A Marine At Belleau Wood. The Letter Home..

In Belleau Wood, Walter Spearing, of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, a University of Pennsylvania man, who had been one of the first Marines to "ship over," received the wounds which caused his death. His comrade in arms had been "Sol" Segal, of Alliance, Ohio, barely twenty years old. And when the grave had been filled, "Sol" sat beside it and, upon paper captured from a German dugout, wrote a letter of consolation to Spearing's mother that is destined to become a classic—in the Marine Corps, at least. A letter of an overwhelmed man it is, a man grieving for the "bunkie" who is gone, yet strengthening the mother who, he knows, grieves deeper than he:
At the Front, June 26, 1918


DEAR MRS. SPEARING:
THERE is grief in my heart and in the hearts of all of my comrades for the great sorrow that this war has brought to you and to us. We all unite to express our heartfelt sympathy and condolence to the mother and family of one who has fallen in a cause as imperishable as will be the names of those who have fallen to defend it. Should there be anything my comrades and I can do to mitigate your grief and to allay your sorrow — some little keepsake of Walt as a Marine, perhaps — but name it, dear lady, and it shall traverse the ocean to you.
Because you do not know me, please do not think it presumptuous for me to write. You are Walter's mother — I was his inseparable friend and comrade; that makes us two kindred souls in common grief for our nearest and dearest. Then, too, this letter fulfills a duty that I am bound by oath and will to perform. Many months ago, Walt and I promised each other, that, should the "God of Battles" call to one, the other would console the sorrowing mother. Now Walt has gone West to Home and to you forever, but his figure, his voice, his wonderful personality will always be living truths to me. I, myself, should the great call come, will go gladly, confident of a reunion and with faith in the eternal truth of that cause for which I die.
Beneath the green in Belleau Woods, forever connected with the "Honor of the Marines," lies Walt with two comrades, dead on the "Field of Honor." Above their graves the stately pines sway in their grandeur, an imperishable monument. But greatest of all epitaphs is that engraved within the hearts of his comrades. "A man, than whom there was no peer in kindliness, in understanding, in comradeship, beyond compare." Wre alone know what could have been had circumstances so willed it. Whatever befall, whatever sorrow fills us, one thing I swear to you, here hard by that lonely grave — the very paper that I write upon taken in a captured German dugout — I swear that Walt is well avenged, that he has not died in vain, for his spirit leads us on to ultimate victory. You are proud, I know, for you are the mother of a martyr — a martyr in a holy cause, Freedom and Liberty.
Dear lady, the very thought that you are in grief tears my heart. Do not sorrow; death, after all, is not so terrible, and here — why, here it is glorious.
Mother, hi the name of the Twenty-third Company, in the name of the Marines, I salute you, and all my comrades salute you.
Devotedly
SOL SEGAL

Taken From My Book, "Pennsylvanian Voices of The Great War" McFarland Publishing.

Phil Rader Tells How It Feels To Deliberately Kill Men

French Legionare WW1

This is a fascinating account of how a man feels when forced to kill.
Phil Rader was a member of the French Foreign Legion. This story was written on March 1, 1915.


Phil Rader tells how he shot and killed an unarmed German upon the command of his Lieutenant.
Was so excited he could hardly aim but finally got his man.

Written for the United Press, 1915
By Phil Rader

London March 1. How it feels to kill a man is something I cannot definitely describe.
There are some millions of men in Europe who have had this feeling during the past half year but I venture to say that not one of them could faithfully detail his emotions upon first taking a human life.
After you see your victim drop you first feel a sense of triumph... Then the ages in training in the Ten Commandments come to front and you feel like a murderer.
Then you want to run around among your mates and tell them circumstances of the killing and get them to tell you that you did the right thing.
My experience was like that. I was standing beside my lieutenant one day. He had fastened a small mirror to a twig and was looking at the German trenches, when suddenly he exclaimed. “Get your gun! A Boche has come out of his trench.” I ran down the trench and got gun and came back to the loop hole. I was so excited I could hardly aim. Through the hole I saw a German standing on the edge of his trench. He had been carrying a huge board and he had rested it against his back while he tried to light his pipe.
“Get him! Get him! , he said the lieutenant.
I fired and missed. The German struck another match and merely looked contemptuously at the spot in space where the bullet had whistled past him. He was only 45 feet away from me, but thorough the loop hole I could see only a part of his body and I wanted to hit him low if possible. I aimed again. He wheeled around and backed in a circle, like a drunken man trying to keep his balance. Then he threw up both hands and fell forward on his face.
I turned around to look at the lieutenant. He had moved a way. I was proud. Then a wave of remorse came over me; it was the “Thou shalt not kill” that is buried in every man’s mind and heart.
“I got a German” I shouted to a soldier nearby. I told him how the man had been standing there, holding a board.
“Did he have a rifle?” asked the soldier. “Why no “, I said. “And you shot an unarmed man?” “I had direct orders” I answered. I felt like a dog. It seemed to me that I must find some human being who would say that I had done the right thing.
I told another soldier about it. “Served him right, “said the soldier. “ He would have done the same thing to you.”
Those were splendid words for me. I had sloughed along the trench before I met him. After that I held up my head. But the two feelings the pride and remorse fought in my mind.
At last I told it all to an old Legion Soldier.
“My boy, “he said, “Its war. Could you have refused to shoot under the eye of the Lieutenant? War is killing and that’s all there is to it. Suppose every soldier in the French line were to obey his own instincts about killing. None of the enemy would die. The French have brought you here to kill. You are ordered to kill and you must kill whenever you can.”
Technically I had dome wrong because all war is wrong.


French Hotchkiss Machine Gun
“I sat behind a machine gun, one day soon after that and killed eleven Germans who had built a barricade in some nearby trees. They were shooting at us and I felt much better about killing them than I did about that single German.
And then later again on the bicycle seat of the machine gun, and, at the rate of 700 shots a minute, I fired at advancing columns of Germans in close formation and watched them drop and squirm. They were coming to kill us if they could. It was only fair to kill them, under the rules of the war game.
A terrific sense of power filled me; the rattle of the gun was sweeter and grander to me that the Hallelujah chorus. I knew what it meant to be drunk with killing. Other machine guns were going too, but I felt at the time that mine was the only one. The Germans turned and ran, their formation smashed; their dead and wounded strewing the hillside.


German Soldiers


But that night. After I had crawled into my mud hole to sleep. I didn’t dare to think of all the women and children whose hearts had been hit by that machine gun fire.
I had joined the French Foreign Legion expecting to be made a member of the flying corps. Instead I had found a way to the trenches where killing was our only job. brutal out and out killing. With little science and less chivalry.
When my chance came I got out of the 1,500 men I had started out with only 345 remained and we had been in the trenches only 47 days.
I quit because it was a living hell. Everybody else would have quit too, I know they would, I lived with them and talked with them and ate with them. And I know them all and they would have quit if they could. So would every other man in all the armies of the world.

An Ordinary Pilot World War 1

Interesting articles from Flight Global 1918 Archives


AN ORDINARY SCRAP
IN THE LIFE OF THE ORDINARY PILOT.

I OFTEN wonder if other pilots hate the early O.P. (Offensive
Patrol) as much as I do. I always did dislike getting up
early in the morning, but it always seems doubly as unpleasant
if one has to get out of a fuggy warm bed, pull on clothes, heave
oneself into a machine, and crash into the atmosphere. On
the particular morning I am going to relate about, I simply
hated getting up, the weather was doubtful and very cold.
After having " clapped " up all my pilots from the remains
of a greasy breakfast, we all walked down to the sheds.
There was a glorious dawn but no one took any notice of it.
We were all far too " bleak " to speak to each other,"except
one Canadian, who was " hearty," as he always was on every
possible occasion. Sometimes we all cursed him for it. On
occasions everyone was grateful to him for unveiling humour
at times when we none of us could see any.
We ran up engines, taxied out, took off and got formation
over the aerodrome at about fifteen hundred feet.
I led the patrol away from the lines climbing hard, turned
east again, struck the lines at about nine thousand feet and
started our patrol. The Hun never starts his work for nearly
an hour after British machines have started, but if we once
started work later, he would at once get his artillery machines
up, so as to work unmolested.
We swept from the south to north-east of the lines, coming
down against the wind over the trenches. We repeated this
performance twice, and had done 50 minutes of our patrol,
when coming down south I saw two two-seaters about 5
miles over Hunland. I had a look into the sun for scouts
lurking high up, ready to pounce on us when we attacked the
two-seaters, but all was clear. The rest of the formation
closed up, having also seen the Huns. We worked our way
east and into the sun, and when about two thousand feet
above them we dived to attack. A fight is always a hard
thing to record accurately afterwards, as everything happens
so quickly. On this occasion I tried to take the two-seater
who says : " I insist in particular on the following
points :
The fuselage is very deep, and the top plane
is very close to it. The contour of the rudder and
its fin is very rounded and not polygonal as in the
reconstructed view. The tail planes are polygonal
in plan view, with the angles rounded off."
In reconstructing the machine the length of each
top wing was found to be 4 metres 70 from root to
tip. The span found for the bottom wing was in
the neighbourhood of n metres, and as, according
to all the observers who have had an opportunity
of seeing the machine, the bottom plane was of smaller
span than the top one, it was concluded. that there
must have been a fixed centre section in the top plane.
No trace has, however, been found of such a centre
section.
Our correspondent calls our attention to the deep
fuselage close to which is the top plane. On the other
hand our contributor, Jean Lagorgette, who, from
the hospital, follows closely any novelties, advances
the following hypothesis : If there was a fixed centre
section it would probably be made of steel tubes.
[The inference being that it would in that case have
survived the flames.—ED.] If no trace has been
found of it or of its cabane. this centre section does not
exist, and the top wings attach directly to the body
as in the Roland.
In any case, the fuselage being high, the rear gunner
would be able to fire upwards. According to observers
on the ground this machine is very fast and
has a high " ceiling."


