PROLOGUE
I’ve split this story into 3 parts, the Prologue is just the introduction to my new Flight Commander, the Log is the story of the game – mostly, and the Epilogue is the Butchers Bill and a round up to the game. So go straight to the Log if you want to avoid this guff about my new Flight Commander J
So this is what 95% cloud cover looks like I thought to myself as I reflected on the military minds they called “The Brains” back at HQ, well at least they got it wrong about the rain. It was an absolutely beautiful day, the sun was shining, reflecting off the tops of the clouds as we trailed out way over them, we were so close that the wheels of my plane were creating swirls in the vapour.
I glanced off to my right.
I was still in position on the port wing of my new Flight Commander who seemed like a man in his element.
Mind you I think he would have been in his element anywhere.
Lt Montague Anstruther-Browne, 2nd son to the Earl of Shrewsbury, arrived at our Drome dressed in his Hampshire cricket jumper and carrying his willow bat which he referred to as Ethel. He looked to be a couple of years older than me but carried himself with an assurance and poise that I had never seen before.
He had been introduced to us by Uncle, who looked a bit put out, even more so when Lt M. A-B. said you call me Biff, not Sir or Lieutenant, when you know me better and I know you, then Skipper will probably do also, but until then it’s Biff and anyone who calls me Montague will find out why it’s Biff and he looked at us closely when he said it.
Just then I saw the 3rd plane in the flight, the Twa Jocks, they had been appearing and disappearing in the cloud but maintaining their position on Biff’s starboard wing. The three of us, it reminded me of the Dumas book, the Musketeers - well - only a little.
I was wondering how we were going to find our target with this cloud cover but of much more concern was how we were going to find the Drome on our return, with the warmth of the Mess to welcome us and that cheering glass of whisky at the end of the flight.
This was the first time I’d flown in such conditions and I was trying to remember the navigation lessons back in Blighty, of course I’d not taken much notice then, I was all fired up with the exciting first flight and navigation seemed very dry stuff at the time.
There’s not much to do flying on a set course, apart from checking regularly for enemy, as well as ensuing you stay in formation, so I was quietly ruminating on our new F.C. and his briefing this morning, I think I’d slipped up there, I shouldn’t have been so naïve, after 8 weeks at the front I should have known better. Unbeknown to me the CO and Uncle were ruminating on him and his briefing as well.
Well the CO said “as you know I was dubious about Wing posting this new fellow to us, all that happens is chaps want to get rid of chaps that don’t fit in, odd balls you might call them. I have one or two chaps I would like to see posted out, that Berry chap for a start, is it 3 or 4 planes he’s written off now” “Only 3” Uncle replied sourly “Yes well he would be better off on someone else’s books rather than ours.”
“However” he continued, “it turns out Anstruther-Browne’s transferred from the RNAS and apparently he is the 2nd son of the Earl of Shrewsbury and you know Shrewsbury is the commander of all the RNAS chaps in northern France. Oh you did know, - well the RNAS seem to have a better procurement system than the RFC, so maybe we can get a couple of their planes to try out in the same way we have been getting the Moranes from St Proud.” Uncle looked a bit dubious but said nothing, there were rumours of a new French plane a Nieuport nicknamed the Bebe that the RNAS were trialling, now that would really put a crimp in the Hun’s tail he thought.
The CO suddenly changed tack and said “how do you think the briefing went this morning”
“Humm, not as well as I would like” Uncle replied “Why’s that then” “Well I asked him what the hell he was playing at yesterday for a start, you know, taking the DH2 up to 2000’ and then flying round the airfield in a box course” “Yes I saw that” replied the CO “He flew about 1000 yds in a straight line and then turned 90’ and did the same thing, then turned and repeated it going round in a square 4 or 5 times” Mind you that was a marvellous display of acrobatic flying afterwards don’t you think and then he just flew off for an hour or so, what did he say to that”
“Well that was another problem, I told him we didn’t show off like that in the RFC, acrobatics might be the thing in the RNAS but we go after the Hun in deadly earnest.”
“He didn’t turn a hair, but explained that he was swinging his compass, had never flown a DH2 before so was trying to get a feel for the plane and on his hour long flight had been marking up his map with the salient feature so he could get himself and his flight back home. I decided not to ask about the new bullet holes in his plane and he didn’t volunteer any information about it. Although I got a call about a DH2 attacking a formation of German bombers and did I know anything about it. Naturally I said no but I had his mechanic check the fuel level and there was not much more than vapour in the tank and the gun had been fired”.
“Swinging his compass” echoed the CO. “Yes that was another problem” explained Uncle “I told him the mornings mission was to bomb the other end of the tunnel we hit recently, gave him the coordinates and then the weather forecast and his face went as cloudy as the forecast” “He did seem to cheer up a bit when I told him we expected there to be enemy scouts protecting the tunnel.” “That’s when he asked if we had any experience of night flying and I said no” “He looked a little pensive and so I asked what did he think”
“Well I hope you don’t think I’m too negative” he said “but it’s not possible”
Well I exploded at that but after a while I calmed down a little and he carried on as if nothing had happened. He told me “I’ve checked your planes and none of them has a Compass Deviation Card in them so the chaps can’t fly a compass course blind, they will end up in the wrong place”. “I must have looked as blank as I felt, so he showed me the results of his Compass Swinging.
“It turns out he’s been sailing since he was suckled and crossed the Atlantic twice as navigator on a small yacht and so understands navigational techniques as well as anyone. Apparently each plane or yacht has a different amount of magnetic interference that affects the compass, engines, that sort of thing, and so as well as the bloody magnetic pole being 12 or 13’ off true north*** you can add or subtract another bunch of degrees depending on the course you are steering because of your bally plane.” “Then there’s the wind he said, it’s just like the tide but we can’t measure it to take account of its effect on the plane, so all in all flying a course using a compass to arrive at a point is impossible.” As well as the problem finding the right place there’s the height of the cloud to take into account, he said, it looks to be as low as 200’ here today but it might be 0 over the target, my men will just as likely dive into the ground before we see it.
“I told him that - yes I did think he was being negative and to get on with it and sent him off with a flea in his ear, but I think he’s right, we’re going to lose 3 planes today along with 5 good men.”
“Well I’m not so sure about that” replied the CO “I overheard his briefing to the chaps this morning before the flight, he didn’t know I was there otherwise I expect it would have been different”. “It was quite succinct and went something like”, “Some idiot thinks we are going to fly 30 miles in a straight line, drop down through the cloud, find a needle in a haystack and drop a bomb on it.
This is what we are going to do. Fly 30 miles in a straight line and drop the bombs and fly back on a reciprocal course and land back here in time for tea and crumpet. I will shoot anyone who dives down through cloud layer this low, we have no idea where it ends and I’m not having my flight pushing up daisies dieing in such a stupid way, you have Huns to kill and you can’t do that if you are dead.” The only good news is that there is expected to be fighter cover over the target, if the idiots are in the air, they will act as a pointer to where the tunnel is, otherwise when I fire a red very light you drop your bombs - on target - if anyone asks and we go home, is that understood?”
“Well in spite of my initial reservations – I think he might do after all” Uncle confided with a smile.
I kept seeing one plane then two.
Occasionally none but Biff or Lt M. A-B or Mad Biff as I was thinking of him kept on flying with assurance, if I’d known what he was thinking maybe I wouldn’t have been so happy.
*** As best I could find this was the magnetic variation in Northern France in 1917 but don’t quote me on it.
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