1918 We will remember them (13 page)

Two Fokkers came screaming down at me.  I fired a short burst and rolled the Camel away from them and then pulled it into a steep climb.  They were past me in a flash and I had clear sky.  I banked to starboard and dived after them. I was so fast that I soon caught them.  I fired at two hundred yards.  I hit the tail plane of one of them and they diverged. My fuel gauge told me to get the hell out of there before I ran out and I climbed to join the rest of the flight who were busily seeing off the enemy. Anything but a Fokker triplane or the D V was no match for us. We headed home, unmolested.

The patrol the following day was two miles south east of Le Catelet.   It proved to be as easy a target.  Nor did we have the problem of fighters curtailing our task.  We had just finished when they appeared. We headed safely home; I daresay the German pilots were frustrated to have missed us.

Headquarters gave us two days off and then began again. I could see what they intended. The Germans would see a pattern and assume that we were trying to disguise our point of attack. As this was happening over a fifty mile front it would be hard for them to pinpoint the precise location of the offensive.  That we were going on the offensive was no secret.  I had no doubt that they had agents in Amiens and other large towns. They would be sending back reports of the influx of new troops. Eventually they would go on the offensive but the methodical Teutonic mind liked to work things out.

We were over Le Catelet again but this time we flew above the support trenches. I knew from my own visits to the trenches that these contained supplies and provided shelter for troops moving to the forward areas.  If we destroyed them then it would leave the front line a little weaker for a while. Our problem would be that the German fighters would be closer. However the fact that only four of our aeroplanes were spotting while the rest provided protection gave me hope that we might emerge unscathed again.

The problem was that the Germans had fitted out a squadron with the Albatros D.V.  Although not the fastest of buses it had twin Spandau and they were fast. We had only seen them in ones and twos. That day we saw eighteen of them as they descended to discourage my spotting efforts. I told the artillery I was breaking off and I climbed to meet them. I had not fought them often enough to be confident about predicting their performance.  It certainly looked like a neat aerodynamic aeroplane.

Jack and the others either didn’t see them in time or they were flying a leg which took them away from the fighters.  Either way eight of the aeroplanes screamed down towards me. I did not panic.  I cocked my Vickers and aimed my bus at the third fighter from the right.  It minimised the number of guns which could be brought to bear on me and it took me towards my flight.  As I closed I feinted to port and then jerked my nose around to starboard. I fired a burst at relatively long range and then began to climb. The Camel is a small aeroplane and it is fast.  The three Albatros I was facing tried to emulate me. That was the day we discovered why there were not many of these new aeroplanes in service; they were new and they were dangerous to fly.

As I looped I saw in my mirror that one of them tried the loop. I saw something which I had never seen before.  His lower wing began to sheer away. It was too flimsy. The poor pilot could do nothing about it and he plummeted to his death.

I continued my loop and swept into the Albatros.  The disaster of the broken wing must have unnerved them.  I flew through them, firing my guns without a bullet in reply. I threw the Camel around in a shallow bank and opened fire on them again.  This time they began to stream east.  It was ridiculous.  I was a single Camel and I had out flown eight Albatros.  My flight screamed through the others and I saw four downed before the whole Hun squadron fled east. We could have pursued them had we not been so low on fuel.

My young pilots were positively bouncing when we landed. Four of them could claim a kill and one a probable.  I was astounded. When I told Randolph he did not seem surprised.  “I didn’t know it was an Albatros but we had reports of new fighters falling apart in the air.  We thought it was sabotage.”

“No, they are just a poorly made aeroplane. Thank God they don’t have many Fokker Triplanes.”

We moved down the line again the next day and did not run into any Germans. It was when we returned that we discovered the reason. The whole of the Red Baron’s Jasta had been on patrol.  He had four Jasta under his command, 4, 6, 10 and 11, the Flying Circus. Although only Jasta 11 had the triplane the rest were all equipped with the Fokker D.IV and the Albatros D.IV.  They had knocked two squadrons out of the air.  Although they were flying SE 5 and DH 4 aeroplanes they were no match for the German formation. Our comrades had paid the price for our success. It was a sombre message to pass along to our young pilots. The Red Baron was back and that meant pilots would die.