THE ORDINARY LIFE
OF AN ORDINARY PILOT.

In his blind spot. He saw me, swung round, and I found
myself sitting on his tail, both my guns going hard, and the
Hun observer firing hard at me. I found this rather too hot
for my liking, so pulled away, just as another of my people
came down like a stone on to the Hun. I looked towards the
other Hun, and saw him going down east with two Camels hanging
on him like leeches. I took another look round, for in a
light if a pilot does not look round he may be leapt on any
minute, and to my immense surprise saw an Albatros scout
about 200 feet below me, west of me, and flying towards me.
I suppose he was flying to the rescue of the furthest two-seater,
for I am certain he never saw me from start to finish. I
waited till he came to within a hundred yards of me, dived
my machine steeply at him, pressed both gun controls, and
waited till he passed through my telescopic sight. I must
have ripped him open from end to end. I swung round,
unfortunately getting him underneath me where I could not
see him actually burst into flames, which is what occurred.
I flew back to the lines to our rendezvous, where I pick up my
formation again and reclimbed. By the time we had got
our height again, I had spotted another two-seater at about
the same place as our previous scrap.
The formation went at it, but it sighted us before we got to close range, put its
nose down, and ran away followed by bullets from 10 machine
guns, unfortunately at rather long range. The patrol had
by then more than done its time, so that we flew back to the
aerodrome and breakfast. As I stopped my engine in front
of the sheds the recording officer, who, in spirit, is an enthusiastic
war pilot, rushed up to tell me that a message had
come from the A.A. anti-aircraft batteries saying five Camels
had tackled three Huns. One Hun scout shot down in flames,
and one two-seater completely out of control, which had been
shot down by the two people I had seen tackling it.
We all felt that after all the early patrol sometimes was
not so bad as it was painted. H. B.


A FULL DAY.
BEING SOME MORE ORDINARY INCIDENTS IN THE ORDINARY LIVES OF
r ORDINARY (AND SOME EXTRAORDINARY) PILOTS OF No. X SQUADRON.


TO-DAY has been a great day for the squadron. The Major
has been away in hospital, so that I have been running the
squadron, consequently not definitely tying myself up to
fly on any special show. The morning had been " dud,"
but about mid-day the clouds cleared off, and the weather
settled down clear and sunny for the rest of the day. I had
arranged to fly down to see the CO. of another squadron,
whom I knew, but before I went, I " rushed off " six Camels
to meet two artillery machines at 8,000 feet over a given
spot, to escort them on a photographing work about four
miles east of the lines on the La B Canal.
I had engine trouble at No. — squadron, which prevented
me getting back home till two-thirty.
As I stopped my engine in front of my shed one of my
pilots held up eight of his ten fingers, and, while he nodded his
head hard, a large grin suffused his face. If one pilot lands,
and while he has been up some other pilot has got one or more
Huns, it is always a sign to the pilot who is taxying in that so
many Huns (according to the number of fingers held up)
have been knocked down while he has been up, when he
sees a grinning face, a nodding head, and one or more fingers
held up to him. In this case I thought someone was having
a joke with me in their own quiet way, and it sent me all
" naa-poo " when I heard the tail of the fight from W ,
the leader of the escort.
He had met the three photographing machines at the
rendezvous, the whole formation steering for the lines directly
afterwards. The photography machines crossed at about
8,500, while he led his other five above and behind at about
9,500. W had had a look out for Huns before he crossed
the lines, but as far as he could see the sky was clear. The
photography machines had just started the work, when
about ten Huns hove in sight coming from the east, and
above. Three of the Huns dived straight at the photographic
machines, followed closely by all six Camels, which
were in their turn followed by the remainder of the Hun
formation. A general melee ensued between the Camels
and the Huns, while the photographic machines were able
to finish their work, get their photos, safely back to the lines,
which was all important for them, and have a grand view
of the fight. As one of their pilots said afterwards, " It was
dangerous to be in the air because of falling Huns."
W— shot down one Hun out of control, which •was attacking
a photographic machine, and this Hun was seen to crash.
He then got on the tail of another Albatros scout and fired
a short burst into it at point-blank range. The Hun and his
machine just disintegrated in mid-air in a cloud of white
smoke, and an explosion, which everyone could hear above the
roar of their engines. Each of the other five pilots shot
down a Hun, all of which were crashed, and confirmed either
by the anti-aircraft batteries, or the photographic machines.
Some of these Huns went down side-slipping from side to
side on their backs, others spun to earth, one fell in flames,
while one wing came off another. L shot one down which
he could not watch crash, so, to ensure that it had, he came
down to two hundred feet, " contour chased " round the spot,
till he espied the wreckage lying in a heap on the ground,
then " contour chased " back over the trenches.
These Huns all appeared to be inexperienced pilots with
the exception of the red-nosed leader, who, however, was
the one shot down and blown up in mid-air by W—. Of
those ten or so Huns six were completely destroyed, while
two more were shot down out of control, and nearly certain
to have crashed. Our total damage was half a dozen bullet
holes distributed among our six machines.
The average Hun appears not to be keen on fighting,
although there are, of course, exceptions, and, in my humble
opinion, the Hun scout pilot of this time last year was in a
different class to the average of this year. They now seem
to aim at quantity not quality. As an instance of my statement,
I will quote the following two cases. O was a new
pilot with no war experience. On his first job he lost his
patrol, and for some time cruised up and down the trenches
trying to find them. At last he saw six machines about four
miles over the lines, which he thought must be his lost patrol.
He cruised over into the middle of them quite happily, until
he suddenly heard the rat-tat-tat of a machine-gun behind
him. He swung round, and at the same moment realised
he had run into the middle of six Hun scouts. O was a
sensible lad and kept his head. He knew it was hopeless to
run for it, so he charged right at the nearest Hun, firing both
his guns. The Hun turned over, spun down and was seen
to crash by out A.A. batteries. He twisted and turned in
the middle of the other five till he got down to 3,000 feet,
when he put his machine into a spin, spun right down to 200
feet and " contour chased " back between the trees, followed
by the five Huns above him as far as the trenches, the Huns
not daring, however, to come down as low as he did, but
keeping a respectful 500 feet above him.
The other incident was one of many adventures T had
before he went " West." T was one of our flight commanders,
a very gallant fellow and a great Hun strafer.
Whenever he had no job on in the morning he would take his
camel up to about seventeen thousand feet and wait for an
unsuspecting Hun to come over our lines on a reconnaissance.
On the particular day I am writing about, T was doing
his usual game, when he saw six Hun scouts dive on two of our
artillery machines our side of the lines in the L salient.
Without a moment's hesitation he dived straight into the
middle of them.
It was hopeless for him to try to sit on the tail of one
Hun, as he would at once be leapt on by all the others. He
wriggled, twisted, turned, and dodged, firing his guns when he
could, and several times being in imminent danger of colliding
with Huns. Meanwhile not only was the fight drifting east
over the trenches, but another six Huns had joined in. The
two artillery machines got safely away, but T was still
in the middle of what had now risen to a dozen Huns. There
must have been so many that they got in each other's way,
and baulked each other for shooting, for it was a miracle
T got away. If he had once hesitated for a moment, or
tried to run away, he would have been lost.
The Huns must have seen they were up against a tough proposition, for T •
flew wonderfully at any time, and must have flown superhumanly
on this occasion, for gradually he saw fewer and
fewer Huns, until suddenly he found he had fought till there
were no more Huns in the sky near him. He had no more
ammunition, and he was four miles east of the lines. He
flew back over the lines, made a priceless landing, and
stepped out of his machine very nearly as calmly as when he
went up.
H.B,

