Fall of Eagles: Airmen of World War One

305 Pages·2011·4.69 MB·English

by  Alex Revell

First published in Great Britain in 2011 by
Pen & Sword Military
an imprint of
Pen & Sword Books Ltd
47 Church Street
Barnsley
South Yorkshire
S70 2AS
Copyright @ Alex Revell 2011
ISBN: 978-1-84884-527-5
ePub ISBN: 9781844684328
PRC ISBN: 9781844684335
The right of Alex Revell to be identified as Author of this Work has
been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright,Designs and
Patents Act 1988.
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Contents
Introduction 7
Better Dead than Captured 9
John Doyle: A Day too Late 17
Richthofen's Last Victory 23
Bourlon Wood 1917 28
Max Immelmann:The Eagle of Lille 33
Decoys 44
Larry Bowen:A Gallant American 50
The Master Falls 62
Bond of 40 66
Werner Voss 105
Six in a Day 119
Above the Somme 125
Terror in the Night 130
The Falcon of Feltre 144
In Italian Skies 159
Josef Kiss: An Officer and a
Gentleman 176
The Ordeal of Alan Winslow 183
Bibliography 199
Introduction
The Great War of 1914-1918 saw the rapid development of the aeroplane as a
weapon of war. Initially the role of the aeroplane was seen as that of
reconnaissance, an extension of the cavalry. But as the war stagnated into static
trench warfare, with each side facing each other across No-Man's-Land, the use
of artillery, both in shelling enemy positions and countershelling his artillery,
also became of prime importance. With the early development of radio
communication between ground and air, aeroplanes also undertook the task of
'spotting' for the artillery, and it soon became apparent that these aeroplanes -
both the reconnaissance machines and those working for the artillery - could
not be allowed to work unmolested. As a result, fast fighter aeroplanes - both
single and two seat - began to make their appearance over the Western front.
As the war continued, the role of the fighter aeroplane became all important in
the task of winning and keeping the supremacy of the air, not only in seeking out
and destroying the enemy's reconnaissance and artillery aeroplanes, but in
preventing the enemy's fighters from destroying their own. By 1916, combats in
the air were becoming common and the final two years of the conflict witnessed
engagements between the opposing air forces in numbers undreamed of at the
start of hostilities in 1914.
Technical development had also been rapid. The mostly unarmed
reconnaissance aeroplanes, and the early fighters of 1915 and 1916, armed with
a single machine gun, had given way to fighters carrying two guns, flying at
altitudes of over 16,000 feet and at treble the speed of their predecessors of
1914.
With these developments a new type of soldier had evolved: the fighter pilot.
Capable of fighting in the air, in three dimensions and at great speed, individual
pilots began to emerge whose singular talents and temperament brought them to
the forefront of their respective air forces. They became the 'aces', pilots who
had brought down five or more of the enemy. Despite their expertise, few of
these 'aces' survived the war. The last combats of some are known and well
documented, others are obscure. Some appear to have an element of doubt, the
facts of their last fight unclear, but this is nearly always because their fame has
turned the spotlight of historical research upon them to the exclusion of other,
less well known pilots, whose final combats, if investigated, would show equal
anomalies.
This book is the story of some of the last fights and combats of those early
'eagles of the air'. Some of the pilots in these pages are well known, others less
so, but all shared the common experience of fighting in the air during the war of
1914-1918: the conflict that saw the aeroplane evolve from a relatively fragile,
unarmed reconnaissance machine, to a deadly weapon that changed the face of
war for ever.
Alex Revell.
Nancledra, Cornwall.
CHAPTER ONE
Better Dead than Captured
The orderly shook Ronald Adam awake.
‘It’s eight o’clock, sir. All available machines are to start on a high offensive
patrol at ten ack emma.’
Adam rolled out of his cot. It was Sunday, 7 April 1918, and he had been a
member of 73 Squadron for the past five days. Dressing hastily, he left his tent
and went out to the aerodrome to check the serviceability of his Sopwith
Camel. He and his friend Jack Collier had collected two new Camels from the
