OTT BE Mission 14: A Hard Day's Night - 21st May 1918 - Mike's effort
The afternoon of 19th May 1918
2nd Lt John Roberts was a contented man! Having successfully downed two enemy aircraft in a recent tussle over the Somme, he had, during that fight, suffered a very minor wound! This, in turn, had necessitated a brief trip back to Blighty, for treatment and rest. He had, therefore, had time to call home and, into the bargain, meet up with one or two former female “acquaintances”. They, naturally enough, had made a big fuss over the “wartime hero” and he had been more than happy to accept their attention! He really enjoyed the “rest”!
However, time flies, so to speak, when one is having fun, and it was soon time to return to duty. He had received orders to report to the airfield at Swingate Down, near Dover, on the South East Kent coast. Here he was to meet up with two other members of his squadron and they were to collect three, new, Sopwith T.F.1 dedicated trench fighters, commonly known as “Camels”, then fly them back to the front.
He therefore travelled, by train, to Dover harbour, arriving at the busy Admiralty Pier station, late in the afternoon. He then made his way past the numerous casualties that were waiting there, patiently, on the platform, and so on to the Burlington Hotel, in Woolcombers Street, which overlooked the seafront and, with its large ballroom, was currently the scene for many a Naval and Military dance.
Here he enjoyed a late lunch, after using the hotel telephone to call Swingate for some transport, to ferry him up the hill, past the impressive looking castle and so to the often fog bound airfield overlooking the channel. He then settled down to wait, which gave him a moments idleness; a short reprieve, to ponder and gaze over the busy harbour. One square mile of water, bounded on the west side by the “Admiralty pier”, by a pier almost as impressive on it’s eastern border, known as the “Eastern Arm” and protected from the ravages of the English Channel to the south by a long hefty looking breakwater. Quite a monumental structure, in fact, that had only been completed a few years back, in 1909, with the considerable aid of Government funding. Now, of course, it was a hive of activity. Being the closest British seaport to France, the coming and going of Naval vessels, of all types, plus transport ships, for troops and wartime material of all kinds, was prodigious.
“Well hello there” announced a familiar voice, with a British Columbian drawl, which abruptly disturbed his day dreaming. And there, standing before him, with a big grin on his face, was none other than the Canadian, 2nd Lt Alan McLeod.
“Hello McLeod. Good to see you. When did you arrive?”
“This morning, early. I flew one of the brass over here, in an old BE2, for a meeting at Whitehall yesterday morning. Dropped off my passenger and the crate and spent the rest of the afternoon in London. Can’t say I enjoyed that very much. I have orders to fly a new Camel back to the front, so I caught this morning’s early train and here I am! I heard you’d called for transport, to get you up to Swingate, so I popped down to collect you myself. I guess you’re here for the same reason as I am, right?”
“Right!” replied Roberts.
“2nd Lt William Rhodes-Moorhouse is also here on the same errand, which makes three of us. That’ll boost the squadron rather nicely I fancy. He was wounded, quite badly, a while ago. Since his recovery he’s been visiting the various squadrons in the area, giving them talks on flying in France. But he’s ready to return to the Squadron now. He came with me, to meet you, but he popped round to Snargate Street to pick up some more cigarettes and a few records, for his gramophone. Didn’t want to miss what might be his only chance before flying back.”
“He and I have never met. What’s he like?”
“Well, he’s a good sort and a damn fine pilot. Been with the squadron for some time. But he’s a lousy shot I’m afraid. Practices a whole load, day after day, whenever the opportunity is there, but when it comes to a scrap, sad to say, he’s had very little luck so far. Rather like myself, I guess!”
“Now, hold on there, McLeod. Last time out you bagged three hun, if I remember correctly. All in the one fight!”
“Correct, but to tell the truth, they were my first bit of success!”
“Well I’m sure they won’t be the last; not for you and not for me,” said another, rather educated sounding, Oxford English voice. “I’m certainly going to keep trying my best until I achieve success! Hello there, I’m Moorhouse. You must be Roberts. Good to meet you!”
“Hello, good to meet you too!”
“Get your Cigs and the music ok?” asked Alan Mcleod.
“Yes I did, and a nice few records too, including a copy of this.” And he showed them the cover of “Come Josephine In My Flying Machine”*. The boys back at the barn should enjoy the change.”
*"Come Josephine In my flying Machine" - performed by Ada Jones and Billy Murray & Chorus. Recorded November 1910, and released in 1911 on Edison Blue Amberol cylinder ...
