I proceeded on my journey at an increased height [he says]. It was just three o'clock in the morning when all of a sudden I perceived on the horizon about midway between Ghent and Brussels a Zeppelin flying fast at an altitude of about six thousand feet. I immediately flew toward it and when I was almost over the monster I descended about fifteen metres, and flung six bombs at it. The sixth struck the envelope of the ship fair and square in the middle. There was instantly a terrible explosion. The displacement of the air round about me was so great that a tornado seemed to have been produced. My machine tossed upward and then flung absolutely upside down, I was forced to loop the loop in spite of myself. I thought for a moment that the end of everything had come. In the whirl I had the pleasure of seeing my victim falling to the earth in a cloud of flames and smoke. Then by some miracle my machine righted herself and I came to earth in the enemy's country. I was not long on the ground you may be sure. I speedily put myself and my machine into working order again; then I set my engine going.
This time the fortunate aviator returned safely to his own territory. He had then served only four months, had attained the age of twenty-three, and even in so brief a service had received the Cross of the Legion of Honour from France and the Victoria Cross from the British. Only one week after this courageous exploit he was killed while on a pleasure flight and with him a young American journalist, Henry Beach Needham, to whom he was showing the battlefield.
During the early years of the war all of the governments were peculiarly secretive concerning all matters relative to their aviation services. This was probably due to the fact that the flying corps was a brand new branch of the service. No nation was adequately equipped with flyers. Each was afraid to let its enemies know how insufficient were its air guards, or what measures were being taken to bring the a๋rial fleet up to the necessary point of efficiency. Investigators were frowned upon and the aviators themselves were discouraged from much conversation about their work.
About the beginning of 1916 the British suddenly awoke to the fact that even in war publicity has its value. It was necessary to arouse the enthusiastic support of the people for recruiting or for the conscription which ultimately was ordered. To do this graphic descriptions of what was doing at the front in the various branches of the service seemed necessary. The best writers in England were mobilized for this work. Kipling wrote of the submarines, Conan Doyle of the fighting on the fields of France. The Royal Flying Corps gave out a detailed story the authorship of which was not stated, but which describes most picturesquely the day of a flying man.
In the United States it appeared in the Sun, of New York, and sections of it are reprinted here:
"The following bombing will be carried out by No.--Squadron at night (10 P.M., 12 midnight, and 2 A.M.). At each of these times three machines, each carrying eight twenty-pound bombs, will bomb respectively P----, C----, H----."
Thus the operation order read one evening in France. Just an ordinary order too, for bombing is carried out day and night incessantly. Bombing by night is usually carried out on towns and villages known to be resting places of the German troops, and it is part of the work of the Royal Flying Corps to see that the Hun never rests.
Fritz after a hard spell in the trenches is withdrawn to some shell torn village behind his lines to rest. He enters the ruined house, that forms his billet, and with a sigh of contentment at reaching such luxury after the miseries of trench life prepares to sleep in peace. He dreams of home, and then out of the night comes the terror of the air.
A bomb falls in his billet, exploding with a terrific report and doing more damage to the already ruined walls. Possibly a few of his comrades are wounded or killed. Other explosions take place close by and the whole village is in turmoil.
Fritz does not sleep again. His nerves are jangled and all possibility of sleep is gone. The next day he is in a worse condition than after a night in the trenches. This continues night after night. The damage to German morale is enormous.
From the a๋rial point of view things are different. A pilot warned for night flying takes it as he takes everything else, with apparent unconcern. He realizes that he will have an uninteresting ride in the dark; the danger from "Archie" will be small, for an airplane is a difficult target to keep under observation with a searchlight, and the danger from hostile aircraft will be smaller still.