Poor weather grounded us until the twenty seventh of October.  I had been pleased to see that our young pilots spent their spare time with their mechanics and riggers around the aeroplane.  Their encounter with the poorly made Albatros showed them what a fine bus we had.  We had learned it was hard to get to know its idiosyncrasies but once you did then it was the best aeroplane in a dogfight. None wanted the faster SE 5.  They had learned that our small size and superb aerodynamics more than compensated for the speed.

Randolph waved us over just before dinner. Archie looked down.  “Bad news chaps.  The Tsar has just been overthrown.  The Bolsheviks have taken over the country.”

Gordy asked, “How does that affect us?”

“A number of ways.  Remember the French mutiny? Some British units also had a low key rebellion of sorts.  This kind of thing can spread. We even heard that some of the Kaiser’s sailors refused to fight, but the real problem is that it means Russia will be out of the war.  The Kaiser can move those Divisions to the Western front. The American Army is still coming over and will be nowhere near as big as the army the Russians could field. I am afraid this has lengthened the war by years.”

Everyone was as depressed as I had ever seen them.  I struggled for something positive. “I know that it means there will be the Eastern aeroplanes coming over but what do we know about them?”

Randolph brightened, “From what my chum said they have inferior aeroplanes on the Eastern front and yet they still manage to defeat the Russians and in terms of numbers then it will not add many to their Jasta.”

“There you are, the war might go on longer than it should but we have the same problem.  How do we defeat the Red Baron and his menace?”

Ted laughed, “Well only you have the answer to that.  No one else has given him a run for his money yet.”

I began to fill my pipe. I looked at Archie when it was going.  “Then sir, you need to call in all the favours you have and have the Bristols replaced with Camels.  If everyone wants the new SE 5 then they might let us have the older Camel.”

“You have that much confidence in it?”

“Yes sir.  With Senior Flight Sergeant Lowery’s modifications we are a better aeroplane than the triplane and with our greater endurance we can make sure that Fritz breaks off the fight before we do and if we chase him back to his fields we have more chance of shooting them down.”

Ted shook his head, “You said yourself that they were a bugger to learn how to fly.”

“If these young lads can manage then I don’t think an old goat like you should have any problem.”

Archie nodded, “I will get on to General Henderson. Don’t get your hopes up. I think we will need to get this offensive over first. They will need the Bristols to bomb the German lines.”

Randolph began to write out the request.  Archie might well telephone or visit the General but the RFC liked its paperwork. “Let’s hope then, that by January 1918 we are a Camel squadron!”

A mixture of bad weather and luck meant that we escaped the carnage of some of the other squadrons in the lead up to the Battle of Cambrai. We had a full squadron and, more than that, an experienced squadron. The two days before the battle we pored over the maps and the detailed orders we would have to follow. Sergeant Kenny and his team left on the eighteenth to join the artillery batteries. Ted and Gordy would be responsible for directing the artillery fire as General Henderson had found a spare Camel for Archie.  He would be with the Camels and our job was close support. We were told to stay over the battlefield and snuff out any attempt to destroy the tanks. It sounded easy.  It was not.

The battle began, well before dawn at six a.m. with a creeping barrage. Perhaps if we had been able to support them earlier on then things might have gone differently; I am not sure. As it was we took off before dawn to join the battle.

The two British Corps, III Corps and IV Corps were supported by four hundred tanks.  I had seen them before, of course, but not in such numbers.  There were the males with two six pounders and the females which were armed with Lewis guns. It was a strange feeling, knowing that Bert was in one of those metallic leviathans. We flew high.  I kept silent as the radio operators only needed to hear the voices of the two observers in the Bristols.

The tanks were not moving quickly; about the pace of a man marching quickly but they were relentlessly eating up the ground. They just tolled over the barbed wire as though it was not there. I could hear the bullets of the German machine guns as they pinged off the thick armour.  The danger to the tanks lay in a lucky shell hit. Soon the artillery was raining down on their gun positions. I saw groups of Germans emerge from the trenches and run purposefully towards one of the males. I swooped down and machine gunned them before they could get within grenade or flamethrower range.  One of these contained my brother. 

