Of course no exact figures can be quoted, but, according to an authority on aeronautic matters,[102] Germany alone was in possession of a thoroughly organized and equipped fleet of 1300 aeroplanes. According to the same authority, Austria had about 100, France 800, and Russia 300, while we ourselves are credited with 100 machines belonging to the military wing of the air service, besides those in the naval wing, whose number is not forthcoming, but which, I think, may fairly be put down at well below a hundred. Neither we nor our allies had more than three or four air-ships or dirigible balloons, while Germany had a fleet of nearly twenty, most being of the famous Zeppelin type, from which very great things were expected. The naval and military authorities in this country either did not or would not believe in these "gas-bags", and, so far, events seem to have proved that they were correct in their views.

In every estimate of the strength of navies we must not only make comparisons of material, but of personnel. "The man behind the gun" is a factor of the highest importance, and it is here that we "came in", handicapped as we were in other respects. I do not think that I can do better than again quote the same authority on this point. As regards the enemy, his estimate of the German air personnel is that its pilots were "mediocre, with a few brilliant exceptions". The Austrians were "brave and skilful pilots badly organized". As to our allies, he considers the French to have had "a very uneven air service". "Many magnificent fliers, many very bad"; while the Russians possessed "numerous skilful and daring aviators, but not very well equipped". We must not overlook the little Belgian squadron of five-and-twenty aeroplanes, which he assesses as "good", both in men and machines. We may, without vanity, accept his estimate of our own aerial establishment as "a small but highly efficient flying corps", since its efficiency has been proved over and over again.

The "Royal Flying Corps" only dates from a few years ago, and we are principally indebted to Major-General—then Lieutenant-Colonel—Sir David Henderson, K.C.B., D.S.O., for its formation. He had no easy job before him when he took the matter in hand, since neither Admiralty nor War Office appeared to be in any hurry to attain a commanding position in the novel arm, in spite of the great efforts being made by France, and more especially by Germany. However, nothing daunted, he made the very best possible of the small beginnings he was able to deal with, and we are now reaping the harvest he sowed. For a time naval and military officers and men worked together, but gradually, as numbers increased, drew rather more apart, and the naval wing had its own flying-schools at Eastchurch, near Sheerness, and at Upavon, near Salisbury, its central air office at Sheerness, an establishment at Hendon, and nine or ten air stations on the coast.

At the beginning of the war, confident in their numbers and organization, the German aviators showed considerable boldness, and their skilfulness in picking out our guns and positions, and signalling them by flares, strips of glittering tinsel, circling movements, and other devices to their gunners, rendered the fire of their artillery—which at first greatly outnumbered that of the Allies—very deadly indeed. Our own airmen were by no means such adepts at this particular work to begin with, but, few as they were, they soon proved themselves the better men. They worked on the old principle that so often brought us victory afloat in Nelsonian days. "Directly you see an enemy go for him." This system of fighting enabled Sir John French to report, quite early in the campaign, that "The British Flying Corps has succeeded in establishing an individual ascendancy which is as serviceable to us as it is damaging to the enemy.... Something in the direction of the mastery of the air has already been gained." The fact was that the very qualities of preciseness, method, painstaking, and avoidance of risk which make the German so formidable in some respects do not fit in where such warfare is concerned.

The German cavalry was the same. It worked by the book. If it could mass against ours at a strength of three to one, then by all the rules of the game we ought to have retired or waited for their ponderous squadrons to ride us down and overwhelm us by sheer weight of flesh and bone. But when our dashing horsemen whirled into their masses in their shirt-sleeves, and plied sabre and lance in a way that showed they meant business, and then turned round and cut their way home again in the same way, they did not like it. They have never dared to "take on" our cavalrymen on anything approaching equal terms. Brave as we must admit the Germans have shown themselves, they have not the same individual dash and self-reliance as the British races.

