Major Technologies
Communication was done by wireless telegraphy and lights, both with Morse code. The French did experiment with other systems, due to the unreliability of wireless telegraphs.
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Airplanes
"Lt. W. R. Read was a pilot in the fledgling Royal Flying Corps. In the early days of August 1914 the Corps was ordered to transport its force of 63 planes to France and provide reconnaissance of enemy troop movements. Read kept a diary of his experiences and we join his story as he and his observer - Jackson - fly over the area of Mons, Belgium. Throughout his narrative, Lt. Read refers to his plane as "Henri:" [SOURCE]
"One day, after our reconnaissance over Mons and Charleroi, Jackson spotted a German Taube machine. I had also seen him but we had done our job and I did not want a fight. Jackson was always bloodthirsty, however, and the following shouted conversation ensued:
Jackson: 'Look, old boy!'
'Me: 'Yes, I know.’
'Jackson: ‘I think we ought to go for him, old boy.’
Me: 'Better get home with your report.'
Jackson: 'I think we ought to go for him, old boy.'
Me: 'All right.' "
I changed course for him and, as we passed the Taube, Jackson got in two shots with the rifle. We turned and passed each other again with no obvious result. This happened three or four times. Then, ‘Have you got a revolver, old boy? My ammunition's all gone.’ I, feeling rather sick of the proceedings, said ‘Yes. But no ammo.’ ‘Give it to me, old boy, and this time fly past him as close as you can.’ I carried out instructions and, to my amazement, as soon as we got opposite the Taube, Jackson, with my Army issue revolver grasped by the barrel, threw it at the Taube's propeller. Of course it missed and then, honor satisfied, we turned for home.
22 August. Today the French distinguished themselves by bringing down one of their own airships. They also often fire at us and there is quite as much to fear from one's own side as from the Germans as one leaves the ground. Two machines that went out this morning on reconnaissance came back with several bullet holes in them. In one the observer was shot in the stomach. Herbert, Shekleton, Fuller and I are the 4 pilots in our Flight. We do more flying than most other flights probably because Henri is a more reliable machine and is always ready. Shek. came back last night with six shot holes in his planes. One bullet missed the petrol tank only by an inch.
23 August. Went up for reconnaissance at 11.30 with Major Moss as passenger [observer]. I could not get Henri to climb at first so came down and lightened the load, then we soon got away at 3,800 feet. We found the enemy very thick to the south-east of Thuin and a battle was in progress below us. The artillery on both sides were very busy. It was very interesting to watch. In one field a French battery opened fire; it had not fired more than two rounds per gun when shell after shell from a German battery burst over them. It must have been perfect hell for the French battery and silenced them at once. On the way back some German howitzer battery opened fire on us from north-west of Thuin. One shell splinter passed through my left plane but did no damage. Some infantry in Thuin also wasted a thousand rounds or so trying to bring us down.
"One day, after our reconnaissance over Mons and Charleroi, Jackson spotted a German Taube machine. I had also seen him but we had done our job and I did not want a fight. Jackson was always bloodthirsty, however, and the following shouted conversation ensued:
Jackson: 'Look, old boy!'
'Me: 'Yes, I know.’
'Jackson: ‘I think we ought to go for him, old boy.’
Me: 'Better get home with your report.'
Jackson: 'I think we ought to go for him, old boy.'
Me: 'All right.' "
I changed course for him and, as we passed the Taube, Jackson got in two shots with the rifle. We turned and passed each other again with no obvious result. This happened three or four times. Then, ‘Have you got a revolver, old boy? My ammunition's all gone.’ I, feeling rather sick of the proceedings, said ‘Yes. But no ammo.’ ‘Give it to me, old boy, and this time fly past him as close as you can.’ I carried out instructions and, to my amazement, as soon as we got opposite the Taube, Jackson, with my Army issue revolver grasped by the barrel, threw it at the Taube's propeller. Of course it missed and then, honor satisfied, we turned for home.
22 August. Today the French distinguished themselves by bringing down one of their own airships. They also often fire at us and there is quite as much to fear from one's own side as from the Germans as one leaves the ground. Two machines that went out this morning on reconnaissance came back with several bullet holes in them. In one the observer was shot in the stomach. Herbert, Shekleton, Fuller and I are the 4 pilots in our Flight. We do more flying than most other flights probably because Henri is a more reliable machine and is always ready. Shek. came back last night with six shot holes in his planes. One bullet missed the petrol tank only by an inch.
23 August. Went up for reconnaissance at 11.30 with Major Moss as passenger [observer]. I could not get Henri to climb at first so came down and lightened the load, then we soon got away at 3,800 feet. We found the enemy very thick to the south-east of Thuin and a battle was in progress below us. The artillery on both sides were very busy. It was very interesting to watch. In one field a French battery opened fire; it had not fired more than two rounds per gun when shell after shell from a German battery burst over them. It must have been perfect hell for the French battery and silenced them at once. On the way back some German howitzer battery opened fire on us from north-west of Thuin. One shell splinter passed through my left plane but did no damage. Some infantry in Thuin also wasted a thousand rounds or so trying to bring us down.