ANOTHER EXTRAORDINARY INCIDENT IN THE
ORDINARY LIFE OF ORDINARY PILOT

Today we had a comic show, at least we only found it
comic afterwards. At first we thought it was going to be a
case of another of in the casualty list. However, all's
WBII that ends well.
This evening the Flight did a long O.P. (I am not going to
say again what O.P. means. Everyone who reads " FLIGHT "
ought to know by now, and if they don't they would be
better employed studying " Bassinette Literature" rather
than " FLIGHT " ) . The sun was well down in the west, there
was a cloudless sky, and a thick haze which made it impossible
to see anything at all of the ground, looking westward, in
fact one could only just see the ground below one, above
three thousand feet.
The patrol branched off down south, crossed the lines in
of A , with a good wind blowing them over into " Hunland,"
and a good haze which prevented " Archie " being able
to practise his wiles on the patrol. The only way the leader
could keep his bearings was to steer -by the sun, with occasional
glimpses of trenches or ruined villages below. After
going east for about five minutes, machines suddenly seemed
to appear from nowhere in ones or twos, both above and
below the patrol. The leader kept his eyes well open, and
watched Hun machines collecting by twos and threes up in
the sun between the patrol and the lines, about five thousand
feet above the patrol, which was then flying about nine
thousand feet. As the patrol got above D—— they saw a
formation of six Huns below them gliding down to their
aerodrome, and a comfortable hot tea, or whatever the Huns
have instead of tea. I have heard that their favourite dish
at about five " Pip Emma" is " Roast Rumpler," both
economical in ingredients and tasty to eat.
The recipe is as follows ; Take a crashed Rumpler, reduce
it to pulp (if this has not already been done by the pilot),
add boiling glycerine produce (Leave you to guess what
factory that comes from), stir gently and serve up same in a
well seasoned flying cap. This dish is highly thought of by
the Higher Command, being well "Forte " to the palate.
To continue; Tea seemed a long way off to all the pilots
just then. They were ten miles over, about eighteen Huns
above, between them and home, while there were six Huns
" cold meat" below them, but all knew it would be asking
for trouble to dive, because if the six Camels once started
down, all the Huns from above would come down like a ton
of bricks on top of them, and everyone would have a very
poor chance of getting back against the wind, and against
such odds. The leader did the only thing; he stuck his nose
down hard North-East, followed hard by the rest of the
patrol.
The Huns behind rushed along to overtake the patrol, and
got in a position due south of the Camels, but by the time
this had happened the patrol "was about seventeen miles
over Hunland. The leader then changed course to North-West.-
The Huns, not realising what the leader was up to, hesitated
for a second, in which time the Camels had got about a mile
and a half away. The leader held on his course, taking no
notice of two formations more of Huns below him, going
home to roost, which in the ordinary course of events would
have been rudely interrupted from their peaceful " end of
a perfect day " joy-ride. He held on his course, but when
about five miles from the lines, two Huns came down to the
Camels, and sat about three hundred yards behind the back
man, sniping hard' at him. The leader took in the situation,
and came to the conclusion it was no time for," comic heroics."
If he turned his formation back to help the back man, he
would give the pursuing Huns, who had now reached to the
number of twenty, the chance they wanted, and would
probably sacrifice his whole patrol for the sake of one man,
who was being " shot up " by two Huns. Not good enough,
he decided, and held on his course, but going as slowly as
he dared. When about four thousand feet up and about
two miles from the lines, the leader saw the back man put
down his nose, and dive steeply into the fog below the rest
of the formation.
The rest of the formation crossed the trenches safely, came
down through the fog, picked up their bearings, and tfew
back to the aerodrome. ,
When they got back, all corroborated the leader's report
about the Huns, but all differed as to what had occured to
H—, who was the back man. Some said he could not have
reached the lines, others that he would be in the trenches,
others that he would never be heard of again, that he was
certain to have been killed. Suddenly this "mothers'
meeting," where everyone was shouting and talking at once
was broken up by another pilot who rushed up, and gasped out
in short breaths the statement that H— had landed at CTO-
DAY we had a comic show, at least we only found it
comic afterwards. At first we thought it was going to be a
case of another of in the casualty list. However, all's
WBII that ends well.
This evening the Flight did a long O.P. (I am not going to
say again what O.P. means. Everyone who reads " FLIGHT "
ought to know by now, and if they don't they would be
better employed studying " Bassinette Literature" rather
than " FLIGHT " ) . The sun was well down in the west, there
was a cloudless sky, and a thick haze which made it impossible
to see anything at all of the ground, looking westward, in
fact one could only just see the ground below one, above
three thousand feet.
The patrol branched off down south, crossed the lines in
of A , with a good wind blowing them over into " Hunland,"
and a good haze which prevented " Archie " being able
to practise his wiles on the patrol. The only way the leader
could keep his bearings was to steer -by the sun, with occasional
glimpses of trenches or ruined villages below. After
going east for about five minutes, machines suddenly seemed
to appear from nowhere in ones or twos, both above and
below the patrol. The leader kept his eyes well open, and
watched Hun machines collecting by twos and threes up in
the sun between the patrol and the lines, about five thousand
feet above the patrol, which was then flying about nine
thousand feet. As the patrol got above D—— they saw a
formation of six Huns below them gliding down to their
aerodrome, and a comfortable hot tea, or whatever the Huns
have instead of tea. I have heard that their favourite dish
at about five " Pip Emma" is " Roast Rumpler," both
economical in ingredients and tasty to eat.
The recipe is as follows ; Take a crashed Rumpler, reduce
it to pulp (if this has not already been done by the pilot),
add boiling glycerine produce (Leave you to guess what
factory that comes from), stir gently and serve up same in a
well seasoned flying cap. This dish is highly thought of by
the Higher Command, being well "Forte " to the palate.
To continue; Tea seemed a long way off to all the pilots
just then. They were ten miles over, about eighteen Huns
above, between them and home, while there were six Huns
" cold meat" below them, but all knew it would be asking
for trouble to dive, because if the six Camels once started
down, all the Huns from above would come down like a ton
of bricks on top of them, and everyone would have a very
poor chance of getting back against the wind, and against
such odds. The leader did the only thing; he stuck his nose
down hard North-East, followed hard by the rest of the
patrol.
The Huns behind rushed along to overtake the patrol, and
got in a position due south of the Camels, but by the time
this had happened the patrol "was about seventeen miles
over Hunland. The leader then changed course to North-West.-
The Huns, not realising what the leader was up to, hesitated
for a second, in which time the Camels had got about a mile
and a half away. The leader held on his course, taking no
notice of two formations more of Huns below him, going
home to roost, which in the ordinary course of events would
have been rudely interrupted from their peaceful " end of
a perfect day " joy-ride. He held on his course, but when
about five miles from the lines, two Huns came down to the
Camels, and sat about three hundred yards behind the back
man, sniping hard' at him. The leader took in the situation,
and came to the conclusion it was no time for," comic heroics."
If he turned his formation back to help the back man, he
would give the pursuing Huns, who had now reached to the
number of twenty, the chance they wanted, and would
probably sacrifice his whole patrol for the sake of one man,
another large aerodrome near where the patrol had recrossed,
the machine had crashed, caught fire, H— was badly burnt,
and not expected to live. I went to the telephone, rang tip
and asked what had happened. An orderly answered
jne, and told me that H— had landed crashed, not caught
fire, but had been rushed off to hospital badly wounded.
I had hardly put down the receiver before the bell rang
again and a voice said " H— speaking, can you send over
a tender for me, please ? " It thought it must be his ghost
speaking, and could not believe it was really him till I had
heard his story.
To begin with H— had never seen the two Huns from start
to finish. He has been intent on keeping up with the patrol,
and had never thought of any Huns coming down behind
him, till he heard two bangs, and his engine stopped. He
dived down at once (which was when we had seen him go
below us). He pumped hard to get up pressure, but nothing
happened, so he turned on to his gravity tank, whereupon
his engine started up again. By this time he felt a burning
stinging feeling in a certain part of the anatomy which is used
to sit on and was in so much pain that he was sure he must
have been wounded. He made his way to aerodrome,
landed down wind, and turned " base over apex " in a ditch
at the end of the aerodrome. Mechanics had rushed up to
see if he was hurt, and by this time he was in such pain that
he shouted out, " Take care how you lift me out. I am
wounded in my back." One of the men rushed away and
got the ambulance tender out to the machine. They lifted
out the pilot, put him face down on a stretcher and took him
" all out " to the Casualty Clearing Station about a mile
away.
H— heaved himself out of the tender, walked with difficulty
into the receiving ward, when a doctor whipped off his pants
and found—nothing ! ! except a large red patch on H—\s
skin. H— said he had never felt such a fool in his life, until
the doctor told him that he must have been in more pain
than he would have been if he had been hit. All the back of
his flying kit and clothes had been saturated with petrol,
which had burnt his skin for the preceding half-hour, causing
him excruciating agony. Ten minutes later, H—, having had
some ointment put on his burn, went back to the machine,
and on examination found that his main petrol tank behind
his seat had two large bullet holes through it, and that the
whole machine was soaked in petrol.
An hour later H—was back at the squadron none the worse
except that he showed a marked reluctance to sit down on any
proffered seat.
I repeat again, " all's well that ends well."- ..
. .

