Grisly Account of World War 1 Air Combat Over Verdun

[iambecomelife]

Originally Posted by Platapus

2. Burning to death as you were sitting under about 40 litres of highly flammable fuel in an airplane constructed of wood and linen coated with flammable chemicals.

To paraphrase that ace from flyboys, if you became a flamer you could always "take the easy way out".

As with all combat pilots from the world wars, I wonder how they kept going up there, day in and day out.

[Biggles]

If you crashed from low altitude with an airplane of the time, you'd have bigger chance of survival than today. Mostly because of the lower top speed.

But then again, the airplanes themselves were often deathtraps. You dive too steep, you'd have your wings breaking off. Ouch.

The first bombing sorties were carried out ina very primitive way: The pilot had small bombs in his cockpit, and would over the target throw them out with his bare hands.

There is some stories from the war describing the somewhat respectful attitude the pilots had towards their enemies.

After the death of a french ace, who had crashed while attacking a german two-seater, the german airplane crew flew over the crashsite the next day throwing out a garland of flowers.

Whenever the british pilots managed to capture a german pilot alive, they'd throw a helluva party in his honor at the airfield, before sending him to Wing.

Balloon busting was THE most dangerous task a flier could get. Heavy ack-ack and escort flights made the balloons risky targets, but you'd often get a fine reward if you brought one down (and if anyone could describe the event).

Strange as it may be, several pilots has survived an direct collision with a balloon. One of them managed to grip the wire with which the balloon was connected to the ground. His hands got severe wounds after the adventure, but he lived through it.(that is seriously the most amazing story I have from the great war)

[Jacky Fisher]

Mick Mannock took a loaded Webley revolver with him just in case he caught fire. to use on himself

[Sailor Steve]

Well, just to add a tiny bit of levity, here is Louis Strange's account of how NOT to fall out of an aeroplane:

"Recollections of an Airman"
pg 112 - 115

But on May 10th, 1915, I reached 8,500 ft when going after an Aviatik belonging to von Leutzers Squadron from Lille Aerodrome. We were somewhere over Menin, and the Hun was still gaining height, though we were both near the tops of our respective ceilings. Not all the enemy aircraft were equipped with machine guns in those early days, but the German observer potted at me from the rear cockpit with a parabellum pistol, and as some of his bullets came unpleasantly close, I thought it high time to retaliate, and gave hime a drum from my Lewis gun without much effect. But when I wanted to take off the empty drum and replace it with a full one, it seemed to jam, and I was unable to remove it with one hand, I wedged the stick between my knees and tugged at the obstinate thing with both hands. After one or two fruitless efforts, I raised myself up out of my seat in order to get a better grip, and I suppose that my safety belt must have slipped down at a critical moment. Anyhow, my knees loosened their grip on the stick just as the Martinsyde, which was already climbing at it's maximum angle, stalled and flicked over into a spin.

As I was more than half out of the cockpit at the time, the spin threw me clear of the machine, but I still kept both of my hands on the drum of the Lewis gun. Only a few seconds previously I had been cursing because I could nto get that drum off, but now I prayed fervently that it would stay on forever. I knew it may come off at any moment, however and as its edge was cutting my fingers badly, I had to get a firmer hold of something more reliable. The first thing I thought of was the top of the center strut, which at the time was behind and below the Lewis gun, but as the machine was now flying upside down, I had suifficient wits left to realize that it was behind and above me, though where it was exactly I could not tell.

Dare I let go of the drum with one hand and make a grab for it? Well there was nothing else for it but to take the risk; I let go and found the strut all right, and then I released my other hand and gripped the strut on the other side. I was then in a more comfortable position, and at least I felt rather more part of my machine than I had done in my original attitude. My chin was rammed against the top plane, beside the gun, while my legs were waving about in empty air. The Martinsyde was upside down in a flat spin, and from my precarious position the only thing I could see was the propeller ( which seemed unpleasanlty close to my face), the town of Menin, and the adjacent countryside. Menin and its environs were revolving at an impossible angle - apparently above me - and getting larger with every turn. I began to wonder what sort of spot I was going to crash on.

Then I got angry and cursed myself for a fool for wasting time on such idle speculations, while at the same time it dawned on me that my only chance of righting the machine lay in getting my feet into the cockpit. If I could manage it, I knew that I was bound to fall automatically into the cockpit when the machine came over. I kept on kicking upwards behind me until at last I got first one foot and then the other hooked inside the cockpit. Somewow I got the stick between my legs again and jammed on full aileron and elevator; I do not know exactly what happened then, but somehow the trick was done. The machine came over the right way up, and I fell off the top plane into my seat with a bump.

I grabbed at the stick with both hands and thanked my lucky stars when I got hold of it. Then to my surprise I found myself unable to move it. I suddenly realized I was sitting much lower than usual inside the cockpit; in fact, I was so low down I could not see over the edge at all. On investigation I found that the bump of my fall had sent me right through the seat, with the result I was sitting on the floor of the machine as well as on the controls, which I was jamming. The cushion had fallen out when the machine turned upside down, along with everything else that was loose or had been kicked loose when I was trying to find the stick with my feet. Something had to be done quickly, as although the engine had stopped through lack of petrol when the machine was upside down, it was now roaring away merrily and taking me down in a dive which looked likely to end in the wood to the north of Menin. So I throttled back and braced my shoulders against the top of the fuselage, and my feet against the rudder bar; then I pulled out the broken bits of seat and freed the controls. Luckily I found them all working all right, so that I was able to put up the machines nose and open the throttle again. I rose and cleared the trees on the Menin Road with very little to spare.

I did not trouble to climb anymore, but just flew back along the Menin Road. In my efforts to find the control stick with my feet, I had smashed all the instruments on the dashboard, and as I gazed at the damage, I wondered if I could ever make anyone realize how it had been done. I had only a very hazy idea myself as to what had really happened, but I felt happy to be alive, and thought it simply marvellous that I was still able to control the machine.

I hurried back to Abeele, without worrying about the increasing strain on the small of my back or the futile shots that the Germans on the ground were sending after me. I went to bed early that night and slept for a good solid twelve hours; but; Lord, how stiff I was the next day! It took a long time before I was able to move about with any comfort.

During the recent trip to Germany which enabled me to make the acquaintance of von Leutzer, my opposite number, I told him the story of this incident. In reply he stated that one of their observers had returned that day with a report of a victory over a British machine, which went down in a spin into the wood on the north side of Menin. This observer was positive that he had seen the pilot thrown out of the machine, although did not fall clear of it, and on the strength of his evidence the Germans spent half a day vainly searching the wood for the wreckage of the machine. Von Leutzer added that the observer, who was known to be reliable and accurate in his statements, got very much ragged about the business for some time afterwards.

[Biggles]

Now that is incredible.