'24 August. All yesterday heavy firing to the east and northeast, and it was apparent that the enemy was pushing us back. I was sent off on to some high ground to look out for zeppelins!! NO.3 Squadron -ours- left at 2.30 pm, landed at Berlmont at 6.45 pm, then ordered to retire further back to Le Cateau. A great rush to get off as it was getting dusk. I and some others landed in a wrong field but went on to the right one afterwards. Birch in his Bleriot hit the telegraph wires in getting off and broke his machine, escaping with a shaking himself.
'25 August. Yesterday the Germans had a victory at Mons. Today parts of Charleroi are in flames and the enemy are turning our left flank. I went off at 11 am with Jackson as passenger. All our troops were in retreat, using every road available and making for Le Cateau. The whole of the French cavalry were retiring on Cambrai. Returned from reconnaissance at 1 pm and at 3.30 orders came to move to St Quentin. As soon as we landed a heavy rain-storm came on and swamped everything. I feel so sorry for poor Henri. It is doing him a great deal of harm, this rain and hot sun.
'26 August. Off on reconnaisance at 7 am with Jackson to report on engagements in the Le Cateau and Espignol area. The whole sight was wonderful - a fierce artillery engagement for the most part, we getting the worst of it. We had all the German army corps against our little force. We could see nothing of the French. I watched one of our batteries put out of action, shell after shell burst on it and then there was silence until more men were sent up and it opened up again.
'Le Cateau was in flames. We were shelled by anti-aircraft guns so I kept at 4,500 feet. We are also giving the Germans a bad time-their cavalry and infantry nearly always advanced in masses, offering as they did so a splendid target and getting mown down by the score. There was not a suitable place to land at headquarters at Bertry. In landing we skidded and as soon as we touched ground the landing chassis gave way and Henri pitched on his nose. Jackson was pitched out about ten yards ahead and I was left in the machine. Neither of us was hurt only shaken. Good old Henri, he did me well and even at the last he did not do me in. There was no time to repair the damage as shells were already falling over the town so I hurriedly removed all the instruments, guns, maps etc. and cut off the Union Jack and so left Henri in his last resting place."
'25 August. Yesterday the Germans had a victory at Mons. Today parts of Charleroi are in flames and the enemy are turning our left flank. I went off at 11 am with Jackson as passenger. All our troops were in retreat, using every road available and making for Le Cateau. The whole of the French cavalry were retiring on Cambrai. Returned from reconnaissance at 1 pm and at 3.30 orders came to move to St Quentin. As soon as we landed a heavy rain-storm came on and swamped everything. I feel so sorry for poor Henri. It is doing him a great deal of harm, this rain and hot sun.
'26 August. Off on reconnaisance at 7 am with Jackson to report on engagements in the Le Cateau and Espignol area. The whole sight was wonderful - a fierce artillery engagement for the most part, we getting the worst of it. We had all the German army corps against our little force. We could see nothing of the French. I watched one of our batteries put out of action, shell after shell burst on it and then there was silence until more men were sent up and it opened up again.
'Le Cateau was in flames. We were shelled by anti-aircraft guns so I kept at 4,500 feet. We are also giving the Germans a bad time-their cavalry and infantry nearly always advanced in masses, offering as they did so a splendid target and getting mown down by the score. There was not a suitable place to land at headquarters at Bertry. In landing we skidded and as soon as we touched ground the landing chassis gave way and Henri pitched on his nose. Jackson was pitched out about ten yards ahead and I was left in the machine. Neither of us was hurt only shaken. Good old Henri, he did me well and even at the last he did not do me in. There was no time to repair the damage as shells were already falling over the town so I hurriedly removed all the instruments, guns, maps etc. and cut off the Union Jack and so left Henri in his last resting place."
After the need for weaponry on aircraft was realized, many other problems quickly became apparent. First, machine guns were fitted to the wings, but they were virtually impossible to aim and a jam would mean climbing out on the wing. Mounting the machine guns in front of the pilot would allow him to aim, but could (and often did) shoot the plane's propeller off. The French developed a solution to this problem: simply armor the propeller. Any bullets that hit the propeller would ricochet off in other directions, and possibly back towards the pilot. It was a Dutch airplane manufacturer, Anthony Fokker, and his company that would develop one of the most important technologies of the war: synchronization. This connected the speed of the engine to the rate of fire, ensuring that bullets would go through the air between the propeller blades. The Germans were skeptical, and sent Fokker up to show them how his technology would work in combat.