Don't Ride In The Tops Of The Cars BOYS!

Shown below are two signs from my WW1 collection warning the Doughboys not to ride on the top of railroad cars. Interesting

ARTILLERY FIRE MOST TERRIFIC IN HISTORY OF THE WORLD

By:
Henry Wood
United Press Staff Correspondent
August 16, 1916

With the French Armies on the Somme. A thirty mile horseshoe of solid artillery fire, one of the most terrific shell blasting in the history of the world, is drawing a line of flame along the Somme battlefield
The artillery reached its greatest intensity as I arrived at the highest point on Dom Pierre plateau, southwest of Peronne. The day before the French had captured German third line positions from Hardecourt to Buscourt. At the precise moment of my arrival the French were employing all their great artillery strength to protect their newly acquired positions. The Germans were shelling even more desperately in an effort to dislodge the French and launch counter attacks.
The stupendousness of this great artillery struggle was indescrible. The curving line of fire extended from the French positions before Clery, north of the Somme, to St. Quentin, thence south to the region of Peronne. Shells of all calibers, both shrapnel and high explosives burst at every instant at every point along the entire front. With a rapidity which defied counting. For one lone interval, by a seemingly miraculous intervention. I was able to count off fifteen seconds when not a single shell exploded. Immediately thereafter, the tide was resumed with redoubled intensity.


Equally impressive as this thirty mile unbroken circle of artillery fire, was the thirty mile horse shoe of French observation sausage balloons over hanging at a great height the entire battle front. Their wireless instruments were directing the French fire.



At the same time innumerable French aero planes darted in and out among the sausages, crossing and recrossing the German lines every minute. From time to time as a daring aviator flew over the German positions half a dozen white puffs would suddenly appear with startling distinctiveness silhouetted against the clear blue sky, showing where the German anti aircraft gunners had sought to encircle the aero plane with shrapnel.
Yet despite this great activity of Frances air forces, not a single German aero plane appeared either for the purpose of chasing back the French, attacking the French sausages or for reconnoitering. Likewise not a single German sausage was visible to offset the unbroken thirty-mile semi circle of twenty six French sausages which I was able to count.

“BETTY” THE DOG SAVED THE LIVES OF 38 CREWMEN OF A TORPEDOED SHIP

“BETTY” THE DOG SAVED THE LIVES OF 38 CREWMEN OF A TORPEDOED SHIP

By Wilbur S. Forrest UPI Correspondent.
London July 20, 1915.

Thirty eight members of the crew of the British cargo steamer Caucasian, torpedoed off the British coast, owe their lives to a diminutive Pomeranian dog.
The story was told today at headquarters of the National Canine Defense League where Captain Robinson of the Caucasian was awarded a silver medal for saving the life of the dog and consequently the crew.
The Caucasian was torpedoed after a submarine had pursued the vessel for an hour. While the crew was swarming into the boats Captain Robinson handed “Betty” his wife’s ten month old Pomeranian dog to the second mate directing that the animal be placed in a life boat. The mate handed “Betty” to a member of the crew who accidently dropped her overboard.



When the captain entered the boat he saw the little dog swimming toward the submarine. He immediately jumped into the water and swam about a quarter of mile. When he reached the dog he placed it on his shoulder and was surprised to find that he was within a few yards of the submarine. The German officer of the craft, standing on the deck, addressed him in imperfect English.
“I had made up my mind to blow up your lifeboats because you did stop your ship, but I will not do so as a reward for your brave swim to save your little dog.”
Captain Robinson swam back to his lifeboat and the submarine proceeded on its search for other victims.
The crew were picked by the British steamer Inglemoor but immediately were forced to take again to their own boats as the submarine returned and torpedoed the Inglemoor.
Captain Robinson with his dog, and crew, were finally rescued by another steamer and landed in Benzance.

Correspondent Wilbur S. Forrest is one of the London staff of the UPI bureau, he was in charge of the Cleveland bureau of the United Press up to the time of his transfer, early in 1915, to the other side. Forrest was the first American Correspondent to reach Queenstown after the Lusitanian was torpedoed and his graphic story gave the American press a splendid picture of that disaster.

THE END OF AN ERA, THE LAST AMERICAN WORLD WAR 1 VET DIES

Frank Woodruff Buckles

From the Telegraph:

Frank Woodruff Buckles was born on a farm near Bethany, northwest Missouri on February 1 1901, seven months before the assassination of President William McKinley. At the time of his birth the United States had five states and 220 million people fewer than it has today. Its army, in 1917, was about the 18th largest in the world, behind those of Serbia, Greece and Bulgaria. Frank saw his first automobile aged five and his first aeroplane at the Illinois State Fair in 1907.

Buckles on joining up in August 1917
At 15 he delivered a string of horses to Oklahoma, landed a job at a bank and moved into a hotel. Though only 16 in 1917, when America entered the First World War, he was determined to enlist, succeeding at the fourth attempt after convincing an Army recruiting sergeant “on the family Bible” that he was 18.
Buckles was longing to see action and joined the ambulance corps as the fastest route to the Western Front. He sailed across the Atlantic in the Carpathia (the ship that had picked up survivors from the Titanic in 1912), docking in Glasgow in December 1917.
After some months as a general driver in Winchester he was shipped over to France, where he drove wounded soldiers to the nearest hospital. If he never made it to the front lines it was not for want of trying. After the war ended his unit escorted prisoners of war back to Germany. He returned to the United States in January 1920.
Buckles returned to Oklahoma for a while, then moved to Canada and eventually New York. There he found a job with a steamship company which took him around the world – to Latin America, China and Europe, including Germany, where in 1928 “two impressive gentlemen” told him: “We are preparing for another war.”
In late 1941, while in Manila on business, Buckles was captured by the Japanese. He spent the next three and a half years as a civilian internee in prison camps. “The bad part was the starvation,” he recalled, and he eventually emerged weighing less than seven stone.
After the war Buckles returned to the United States, married, bought a cattle farm in West Virginia and settled down to a life of contented obscurity. For most of the rest of his life not even his closest neighbours knew he had served in the First World War.
That was until 1999, when he was invited to Paris to be awarded the Legion d’honneur by French President Jacques Chirac, and American newspapers began to take an interest in what, in America, has often been called the “forgotten war”. In 2008, Buckles was honoured at a special ceremony in Washington by President George W Bush.
As the remaining veterans of the conflict succumbed to old age and illness, interest in Buckles’s experience grew. As of 2007, only three US veterans were still alive, and by mid-February 2008, Buckles was the only one left. When asked how it felt to be the last survivor he replied “I realised that somebody had to be, and it was me.”
In November that year, the 90th anniversary of the end of the war, Buckles attended a ceremony at the grave of the First World War General John Pershing in Arlington National Cemetery. He was also honorary chairman of a campaign to rededicate an existing First World War memorial, on the National Mall, as the official National First World War Memorial. About 18 months ago, aged 108, he returned to Washington to give evidence on the campaign to a Senate committee.
Lucid and fiercely independent into his 110th year, Buckles attributed his extraordinary longevity to good genes and daily callisthenics. He was vague about only one thing: What on earth was the First World War all about?
According to The Washington Post, only a 109-year-old Australian man and a 110-year-old British woman are now believed to survive from the estimated 65 million people who served in the 1914-1918 war.
Frank Buckles’s wife Audrey died in 1999. Their daughter survives him

SOLDIER TELLS OF LIFE IN THE TRENCHES

Soldier tells Of life in the trenches.

London Dec. 30. 1914
Correspondent of AP.