As I zoomed up to rejoin my flight I saw the German fighters as they appeared from the east. I knew that our night bombers had done some damage to their fields which explained their tardy arrival. We did not have the advantage of height but we did have the advantage of speed.  I signalled for line abreast and we swept towards them.  Shells were exploding all around us but, for once, there was no ground fire. The tanks were the centre of attention. I fixed a Fokker in my sights; they were trying to get to the Bristols and I had a free shot.  I remembered the effect of a pair of Vickers machine guns at less than thirty yards and when I fired I almost cut the Fokker in two. I felt something strike my lower wing and saw a line of bullet holes.  I pulled up my nose and began to bank at the same time. As I edged to port I saw an inviting tail appear with a perfect cross on the fuselage.  I fired. I must have hit some controls because it began to waver up and down.  I fired again and it descended.  The pilot was trying to land.  I admired his optimism.  There was not an inch of flat ground beneath us.  I rolled to starboard and saw some smaller German artillery pieces.  I knew that they could damage the tanks and I flew as low as I dared.  I was so low I saw one German officer with a wonderful Franz Joseph moustache.  Then I let rip.  Had I had bombs, even a Mills bomb, I could have put all six of them out of action.  As it was I did not leave one crewmember without a wound to remember me by.  It would take some time to bring that battery back into action.

The tanks were crossing the support trenches.  I saw a couple of the crew leap out and hurl fascines of wood into the trenches to make the passage easier.  Someone had thought this through.  And still the tanks rolled on.  I banked to starboard to clear a path for them. To my amazement a head popped out from the hatch of a male.  I was just fifty feet above him and I saw that it was Bert. I noticed that the tank had a union flag tied to an improvised jack staff. It made my task even more important and I waited until I was almost on the machine gun position before I opened fire.  The gun was thrown into the air and the crew destroyed.  The six pounder, on our Bert’s tank, flashed as it fired and I saw another machine gun disappear in a shower of H.E.

I knew that I was running low both on fuel and ammunition and I climbed so that I could turn. My speed and my course took me half a mile from Bert’s tank.  I decided I would fly back over him in case he would wave again. To my horror the tank was stopped and I could see, as I approached, that the tracks had come off.  Some storm troopers were racing towards it with a flame thrower. I saw the officer climb out of the tank only to be shot by a storm trooper with a hand held machine gun. Then Bert appeared and he held the Lewis gun like a rifle and emptied the ninety six bullet magazine at the storm troopers.  The flame thrower blew up and threw Bert and his crew to the ground. I later discovered that it must have been ammunition on the soldier rather than the flame thrower tanks which caused the explosion. I might have been running out of fuel and ammunition but I was not going to leave my kid brother in the lurch.

I flew over the damaged tank and banked to come back around.  I saw that Bert and four of his crew were running towards me but behind them were another two groups of storm troopers.  I flew directly at one group and destroyed them with one long burst.  Then I was over them and I had to bank to come back around. I saw them in my mirror. I will never forget the sight of Bert, some three hundred yards from me aiming his pistol at the advancing soldiers and trying to keep them at bay so that his men could escape. I was so proud of my little brother. It made all my exploits seem pathetic by comparison. Then the flame thrower sent out a column of flame and my little brother was engulfed in fire. As his body collapsed to the ground I knew that he was dead. I used the last of my bullets to kill the remaining storm troopers.  But it was too late for Bert.  I was now the last of the Harskers.

I was perilously short of fuel and out of ammunition.  I headed home, oblivious to the bullets whizzing around me. I was aware of nothing. My whole body was numb and I think I must have flown on some sort of auto-pilot.  I still cannot remember landing. My flight all rushed up to me to praise me but I said not a word and headed for the office. I had to get a message so that someone was there when my mother received the telegram.  I knew Bert was dead but the authorities would not send a telegram for a couple of days. It would kill her to receive a brown telegram alone.