Excerpt from The Flying Dutchman by Anthony Fokker (1931)
". . .while I was flying around about 6,000 feet high, a Farman two-seater biplane, similar to the ones which had bombed me, appeared out of a cloud 2,000 or 3,000 feet below. That was my opportunity to show what the gun would do, and I dived rapidly toward it. The plane, an observation type with propeller in the rear, was flying leisurely along. It may even have been that the Frenchmen didn't see me. It takes long practice and constant vigilance to guard against surprise air attack, for the enemy can assail one from any point in the sphere.
Even though they had seen me, they would have had no reason to fear bullets through my propeller. While approaching, I thought of what a deadly accurate stream of lead I could send into the plane. It would be just like shooting a rabbit on the sit, because the pilot couldn't shoot back through his pusher propeller at me.
As the distance between us narrowed the plane grew larger in my sights. My imagination could vision my shots puncturing the gasoline tanks in front of the engine. The tank would catch fire. Even if my bullets failed to kill the pilot and observer, the ship would fall down in flames. I had my finger on the trigger. . .I had no personal animosity towards the French. I was flying merely to prove that a certain mechanism I had invented would work. By this time I was near enough to open fire, and the French pilots were watching me curiously, wondering, no doubt, why I was flying up behind them. In another instant, it would be all over for them.
Suddenly, I decided that the whole job could go to hell. It was too much like 'cold meat' to suit me. I had no stomach for the whole business, nor any wish to kill Frenchmen for Germans. Let them do their own killing.
Returning quickly to the Douai flying field, I informed the commander of the field that I was through flying over the Front. After a brief argument, it was agreed that a regular German pilot would take up the plane. Lieutenant Oswald Boelcke, later to be the first German ace, was assigned to the job. The next morning I showed him how to manipulate the machine gun while flying the plane, watched him take off for the Front, and left for Berlin.
The first news which greeted my arrival there was a report from the Front that Boelcke, on his third flight, had brought down an Allied plane. Boelcke's success, so soon after he had obtained the machine, convinced the entire air corps overnight of the efficiency of my synchronized machine gun. From its early skepticism headquarters shifted to the wildest enthusiasm for the new weapon."
Excerpt from The Flying Dutchman by Anthony Fokker (1931)
". . .while I was flying around about 6,000 feet high, a Farman two-seater biplane, similar to the ones which had bombed me, appeared out of a cloud 2,000 or 3,000 feet below. That was my opportunity to show what the gun would do, and I dived rapidly toward it. The plane, an observation type with propeller in the rear, was flying leisurely along. It may even have been that the Frenchmen didn't see me. It takes long practice and constant vigilance to guard against surprise air attack, for the enemy can assail one from any point in the sphere.
Even though they had seen me, they would have had no reason to fear bullets through my propeller. While approaching, I thought of what a deadly accurate stream of lead I could send into the plane. It would be just like shooting a rabbit on the sit, because the pilot couldn't shoot back through his pusher propeller at me.
As the distance between us narrowed the plane grew larger in my sights. My imagination could vision my shots puncturing the gasoline tanks in front of the engine. The tank would catch fire. Even if my bullets failed to kill the pilot and observer, the ship would fall down in flames. I had my finger on the trigger. . .I had no personal animosity towards the French. I was flying merely to prove that a certain mechanism I had invented would work. By this time I was near enough to open fire, and the French pilots were watching me curiously, wondering, no doubt, why I was flying up behind them. In another instant, it would be all over for them.
Suddenly, I decided that the whole job could go to hell. It was too much like 'cold meat' to suit me. I had no stomach for the whole business, nor any wish to kill Frenchmen for Germans. Let them do their own killing.
Returning quickly to the Douai flying field, I informed the commander of the field that I was through flying over the Front. After a brief argument, it was agreed that a regular German pilot would take up the plane. Lieutenant Oswald Boelcke, later to be the first German ace, was assigned to the job. The next morning I showed him how to manipulate the machine gun while flying the plane, watched him take off for the Front, and left for Berlin.
The first news which greeted my arrival there was a report from the Front that Boelcke, on his third flight, had brought down an Allied plane. Boelcke's success, so soon after he had obtained the machine, convinced the entire air corps overnight of the efficiency of my synchronized machine gun. From its early skepticism headquarters shifted to the wildest enthusiasm for the new weapon."
