then came down to fifteen feet of the ground and flew along a river bank that I knew would lead me home. I had found this low flying over enemy land quite exhilarating and rather liked the sights I used to see.
During the next week I had three or four very unsatisfactory combats. My work consisted mostly of sitting patiently over the lines waiting for an enemy to appear. Then, after it would put in an appearance, I would carefully watch for an opportunity and attack, only to have the Hun escape. I was mostly concerned with my old friends, the enemy two-seaters, especially the ones that would fly at low altitudes doing artillery observation work. I would try to get behind a cloud, or in one, and surprise them as they went by. I managed to pounce upon several machines from ambush, but had no luck at all in the succeeding combats. On such occasions I would return much disgusted to the aerodrome and put in more time at the target.
I began to feel that my list of victims was not climbing as steadily as I would have liked. Captain Ball was back from a winter rest in England and was adding constantly to his already big score. I felt I had to keep going if I was to be second to him. So I was over the enemy lines from six to seven hours every day, praying for some easy victims to appear. I had had some pretty hard fighting. Now I wanted to shoot a ârabbitâ or two. Several times while sitting over the lines I was caught badly by antiaircraft fire, and had to do a lot of dodging and turning to avoid being badly hit by the singing shrapnel shells. As it was I frequently returned with scars, where bits of shell had pierced my planes and fuselage.
One day I saw a two-seater flying calmly along about three miles high. I started to climb up under him and it seemed to me I was hours on the way, for he had seen me and was climbing as well. Eventually I reached his level, but we were then nearly four miles from the earth. The air was so thin I found it difficult to get my breath. It was coming in quick gasps and my heart was racing like mad. It is very difficult to fly a single-seater at such altitudes, much less to fight in one. The air is so rare that the small machines, with their minimum of plane surface, have very little to rest upon. The propeller will not âbiteâ into the thin atmosphere with very much of a pull. But despite all this I decided to have a go at the big German two-seater, and we did a series of lazy manoeuvres. I realised I was unable to put much energy into the fighting, and the only shot I got at the Hun I missed! At the height we had met, the Hun machine was faster than mine, so in a few minutes he broke off the combat and escaped.
I spent half an hour under another enemy machine, trying to stalk him, but he finally got away. During the time I was âhidingâ under the two-seater I was quite happy in the belief that he could not bring a gun to bear on me. But when I landed I found several bullet holes in the machine close to my body. After that I kept a sharper lookout on the fellows upstairs.
One day, after climbing slowly to 17,000 feet and still finding no victims, I flew fifteen miles inside the German lines, hoping to catch some unwary enemy aloft. At last, about half a mile beneath me, I saw a lone scout. I carefully manoeuvred to get between him and the sun, for once there I knew he could not see me and I would have all the advantage of a surprise attack. I was within twenty yards and going about 130 miles an hour, when I opened fire. Not more than ten shots had sped from my gun when the Hun went spinning down in a nose dive, seemingly out of control. I dived after him firing steadily, and we had dropped something like 3,000 feet when the enemy machine burst into flames.
During my dive I had seen a black speck in the distance which looked as though it might be a Hun. So I climbed again and made in the direction of the speck, hoping it would turn out to be an enemy machine. It did,
During the next week I had three or four very unsatisfactory combats. My work consisted mostly of sitting patiently over the lines waiting for an enemy to appear. Then, after it would put in an appearance, I would carefully watch for an opportunity and attack, only to have the Hun escape. I was mostly concerned with my old friends, the enemy two-seaters, especially the ones that would fly at low altitudes doing artillery observation work. I would try to get behind a cloud, or in one, and surprise them as they went by. I managed to pounce upon several machines from ambush, but had no luck at all in the succeeding combats. On such occasions I would return much disgusted to the aerodrome and put in more time at the target.
I began to feel that my list of victims was not climbing as steadily as I would have liked. Captain Ball was back from a winter rest in England and was adding constantly to his already big score. I felt I had to keep going if I was to be second to him. So I was over the enemy lines from six to seven hours every day, praying for some easy victims to appear. I had had some pretty hard fighting. Now I wanted to shoot a ârabbitâ or two. Several times while sitting over the lines I was caught badly by antiaircraft fire, and had to do a lot of dodging and turning to avoid being badly hit by the singing shrapnel shells. As it was I frequently returned with scars, where bits of shell had pierced my planes and fuselage.
One day I saw a two-seater flying calmly along about three miles high. I started to climb up under him and it seemed to me I was hours on the way, for he had seen me and was climbing as well. Eventually I reached his level, but we were then nearly four miles from the earth. The air was so thin I found it difficult to get my breath. It was coming in quick gasps and my heart was racing like mad. It is very difficult to fly a single-seater at such altitudes, much less to fight in one. The air is so rare that the small machines, with their minimum of plane surface, have very little to rest upon. The propeller will not âbiteâ into the thin atmosphere with very much of a pull. But despite all this I decided to have a go at the big German two-seater, and we did a series of lazy manoeuvres. I realised I was unable to put much energy into the fighting, and the only shot I got at the Hun I missed! At the height we had met, the Hun machine was faster than mine, so in a few minutes he broke off the combat and escaped.
I spent half an hour under another enemy machine, trying to stalk him, but he finally got away. During the time I was âhidingâ under the two-seater I was quite happy in the belief that he could not bring a gun to bear on me. But when I landed I found several bullet holes in the machine close to my body. After that I kept a sharper lookout on the fellows upstairs.
One day, after climbing slowly to 17,000 feet and still finding no victims, I flew fifteen miles inside the German lines, hoping to catch some unwary enemy aloft. At last, about half a mile beneath me, I saw a lone scout. I carefully manoeuvred to get between him and the sun, for once there I knew he could not see me and I would have all the advantage of a surprise attack. I was within twenty yards and going about 130 miles an hour, when I opened fire. Not more than ten shots had sped from my gun when the Hun went spinning down in a nose dive, seemingly out of control. I dived after him firing steadily, and we had dropped something like 3,000 feet when the enemy machine burst into flames.
During my dive I had seen a black speck in the distance which looked as though it might be a Hun. So I climbed again and made in the direction of the speck, hoping it would turn out to be an enemy machine. It did,
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