The following account of life at the front is from a correspondent who volunteered for service at the beginning of the war, and has since been promoted to the rank of officer.

“During the latter part of November, the army in the trenches was well nigh perishing with cold. Since early December it has been the victim of persistant rain and flood. Night after night, whole companies are flooded out of the trenches while a rearrangements of forces has made it impossible to give the men their former weekly three days of rest in the villages behind the lines. All the advanced forces will remain in their trenches now for 18 days; then they begin to have a brief relief.
“It is difficult5 to give an idea of what rain means in the trenches. The lines under frosty conditions seem such an orderly, permanent and town like series of cubby holes that when they all start to melt away and cave in under the influence of thaw and rain, it as if one was trying to travel through a pitch dark London in rains. Officers who were glorying in fine new dugouts equipped with all the trench comforts, suddenly found themselves buried in a mass of collapsed earth of the consistency and quality of thick paint.
“ The latest gossip here is that the Indian division and the Germans were so close to each other a day or two ago that they used the same parapet for their trenches and took turns at firing through their mutual loop holes. That of course is a little exaggerated, but serves to illustrate the manner in which the two armies keep continually getting closer and closer. Hand grenades and home made bombs fashioned out of biscuit tins can be used advantageously at many points.
“Generally, however, the trenches are about two hundred yards apart in this section. That gives the sharp shooters plenty of chance to get in their fine work and it is dangerous to push ones head above a trench even to sight the rifle. Many of the sharp shooters are using periscopes much like those of the submarine, and with these they can sight and shoot accurately without coming anywhere near the top of the trench. The opposing sharpshooters of course delight in efforts to hit the tube of the periscope and frequently succeed.
“Since the rains and floods came, the communication trenches have largely oozed away. Some of them are like rivers: others are knee-deep with pasty mud of exactly the same consistency as baker’s dough. A regiment which passes through one such trench a day or two ago left three men behind and had to send a relief [arty back to dif them out.
“Under such circumstances the labor of bringing up ammunition and rations from the rear is terrific, and the men assigned to this labor reach their destination in a state of utter fatigue; nevertheless they have to take their turn at sentry later in the night.
“The enemy is very business like and misses no chance to shoot any man who exposes himself. Today, for instance, an English soldier was up a willow tree cutting withes. A shot passed him and he sportively signaled A miss; left” A second shot came and he signaled “A Miss; right” The enemy profited by his advice, and the third shot passed straight through his head.
“There are the strictest orders against men exposing themselves, but some of the careless ones are surprisingly disregardful of their safety. Yesterday a private who was dragging a sack of coal walked slowly along the top of a communication trench for a considerable distance in full view of the enemy. Merely because the bottom of the trench was muddy and traveling down there in safety would have been more laborious than on the firm soil above. A hail of bullets passed him, but he even stopped to light his pipe behind an 18 inch willow before he deliberately climbed back down into the trench with his load.



“The whole army is very tired of willow trees and poplars. It would be a relief to know that we would never have to see them again. Willow stumps are particularly annoying because in the dark they look exactly like a crouching soldier, with perhaps a stray limb resembling a leveled gun.
“I was out scouting two nights ago and went farther ahead than I had intended. I had no rifle with me. About 40 yards from the enemy’s trench I suddenly saw what I thought was a German crouching down with leveled gun. My heart stopped, and I hastily signaled for the rifle of the man behind me, only to find it not loaded. The I looked again and found the German was only a willow stump.
“On my way back, crawling cautiously through a turnip field-one must move cautiously for these turnips crackle most alarmingly under foot. Suddenly up went one of their star shells which make the neighborhood light as day for a mile around. I dropped down. To my horror I discovered that my face was close alongside a German corpse, that had laid there since their last unsuccessful infantry attack six weeks ago. Another and another rocket went up, and it was many minutes before I could get away from that grisly object. I brought back his helmet and rifle as souvenirs.
“There is a good supply of news in the trenches, but most of it I regret to say is unreliable. Today, for instance, we heard of a great naval victory for the English. A great Galician victory for the Russians, and for the twentieth time, that the Kaiser was sick with death”.

Fighting in the Air

A fantastic article about air fighting in WW1, from the Air Service Journal July 1917
Lieut. Col. L.W.B. Rees, RFC and RA


Fighting in the Air

By Lieut-Col. L. W. B. Rees, R.F.C. and R.A.
These notes are based on experiences of last year, so that it is impossible to lay down any hard and fast rules, as the conditions alter so fast. The deductions are based on the experiences of many R.F.C. Officers, to whom I am greatly indebted.
In the shooting problems the results are only close approximations. It has been taken that the bullet moves in a straight line for 200 yards, and that the bullet does not lag, due to relative speed of air and machine.
Comparison of Pilots
The British pilot always likes the idea of fighting, and is self-reliant. He is a quick thinker compared with the enemy, so that he has the advantage in maneuvre, He fights for the sport of the affair, if for no other reason. After the first engagement he gains great confidence from the Parthian tactics of the enemy. Very wisely, he is not hampered by strict rules, and as a rule is allowed to conduct his own affairs.
The enemy pilot, on the other hand, Is of a gregarious nature from long national training, and often seems to be bound by strict rules, which cramp his style to a great extent. The enemy pilots are often uneducated men, being looked on simply as drivers of the machine, while the gunner or observer is considered a grade higher than the pilot.
This last gives a great advantage to us. as, whereas our pilots act from a sense of "noblesse oblige," the enemy, when in a tight corner, often fails to seize and press an advantage.
We noticed that when there were two officers in the enemy machine, they-always attacked, but in many other cases the attack was not pressed home. Untrained enemy pilots might also account for this.
Comparison of Duties
Both the enemy and ourselves divide the machines into two distinct classes. We both have the reconnaissance and the fighting machines.
By reconnaissance machines I mean those that do reconnaissance proper, wireless, photography, and bombing. The fighting machines are used for fighting only.
I do not mean to say that the fighter does not do his best to see what is going on, or that a reconnaissance machine docs not sometimes fight, but their primary uses are as stated.
The chief difference in these types is that the reconnaissance machine is Usually n weight carrier, so that it cannot maneuvre quickly. It may be able to protect itself very effectively, but is so designed that the view for fighting is bad, or its method of fighting does not lend itself to offensive tactics.
The fighter, on the other hand, is built solely for the purpose of attacking and bringing down the enemy's machines, and he carries armament of an offensive nature.
The fighting machines are used for patrol, and for escorting the wireless, bombing, and reconnaissance machines.
The enemy uses his machines differently from ourselves. His reconnaissance machines come over our side of the lines only at long intervals; they seldom come over far, they travel at great heights and unaccompanied. They are so fast that only our fastest machines can catch them. If fired on they immediately dive for the lines, or for the nearest anti-aircraft battery or machine gun. As every village near the lines has its machine gun it
means that the machines can dive almost anywhere so as to get a covering fire from the ground. These machines very seldom turn and fight; very rightly going straight back with their information.
It might be remarked here that if machines dive steeply, flames, due to excess of gasoline, come out of the exhaust. The front cylinders also oil up, so that clouds of smoke come out of the exhaust as well. If the dive continues for any length of time the machine must land on account of oily or sooted plugs, and not on account of any aid which they may have obtained from the Lewis gun.
changed. One will not be able to effect this without great training and much thought.
Types of Machines The enemy reconnaissance machines are as a rule tractors traveling at a speed of from 90 to 100 m.p.h. I do not think that they climb very fast, as one seldom finds them traveling very low. The pilot sits in front of the observer, and the observer sits in a little barbette. This barbette permits of an all-round arc of fire, except where it is masked by the body or planes. The top of the barbette is armoured.