“Good, yes, I guess so! Anyway, I think we need to get going. No flying back to the front tonight though. The word is that the hun is expected over on a big bombing raid, against London, tonight. We’ve been asked to hang around and lend a hand if needed! The CO is quite anxious about the whole affair. Swingate Down is only a training establishment ,you see.”
Sure enough, a big bombing raid was exactly what was being planned. On the afternoon of the 19th May 1918, members of both Kagohl 3 (No.3 Battle Squadron), equipped with Gotha G.V heavy bombers and Rfa 501 (Riesenflugzeug-Abteilung (Rfa) 501), equipped with Zeppelin-Staaken R.VI bombers, were making ready for a big raid on London and a smaller one against Dover.
The Englandgeschwader, or ‘England Squadron’, was ready. Some 45 aircraft, from four airfields near Ghent, in Belgium, (Mariakerke, Melle-Gontrode, Ostacker and St Denis-Westrem) would take off at five minute intervals, aiming to arrive over their targets from 10.40 p.m. until 1.30 a.m. the following morning. Thirty eight Gothas, 3 Giants and two smaller-type bombers (“C”).
Fwbl Georg Schulte WBb was excited by the prospect. He had received a personal visit from his commanding officer, Hauptmann Ernst Brandenburg, earlier that afternoon. Over a relaxing game
of chess he had been advised that he was to be accompanied by another aircraft, on a seperate, independent mission. He and Vzfwbl Fritz Meyer, flying a two seater “C” bomber, were to attack Dover.
“There will undoubtedly be Anti Aircraft fire, but they have few guns at Dover and insufficient lights. Flying at between 2,500 and 3,000 metres you should be safe enough. The enemy aircraft stationed at Dover are only for training purposes, so they should not bother you at all. All other aircraft in the area should be deployed for the defence of London. By the time you arrive over your target, they should all have departed. Your principle targets are the two railway stations, the most important of which is that by the harbour, at the western end of the town. The bombs you are carrying should be more than enough to destroy it for many months to come. Make sure you are familiar with it’s exact location before you depart.”
“Of course, Herr Hauptmann!”
“And keep an eye on Meyer. I believe this is his first time out. He will have only just enough fuel to get to Dover, do his job, then return to Belgium. He has small room for error and will have nothing in the way of navigation aids, flying across the sea. Stay close to him if you can. But that does not mean you have to jeopardize your own aircraft and crew. Do you understand me?”
“Perfectly, Herr Hauptmann.”
“Thank you Georg. I knew I could rely on you!” and with that, Hauptmann Ernst Brandenburg stood up, shook hands, saluted and departed. Leaving Fwbl Georg Schulte WBb feeling both proud and very much aware of his responsibilities.
Time to get ready. First, liaise with Meyer. Then gather the two crews together. That would be Vzfwbl Arno Brendler WBb and Ltn Karl Schattaner WBb with himself. Ltn Adolf von Häbler as Meyer’s observer. An excellent group to be sure. Finally, run through the details of the operation over and over until he was certain they all fully understood the part each must play.
Around 10.40 p.m. that night
Crump, crump came the foreboding sound of bombs exploding not far off, interspersed with the crash of gunfire as the AA defences around Dover harbour gave vent to their hatred.
But the interlopers had been anticipated and three RAF scouts were not far away, groping in the darkness, trying not to be blinded by the flashes from their own AA guns. Searching for what they knew must be there, somewhere, in all this darkness.
The three Camels had first flown out over the sea, turned west towards Folkestone and then circled back again, once they had identified the distinctive shape of Shakespeare Cliff, by the light of the moon reflecting off the white chalk. Now they were heading back towards Dover, guided by the fires which had been started by the bombing. Too late to prevent the damage, they were determined to find their enemy and stop him returning to Belgium.
Suddenly, seemingly from nowhere, 2nd Lt Roberts caught a glimpse of a very large dark object right before him and was past it even before he had registered its’ presence. It was apparent, however, that whoever was on that large dark object, had not been so slow on the uptake.
*
*Photos with this tint show “Spotting” information. The darker photos show action.
A burst of gunfire lit the sky, a sparkler to guide one and all. And then it was gone. On board the Hannover CLIIIa, for that is what it was, the observer cursed in his own gutteral language. Perhaps he should not have fired and given away their position. But his action was reflexive, part of his training. He could no more refrain from firing than he could from breathing. And all for nothing since the damned gun had jammed already!