aeroplane pool at Hesdingneul the previous evening and the squadron’s
mechanics and armourers were still working on the guns and rigging of one of
them as Adam arrived at the hangars. No work had been possible during the
night; the aerodrome was a temporary base of canvas hangers and tents, hastily
thrown up after the Allied retreat south of the Somme eleven days before, and
the electric lights had not yet been installed in the hangars.
One of the new Camels was almost ready to be tested and Adam sent his
batman back to the Mess to get him some breakfast while he returned to his tent
for his flying kit. The day was a typical fresh, windy, spring day, with large
fleecy clouds scudding across the bright sky, and as Adam walked back to the
aerodrome he felt a pleasurable tingle of excitement at the prospect of the
coming events. He had been told that the von Richthofen ‘circus’ was expected
to be over the lines at midday and that the Camels of 73 Squadron were to find
and engage the German fighters, aided by an SE5 squadron flying 2,000 feet
higher as top cover.
One of the Camels, to be flown by Adam’s Flight Commander, Captain Le
Blanc Smith, was declared ready. With Le Blanc Smith busy with the details of
the patrol, Adam took up the Camel to test it, diving and firing at ground targets
set out near the aerodrome. Satisfied, he landed and reported that all was well.
‘The mechanics were still busy on my Camel. It was now 9.30 and I began to
put on my overall suit, pull up my heavy sheepskin thighboots and to wrap a
woollen muffler around my neck. Then, with the addition of furlined helmet, a
furlined face mask and goggles, and a pair of silk gloves underneath my
lambsfleece flying gloves, I was ready. While the mechanics continued to work
on my machine, I put chocolate in my pocket and swallowed the peculiar
breakfast my batman had brought me – a piece of fat bacon, a bottle of cold tea,
and an orange. I loaded my Very pistol and placed it in a handy position inside
the cockpit with some spare cartridges in my breast pocket.
‘At nearly ten o’clock the armourers jumped off my machine and announced
that as far as they knew the guns should be in order. There was no time to test
them, so I climbed with great difficulty into my “office” encumbered by the
ungainliness of my flying costume.
‘The machines were out in a line, with a gap between the three Flights. Major
Hubbard was pacing the aerodrome in front of the machines while mechanics
waited for the word to swing the propellers and start the engines. Finally, the
word was given and each pilot flipped up his switch – “contact” – then, with a
mighty heave and a swing, each mechanic pulled down the propeller. Amid
many splutterings and irregular roarings, the eighteen engines took up their song
of power. My engine sounded lovely. It registered 1,300rpm and the rich hum of
its voice was unbroken. I throttled down and listened to it ticking over while I
watched for the signal to be off and away.
‘It came at last. First the Flight Commander moved forward, then the second
man, then myself. Out in the middle of the aerodrome, the B Flight Commander,
with a yellow streamer dangling from the tail of his machine, was waiting, while
the remaining four of us in his Flight took up our positions in an inverted “V”
formation. As the last machine rolled into position, his engine roared afresh and
Le Blanc was already well up into the air as the rest of us left the ground.’
The other two Flights, A and C, followed B Flight into the air, and the eighteen
Camels circled the aerodrome, gaining altitude and taking up the squadron ‘vee’
formation, with B Flight leading. Reaching 2,000 feet the Camels turned their
noses eastwards and, still climbing, made for the lines.
At 10.30 the Camels were circling for more height over Amiens. From 15,000
feet Adam could see the battlefields of the Somme, the long straight road from
Amiens to St. Quentin plainly visible.
‘Then an annoying thing happened. The little propeller up near my head, which
supplied air pressure to my petrol tank, stuck fast. As the pressure was not being
kept up in my petrol tank, this meant there was going to be trouble. My attention
was first drawn to this by hearing the steady hum of the engine punctuated by
irregular silences, while the needle of the rpm indicator dropped. I looked at the