No German would ever attack single-handed like Sergeant O'Leary, V.C. If any proof were wanted of this, one has only to consider that the mass attack formations, which have proved so deadly to our enemies, were deliberately designed by the German military experts, with full knowledge of the growing power of modern guns and rifles, because from their experience of the war of 1870 they had formed the reasoned opinion that in no other formation could they keep their "cannon fodder" up to the scratch. All their views are well set forth in a German pamphlet published some years ago, entitled A Summer Night's Dream. It has been translated into English, and is well worth perusal at the present time.

Now look at our own men. Here is what Viscount Castlereagh wrote of them from the front to his wife last autumn. "The thing that has impressed me most here has been the aeroplane service; a splendid lot of boys who really do not know what fear is."[103] The German army was provided with a large quantity of guns especially designed for bringing down hostile airmen; but they proved singularly ineffective, and our flying-men simply laughed at them. And yet, with all their talk of air-raids and the effect they were supposed to have on this country, the German fliers have never attempted to attack any place over here where they thought there might be any guns in waiting to receive them.

The Naval Air Service, primarily intended for scouting at sea, not only for hostile ships but for submarines—for from high up these deadly craft are visible deep under water, just in the same way that one can see fish from a bridge that are invisible from the bank—was originally equipped with water-planes, fitted with floats instead of wheels, so that the naval aeronauts could rise from or alight on the water.

But though these machines proved of the greatest service in guarding and watching the Channel and the Straits of Dover, the enterprising spirit of the naval and marine officers who acted as air pilots, squadron commanders, &c., was not content to devote itself entirely to such necessary but perhaps rather monotonous work. The Naval Air Service after the outbreak of war went ahead by leaps and bounds. Not only were the numbers of sea-planes increased, but wheeled aeroplanes were purchased as fast as they could be obtained, and supported by a whole fleet of armoured motors fitted with machine-guns, a regular naval air contingent appeared on the Continent ready to assist the army by raiding in any direction likely to be of service. All sorts of mechanics, motor-drivers, and other men were enlisted for special service with this new organization, which lost no time in proving its great value and efficiency.

The leading spirit and commanding officer was Commander Samson, R.N., and by 4th September, 1914, he was able to report that bombs had been dropped on four German officers and forty men who had got rather too near Dunkirk. Then, about a fortnight later, came the first raid in force against the enemy's country, which created quite a scare in the German frontier cities, since, judging our gallant airmen by their own low-down standards, they feared for the lives and property of civilian inhabitants.

After carefully and successfully assisting in covering the transit of the Expeditionary Force to France, a temporary base for the naval wing was established at Ostend. It was to assist in establishing this base that the three battalions of Royal Marines were dispatched to that place in the early part of the war. Other outlying bases were gradually established in Belgium. The naval motors, acting in conjunction with the Belgians, made things very warm for the prowling Uhlans, and eventually a regularly organized combined expedition of motors and aeroplanes was directed against Cologne and DÜsseldorf, with the object of destroying the Zeppelin sheds at these places and, haply, any Zeppelins that might be taking their repose within.

It fell to Flight-Lieutenant Collet of the Royal Marine Artillery to score the first "bull's-eye". This officer had attracted some attention by the way he had handled a heavy German-built biplane which the Admiralty had bought from a Leipzig firm in 1913. In the hands of the German pilot who came over with her the new machine appeared but a slow and lumbering affair, but flown by Collet she became endued with a new life, and was made to perform all sorts of startling manoeuvres. "To see him descend for a thousand feet or so," says an eye-witness, "in a closely wound spiral, with the machine standing vertically on one wing-tip, was an education in the handling of big aeroplanes."

Accompanied by other aviators, Lieutenant Collet set out from their base on 22nd September, and made for DÜsseldorf, about 100 miles distant from Antwerp. Here, flying very low, he dropped four bombs on the Zeppelin shed which was the special object of attack. What damage was done was not ascertained. The attacking machine was only struck by a single bullet, which did no damage, and Collet and his companions regained their base without difficulty.