2nd Lt Roberts desperately kept his eyes on his opponent. The moonlight was barely enough for him to maintain contact as he strained his eyes. It was about this time of the year when, in more peaceful times, he would have been out at night time, with a fly fishing rod, searching for sea trout from the banks of the river Teign, in Devon, his home county. That experience now served him well. He was accustomed to the use of night vision. Never-the-less, this was a whole different kettle of fish. This was tough.
He thought he could see the outline of a large bi-plane just ahead. Were those crosses he could see too? He fired a long burst, almost emptying a whole drum of ammunition, but to no avail, as far as
he could be certain of anything! (Roberts fires on Meyer “0+0”) (Roberts fires again on Meyer and hits for “2 +1(2nd shot) +0” but gun jams) Then his gun ceased to function! That was all he needed right now! So he hardly noticed, whilst attempting to unjam his guns, that it was again the turn of the foe to return fire. Having successfully cleared the problem in his own gun, Ltn Häbler continued his offensive and this time there was a cack cack cack, in the semi-aware hearing of Lt Roberts, as bullets perforated the canvas of his Camel’s top plane. (Häbler/Meyer hit on Roberts “0+1”)
(Habler spots Camel)
Then nothing again, which was eerie. Roberts looked up, having once more cleared the jam, only to be met by darkness.
“Now where the hell has he gone?” he asked the question. And the answer came – daka, daka, daka, daka. And once more, daka daka daka daka. Bullets were hitting his machine,cack cack cack, from somewhere, but he just couldn’t make out from where, being partially blinded by the light from fires and search lights, glaring up at him from the harbour below (Häbler/Meyer hit on Roberts “1+1(2nd shot) +0”) (Regret, no photo of this last shot, but the info conforms to my written record).
(Hannover spots Camel – fires and hits 0+1 then 1+0 but no 2nd shot photo) (Camel then spots Hannover)
A few more seconds passed whilst Häbler, too, was now working furiously to clear another jam! But he kept his eye on the Camel all the while, the Britisher being outlined quite clearly, from this angle, by the fires in Dover!
Then a glint of firelight on metal attracted the attention of Roberts and there she was again – he spotted the very distinctive bi-plane tail of the German intruder!
“Got you!” and the two protagonists resumed their aquaintance.
Roberts managed to get on the tail of the Hannover, but Häbler was up for this and fought back furiously.
(Häbler/Meyer hits Roberts “1+0” first shot but second spotting period. Roberts hits Meyer “3”)
Daka daka daka daka , cack cack cack cack. The exchange hit home on both aircraft, but on this occasion, the advantage was with the Camel pilot. The two exchanged fire again, only for the guns of the Camel to fail yet again and whilst he set about unjamming the things, Roberts failed to see the Hannover dive off to the left. Also, unbeknown to him, he has seriously wounded Meyer, the pilot. The Hannover is now in trouble!
(Häbler/Meyer hits Roberts “1+0” +1 second shot. Roberts hits Meyer “2+5+PW” +2 second hits, but Camels gun jams”)
Of course, whilst all this is going on, the other two British pilots were trying very hard to make some kind of contribution. But they simply could not see a thing, other than the occassional flashes from bursts of machine gun fire, coming from the south. Both, naturally enough, headed in that direction. So focused, was the attention of Lt Moorhouse, that he was shocked when he suddenly caught a brief glimpse of a very large Gotha, which droned its way past him not more than a couple of hundred yards away to his left. But he completely lost sight of it again, almost immediately. Whether or not the crew of the Gotha had spotted him or the fight that was obviously happening elsewhere, he had no idea. Either way, the Gotha continued on its way, heading in the general direction of Belgium, and home, having done its work more than satisfactorily, thank you very much! But Moorhouse had noted its presence!
Time was now running out, though, for the other German crew. Häbler managed to loose off one more burst at the pursuing Camel (Häbler/Meyer hits Roberts “0+2”+1 (third shot)), which appeared to turn away, much to his relief, only for him to find himself and his pilot coming under fire from yet another one. Completely by chance, or perhaps the luck of the Gods, or instinct; call it what you will, 2nd Lt Alan McLeod now suddenly made his appearance, to pinch the glory from right under the nose of Roberts. One momentary sighting of the Hannover; a quick burst from the Vickers and the Hannover was sent into a sideslip dive, which then straightened out into a headlong rush towards the sea! Game over (McLeod hits Häbler/Meyer “1”. Hannover SD. 1 Kill to McLeod). He lost sight of the enemy, even though he tried hard to watch its’ progress downwards. He was aware that many a pilot had feigned damage and dived in that way, in an attempt to escape the attentions of an aggressor, only to level out at low altitude and make their escape. But he didn’t believe it to be very advisable, under the circumstances, to follow the two seater down. So he never actually witnessed the fate of the aircraft, or its crew.