Raoul Lufbery was an American "ace" with 17 official kills by the end of 1917. "On the morning of May 19, 1918, a German reconnaissance plane flew a low level photographic mission over the airfield of the 94th Aero Squadron. An American flyer immediately took to the air to challenge the intruder. His attacks, however, were ineffective and he soon exhausted his ammunition as the German pilot made a run back to his own lines. Captain Eddie Rickenbacker, who would finish the war as America's top ace, described what happened next:" [SOURCE]
Excerpt from Fighting the Flying Circus by Eddie Rickenbacker (1919)
Born: 8 October 1890, Died: 23 July 1973
"In the meantime, Major Lufbery, who had been watching the whole show from his barracks, jumped on a motorcycle that was standing in the road and rushed to the hangars. His own plane was out of commission. Another Nieuport was standing on the field, apparently ready for use. It belonged to Lieutenant Davis. The mechanics admitted everything was ready and without another word Lufbery jumped into the machine and immediately took off.
With all his long string of victories, Lufbery had never brought down an enemy airplane within the Allied lines. All seventeen of his early successes with the Lafayette Escadrille and his last success - when he had gone out to avenge Jimmy Hall - all had been won across the German lines. He had never seen the wreckage of a single of his victories. Undoubtedly he seized this opportunity of engaging in a combat almost within sight of our field with impetuous abandon. Knowing nothing of the condition of his guns nor the small peculiarities of his present mount, Lufbery flew in to the attack.
With far greater speed than his heavier antagonist, Major Lufbery climbed in pursuit. In approximately five minutes after leaving the ground he had reached two thousand feet and had arrived within range of the Albatros six miles away. The first attack was witnessed by all the watchers.
Luf fired several short bursts as he dived in to the attack. Then he swerved away and appeared to busy himself with his gun, which evidently had jammed. Another circle over their heads and he had cleared the jam. Again he rushed the enemy from their rear, when suddenly old Luf's machine was seen to burst into flames. He passed the Albatros and proceeded for three or four seconds on a straight course. Then to the horrified watchers below there appeared the figure of their hero in a headlong leap from the cockpit of the burning aircraft! Lufbery had preferred a leap to certain death rather than endure the slow torture of burning to a crisp. His body fell in the garden of a peasant woman's house in a little town just north of Nancy. A small stream ran nearby and it was thought later that poor Lufbery seeing this small chance for life had jumped with the intention of striking this water. He had leaped from a height of two hundred feet and his machine was carrying him at a speed of 120 miles per hour! A hopeless but a heroic attempt to preserve his life for his country!
I remember a conversation we had had with Major Lufbery on the subject of catching a fire in the air a few days previous to this melancholy accident. I had asked Luf what he would do in a case of this kind - jump or stay with the machine? All of us had a great respect for Major Lufbery's experience and we were anxious to hear his response to this question.
'I should always stay with the machine,' Luf responded. 'If you jump you certainly haven't got a chance. On the other hand there is always a good chance of slide-slipping your airplane down in such a way that you fan the flames away from yourself and the wings. Perhaps you can even put the fire out before you reach the ground. It has been done. Me for staying with the old 'bus, every time!'
"What an irony now to recall old Luf's suggestions! His machine had received a tracer bullet in the fuel tank. The same bullet evidently cut away the thumb of his right hand as it clasped the joystick. The next instant the little craft was but one mass of flame, from which there was no means of escape."
American pilots were not issued parachutes, although they existed. It was thought (by high-level decision-makers) that it would make the American pilots more skittish and likely to bail than face the enemy. Although a parachute would not have helped Major Lufbery (his plane was too low for a parachute to deploy), many American pilots were killed needlessly.
Excerpt from Fighting the Flying Circus by Eddie Rickenbacker (1919)
Born: 8 October 1890, Died: 23 July 1973
"In the meantime, Major Lufbery, who had been watching the whole show from his barracks, jumped on a motorcycle that was standing in the road and rushed to the hangars. His own plane was out of commission. Another Nieuport was standing on the field, apparently ready for use. It belonged to Lieutenant Davis. The mechanics admitted everything was ready and without another word Lufbery jumped into the machine and immediately took off.
With all his long string of victories, Lufbery had never brought down an enemy airplane within the Allied lines. All seventeen of his early successes with the Lafayette Escadrille and his last success - when he had gone out to avenge Jimmy Hall - all had been won across the German lines. He had never seen the wreckage of a single of his victories. Undoubtedly he seized this opportunity of engaging in a combat almost within sight of our field with impetuous abandon. Knowing nothing of the condition of his guns nor the small peculiarities of his present mount, Lufbery flew in to the attack.
With far greater speed than his heavier antagonist, Major Lufbery climbed in pursuit. In approximately five minutes after leaving the ground he had reached two thousand feet and had arrived within range of the Albatros six miles away. The first attack was witnessed by all the watchers.