(
Many of the enemy pilots are heavily handed, so that the machine turns over on landing, if the ground is at all rough.
Our reconnaissance machines, on the other hand, are continually over the enemy lines, and they go so far afield that they have to turn and fight when attacked.
The enemy fighters never come our side of the lines, so that our fighters have to go for miles to get a fight. This affects the tactics insomuch as the enemy can risk getting hit on the engine or through the tank, knowing that he will suffer no more than an ordinary forced landing. Our fighters have to be more careful, as hits on the engine usually mean that the crew of the machine must be taken prisoners.
For this reason we must do better shooting than the enemy. We must fight to the very best advantage, and having decided to open fire we must aim to disable the enemy during the first few rounds, or at any rate. during the first drum. There should be no long-range shooting, and if we can manage to disable the enemy quickly, there will be no need to go out of action in the middle of an engagement while the drum is being
which may deflect a few bullets, but is of such shape that it would seem to be little more than useless weight.
As these machines never attack, they do not usually fire ahead. They can fire at an angle of 45 deg. with the line of flight ahead. They can fire over the whole semicircle astern. . They can fire straight up, and fairly well straight down.
These machines use both lead and armour-piercing bullets, fire belts of perhaps 200 rounds, and when the belt is finished they pause quite a long time, apparently to reload.
When attacking these machines on the enemy side of the lines, when one is creeping up apparently unobserved, the enemy A.A. batteries fire ahead of their own machine, and so call his attention to the danger.
The enemy fighting machines are of four types.
The first type is the small, very quick monoplane, the small Fokker type. Apparently they are very hard to fly, as the enemy do not seem to possess more than two or three. One can tell them at once at a distance on account of their apparent speed compared with the other machines

In the sky. The Americans say that they are so fast that they cannot make a forced landing across country. This may not be so, but this is the only allowable case iu which a few long shots might be fired, on the chance of verifying this statement.
They have a stream line in front of the propeller, which makes them appear
instead of the usual monoplane
For this reason they are very hard to see against the haze which always hangs over the horizon.
The pilot sits up very high in his nacelle, so that he gets a splendid view. He has a fixed gun, and can apparently fire only straight ahead.
The machines try to creep up behind their targets unseen. If seen or fired on they dive immediately and come up again after a short while. They do not as a rule accept a set battle.
The second type is the machine a little larger than the one above. It also Is a monoplane, and carries either a pilot alone or pilot with a gunner. They fly in flights of four or six, and travel at a great altitude. When they attack a machine they dive at it firing the whole time, one after the other. They do not stop to reload, but go straight down, even if they are not fired on. They do not usually return to the attack. They fire straight ahead and straight up, but do not usually fire astern.
The third typo is the large unwieldy machine, not meant to maneuvre, but which carries an armament heavier than can be carried in a small single-seater. The twin-engine twin-body machines are of this type. Tbese machines have everything duplicated and a practically allround arc of fire. They are fairly fast and are fairly good climbers. They are not as useful as would appear at first sight, because machines attacking from a flank arc extremely hard to hit.
The fourth type is the slow, very heavily armoured machine, which cannot climb much. It carries a comparatively heavy gun—a 2-pounder, 1%-ineh machine gun, Or something after that style. This type is not developed, as no machine can carry armour heavy enough to be really effective.
Bullets penetrating armour carry with them fragments of the armour, so that more damage is done, on soft material (spars, tubes, etc.), by bullets which have pierced armour than by bullets which make a good clean hole.
The Use of a Fighter As I have mentioned above, the duty of a fighter Is to put the enemy's machines out of action. Most of the fighting takes place on the enemy's side of the lines, so that it is not sufficient to make a machine land, as machines are comparatively easy to obtain. Every effort should be made to disable the enemy pilot, as this nearly always ensures the destruction of the machine as well, even if dual control is fitted. In any case, it prevents the enemy using his armament effectively, and stops the machine maneuvring.
If the pilot be taken as the target, the shots which miss the target will hit the observer and engine, or may ouuse damage to the rigging.
To be of real use the pilot of a fighter must be extremely keen sighted. I believe one can intimidate the average enemy pilot more by showing that he has been seen than by doing anything else. It is very hard to see machines at any distance at all, yet there must always be machines in the air within attacking distance. One can often pick up the enemy machines by finding out what the anti-aircraft batteries are attacking. Machines have a habit of appearing from apparently nowhere, so that if a pilot is not alert he is
taken at a disadvantage. If an unobserved machine opens fire it takes at least 2 seconds to pick him up and to come into action. By that time the enemy has fired 12 rounds, which are quite enough to do serious damage.
The Target
When one sees a machine one is apt to think that hits anywhere will be effective. One is trained to imagine that a small thing, such as a frayed cable, is certain to cause a wreck. Yet machines go up every clay and return absolutely under control, but having dozens or even hundreds of holes in different places. It should be remembered that after being over the enemy's lines, machines should be brought back with the greatest care. Machines are sometimes wrecked over their own aerodomes because a thoughtless pilot does a steep spiral, perhaps, not knowing that his main spars have been pierced. • The only useful target to really attack is the pilot himself. This target is very small, being of a size about 2 ft. by 1 ft. 6 in. by 1 ft. 6 in., and even then shots which hit this target are not certain of putting the pilot immediately out of action. Therefore, one must concentrate one's attention and one's shooting on this small target, the pilot, till one has attained one's object.
If we attack a machine from directly in front or in rear the engine may cover the pilot's body, or vice versa. This Is the minimum target which the machine can present, and any shots hitting the target do damage, but there 'is a lot of 'room round the target in which shots which do not actually strike do no damage.
Now, If we imagine a machine being attacked from the side, or straight from above or below, the target which we must aim for still remains the same small one, but now the rounds, which before were non-effective, will hit the engine and observer, and will become effective.
This leads one to suggest that the way to attack is straight at an enemy from above, below or from the side, keeping one's own machine end on to him.
It is very hard, when lookin at a machine in the air, to know where the pilot is sitting. This may sound incorrect, but if approaching from below one sees only the bottom of the enemy's body', and as the machine is unfamiliar, the exact spot we want to hit is hidden. Even If we could hit a small practice target every time, the service target of a similar size, hidden behind fabric, is quite a different proposition to tackle.
With a small fighter we should close-as soon as possible, keeping end on to the enemy, so that he will have no chance of setting any sights he may have. We are then never at a disadvantage, and we have the advantage of being the attacker. A machine coming at one quickly always makes one a little nervous, especially if one does not know the pilot.
With a heavy machine it is different, as a heavy fighter can carry elaborate sighting devices. By using his very unwieldiness to make the machine a stable gun platform, he has more chance of concentrating his fire on the target than the little machine which is trusting to maneuvre. Once a machine starts to maneuvre the shooting is upset till the changes in speed and direction become again constant.
If we get a small fighter against a large fighter, if each is equipped with suitable armament, both machines should fall together. But one must remember that the small fighter has the advantage of the initiative, that the large fighter has a bigger area on which hits will take effect, and that it should always be pos
sible to make the large fighter maneuvre by getting into a blind spot. Once the large machine mancuvres it is at the mercy of the small one, because good shooting cannot take place from a variable motion platform.
Estimating Relative Speeds
When two machines meet and both maneuvre it is very hfcrd for either to estimate the relative speed. Take the case of two machines of equal speed revolving round a fixed point.
The relative motion is apparently nil, but the actual relative motion at the moment of firing is practically the same as though each machine were flying straight.
The enemy apparently sits on the gun sights without motion, but the maximum allowance for speed must be made.
Then, again, as both machines are banking over, it will be very hard to estimate if there should be an allowance, because the gun is apparently elevated.
If one machine steers a straight course at a known speed he has something to go on, and can use the sights and range of speed-finders, which he has prepared beforehand.
Armament
The armament depends on the type of machine, and it should be borne in mind that a little extra weight iu machines, light machines especially-, makes grout alteration in the climb. (It does not so much affect the speed.)
Carry a primary and a secondary armament, i.e., (i Lewis gun and a strlepped rifle or pistol. If the machine will take the weight, carry at least two guns for each pilot and gunner. Guns used in pairs do not seem to jamb so frequently as guns used singly. The rifle can be used for taking long shots, as it does not use ammunition at the same rate as the gun and is just as unlikely to hit.
Take up at least five drums of ammunition per gun, as this should account for a flight of machines, with a drum to spare. If rifle grenades are used, the range must be very short, as the grenade is a very low velocity projectile.
One 10-lb. bomb or a few hand grenades can be dropped on the enemy machines from above, and may save one losing height. Anyhow, the enemy will see the bomb falling, and not knowing how manvare carried, will keep clear from below The extra weight can always be dropped when quick climb is necessary.
Keep any gadgets inside the machine" so as not to affect the streamline. Make certain that the use of the gadget will repay the loss of power due to extra weight or head resistance.
When night flying carry dark glasses, so that the gun sights may be used, even if one Is within the enemy's searchlight.
Ranges
The ranges at which fighting takes place may vary from 400 yards to 4 yards. It is very hard to approach a machine to within 100 yards without being seen. Hundreds of rounds are fired every day at machines at ranges estimated at 50 yards or less without doing any damage. At 200 yards one may expect to get hits and I have taken that as the normal fightings range. I do not think that there has been a single instance in which machines have been brought down at ranges over 400 yards.
Thus we see that it is useless waste of ammunition to fire at long ranges, and that one should try and close to within 50 yards in order to do any damage.
Do not fire "just to show him you are there "; fire always for effect.