It is strange, now, to think the way my mind worked.  I just wanted to avoid the pain of the telegram.  I remembered how badly she had reacted when the telegram came to say I was dead. I needed to get in touch with Alice, or Sarah or Lady Burscough! Someone had to be there.

Randolph was grinning when I went in. “We heard that we have made great advances and we have not lost a single aeroplane.  This has been a wonderful day!”

“My brother, Bert, was in one of the tanks.  I saw him killed.”

“Oh, my God! I am sorry, Bill I …”

I waved my hand to shut him up, “That’s fine you weren’t to know.  I’m not upset. Listen, Randolph I have to get a telegram sent to the Burscough estate.  How do I do it?” He gave me a puzzled look.  “I want family there when mother gets the telegram telling her that Bert is dead!”

I saw understanding dawn. “Listen I have a chum at Headquarters.  They have a telegraph office there.  I am sure that he could send it.” He pushed the whisky bottle over and began to work the handle on the telephone. I was oblivious to what he was saying.  I just stared at the amber liquid in the bottle.  I heard voices outside.  They were laughing. The door opened and Archie and the others stood there.  They could see that something was the matter.  I saw Randolph shake his head and wave to the seats.  He continued talking. The four of them sat down and poured themselves a drink.  I knew they were desperate to know what was amiss but I couldn’t tell them; not yet.  I swallowed the peaty, fiery liquid in one and filled my glass again.

Randolph put his hand over the telephone. “We can do it.  Which telegraph office should it be sent to?”

“Burscough, Lancashire.”

He repeated everything I said, “Right Bill.  You dictate, slowly and I will tell Harry.”

“Bert killed today stop Telegram from the army not sent for two days stop Someone needs to prepare mother stop Death was instant stop Bill stop.”

Gordy came over and put his hand on my shoulder. The hardest thing I ever did was to stop myself from bursting into tears. “I am sorry Bill.  We didn’t know…”

Archie nodded, “We were just well… you now.”

Randolph finished dictating and said.  “They are sending it now.” He paused.  “You are certain he is dead.  I mean…”

I looked up and I knew that my eyes were dead for that was how I felt inside. “A flame thrower killed him. He’s dead but he saved his crew.  He was a hero.” That was the point when I broke.  That was the moment when I ceased to be a man and became a broken hearted child. I don’t remember how I got to my quarters. I just found myself on my bed looking up at the ceiling.

I glanced to the candle burning on the bedside table and I saw Bates there. “How long, John?”

“Mr Hewitt and Mr Thomas brought you here three hours ago.” He stood and felt my forehead.  It was the sort of thing my mother might have done.  “Are you hungry, sir?”

I shook my head, “I could do with a drink.”

“No you couldn’t, Major Harsker. That is the downward slope and we can’t let you go there. You have a good night’s sleep and tomorrow, well, tomorrow the sun will come up and your life will go on.”

“But not Bert’s.”

“No sir, not Bert.  Another fine young man like Mr Sharp will not be going home and that is a tragedy but we will still go on because you and I know that Bert, like Charlie would have wanted it.” He took a letter out of his pocket and held it before me. “Your mother sent me this last week.  She said that she got a letter from Bert. She knew that you had instigated it because Bert would do anything for you. He was your brother and he loved you. You have your whole life to live, sir.  I think that your decision to get married on your next leave was almost prophetic. You and Miss Porter will have children and Bert and Charlie will live again in them.  You will be good parents.  You will always remember the sacrifice that soldiers like Bert and Charlie made. That is why you need to go on sir.” He sighed, “Because if you don’t, then their deaths will have been in vain.”

He put the letter away and stood. He suddenly looked very old. “When I came here, sir, I felt as depressed and as down as you are now but you and the boys in this squadron have given me hope.  Take some back, sir.  Get up in the morning.  Climb into your Camel and live for Bert.”

I didn’t see him leave for my eyes were closed and I was crying.  I heard the door close. I lay in the candlelit room and I thought about his words. I thought about his words.  The best memorial I could make for Bert was to help win this war and then win the peace. Bates was right, some spirit had guided my thoughts and made me decide to marry Beattie. I would live for my dead comrades and when the war was over then I would remember them.  Until then I would hide them in a recess in my mind.