Luf fired several short bursts as he dived in to the attack. Then he swerved away and appeared to busy himself with his gun, which evidently had jammed. Another circle over their heads and he had cleared the jam. Again he rushed the enemy from their rear, when suddenly old Luf's machine was seen to burst into flames. He passed the Albatros and proceeded for three or four seconds on a straight course. Then to the horrified watchers below there appeared the figure of their hero in a headlong leap from the cockpit of the burning aircraft! Lufbery had preferred a leap to certain death rather than endure the slow torture of burning to a crisp. His body fell in the garden of a peasant woman's house in a little town just north of Nancy. A small stream ran nearby and it was thought later that poor Lufbery seeing this small chance for life had jumped with the intention of striking this water. He had leaped from a height of two hundred feet and his machine was carrying him at a speed of 120 miles per hour! A hopeless but a heroic attempt to preserve his life for his country!
I remember a conversation we had had with Major Lufbery on the subject of catching a fire in the air a few days previous to this melancholy accident. I had asked Luf what he would do in a case of this kind - jump or stay with the machine? All of us had a great respect for Major Lufbery's experience and we were anxious to hear his response to this question.
'I should always stay with the machine,' Luf responded. 'If you jump you certainly haven't got a chance. On the other hand there is always a good chance of slide-slipping your airplane down in such a way that you fan the flames away from yourself and the wings. Perhaps you can even put the fire out before you reach the ground. It has been done. Me for staying with the old 'bus, every time!'
"What an irony now to recall old Luf's suggestions! His machine had received a tracer bullet in the fuel tank. The same bullet evidently cut away the thumb of his right hand as it clasped the joystick. The next instant the little craft was but one mass of flame, from which there was no means of escape."
American pilots were not issued parachutes, although they existed. It was thought (by high-level decision-makers) that it would make the American pilots more skittish and likely to bail than face the enemy. Although a parachute would not have helped Major Lufbery (his plane was too low for a parachute to deploy), many American pilots were killed needlessly.
Excerpt from Der Rote Kampfflieger by Manfred Richthofen (1917)
Translated by R. Ellis Barker
Born: 2 May 1892, Died: 21 April 1918
"The second of April, 1917, was a very warm day for my Squadron. From my quarters I could clearly hear the drum-fire of the guns which was again particularly violent.
I was still in bed when my orderly rushed into the room and exclaimed: 'Sir, the English are here!' Sleepy as I was, I looked out of the window and, really, there were my dear friends circling over the flying ground. I jumped out of my bed and into my clothes in a jiffy. My Red Bird had been pulled out and was ready for starting. My mechanics knew that I should probably not allow such a favorable moment to go by un-utilized. Everything was ready. I snatched up my furs and then went off.
I was the last to start. My comrades were much nearer to the enemy. I feared that my prey would escape me, that I should have to look on from a distance while the others were fighting. Suddenly one of the impertinent fellows tried to drop down upon me. I allowed him to come near and then we started a merry quadrille. Sometimes my opponent flew on his back and sometimes he did other tricks. He had a double-seated chaser. I was his master and very soon I recognized that he could not escape me.
During an interval in the fighting I convinced myself that we were alone. It followed that the victory would accrue to him who was calmest, who shot best and who had the clearest brain in a moment of danger. After a short time I got him beneath me without seriously hurting him with my gun. We were at least two kilometers from the front. I thought he intended to land but there I had made a mistake. Suddenly, when he was only a few yards above the ground, he once more went off on a straight course. He tried to escape me. That was too bad. I attacked him again and I went so low that I feared I should touch the roofs of the houses of the village beneath me. The Englishman defended himself up to the last moment. At the very end I felt that my engine had been hit. Still I did not let go. He had to fall. He rushed at full speed right into a block of houses.
There was little left to be done. This was once more a case of splendid daring. He defended himself to the last. However, in my opinion he showed more foolhardiness than courage. This was one of the cases where one must differentiate between energy and idiocy. He had to come down in any case but he paid for his stupidity with his life.
I was delighted with the performance of my red machine during its morning work and returned to our quarters. My comrades were still in the air and they were very surprised, when, as we met at breakfast, I told them that I had scored my thirty-second
A very young Lieutenant had 'bagged' his first aeroplane. We were all very merry and prepared everything for further battles. I then went and groomed myself. I had not had time to do it previously. I was visited by a dear friend, Lieutenant Voss of Boelcke's Squadron. We chatted. Voss had downed on the previous day his twenty-third machine. He was next to me on the list and is at present my most redoubtable competitor.
Translated by R. Ellis Barker
Born: 2 May 1892, Died: 21 April 1918
"The second of April, 1917, was a very warm day for my Squadron. From my quarters I could clearly hear the drum-fire of the guns which was again particularly violent.
I was still in bed when my orderly rushed into the room and exclaimed: 'Sir, the English are here!' Sleepy as I was, I looked out of the window and, really, there were my dear friends circling over the flying ground. I jumped out of my bed and into my clothes in a jiffy. My Red Bird had been pulled out and was ready for starting. My mechanics knew that I should probably not allow such a favorable moment to go by un-utilized. Everything was ready. I snatched up my furs and then went off.
