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

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

AIR STORIES line had dissolved into scattered groups of men, madly running for any cover that would protect them from the mad Englischer who had run his wheels almost on their helmets. Before calling it a day, Watson then machine-gunned a light field-battery and set fire to an ammunition limber. Attacked by 34 Scouts LTHOUGH Watson had many fights during March, a decisive victory eluded him, and it was not until May 11th that he received credit for his first ‘‘kill.’? On the evening of that day a bomber flight from No. 110 (Naval) Squadron attacked the great ammunition dump at Armentiéres, covered by a protecting flight of ten Camels from Watson’s squadron. The Naval war- birds made a good job of one great dump of shells and then turned for home, well satisfied with their morning’s work. It was then that trouble, in the shape of thirty-four enemy scouts, came roaring down out of the misty sky. A Camel went down in flames, then Captain N. L. Petschler, the Australian flight leader, evened the score by shooting the wings off an Albatros. Watson was hotly engaged by two machines, one of which soon disappeared through the clouds with steam pouring from a bullet- torn radiator. Thereupon, Watson turned his guns on a Pfalz Scout, which soon fell like a spent rocket with a plume of oily smoke billowing from beneath its engine cowl—smoke which was soon thinned by flames as the blazing machine spun into the ground not far from the still exploding dump. The fight was soon over, without further casualties on either side, but before the raiders reached the lines they were caught in a heavy fog, and not a single machine was able to reach its own aerodrome. Two of the Naval pilots were killed when their machines crashed into trees, and six of the ten Camels were damaged beyond repair in forced landings, one pilot breaking his foot. J, Three days later, Watson and Captain R. King attacked two L.F.G. two- seaters, and both pilots saw their chosen victims go spinning down completely out of control. By a stroke of sheer ill-luck, neither pilot received confirmation of these victories, for mist had prevented ground observers from _ seeing the machines crash, and they were only allowed ‘‘ out of control.’’ On June Ist, Watson went out with Captain A. H. Cobby on a ‘“‘ balloon busting ’’ expedition, and the latter pilot soon sent a balloon down enveloped in flames. Watson then attacked the balloon’s observer and shot clean through the rope of his parachute. ‘‘ Bad sportsmanship,’’ a critic might say, but that same critic would probably be unaware that on many occasions our own observers had been killed by German pilots while descending in their para- chutes, and that orders had been issued to the effect that our pilots must retaliate at every opportunity. Furthermore, it was agreed that while a balloon could be, and often was, replaced almost at once, specially-trained observers could not be conjured up at a moment’s notice. Bad sportsmanship, perhaps, but then war is not a sport. Hunting with Cobby ATSON’S next victim, a balloon, went down over Sailly, and ten days later he again put up a great fight in company with Cobby. The squadron were returning from a raid on Bac-St. Maur, when Cobby waggled his wings at Watson and motioned towards five distant specks. Watson was game, and the two pilots left their formation to attack the enemy machines, which proved to be five Pfalz D.12’s and an Albatros, flying over Laventie. Watson bagged one Pfalz in flames ; Cobby fired a burst that caused another to disintegrate in mid-air, and then chased the Albatros until he saw it crash in a field. Watson attacked the remaining machines and killed the pilot of one, the survivors escaping through the clouds. At this time Watson was flying regular two-men offensive patrols with Cobby, and between them the intrepid pair were causing the Imperial Air Service much grief in lost men and machines, not to 74 EO LDOO