Fighting in the Air

By Lieut-Col. L. W. B. Rees, R.F.C. and R.A.

The first installment of this article appeared in the Air Service Journal of July 12, 1917.

Tracer Bullets

When tracer bullets came in it was thought that they would make close fighting impossible. They have not made the difference that one would expect. One reason is, that it is very hard to estimate the range in the air, just as it is at sea. The tracers burn for a comparatively short time, so that they go out before hitting the target. This means that the bullet apparently hits, but really falls away from the target.

If you in your younger days have ever tried to concentrate the curved trajectory of the garden hose on the nurse or gardener, you will know how hard it is to obtain effective shooting if the target dodges.

Even if we can see the hits of the bullets it is very hard to keep the proper point of impact during quick manoeuvre.

If tracer bullets are fired in the center line of the machine the observation would be much easier than if they are fired to a flank.

Before Ascent

All Gunners and Pilots, if they use! guns, should make certain themselves; that the guns have been properly cleaned, oiled, and adjusted. It is sometimes not realized by the mechanic in charge of guns that although on a warm day, on the ground, the gun will work perfectly, having been cleaned with "Vacuum" oil, yet, when the gun is taken and kept at a great height, the oil freezes and the gun jambs.

I do not intend to go into the care and adjustment of the Lewis gun, but I must mention that any deviation from the methods laid down nearly always means a jamb. See that the implements for freeing a jamb are carried in the machine. Care in gauging and selecting cartridges makes for certainty of action.

The adjustment of the sights with regard to the gun barrel must be frequently checked, both when the gun is out, and also in the machine. Fire the gun from the machine at ranges at which it is intended to get hits, and see that the sights are aligned on the point of impact of the shots.

It is also useful to fire one or two shots at a target on the ground when leaving the aerodrome, as this checks the sighting, and ensures the gun being cocked. If this is not done one will perhaps forget to cock the gun before coming into action. (Yes, it has been done.)

You can also check any adjustment you have made for allowing for your own speed.

any machine which approaches is necessarily an enemy. The Fokker and Morane, the "Two Tail" and the Caudron, the Albatross and the Curtiss have very much the same silhouette, especially if seen from the front. All machines are becoming more and more alike, and new types are being flown every day.

If one keeps between the sun and the machine under observation, then his marks become visible before he can see ours. You have seen the halo which surrounds one's shadow when it is cast on haze or clouds. The phenomenon takes place when one is on a tower, a hill or in the air. If you keep the enemy within the black patch in the center of the circle he will probably not see you till you are quite close.

To prevent being caught like this there is a service issue of tinted glass for the goggles for use in sunny weather. This glass prevents glare, and enables one to see fairly well towards the sun.



On Sighting the Enemy

Make certain that the gun is loaded and cocked, so that one can turn one's whole attention to the enemy.

If you are flying a small fighting scout you can fly in any direction, including straight up for short distances, so that you can attack from anywhere you wish.

A scout should be able to get within 1000 yards (or less) of the enemy without being seen, if it keeps between the enemy and the haze over the horizon, climbing to the attack as the Fokkers do.

When you have seen the enemy, do not bank the machine more than is absolutely necessary. At long ranges the sun shining on the planes makes the machine very visible, and at short ranges banking makes one's marks more visible.

Keep end on the enemy as long as possible, because that position is the most invisible, and the end-on target is the smallest.

If the character of a machine is doubtful, the marking on the tail usually shows up before anything else.

Scouts approaching from 2000 feet above are very often not observed.

When within 800 yards of the enemy do not fly straight unless you have reason to think that you are unobserved, because it is not known what range and speedfinders the enemy uses.

If there is reason to think that the enemy has seen one, open fire Before the enemy, as one always runs the risk of being hit by stray bullets at 400 yards range.

Close to within 100 yards if you can.

Having decided to open fire, go »r.i. Out. This gives one the best chance of hitting, and intimidates the enemy.

The above statements are in places contradictory; it depends on one's temperament what one should do.

Having taken every possible precaution, trust to one's luck as far as possible. It is well known that Napoleon considered unlucky men of no use as fighters.

Usual Enemy Tactics

The single-seater Fokker tries to approach from behind. If seen or fired on he dives, to come up again a short time later. They attack in this fashion time after time.

The slightly larger Fokkers dive at their target from any angle. Having tired they go straight down.

Reconnaissance machines dive for the nearest A.A. Battery and fire over their tails.

The heavy fighters aim at bringing all their guns to bear.

Machines seldom fly straight and make a proper attack.

The Engagement

Open fire before the enemy.

Open fire at the shortest possible range.

Open under the most favorable conditions.

Try to disable the enemy at once.

Close as soon as you can, so as to prevent the enemy setting his sights and taking

It is useless expecting to hit successfully at ranges over 400 yards.

Reserve your fire till within 100 yards of the enemy but if discovered open fire before the enemy.

At ranges of 50 yards and under, If attacking from the flank, aim at the enemy's leading edge as you see it (one or other wing tip). This statement is only a guide.

If one must collide go straight up, as the enemy nearly always goes straight down. Then if one hits the enemy one hits him with one's undercarriage..

Do not collide unless by accident. If the enemy pilot is disabled the enemy machine may travel quite normally for a long time, so that one runs the risk of wrecking one's machine uselessly. •■

If it is necessary to change drums, dive under a tractor, as that upsets his aim.

As a rule it does not pay to follow a machine below 3000 feet. At that height the machine guns from the ground become dangerous, and if the enemy machine is not disabled before that it will probably not be disabled at all.

It is dangerous to cross the trenches at heights below 2000 feet.

If no enemy is in sight never fly straight, even on our side of the lines. This prevents the enemy getting the size of the machine accurately. If the size is known it is very easy to get the range at short distances, as used in fighting in the air.

Do not take anything for granted. Work out all your own deflections, etc., for your own machine. No two machines fly normally at the same speeds.

Do not get put out when you find that your pet theory does not work.

machines are closest, and back again to we present the largest possible target to 50 feet as the last rounds are fired. the enemy.

Tractor vs. Tractor (Going Same Way)

If two tractors are going the same way in straight lines, if the pilot steers so as to collide at some point ahead, the gun should be fired with zero deflection, so as to obtain hits, no matter what the speeds of the two machines may be.

This means that one has to swt^ep 50 feet with 50 rounds; therefore, as the target is small, each round must be moved almost exactly one foot from the last, so as to keep all shots on to the target.

As the gun fires the rounds form quite a large cone, so that the shots which would have been in for line are possibly out for elevation, so that only very few hits are likely to be obtained.

The deflection for the normal travel of one's own machine can be altered automatically very easily, but if devices for this are used the machine must travel on a level keel in a straight line at the prearranged speed.

As a rule, when fighting, machines are going up or down, so that the speed may be nowhere near the prearranged speed.

Thus we see that machines firing from a flank cannot expect to obtain good shooting.


Machines Meeting

Machines can move at the present time in any direction the pilot wishes. The speeds of a fighting scout may vary from 40 m.p.h. when climbing to 100 m.p.h. on the level, and nearly 150 m.p.h. when diving.

These machines can change from one speed and direction to any other very quickly indeed.

FOREIGN DECORATIONS GIVEN TO AMBULANCE SERVICE SOLDIERS FROM PENNSYLVANIA

I have been negligent on keeping up with this blog. Reason! I jist recently RETIRED and I am just getting into the feel of retirement. I will once again start on some great blog stories, as I have found some excellent reports from old newspapers.


Awards To Schuylkill County Soldiers
DURING WORLD WAR 1

Boyer Gouvenour Henry,
1st Lieut, Medical Corps United States Army.
Attached to 133d Field Ambulance.
British Expeditionary Forces.




BRITISH MILITARY CROSS.
September 3, 1918, British War Office.
“For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty. On the night of 28th April during an enemy attack and while they were rapidly advancing he collected and organized a party of bearers and under the heaviest shell and machine gun fire led them up to the outpost line and cleared 9 wounded men. As this post immediately afterwards fell into the hands of the enemy he undoubtedly by his prompt and gallant action saved these men from capture. For 5 days during the fighting at Voormezeele he was bearer officer and showed great bravery and endurance. It was due to his reconnaissance’s which were constantly made irrespective of shelling that constant touch was kept with the changing line and evacuations maintained.”
Residence: 219 Mahantonga St. Pottsville.


Copley Charles F. 639885.
Private first class
Section No. 601 Ambulance Service.

Italian War Service Ribbon
Residence: 402 W. Spruce St. Mahanoy City, Pa.