I was the last to start. My comrades were much nearer to the enemy. I feared that my prey would escape me, that I should have to look on from a distance while the others were fighting. Suddenly one of the impertinent fellows tried to drop down upon me. I allowed him to come near and then we started a merry quadrille. Sometimes my opponent flew on his back and sometimes he did other tricks. He had a double-seated chaser. I was his master and very soon I recognized that he could not escape me.
During an interval in the fighting I convinced myself that we were alone. It followed that the victory would accrue to him who was calmest, who shot best and who had the clearest brain in a moment of danger. After a short time I got him beneath me without seriously hurting him with my gun. We were at least two kilometers from the front. I thought he intended to land but there I had made a mistake. Suddenly, when he was only a few yards above the ground, he once more went off on a straight course. He tried to escape me. That was too bad. I attacked him again and I went so low that I feared I should touch the roofs of the houses of the village beneath me. The Englishman defended himself up to the last moment. At the very end I felt that my engine had been hit. Still I did not let go. He had to fall. He rushed at full speed right into a block of houses.
There was little left to be done. This was once more a case of splendid daring. He defended himself to the last. However, in my opinion he showed more foolhardiness than courage. This was one of the cases where one must differentiate between energy and idiocy. He had to come down in any case but he paid for his stupidity with his life.
I was delighted with the performance of my red machine during its morning work and returned to our quarters. My comrades were still in the air and they were very surprised, when, as we met at breakfast, I told them that I had scored my thirty-second
A very young Lieutenant had 'bagged' his first aeroplane. We were all very merry and prepared everything for further battles. I then went and groomed myself. I had not had time to do it previously. I was visited by a dear friend, Lieutenant Voss of Boelcke's Squadron. We chatted. Voss had downed on the previous day his twenty-third machine. He was next to me on the list and is at present my most redoubtable competitor.
When he started to fly home I offered to accompany him part of the way. We went on a roundabout way over the Fronts. The weather had turned so bad that we could not hope to find any more game.
Beneath us there were dense clouds. Voss did not know the country and he began to feel uncomfortable. When we passed above Arras I met my brother who also is in my squadron and who had lost his way. He joined us. Of course he recognized me at once by the color of my machine.
Suddenly we saw a squadron approaching from the other side. Immediately the thought occurred to me: 'Now comes number thirty-three.' Although there were nine Englishmen and although they were on their own territory they preferred to avoid battle. I thought that perhaps it would be better for me to re-paint my machine. Nevertheless we caught them up. The important thing in aeroplanes is that they are speedy.
I was nearest to the enemy and attacked the man to the rear. To my greatest delight I noticed that he accepted battle and my pleasure was increased when I discovered that his comrades deserted him. So I had once more a single fight. It was a fight similar to the one which I had had in the morning. My opponent did not make matters easy for me. He knew the fighting business and it was particularly awkward for me that he was a good shot. To my great regret that was quite clear to me.
A favorable wind came to my aid. It drove both of us into the German lines. My opponent discovered that the matter was not so simple as he had imagined. So he plunged and disappeared in a cloud. He had nearly saved himself.
I plunged after him and dropped out of the cloud and, as luck would have it, found myself close behind him. I fired and he fired without any tangible result. At last I hit him. I noticed a ribbon of white benzine vapor. He had to land for his engine had come to a stop.
He was a stubborn fellow. He was bound to recognize that he had lost the game. If he continued shooting I could kill him, for meanwhile we had dropped to an altitude of about nine hundred feet. However, the Englishman defended himself exactly as did his countryman in the morning. He fought until he landed. When he had come to the ground I flew over him at an altitude of about thirty feet in order to ascertain whether I had killed him or not. What did the rascal do? He took his machine-gun and shot holes into my machine.
Afterwards Voss told me if that had happened to him he would have shot the airman on the ground. As a matter of fact I ought to have done so for he had not surrendered. He was one of the few fortunate fellows who escaped with their lives.
I felt very merry, flew home and celebrated my thirty-third aeroplane."
Beneath us there were dense clouds. Voss did not know the country and he began to feel uncomfortable. When we passed above Arras I met my brother who also is in my squadron and who had lost his way. He joined us. Of course he recognized me at once by the color of my machine.
Suddenly we saw a squadron approaching from the other side. Immediately the thought occurred to me: 'Now comes number thirty-three.' Although there were nine Englishmen and although they were on their own territory they preferred to avoid battle. I thought that perhaps it would be better for me to re-paint my machine. Nevertheless we caught them up. The important thing in aeroplanes is that they are speedy.
I was nearest to the enemy and attacked the man to the rear. To my greatest delight I noticed that he accepted battle and my pleasure was increased when I discovered that his comrades deserted him. So I had once more a single fight. It was a fight similar to the one which I had had in the morning. My opponent did not make matters easy for me. He knew the fighting business and it was particularly awkward for me that he was a good shot. To my great regret that was quite clear to me.
