WAR IN THE THIRD DIMENSION.•
MANY qualities in a writer go to the making of a Real War Book, the kind of book which brings home to those who play no fighting pare the work of those who do. The author must have first-hand experience; he must be able to see--a rare quality—and to interpret what he eees ; he must have the sense of humour which goes with a sense of true proportion. " Contact " has all the qualifications for the job to which he has set himself. As an aeroplane observer in a squadron which during the Somme Push of 1918 lost more men and machines than any other, and was the most dreaded of all squadrons by the Beebe, he did all those things which the new Fourth Arm has taught itself to do. During long reconnaissance flights ho collected information and fought the black-crossed machines which sought to interpose ; while his pilot dodged Archies " he sketched enemy positions and counted engines and trucks ; and when, as a diversion, his pilot would now and then do a" grotmdstunt," sailing to and fro over enemy trenches, he harried the Hun in his home with &Lewis gun. "Contact's " chief work was reconnaissance, and he tells how he carried it through, and brought his information home, though the fuselage might catch fire from shells and the engine give out when nine and a half miles from the British lines. To be exact, it was " Contact " who put out the fire and the pilot who glided home. Our author's clearness of description and human quality as a writer are best seen in his account of the flight in which the twin perils of fire on board and a crippled engine were manfully faced and overcome :- " Next instant the fuselage shivered. I looked along the inside of it and found that a burning shell fragment was lodged on a longeron half way between my cockpit and the tail plane. A little flame Mg-zagged over the fabric, all but died away, but, being fanned by the wind as we lost height, recovered and licked its way towards the tail. I was too far away to reach the flame with my hands and the fire extinguisher wee by the pilot's seat. I called for it into the speaking-tube. The pilot made no move. Once more I shouted. Again no answer. V.'s ear-piere had slipped from under his cap. A thrill of acute fear passed through me as I stood up, forced my arm through the rush of wind, end grabbed V.'s shoulder. ' Fuselage burning 1 Peas the fire extinguisher I ' I yelled. My words were drowned in the engine's roar ; and the pilot, intent on getting near the Bootees, thought I had asked which one we were to attack. ' Look out for those two Huns on the left,' he called over his shoulder. ' Pass the fire extinguisher I ' . . . ' Get ready to shoot, blast you! ' ' Fire extinguisher, you ruddy fool ! ' A backward glance told me that the fire was nearing the tail plane at one end and my box of ammunition at the other, and was too serious for treatment by the extinguisher unless I could get at it at once. Desperately tried to force myself through the bracing struts and crosa-wires behind my seat. To my surprise head and shoulders and one arm got to the other side—a curious circumstance, as afterwards 1 tried repeatedly to repeat this contortionist trick on the ground but failed every time. There I stuck, for it was impossible to wriggle further. However I could now reach part of the fire, and at it I beat with gloved hands. Within half a minute most of the fire was crushed to death. But a thin streak of flame, outside • An Annan'. Outing.. By" Contact," WI SA as Introduction by Malor-General W. 8. Bracken ineputy-Nrector-tiencra/ of MIlitary Aeronautics). Undo.: W, Blocky/00d ominous. 15a. the radius of my arm, still flickered towards the tail. I tore off one of my gauntlets and swung it furiously at the burning strip. The flame lessened, rose again when I raised the glove, but died out altogether after I had hit it twice more. The load of fear left me, and I discovered an intense discomfort wedged in as I was between the two crossed bracing-struts. Five minutes passed before I was able, with many a heave and gasp, to withdraw back to my seat."
While " Contact " was putting out the fire—his machine was many thousands of feet above the ground—the pilot " V." was firing furiously at the enemy planes and raging not less furiously at the apparent inaction of his colleague. He know nothing of the fire. A German bullet punctured the petrol tank ; the engine, robbed of its " juice," ceased to work, and our adventurers found themselves nine thousand feet high and nine and a half miles from home. They had a useful wind to help them, but it was no light thing to glide so far without power, and was only achieved by a close study of the shortest route—every yard counted in such a glide. " Archie " guns and enemy machines complicated the problem, for the solution of which our readers must please go to the book. When at last safe territory was reached with very little margin to spare, the adroit " V." landed without breaking a wire. Some French gunners ran up to the two aviators and found them cursing one another furiously—the one because his pilot had not passed the extinguisher, and the other because hie observer had not fired at the enemy. Tho story, playfully entitled " A Summer Joy Ride," is, in our opinion, the best thing in a most fascinating book—and that is to say a good deal.
We are not surprised that the author is an enthusiast at hie work, and that, after a long rest on the ground made necessary by water on the knee, he intends to go aloft again as a pilot. " For my part," he says, " on reaching Blighty by the grace of God and an injured knee, I decided that if my unworthy neck were doomed to be broken, I would rather break it myself than let some one else have the responsibility. It is as a pilot, therefore, that I am about to serve another sentence overseas." It has always seemed to us that the aeroplane observers get all the risks and none of the credit or promotion. Very young pilots become D.S.O.'s and Lieutenant- Colonels ; their observers whose necks they do not break remain Lieutenants.
This book tells us more of the development in aeroplanes under stress of war than we are usually allowed to leant. It tells us also how very varied are the uses to which modern machines are put. They bomb the enemy's communications and fight down all enemy planes on the eve of a Push, so that the air is swept clear, and the artillery observation planes, and those which do the latest " ground stunts " against the Boche in his trenches and
" are comparatively unmolested. All this means a virtual domination of the air, which "Contact" again and again assures us that we have. Nov and then the Germans put up effective counter air tactics, but supremacy in the third dimension of fighting space is quickly recaptured by the Anises. This is comforting to read. " Contact," like moot R.F.C. enthusiasts, thinks that the new arm will decide the war, and decide it in our favour. We were much behind the Germans at the beginning, we are now ahead of them, and next year we shall be—or ought to be—so fully equipped with aeroplanes and skilled fliers that the enemy will be snowed wider. Wo sincerely hope that " Contact" is right. He has a sense of proportion which gives us respect for his judgment.
In one passage, with which we will conclude, he condemns those who exalt the Air Services—whose daily life, though intensely hazardous, is fairly comfortable—at the expense of the poor patient, enduring infantry, upon whom, ultimately, the issue of the war depends. " Contact " discusses the various roles played by the Services, and then says :—
" All this by way of prelude to a proton against the exaggerated ecstasies indulged in by many civilians when discussing the air
services. The British pilots are competent and daring, discussing they would be the last to claim an undue share of war's glory. Many of them deeerve the highest praise ; but, then, so do many in all branches of Army and Navy. An example of what I mean Is the reference to R.F.C. officers, during a Parliamentary debate, as ' the super-heroes of the war '—a term which, for ungainly absurdity, would be hard to beat. To those who perpetrate such far-fetched phresse I would humbly say : ' Good gentlemen, we are proud to have won your approval, but for the Lord's sake don't make us ridiculous in the eyes of other soldiers.' "
We are afraid that well-meaning civilians often make soldiers ridiculous, especially those upon whom they are pleased to shower their complimentary epithets. Nothing irritates a brave man more than to be publicly described as a " hero."
Previous page