Crane John W. 7761
Private
Section No. 506, Ambulance Service.
( Posthumous award )

FRENCH CROIX de GUERRE WITH GILT STAR.
March 5, 1919
General Headquarters French Armies of the East.
“ After having displayed an example of the greatest bravery during 5 weeks of battle, he died for France on July 16th 1918.
Residence: Pottsville. Pa.



Davies Tom J. 10156.
Private first class.
Section No. 640 Ambulance Service.

FRENCH CROIX de GUERRE
with gilt star.
March 14, 1919.
General Headquarters French Armies of the East. “ An American driver who always performed his duty with the greatest spirit under the most difficult circumstances which his section experienced. He displayed the highest sense of duty and contempt for danger on October 3, 1918, at the attack of Mopntfaucon in volunteering with a litter to remove the wounded from the field of battle under a most violent bombardment, thus assuring their prompt evacuation.”
Residence: 434 East Broad St. Tamaqua, PA.



Dougherty Charles E. 10050
Sgt.
Section No. 637 Ambulance Service.

FRENCH CROIX de GUERRE
with bronze star.
December 20th, 1918.
General Headquarters French Armies of the East. “ A very zealous and devoted non-commissioned officer. He gave the measure of his valor and displayed courage and coolness on August 30th, 1918, in going out to pick up the wounded at an advanced regimental first aid station over a route in view of the enemy and notwithstanding a violent bombardment.”
Residence: 142 W. Railroad St. Pottsville, PA.




Fisher Howard V. 8204
Private.
Section No. 525 Ambulance Service.

FRENCH CROIX de GUERRE
with bronze star.
March 3, 1919.
General Headquarters French Armies of the East. “ During the evacuation service, he displayed remarkable courage. On October 1, 1918 directed to go the assistance of the wounded in an advanced first aid station, and over violently bombarded routes, he carried out his task with absolute contempt for danger.”
Residence: 224 Pine Street Tamaqua, PA.



Golden Harry L. 7802
Private, first class.
Section No. 637 Ambulance Service.

FRENCH CROIX de GUERRE
with bronze star.
General Headquarters French Armies of the East: “ A very courageous he displayed the greatest qualities of endurance and spirit during the entire very severe period from October 20th to November 10th 1918, He had been wounded by shell fragments previously in the attacks in the month of August at Ecouvillon. “
Residence: 315 North Center St. Pottsville, PA.



Haas Earl O. 10055.
Private.
Section No. 637 Ambulance Service.

FRENCH CROIX de GUERRE
with bronze star.
General Headquarters French Armies of the East: “ A courageous driver of remarkable spirit. He displayed these qualities in effecting the evacuations of the wounded which were rendered very difficult by the bombardments of the enemy. Although gassed, he neverthe less continued to keep up his services to the end.
Residence: Rose Street, Port Carbon, PA.



Holahan Michael, 642609
Private.
Section No. 629, Ambulance Service.

FRENCH CROIX de GUERRE
with silver star.
General Headquarters French Armies of the East: “ A very devoted and self sacrificing driver. At Westrosebeke, Belgium, he remained at his post with the utmost contempt for danger under violent bombardment, thus facilitating the supply of the entire section.”
Residence: 114 North Center St. Pottsville, PA.



Hulet Charles 10084.
Private.
Section No. 638 Ambulance Service.

FRENCH CROIX de GUERRE
with bronze star.
General Headquarters French Armies of the East: “ A driver of energy and great coolness who has always demonstrated his devotion to duty in going to pick up the wounded in the violently shelled dressing stations, at Mont. Kemmel in May, on the Marne in July, and during the last offensive operations of October on the Rne and Aisne.”
Residence: 339 South Nicholas St. St. Clair, PA.



Lecher Walter J. 7787
Private.
Section No. 506 Ambulance Service.

FRENCH CROIX de GUERRE
with silver star.
March 3 1919.
General Headquarters French Armies of the East: “ Always displaying a true soldierly disregard for danger, he was severely wounded on July 16, 1918. At Hautvillers.”
Residence: Pottsville, Pa.




Lewis Albert R. 10159.
Private first class.
Section No. 640 Ambulance Service.

FRENCH CROIX dE GUERRE
with silver star.
March 10th 1919.
General Headquarters French Armies of the East: “ An American driver a model of zeal and abnegation who always exerted himself to the utmost and was a constant example for his comrades. During the Reims counter offensive of July 18th, 1918, he went out on several occasions into a violently bombarded area to search for the wounded of different units attached to the division.”
Residence: 354 South Center St. Pottsville, PA.



Lord Leon R. 10091.
Cook.
Section No. 638 Ambulance Service

FRENCH CROIX de GUERRE
with bronze star.
March 19th 1919.
General Headquarters French Armies of the East: “ A driver of energy and great coolness who always demonstrated his devotion to duty in going to pick up the wounded in the violently shelled dressing stations, at Mount Kemmel in May, on the Marne in July, and during the last offensive operations of October on the Arne and Aisne.”
Residence: 717 West Race Street, Pottsville. Pa.



Lundy Francis, 10160.
Private first class.
Section No. 640 Ambulance Service.

FRENCH CROIX de GUERRE
with silver star.
March 10, 1919
General Headquarters French Armies of the East: “ An American driver a model of zeal and abnegation who always exerted himself to the utmost and was a constant example for his comrades. During the Reims counter offensive of July 18th, 1918, he went out on several occasions into a violently bombarded area to search for the wounded of different units not attached to the division. “
Residence 527 Harrison St. Pottsville, Pa.



Morrison Joseph W. 8586.
Private first class.
Section No. 554 Ambulance Service.

FRENCH CROIX de GUERRE
with palm.
November 19,1918.
General Headquarters French Armies of the North and Northeast: “ During the attack to the north of Somme-Py from October 2-9, he drove his ambulance night and day and always was the first to go out to evacuate the wounded. He never sought protection when the roads over which he was driving were being bombarded and was often exposed to the fire of machine guns. He distinguished himself in immediately evacuating the wounded regardless of the danger.”
Residence: Auburn, Pa.



Nolan Raymond M, 642679.
Private first class.
Section No. 604 Ambulance Service.

ITALIAN WAR SERVICE RIBBON.
Residence: St. Clair, Pa.



Phillips Frank J. 5627
Private first class.
15th Ambulance company 2d Division.

FRENCH CROIX de GUERRE.
With silver star.
February 9, 1919.
General Headquarters French Armies of the East: “ During the period from October 4-9, 1918, at St. Etienne-a-Arnes, he displayed exceptional courage and great zeal in transporting the wounded from the front lines under a violent fire of machine guns. On several occasions he volunteered to go out under a violent bombardment to render first aid to he wounded and to effect their removal to the rear.”
1136 East Center St. Mahanoy city.


Roeder William J. 10334
Private.
Section No. 645, Ambulance Service.

FRENCH CROIX dE GUERRE
with silver star.
March 24, 1919.
General Headquarters French Armies of the East: “ A volunteer in the ambulance service. On September 21, 1918, he unhesitatingly stopped his ambulance which was being shot at by the enemy in order to give assistance to the wounded man whom he brought in to the nearest first aid station.”
Residence: 325 Arlington St., Tamaqua. Pa.


Ulmer Joseph J. 9652
Private.
Section 625, Ambulance Service.

FRENCH CROIX de GUERRE.
With bronze star.
May 2d ,1918.
162 Regiment French Infantry: “ On April 17, 1918, as driver of an auto mobile ambulance and in charge of the evacuation of the wounded, he displayed much coolness and devotion to in unhesitatingly crossing zones violently beaten by enemy artillery.”
Residence Pottsville. Pa.

Warner Paul L. 10068
Mechanic.
Section No. 638 Ambulance Service.

FRENCH CROIX de GUERRE.
With silver star.
January 25, 1919.
General Headquarters French Armies of the East: “ He was always performed his duties with the most complete devotion. On several occasions during the attacks of Kemmel in May and June, 1918, at the Marne, in July and in the last offensive in Champagne, he went to the most advanced first aid stations and with the coolness and great contempt for danger brought back an ambulance that had been damaged by the bombardment.”
Residence: 100 Hunter Street, Tamaqua, Pa



Williams John P. 8222.
Private
Section No. 525, Ambulance Service.

FRENCH CROIX dE GUERRE
with bronze star.
March 3, 1919.
General Headquarters French Armies of the East: “ An intrepid and courageous driver. He displayed great zeal in his evacuation service particularly during the operations from August 1-6 and October 1-10, 1918, keeping up the evacuation of numerous wounded with t he greatest coolness over violently bombarded routes.”
Residence: 110 South Jardin St. Shenandoah, Pa.