About a fortnight later another raid was made against the same sheds and also against those at Cologne.

The aviators on this occasion were Squadron-Commander Spencer-Grey and Flight-Lieutenants Marix and Sippe, all belonging to the Royal Navy. The last-named had trouble with his engine shortly after starting and had to drop out, but the remaining two rushed along through the growing light—the start had been made at the first streak of dawn—Grey making for Cologne and Marix for DÜsseldorf. There was a good deal of fog, which, while it served them to a certain extent by concealing their approach, at the same time made it no easy job to steer a correct course. Travelling at 80 miles an hour Grey reached Cologne, but had no luck. Owing to the fog he was unable to locate the Zeppelin shed of which he was in search, and would not drop a bomb without a definite and legitimate objective, for fear of harming women and children. He, however, was able to do some damage to the railway station.

As for Marix, he found his way to the shed already struck by Collet. Rising to a great height, he made a spiral dive at the tremendous speed of 140 miles an hour. He had been seen some time before, and was greeted with a tremendous fusillade from machine-guns, anti-aeroplane guns, and rifles. His machine was struck several times, but he descended to within 500 feet of the shed to which a Zeppelin had been recently removed from that damaged by Collet, let go his bombs, and shot upwards again with marvellous velocity. As he went he saw that at least one of his projectiles had scored a success, for a volcano of flame was spouting 500 feet into the air. There was one Zeppelin the less. His "mount" had been hit no less than twenty times and two of his control-wires cut, but by the exercise of great judgment and skill he contrived to travel for 10 miles on his way back and to get across the frontier, where he was met by a Belgian car and taken safely to Antwerp.

A correspondent of the Globe who was at DÜsseldorf at the time gives the following account of what an eyewitness saw of Flight-Lieutenant Marix's exploit and its effect. "A friend of mine saw an aeroplane one day near DÜsseldorf. He followed its movements with great anxiety, and saw that it dropped when it was close by the Zeppelin shed. He had an idea that something was wrong, but about 200 metres from the ground the machine turned again and disappeared. Almost at the same moment he heard two explosions, and a few moments after saw big flames of a light colour, giving him the impression that the whole shed was on fire. My friend went down to the place as quickly as he could, but at a distance of a few hundred metres the people who had already run to the spot were kept away by a ring of soldiers. A few minutes later a rumour spread through the crowd that two more enemy aeroplanes were reported from Cologne, and immediately all the soldiers were ordered near the shed to be ready for firing at the new-comers. My friend followed the soldiers, and came quite near the place where he had seen the flames. He saw that the contents of the shed had been entirely burnt out, and only the walls of the building were erect. In the shed was the carcass of a Zeppelin, burned and broken to pieces. It was one big heap of aluminium."

The next exploit of the Naval Air Service was the attack on the Zeppelin sheds at Friedrichshafen, on the Lake of Constance. There are three or four big sheds here close together, with workshops and all appliances for building and fitting out these monster air-ships. The newspapers had for some time previously been publishing paragraphs giving accounts of Zeppelin experiments at this place. Some may have been more or less correct, while others bore the stamp of the usual "bogey-bogey" stories set about by the Germans with the somewhat childish idea of frightening us. Anyway the naval airmen made up their minds to go and see for themselves. Of course their departure from the usual scene of their activities in the north was made "without beat of drum", and, as Friedrichshafen was something like 150 miles from the French frontier, their visit was entirely unexpected.

