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Aviation History
1969
1969 - 0026.PDF
14 fUCHT International, 2 January 1969 BY W. C. CAMBRAY, MC We stood to fight AN RFC OBSERVER'S RECOLLECTIONS PART TWO N IGHT FLYING WAS PRETTY HAZARDOUS, and we sometimes had the task of flying low over the lines to give the tanks (which, incidentally, also had Rolls-Royce engines) a chance to get quietly ready for the next day's attack. An L-shaped pattern of paraffin flares would be put out on the aerodrome and lighted. We would take off by their light and then find our way by dimly visible roads, rivers and canals. At such times it was good to have a thorough knowledge of the area over which one flew. As we returned from our three-hour patrol the paraffin flares would be lighted again. Additionally, I would fire two magnesium parachute flares into the air above the machine and the pilot would land. These parachute flares were a great improvement on an earlier method; in the early days, before I joined the squadron, it was the practice to light a fixed flare under each wing-tip by pulling a Bowden cable in the cockpit. There was always the danger that the flare would ignite the wing before the pilot could complete his landing. A great deal has been written about the good feeling which existed between the British and German squadrons, and many such, stories were quite true. When flying over the enemy lines we would drop message bags, with streamers attached, giving our opposite numbers details of any machine brought down our side of the line, and news of the condition of its occupants. The Germans often did likewise. On one occasion we were shot up, couldn't make our aerodrome, and landed at a single-seater squadron near Bailleul. They feted us right royally, but we noticed that one pilot was just sitting silent and dejected. Inquiring the reason, we were told that on a patrol he had seen a German below him and, wanting to have a fight, fired a few challenging rounds. But the other pilot took no notice; and, as an enemy formation was approaching, the RFC man dived on him and shot him down. Afterwards the British pilot said: "It wasn't fair—I just shot him in the back without the opportunity of a scrap." What a truly wonderful spirit! Aerobatic experiments A useful manoeuvre in dog-fights was the Immelmann turn, but it could be disconcerting when the machine hung momen tarily on one wing-tip and everything, including the observer, started to fall out of it. However, the F.E.2d usually scooped everything up in the nick of time and all was in order again. Which reminds me that another pilot and I decided to try to loop one of these machines. We had arranged for it to be rigged tail-light to help it to get over, and we intended to strap ourselves well and truly in. However, the pilot was A companion picture to the "stand up to fight" photograph of the F.E.2d used in the heading of Part One, this view shows that using the reconnaissance camera was almost as draughty an operation as firing the top gun killed before we could try; and nobody else was game—which, on mature consideration, was probably just as well. Bombing was something of an experience, as it was necessary to fly over the target once to set the bomb sight and a second time to release the bombs. We loaded our 201b Cooper bombs four under each wing. They were released by pulling a Bowden cable in the pilot's cockpit; as they fell away their wind vanes would rotate, making them live before reaching the ground. There was the odd occasion when the bomb fell forward but was caught by its tail in the rack. The vane began to rotate, and soon the bomb was live. The observer would signal the pilot to throw the machine about, and it was then a relief to see the bomb fall clear. Surprise at daybreak An unforgettable experience was a dawn patrol—up in the dark and waiting for the sunrise. I recall one such patrol when three of us took off; one returned with engine trouble, the second got lost in the clouds, and we were on our own. The moon faded and the stars disappeared and the sky grew rapidly lighter; then the sun came over the horizon, showing the clearest day possible. We were over Ypres at 12,000ft and beyond the English Channel we could see the lower half of England quite clearly, looking like a huge map. Before we turned back to complete the patrol we spotted a big enemy formation some thousands of feet below us—two Gothas and 12 two-seaters on a bombing raid; and soon we heard the phut phut of their bullets much too close for our liking. Considering discretion the better part of valour, we climbed like blazes. On returning to the squadron we were called to the CO's office. It seemed that Brigade Headquarters, who had seen us in the air, had expressed to him their extreme annoyance that, instead of showing fight, we had simply headed for home. How foolish can you get—one F.E.2d against two Gothas and 12 two-seaters! Fortunately the CO saw our point of view. The ground wallahs at Brigade would sit and think of ideas amazingly good on paper but seldom any use in practice. A typical brainwave was to get all available squadrons to fly their machines east and west, then turn north for a while,
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