A favorable wind came to my aid. It drove both of us into the German lines. My opponent discovered that the matter was not so simple as he had imagined. So he plunged and disappeared in a cloud. He had nearly saved himself.
I plunged after him and dropped out of the cloud and, as luck would have it, found myself close behind him. I fired and he fired without any tangible result. At last I hit him. I noticed a ribbon of white benzine vapor. He had to land for his engine had come to a stop.
He was a stubborn fellow. He was bound to recognize that he had lost the game. If he continued shooting I could kill him, for meanwhile we had dropped to an altitude of about nine hundred feet. However, the Englishman defended himself exactly as did his countryman in the morning. He fought until he landed. When he had come to the ground I flew over him at an altitude of about thirty feet in order to ascertain whether I had killed him or not. What did the rascal do? He took his machine-gun and shot holes into my machine.
Afterwards Voss told me if that had happened to him he would have shot the airman on the ground. As a matter of fact I ought to have done so for he had not surrendered. He was one of the few fortunate fellows who escaped with their lives.
I felt very merry, flew home and celebrated my thirty-third aeroplane."
This is an excerpt from a 1927 movie called Wings the first movie to win an Academy Award for Best Picture. Even now the aerial photography is staggering, and the film took 9 times longer than the average Hollywood film to make. Cameras were attached to every conceivable part of the planes to get the most realistic angles and unique views. Below are some more shots from the movie.
Bombs dropping, actor flying low/acting/being chased/acting, massive choreographed battle scenes, tanks and planes
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Zeppelins
In the 1930 film Hell's Angels by Howard Hughes, a zeppelin is filmed exploding over London. It is the only scale model used in the entire film, but even so it was 60 feet long! Take a look at how they filmed it here.
Michael MacDonagh, 1 October 1916, London.
Occupation: Journalist for London Newspaper
"I saw last night what is probably the most appalling spectacle associated with the war which London is likely to provide - the bringing down in flames of a raiding Zeppelin.
I was late at the office, and leaving it just before midnight was crossing to Blackfriars Bridge to get a tramcar home, when my attention was attracted by frenzied cries of 'Oh! Oh! She's hit!' from some wayfarers who were standing in the middle of the road gazing at the sky in a northern direction. Looking up the clear run of New Bridge Street and Farringdon Road I saw high in the sky a concentrated blaze of searchlights, and in its centre a ruddy glow which rapidly spread into the outline of a blazing airship. Then the searchlights were turned off and the Zeppelin drifted perpendicularly in the darkened sky, a gigantic pyramid of flames, red and orange, like a ruined star falling slowly to earth. Its glare lit up the streets and gave a ruddy tint even to the waters of the Thames.
The spectacle lasted two or three minutes. It was so horribly fascinating that I felt spellbound - almost suffocated with emotion, ready hysterically to laugh or cry. When at last the doomed airship vanished from sight there arose a shout the like of which I never heard in London before - a hoarse shout of mingled execration, triumph and joy; a swelling shout that appeared to be rising from all parts of the metropolis, ever increasing in force and intensity. It was London's Te Deum for another crowning deliverance. Four Zeppelins destroyed in a month!...
I got from a member of the Potter's Bar anti-aircraft battery an account of the bringing down of the Zeppelin. He said the airship was caught in the beams of three searchlights from stations miles apart, and was being fired at by three batteries also from distances widely separated. She turned and twisted, rose and fell, in vain attempts to escape to the shelter of the outer darkness. None of the shells reached her. Then an aeroplane appeared and dropped three flares - the signal to the ground batteries to cease firing as he was about to attack. The airman, flying about the Zeppelin, let go rounds of machine-gun fire at her without effect, until one round fired into her from beneath set her on fire, and down she came a blazing mass, roaring like a furnace, breaking as she fell into two parts which were held together by internal cables until they reached the ground.
The framework of the Zeppelin lay in the field in two enormous heaps, separated from each other by about a hundred yards. Most of the forepart hung suspended from a tree. . .
The crew numbered nineteen. One body was found in the field some distance from the wreckage. He must have jumped from the doomed airship from a considerable height. So great was the force with which he struck the ground that I saw the imprint of his body clearly defined in the stubbly grass. There was a round hole for the head, then deep impressions of the trunk, with outstretched arms, and finally the widely separated legs. Life was in him when he was picked up, but the spark soon went out. He was, in fact, the Commander, who had been in one of the gondolas hanging from the airship. . .
With another journalist I went to the barn where the bodies lay. As we approached we heard a woman say to the sergeant of the party of soldiers in charge, 'May I go in? I would like to see a dead German.' 'No, madam, we cannot admit ladies,' was the reply.