The raiders were Squadron-Commander Briggs, Flight-Commander Babbington, and Flight-Lieutenant Sippe, all of the Royal Navy. They are supposed to have started from the neighbourhood of Belfort, that very strongly fortified town on the eastern frontier of France. They were mounted on similar machines—Avro biplanes. Heading almost due east, they struck the Rhine in the vicinity of Basle—where it turns almost at a right angle from east to north—flew upstream as far as Schaffhausen with its picturesque falls, and then struck across country to Ludwigshafen, at the western extremity of Lake Constance, or the Boden See as the Germans term it. Thence they steered directly down the lake at their objective, the cluster of hangars and workshops on the lakeside, just east of the town of Friedrichshafen. Their advent was both seen and heard, and the whirr of their propellers was at once answered by the stutter of Maxims, the banging of guns, and the popping of musketry. But it is not easy to disable an aeroplane unless you are successful in damaging it in a vital part; so, regardless of this very warm reception, the naval airmen swooped down one after the other from the high altitudes at which they were travelling, and, passing over their target at a height of about 1200 feet, discharged their cargoes of bombs.

Commander Briggs was the first to arrive and drop his bombs, but his petrol tank being pierced by a bullet the petrol ran out and he was brought to the ground, where he was made prisoner and taken off to hospital, having received some injuries from his fall. Babbington and Sippe, following in his tracks, bombarded first the hangars and afterwards the Zeppelin factory, and, circling round, flew off down the Rhine and arrived safely at their starting-point, though their machines had suffered some minor damages. Both were decorated on their return with the Cross of the Legion of Honour, which was pinned on their breasts by General Thevenet, the Governor of Belfort. All three, too, appeared as recipients of the Distinguished Service Order in the New Year's Honours List. And they had well earned their distinctions. Putting on one side the risks inseparable from such an enterprise, they had flown right into the enemy's country for a very considerable distance, over a mountainous district and in quite unfavourable weather conditions, and had created a tremendous moral effect in the enemy nations. They had probably done a considerable amount of material damage to the hangars and workshops, possibly to one or more Zeppelins as well, but no certain details as to the extent have yet become available.

The Germans had been taught to expect great things from their well-organized and numerous fleets of air-ships and aeroplanes. They were to bombard London, defeat our fleets, and terrorize the whole of our "right little, tight little island" with these monster gas-bags. And, lo and behold! before anything of the kind had happened, here were these pestilent English flying-men attacking them in their own country. Not blindly dropping bombs just anywhere in haste to get rid of them, frighten civilians, and get away as fast as possible, but deliberately attacking—and hitting—selected targets. German opinion was profoundly moved. No wonder that their airmen felt that it "was up to them" to show their fellow-countrymen what they could do. But what a poor show it was! On 5th December one gallant airman got within sight of Dover, but turned round and made off again. On the 24th this one, or another, actually flew over the town and dropped a bomb into a cabbage-patch. He was in too much of a hurry to select a more important target, much less hit it. The British reply, if such an unimportant exploit could be deemed worthy of receiving a reply, was prompt and effective. The very next day—Christmas Day—the Naval Air Wing, working in conjunction with its own branch of the service, carried out an extremely well-organized attack upon Cuxhaven, the strongly-fortified port at the mouth of the Elbe which protects the approaches to Hamburg. The following officers participated in this exploit: Flight-Commanders Oliver, Hewlett, and Ross, R.N., and Kilner, R.M.L.I., Flight-Lieutenants Miley and Edmonds, R.N., and Flight Sub-Lieutenant Blackburn, R.N.

The aeroplanes were all of an identical type—Shorts—just as those used against Friedrichshafen were "Avros" and against DÜsseldorf "Sopwiths". They were carried on three very fast Channel steamers that had been "taken up" by the Admiralty, each of which was commanded by a naval officer belonging to the air service. It is interesting to note that the navigating officer of one of these vessels was Mr. Erskine Childers, a lieutenant in the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve, the author of that fascinating novel The Riddle of the Sands, which deals most minutely with the navigation of the German coastal waters between the Elbe and the Zuyder Zee. The little expedition was convoyed by the Undaunted and the "saucy" Arethusa—a pair of new light cruisers which have proved themselves a most effective type of war-vessel—and a cordon of submarines and destroyers. Everything had been worked out in detail.

