budapest and Viennaappears to have been short-lived, the service coming to an end on July 14th through the collapse of the aeroplane atMagyaxovar; the two officers were killed and the mail burned. WHILE it was running, however, the aerial postmen seemto have had their exciting moments, as, according to the Vienna Fremdenbl&tt, two of the officers conveying mails byair from Budapest to Vienna were attacked at a height of 2,000 ft. by an immense eagle, which was killed by the pro-peller. It is not very surprising therefore to hear that the aeroplane collapsed. ' THE spectacle of a London policeman being "hoist withhis own petard " is too rare to be ignored when it actually comes about, and a well-known member of the Royal Aero Clubhas been entertaining his friends with a humorous and graphic description of his recent encounter with a man in blue. Asnearly everybody knows, it is the letter of the law, not the spirit, which is enforced in the metropolis against car-ownersat all times, but none the less the " peeler " in question found himself in a decided quandary when a motorist spoiled hisgame by quoting the strict terms of a particular Act. The driver concerned was stopped and questioned as to whetherhe had a right to use the car and where he was going to on that occasion. He replied : " I am going to a certainplace in the North of London, and when I have done my business there, I am proceeding to a certain place in theEast of London ; from there I have to go to another certain place in the South-East, and afterwards I am driving to acertain place in the West." " Oh, that won't do for me ! " grumbled the constable ;" I must have something more definite. What are these certain places, and why can't you name them ? " " Mygood man," the car-owner rejoined, producing a copy of the Official Secrets Act, " I am expressly forbidden by thisdocument to indicate the position of aircraft factories. This Act is ten times worse than Dora ; it is what they shootjpeopleunder at the Tower every day. I positively daxe not infringe its provisions. If you can show me any authority by whichyou can empower me to defy the Act I will •willingly indicate where I am going, but it is as much as my life's worth to tellyou without permission." " Well, ain't I a policeman ? " growled the "bobby." "You may be a policeinan," themotorist retorted, still intent on the successful pursuit of his leg-pulling tactics ; " on the other hand, you may not.Anyone can buy a uniform like yours for five and thirty shillings. And even if "you are a policeman, how do I knowyou are a discreet policeman ? As it is, you have collected a big crowd, and I can't describe the whereabouts of aircraftfactories in their hearing. I tell you, I'm in mortal terror of this Act, and, though I have no wish to obstruct you in theexecution of your duty, I'm not going to render myself liable to be shot at dawn." From this position no efforts couldmake the driver budge an inch, and in the end he was allowed to depart by a much mystified and wholly nonplussed pointpoliceman. Ministry of Information. R.A.F. fighting planes leaving their aerodrome in France, in formation, for the enemy lines. 833
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