Introducing myself as a newspaper reporter, I made the same request. The sergeant said to me, 'If you particularly wish to go in you may. I would, however, advise you not to do so. If you do you will regret your curiosity.' I persisted in my request. . .
Explaining to the sergeant that I particularly wanted to see the body of the Commander, I was allowed to go in. The sergeant removed the covering from one of the bodies which lay apart from the others. The only disfigurement was a slight distortion of the face. It was that of a young man, clean-shaven. He was heavily clad in a dark uniform and overcoat, with a thick muffler round his neck. I knew who he was. At the office we had had official information of the identity of the Commander and the airship (though publication of both particulars was prohibited), and it was this knowledge that had determined me to see the body. The dead man was Heinrich Mathy, the most renowned of the German airship commanders, and the perished airship was his redoubtable L31.
Yes, there he lay in death at my feet, the bugaboo of the Zeppelin raids, the first and most ruthless of these Pirates of the Air bent on our destruction."
Occupation: Journalist for London Newspaper
"I saw last night what is probably the most appalling spectacle associated with the war which London is likely to provide - the bringing down in flames of a raiding Zeppelin.
I was late at the office, and leaving it just before midnight was crossing to Blackfriars Bridge to get a tramcar home, when my attention was attracted by frenzied cries of 'Oh! Oh! She's hit!' from some wayfarers who were standing in the middle of the road gazing at the sky in a northern direction. Looking up the clear run of New Bridge Street and Farringdon Road I saw high in the sky a concentrated blaze of searchlights, and in its centre a ruddy glow which rapidly spread into the outline of a blazing airship. Then the searchlights were turned off and the Zeppelin drifted perpendicularly in the darkened sky, a gigantic pyramid of flames, red and orange, like a ruined star falling slowly to earth. Its glare lit up the streets and gave a ruddy tint even to the waters of the Thames.
The spectacle lasted two or three minutes. It was so horribly fascinating that I felt spellbound - almost suffocated with emotion, ready hysterically to laugh or cry. When at last the doomed airship vanished from sight there arose a shout the like of which I never heard in London before - a hoarse shout of mingled execration, triumph and joy; a swelling shout that appeared to be rising from all parts of the metropolis, ever increasing in force and intensity. It was London's Te Deum for another crowning deliverance. Four Zeppelins destroyed in a month!...
I got from a member of the Potter's Bar anti-aircraft battery an account of the bringing down of the Zeppelin. He said the airship was caught in the beams of three searchlights from stations miles apart, and was being fired at by three batteries also from distances widely separated. She turned and twisted, rose and fell, in vain attempts to escape to the shelter of the outer darkness. None of the shells reached her. Then an aeroplane appeared and dropped three flares - the signal to the ground batteries to cease firing as he was about to attack. The airman, flying about the Zeppelin, let go rounds of machine-gun fire at her without effect, until one round fired into her from beneath set her on fire, and down she came a blazing mass, roaring like a furnace, breaking as she fell into two parts which were held together by internal cables until they reached the ground.
The framework of the Zeppelin lay in the field in two enormous heaps, separated from each other by about a hundred yards. Most of the forepart hung suspended from a tree. . .
The crew numbered nineteen. One body was found in the field some distance from the wreckage. He must have jumped from the doomed airship from a considerable height. So great was the force with which he struck the ground that I saw the imprint of his body clearly defined in the stubbly grass. There was a round hole for the head, then deep impressions of the trunk, with outstretched arms, and finally the widely separated legs. Life was in him when he was picked up, but the spark soon went out. He was, in fact, the Commander, who had been in one of the gondolas hanging from the airship. . .
With another journalist I went to the barn where the bodies lay. As we approached we heard a woman say to the sergeant of the party of soldiers in charge, 'May I go in? I would like to see a dead German.' 'No, madam, we cannot admit ladies,' was the reply.
Introducing myself as a newspaper reporter, I made the same request. The sergeant said to me, 'If you particularly wish to go in you may. I would, however, advise you not to do so. If you do you will regret your curiosity.' I persisted in my request. . .
Explaining to the sergeant that I particularly wanted to see the body of the Commander, I was allowed to go in. The sergeant removed the covering from one of the bodies which lay apart from the others. The only disfigurement was a slight distortion of the face. It was that of a young man, clean-shaven. He was heavily clad in a dark uniform and overcoat, with a thick muffler round his neck. I knew who he was. At the office we had had official information of the identity of the Commander and the airship (though publication of both particulars was prohibited), and it was this knowledge that had determined me to see the body. The dead man was Heinrich Mathy, the most renowned of the German airship commanders, and the perished airship was his redoubtable L31.
Yes, there he lay in death at my feet, the bugaboo of the Zeppelin raids, the first and most ruthless of these Pirates of the Air bent on our destruction."