On approaching Heligoland, that German Gibraltar with which we so foolishly parted some years ago, the sea-planes were hoisted out and sped away on their errand of destruction. It was a misty morning, and on arrival at Cuxhaven the aviators were much hampered by a fog which lay in shallow patches over the town and harbour, but it is thought that they succeeded in destroying a Parseval air-ship in its shed and in badly knocking about some of the Zeppelin sheds. According to the German account they also dropped bombs on a gasometer and on some men-of-war lying in the river, of course "without doing any damage". The fog was, however, much closer and thicker over the Elbe than over the town, so that ships were in any case difficult targets.

But while our aviators were carrying out their mission, under fire from guns of all sorts and kinds, there was a most remarkable fight going on outside—a battle unprecedented in the annals of warfare.

The aviators left the flotilla sharp at daybreak, and it would seem that neither they nor their escort were seen. But as the light grew, the British ships were picked up by the look-outs on Heligoland, and an instant attack was made upon them by submarines, sea-planes, and a couple of the redoubtable Zeppelins. But the high speed of the British vessels and the consummate seamanship and gunnery of their crews defeated every attempt made to injure them. For three hours they fought while waiting the return of the aviators. The white flash made by the German torpedoes in the water was detected by sharp eyes, ships and boats dodged and turned and cleared the "lurking death" by the "skin of their teeth". The sea-planes whirred overhead and dropped their deadly bombs, which exploded in fire, smoke, and fountains of water; but though they often fell close alongside, none of the flotilla was touched. The big bluffing Zeppelins also dropped a few, but they soon felt "they could no longer stay", since the 100-pound shells from the Arethusa and Undaunted were coming closer and closer, and their crews knew—none better—that one fair hit would mean annihilation. So, as the official report stated, they "were easily put to flight". None of the German surface vessels dared to show their noses outside, or, perhaps, were able to disentangle themselves from their elaborate defences in time, and after three of the daring raiders had been safely re-embarked with their machines, the flotilla stood out to sea again, leaving a detachment of submarines to look out for the remainder. Three of the four remaining airmen were rescued by this means, though their machines had to be sunk. The seventh—Flight-Commander Hewlett, son of the famous novelist—after dropping bombs on some of the German ships, one of which, at any rate, he felt certain he had hit, lost his way in the fog, missed the flotilla, and, having trouble with his engine, descended to the sea not far from Heligoland. Here he was picked up by a Dutch trawler. He destroyed his engine and sank his machine, and after experiencing two or three days of very heavy weather on board the fishing-vessel was landed safely at Ymuiden, in Holland.

Curiously enough, the same day was selected for a somewhat feeble raid up the Thames by a German Taube, which,[303]
[304] apparently, was working independently. The hostile air-craft was seen, fired on, and, after harmlessly dropping a bomb here and there, was chased away by three of our own airmen, and there is reason to believe that its return journey ended at the bottom of the North Sea.

The day before the big expedition to Cuxhaven a dashing attack was made by Squadron-Commander R. B. Davies, R.N., on a hangar which the Germans had erected at Etterbeek, a suburb of Brussels, probably on the manoeuvre-ground of the crack Belgian cavalry regiments, the Guides. This officer travelled on a Maurice-Farman biplane and dropped eight bombs on a shed which was supposed to contain a Parseval air-ship, circled round, and dropped four more on his return journey. He was unable to see exactly what damage he had effected, on account of the clouds of smoke which arose from the hangar. His machine was recognized by the citizens of Brussels as belonging to the Allies, and his exploit created great enthusiasm among them.