There were British trawlers about, even at this time of the night, so perhaps the crew would be picked up if they crashed into the sea. He kind of hoped so anyway. McLeod did not fight his war on a personal level. Provided enemy aircraft were destroyed, he had long since decided that he would prefer it if the crews survived. Illogical as that might seem, even to himself!
Then his musings were disrupted in no uncertain manner. A pilot with his experience should have known better than to lose concentration at a moment like this. But he did! And the result was a very near collision with another Camel. Whose, he could not see, but the white markings, he could just make out, indicated that it was Roberts. They were both of them tired he guessed and the strain of night time flying was not something they were used to.
If only he had been able to see more, of course, he would undoubtedly have been doubly alarmed, since the third member of their flight was also approaching, blissfully unaware of the near collision before him and rapidly heading to the point where he could add his pennyworth to the potential mayhem. As it was, however, it was the Gotha that helped them avoid that particular disaster. Getting their acts together and looking around them, with the intention of now heading back to the barn, they could all three of them see the enormous outline of the heavy German bomber, bearing down on them slowly but surely. It was the turn of the Gotha crew to be revealed by the light of the burning wreckage they had bestowed upon the hapless townsfolk back in Dover.
However, we must also be aware that the three Camel pilots were not fully cognizant of the relative positions of one another. So, independently, they each decided to hunt down the Gotha and its crew. These were not to be permitted, openly, brashly, to visit our shores and bomb our people and property, without paying the price! So, off they flew, all heading for the same point in the air!
First to arrive was 2nd Lt Moorehouse, flying in, approximately, a north westerly direction. The enemies spotted one another from some way off this time and approached the situation with guns blazing. Totally ineffectively from the point of view of the allies. Despite the sheer size of the Gotha, as we have already noted, Moorehouse was not the crackshot he would like to have been. In fact, this was the proverbial barn door and he still managed, faithfully, to miss it! Ltn Karl Schattaner WBb, in the forward observation position on the Gotha was, however, made of much sterner stuff. His aim was good.
(Schattaner, Gotha obs., hits Moorehouse “2+Left rudder damage”. Moorehouse misses Gotha)
Moorehouse firstly became aware that the Gotha crew were returning fire, then his rudder went slack. Which possibly helps to explain what happened to him in the next few seconds. Flying past the Gotha, narrowly missing it on the way, he failed to miss on the only occasion he should have done. He collided, instead, with the Camel of his flight leader, 2nd Lt Alan McLeod, whose machine emitted a loud booming sound and immediately went into an uncontrolled spin. Moorehouse realized that his aircraft, too, was seriously damaged and immediately turned off the engine, intending to glide back to Swingate if he could, with bits wobbling like a jelly and other bits hanging from places they should not be. At which point, to add insult to injury, albeit self inflicted, the rear gunner on the Gotha, one Vzfwbl Arno Brendler WBb, normally a scout pilot himself, present only because of a general shortage of experienced observers, lets him have a few rounds to help him on his way. Which was more than enough for the Camel which took the hump and headed out of the fray, taking the most direct route possible, which was downwards. Moorehouse was last glimpsed by Roberts, the only allied witness to the disaster, as he desperately tried to regain some kind of control over his ailing Camel before it hit the water in a fashion which he undeniably did not wish for.
(McLeod “Boom” – collides with Moorehouse “10”. Brendler obs., hits Moorehouse “2+1” - gun jams. Moorehouse SD. 1 Kill to Brendler.)
There is little more to tell about this nights events, at least, from the point of view of 2nd Lt Roberts and Co, now limited to one! Roberts, having taken considerable damage already, during the evening’s sortie, flew wide of the Gotha, which was now clearly visible by the light of the silvery moon, in order to evade the attentions of it’s gunners.
He swung round in an arc and began hunting down the Gotha which continued further and further out to sea. And that was that really. He failed to catch up before the moon recovered it’s senses and went to bed behind a very large blanket of cloud.
