first hand account of taking down a gotha
this is a second hand account of taking down a Gotha from the same site with the pilots journals just another amazing read
The Gotha Bomber
TAKING DOWN A GOTHA
FLIGHT November 7, 1918
THE big twin-engined Gotha bomber droned steadily
across the skies eastward. Her work of destruction had
been done, practically unmolested, as it happened. The
pilot, after the tension of the past few hours, relaxed his
tired muscles, and looked back at the tawny haze above
Paris, spattered with the gold of the setting sun. He fell
into a mood of drowsy content, lulled by the sense of dangers
past, and present security. Such moods are dangerous, for
no German may ever feel completely immune from our compact
little scouts, which may be racing up behind their " blind
spot," or hiding coyly in a cloud, to pounce at the psychological
moment.
Suddenly from underneath, a little de Haviland chaser
surged up, with the speed of a bullet. As she passed the
observer sprayed a fan of lead from his machine-gun at the
now thoroughly awakened Hun. The startled German
made a mental note not to be caught that way again. The
Spandau gun behind him broke out re-assuringly. The
little de Hav. eddied and wriggled, round the bomber, almost
as if in play, like a butterfly round a big, indulgent St. Bernard.
He " zoomed " as a cat scales a wall, fell into a sickening
" vrille," came out with a clean recovery, and executed an
" Immelmann turn " like a gutter-child flings a cartwheel.
Quickly he gained height again, still unhurt, and as he
pounced once more on the big machine, that clumsily tried to
evade him, his gun spoke anew. Suddenly there was the rending
noise of a splintering propeller. The little de Hav. had cut
it too fine in passing, or the bomber had surged upwards
unexpectedly. The nose of the scout was fixed, as if mortised,
in the right wing of the battle-plane. All this passed in a few
seconds. Both pilots switched off and stopped the flow of
their petrol.
The machines locked together, began to fall in a slow spin.
The pilot of the bomber burst into explosive gutterals, and
tried furiously to work his controls. It was utterly useless.
They were falling now with terrific speed, and he seemed to
feel in advance the shock that was to come, to see himself
crushed under his own engines. He could do nothing but
wait. The Englishman gripped the sides of his narrow
fuselage, and hoped that what must happen would happen
quickly. The wind whistled through the taut wires.
The altimeter showed him 3,000 feet, 2,000, the hand
rapidly receding on the dial. The country seemed to rush up towards them.
Then came the crash, a great smashing
of branches. Was it death ? The English pilot patted himself
all over gingerly, loth to believe that he had come through
unscathed. He crawled out of the crumpled framework.
On the ground he saw the pilot of the German bomber, white
with pain, and his observer bending above him, ripping open
seams to get at the compound fracture of the leg. Of the
three the Hun pilot was the only one gravely hurt, the other
two being practically scathless.
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Originally Posted by Flying Officer Kyte
That report was very lyrical, almost poetical.
One other thing that Andrew on the Great War in the Air forum queried was the fact that the Gotha had a crew of 3 but only two are mentioned & the story teller keeps referring to the small & nimble Scout Aircraft & no one knowledgeable would call a 2 seater a "small scout".
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