At last the German airmen determined to have a raid of their own. A nice quiet little trip this was to be, out of the way of nasty, unpleasant guns and Maxims. And so we had the "great Zeppelin raid" on Yarmouth and on a few quiet out-of-the-way villages in Norfolk, and the slaughter of men, women, and children. The German aviators, however, did more respectable work when considerable squadrons of aeroplanes twice attacked Dunkirk in January, 1915. The first attempt would appear to have been originally directed against Dover or some other place on this side the Channel, as sixteen German aeroplanes were sighted hovering over the Channel. But either by reason of the good look-out kept by our own airmen and gunners, or on account of unfavourable weather conditions, the "Boches" changed the direction of their flight and a dozen of them attacked Dunkirk and dropped about thirty bombs. As usual, most of the victims were civilians, but Dunkirk was a fortified town and an important position of the allied armies, so that, but for the fact that on one occasion the market-place seemed to be selected for an especial target, we may consider these raids as legitimate military operations. But the Germans were not able to carry them out at their leisure. Belgian, French, and British airmen rushed their machines aloft and engaged and drove off the raiders with the loss of one of their machines, while a couple of our naval officers flew off and countered at Zeebrugge, dropping twenty-seven bombs on a couple of submarines and on the guns mounted on the mole. One of them, Squadron-Commander Davies, R.N., was attacked during his approach by no less than seven hostile aeroplanes, but got away from them with a slight wound and delivered his bombs at their destination.

The following letter, written shortly before, and referring to the first German raid on Dunkirk, is interesting as showing the consciousness of superiority in the minds of our airmen:—

"I must tell you something about the beano we had yesterday. It was a day! Engaged with three Taubes in the morning and in the afternoon—and I went and dropped 18 bombs and 6 grenades on various works and the railway at Ostend, with incidentally another scrap with a German machine. Hope we tickled them up and gave them —— at Ostend. We've got 'em scared stiff—absolutely. It's a great game entirely. I hope we get to hear about what damage we did at Ostend, though I'm afraid it's impossible. I know I got the railway with one bomb—a clinking shot right in the middle. I tell you they let us have it. The machine was hit in nine places."[104]

The writer was evidently "keen as mustard", and against such airmen the German air service could make no headway.

The biggest air raid on record took place on Tuesday, 16th February, 1915, when no less than thirty-four sea-planes and aeroplanes belonging to the Naval Wing made a combined attack on the German positions on the Belgian littoral. They were assisted by eight French airmen, who made a determined attack on the German aeroplane depot at Ghistelles, situated inland and south of Ostend, thereby preventing the German airmen from intercepting our main attack. This big "flight"—a regular "aery navy"—was commanded by the redoubtable Wing-Commander Samson, R.N., who had made things so hot for the Germans in Belgium that a price of £1000 was set on his head; Wing-Commander Longmore, R.N., and Squadron-Commanders Porte, R.N., and Courtney and Rathbone of the Royal Marine Light Infantry.

It was a great performance. Most of the British aeroplanes crossed the Channel in the teeth of very violent winds, flying in the bitter cold of high altitudes and obstructed by not infrequent "flurries" of snow. Once over the water, they flew down over Ostend, Middelkirke, and Zeebrugge. Bombs were dropped on the German guns hidden from the view of our ships at all three places: the stations at Ostend and Blankenberghe were either destroyed or much damaged, as well as the power-station and mine-sweeping vessels at Zeebrugge and a Zeppelin shed. Unfortunately no submarines were seen. All this was carried out in the face of a very heavy gun-fire from every class of weapon that the Germans could get to bear on our "wild ducks". But all got away without loss of life or limb, and with only a couple of machines damaged. The celebrated airman Grahame-White, who served in the expedition as a flight-commander, fell into the sea off Nieuport, but was rescued by a French vessel. This is the last big air raid carried out by the Naval Wing up to the time of writing, and space forbids any mention of the hundred-and-one smaller exploits carried out by its fliers, either aloft in the air or working on the ground in their armoured motor-cars. The price set on Commander Samson's head by the exasperated "Boches" sufficiently indicates what a thorn in the side they proved to the German desecrators of Belgium and France.