Which left the Gotha to wend its’ weary way home and our sole surviving Camel pilot to limp away and report back to the CO at Swingate with cap in hand.
It was to be hoped that the trawlers, so wished for by McLeod on behalf of the crew of the Hannover, would be present and be able to fish, out of the sea, two very wet British pilots, dead or alive!
The end
Early on the morning of 20th May 1918
Vzfwbl Fritz Meyer struggled to remain conscious for a long time, all the while loosing much blood from the wound he received earlier. In the end he was flying in a semi-conscious daze as the Hannover slipped lower and lower towards the sea. As he approached the coast of Belgium he was spotted by the observer on a friendly two seater, but he couldn’t tell what it was even. He now knew that his observer could be saved! Steam now streamed in a white cloud from the radiator and any second he expected the engine to seize up. So he attempted a landing in the sea. He did not survive! The aircraft hit the sea and turned over when the nose dived deep into the water. Ltn Häbler was thrown clear of the wreckage, but managed to remain conscious and grab hold of part of one of the wings. There was now no sign of Meyer and all Häbler could do was wait. He had no idea how long he was in the water, it seemed like an age, during which time he almost gave up hope. Thank God it was May and the sea near the sandy beeches had warmed for the summer months to come. But presently he heard the sound of an engine approaching. The sweetest music he had heard in a very long time!
As for the two British pilots brought down in this fight. 2nd Lt McLeod, remarkably, was able to land quite well in the sea. The explosion he heard was the sound of part of his engine smashing its way throught the casing. After that he had gone into a spin for some time but had eventually managed to pull out of that and make a reasonable splash landing in the sea. And there, waiting for him unexpectedly, was a trawler, almost as if he had ordered it. The trawlermen hauled him from the drink like he was one of their nets. Wet and bedraggled he might have been, but he was alive.
Why were they there? Well, they had been attracted towards the burning wreckage of a Gotha, which had been shot down earlier by AA fire and was still floating and burning on the surface, some way off.
Meanwhile, the other pilot, 2nd Lt William Rhodes-Moorehouse, had managed to regain a degree of control over his stricken Camel and to glide back towards the coast. A bullet had perforated his fuel tank and he had lost his undercarriage in the collision, but he quickly turned off his engine to avoid the risk of fire, then aimed for what he thought was the beach just west of the Admiralty Pier. He had just height enough to hit the water no more than fifty yards from the shoreline. What happened next was anybody’s guess. He woke up lieing on the shingle with a spliting headache and could hardly move either his arms or his legs.
“Lie still there mate”, said a voice with a heavy Kentish accent. “You’re gonna be just fine, but you aint goin nowheres anytime soon”
“Not again” he thought to himself. Then he passed out once more and dreamt of home for a short while! Sad to say he never regained consciousness and later died of his wounds. RIP William!
Butcher’s Bill
Central Powers
Gotha
Pilot: Fwbl Georg Schulte WBb – RTB / No Kills – All good
Observer: Ltn Karl Schattaner WBb – RTB / No Kills – All good
Observer: Vzfwbl Arno Brendler WBb – RTB / One Kill – All good
Hannover
Pilot: Vzfwbl Fritz Meyer – SD-SEA-Dark-ET / WIA / 0 Kills
Rolled 3 -1SD -1SEA -1Dk -1WIA = -1 Killed. RIP
Result KIA
Observer: Ltn Adolf von Häbler – SD-SEA-Dark-ET / 0 Kills
Rolled 10 -1SD -1SEA -1Dk = 7 – Injured. Skip 1D2 scenario. Rolled 1 = skip 1
E&E: Rolled 9 -1WIC -1SEA -1BEL = 6 - In hiding! - Skip 1D2 Scenarios. Rolled 3 = skip 1
Result Skip 1 scenario.
Entente
2nd Lt Alan McLeod: EXP-SEA-Dark / 1Kill
Rolled 10 – 3EXP -1SEA -1Dk = 5 – Injured. Skip 1D3 scenario. Rolled 2 = skip 1 scenario
E&E: Rolled 8 -1EXP -1SEA -1WIC = 5. Skip 1D2 – Rolled 1 = Skip 1 scenario.
Result Skip 1 scenario
2nd Lt William Rhodes-Moorehouse – SD-SEA-Dark / 0 Kills
Rolled 5 –1SD -1SEA -1Dk = 2 KIA.
KIA
2nd Lt John Roberts – RTB / 0 Kills / All good
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