Air Stories, April 1936 — page 76: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

AIR STORIES under way, and the fliers of the black cross were to be found in swarms. Dallas soon began to show his new squadron what he could do. A week after his arrival a Rumpler appeared over No. 40’s aerodrome at Bruay, and ten minutes after its appearance high- explosive shells began to burst around the ’drome, directed there by the gentleman in the rear cockpit of the Rumpler. Dallas ordered his machine out and tried to reach the German, but could not get up to it. Simulating engine trouble, he enticed the pilot to attack him, and then shot it down near Lille. FEW days later the Germans forced the British troops back, and several divisions became isolated. Dallas and several other pilots went up to try and locate their position, and going down to investigate a body of troops, Dallas saw they were Germans. A machine- gun promptly opened fire, and a bullet tore through his leg just above the knee. A fortnight in hospital, and then Dallas was back with the squadron, even though he could not walk without crutches. Early in April, although his wound had not yet healed, he decided to avenge that hole in his leg and, loaded to capacity with bombs, he attacked a German aerodrome and bombed and machine-gunned the whole field. For this and his good work during the retreat, Dallas was awarded the D.S.O. On May 8th he made another of his spectacular attacks on a large formation, Near Ballieul he found seven Hun scouts, Pfalz and Fokker Triplanes, and had shot the wings off a Pfalz before the enemy pilots even saw him. Three days later he got another Pfalz and, on the 23rd, a Rumpler and a Fokker Triplane. By the 28th of the month, his score was thirty-nine, but the Grim Reaper was out to get this mere mortal who had once given him the slip. On June Ist, he was out over Lievin, when he saw a Fokker Triplane a thousand feet below him. One triplane was nothing to a man who daily attacked a dozen, and he went down after it. As his hand went to his guns, Spandaus chattered behind him, and bullets tore through his body. He had been caught by a decoy, and two triplanes had come out of the sun and riddled him before he had time to turn. In gentle turns, his $.E.5 went down, guided by a dead hand, then, a few hundred feet up, suddenly nose-dived and hurtled earth- wards with ever-increasing speed. The Grim Reaper had scythed down yet another flower of the Empire’s manhood, and Roderic Dallas had passed on, to join in Valhalla that gallant fellowship—the forgotten heroes of the war in the air. “WHEN YOU SOAR INTO THE AIR... ” The Song of No. 22 Squadron, R.F.C., sung to the tune of ‘‘ D’ye Ken John Peel ” WHEN you soar into the air on a Sopwith Scout, And you're scrapping with a Hun and your gun cuts out, Well, stuff down your nose till your plugs fall out, "Cause you haven't got a hope in the morning. FOR a batman woke me from my bed, I'd had a thick night and a very sore head, And I said to myself, to myself I said, ‘ Oh, we haven't got a hope in the morning.” SO I went to the sheds and examined my gun, Then my trusty engine I tried to run, And the revs. that it gave were a thousand and one, "Cause it hadn't got a hope in the morning. WE were escorting “* 22,” Hadn't a notion what to do, So we shot down a Hun and an F.E. too, "Cause they hadn't got a hope in the morning. WE went to Cambrai all in vain. The F.E.’s said, ‘’ We must explain. Our camera's broke, we must do it again, ‘Cause we haven't got a hope in the morning.” 362 doo SJ (C(O)