The Allied plan was to hold the French and Belgian coast and to take the offensive in the north. With this purpose in view the Seventh Division of the British army and the Third Cavalry Division, both of which came under the command of Sir Henry Rawlinson, were disembarked, from the 6th of October onward, at Zeebrugge and Ostend. But Antwerp was taken by the Germans on the 9th of October, and the first business of this famous force was to cover the Belgian retreat along the coast. The German Fourth Army was being rapidly pushed forward into Belgium; Lille capitulated on the 13th of October; Zeebrugge and Ostend were occupied by the Germans on the 15th. Still the idea of a counter-offensive was not abandoned, and the works and defences of Zeebrugge were left intact in the hope of its speedy recapture. On the night of the 1st of October the British army had begun to move northwards from the Aisne. By the 9th of October the British Second Corps had detrained at Abbeville and received orders to march on Bethune; on the 12th the Third Corps began detraining and concentrating at St.-Omer and Hazebrouck, and subsequently moved up to Bailleul and Armentieres. A week later, on the 19th, the First Corps under Sir Douglas Haig detrained at Hazebrouck and moved on Ypres. General Headquarters left Fere-en-Tardenois on the 8th of October and after a five-days' stay at Abbeville established themselves at St.-Omer.

The Royal Flying Corps had moved north with the British Expeditionary Force, from Fere-en-Tardenois by way of Abbeville, to St.-Omer, where they were established by the 12th of October. No. 2 Squadron remained behind for a few days, to carry on with Sir Douglas Haig's corps on the Aisne, but joined up at St.-Omer on the 17th of October. In addition to the four original squadrons, No. 6 Squadron, newly arrived from England under Major J. H. W. Becke, came under Brigadier-General Henderson's orders on the 16th of October. This squadron had been stationed at South Farnborough as a reserve for the squadrons in the field. When General Rawlinson's force was sent to Ostend, to attempt the relief of Antwerp, Lord Kitchener said, 'I want a squadron to go with it'. He ordered that No. 6 Squadron should be ready in forty-eight hours. The squadron was hastily completed; some pilots and machines were obtained from the Central Flying School; some machines were bought from private firms; equipment, tools, and the like were collected at night; and on the 7th of October the squadron flew to Bruges and began at once to carry out reconnaissances. On the following day they flew to Ostend, and, their transport having arrived, were concentrated on the racecourse. Five days later they retired to Dunkirk, and by the 16th of October were established at Poperinghe, where they came under the orders of headquarters at St.-Omer.

A good deal of reconnaissance was carried on by the squadrons during the northward move of the army. On the 29th of September unusual and heavy movement in a northerly and north-westerly direction had been observed behind the enemy lines on the Aisne. On the 1st of October air reconnaissances showed that the trenches in front of the British First Army Corps were unoccupied or very lightly held, and during the next few days there were many indications that one or two German army corps were being withdrawn to the north. Meantime the enemy took more trouble than usual to interfere with our aircraft, and employed an increased number of anti-aircraft guns. In the north our strategic reconnaissances were not so successful, and the formidable enemy movement against the Ypres line developed undetected. Not many aeroplanes were available at this time for the wider sort of strategic reconnaissance. Nos. 2, 3, and 5 Squadrons had been attached, by an order issued on the 1st of October, to the First, Second, and Third Army Corps respectively, while No. 4 Squadron was detailed for strategical reconnaissance. The General Officers Commanding army corps had learned the value of aeroplanes and demanded their assistance. Much of the country over which they were operating in Northern France and Flanders was flat and enclosed, unsuitable either way for cavalry reconnaissance.

Long-distance work was done chiefly from headquarters. On the 3rd of October, when the situation at Antwerp had become critical, Lieutenant-Colonel F. H. Sykes flew direct to Bruges from Fere-en-Tardenois, with a message from Sir John French to the Belgian Chief of Staff at Antwerp. On the following day he returned and reported that the Germans had broken through the south-eastern sector of the outer defences of Antwerp, that the Belgians were awaiting help, and that they might possibly hold out for two or three weeks. In forwarding the report to Lord Kitchener Sir John French adds, 'The relief of Antwerp I regard as my first objective'. This mission was followed by others, and a few days later Sir John French speaks of reports which he is receiving daily by air from General Rawlinson.

Meantime a squadron of the Royal Naval Air Service, as shall be told in the next chapter, had been operating for some weeks from Ostend and Dunkirk with French territorial forces. The French territorials were hastily embodied troops taken from civilian life and were not of much use for a fight against odds. When the Seventh Division was landed at Ostend and Zeebrugge during the first week of October, and the improvised British Naval Division arrived at Antwerp, the situation was already out of hand. The British army was small; it had helped to save Paris, and now paid the price in the loss of the Belgian coast. The Seventh Division occupied Ghent, and after covering the retreat of the Belgian army, which halted along the line of the Yser, from Dixmude to Nieuport, fell back by way of Roulers to a position east of Ypres. When the whole British force came into line, it held a front of some thirty-five miles, with Maud'huy's Tenth French Army on its right across the Bethune-Lille road. On its left the line was held, from a point north of Ypres to the sea, by the Belgian army, assisted by four French cavalry divisions under General De Mitry.

The German army had failed to take Paris; all its efforts were now concentrated on the seizure of the Channel ports, and its pressure on the defending line was like the pressure of a great rising head of waters against the gates of a lock. The glory of the defence belongs to the infantry. The men who flew above them could only watch them and help them with eyes. The infantry were often unconscious of this help; they disliked seeing hostile observers above them and often fired on aeroplanes with very little distinction made between friends and foes. On the 26th of October Major G. H. Raleigh, of No. 4 Squadron, reports an artillery reconnaissance as follows: 'Hosking and Crean did a tactical reconnaissance early, but were unable to locate batteries owing to clouds. They went up later and did it. The clouds were low, so it was arranged that they should fly over one of our batteries to observe for ranging. The machine came down in flames and was completely demolished. Pilot and passenger had both been wounded by our own infantry fire when at a height of about a thousand feet with the large Union Jack plainly visible.'

Wing Commander W. D. Beatty tells how, before this time, the disadvantage of the Union Jack marking on the planes was becoming evident. The officer in command of an aviation camp at Paris had pointed out to him that, at a height, only the red cross of the Union Jack was clearly visible, and that it was mistaken by the French for the German marking. A suggestion was made that the British should adopt the French circular marking. The mishap of the 26th of October hastened the adoption of this suggestion, and thereafter the French target was painted on British aeroplanes, with the alteration only of blue for red and red for blue, to preserve national distinctions.

Commanding officers sometimes complained that our machines were little in evidence. The aeroplane observers, operating over enemy territory, reported to their own command, and their reports, forwarded to the proper quarters, took effect in the orders issued by Headquarters, so that crucial improvements were sometimes made in our dispositions, by information obtained from the air, though the infantry had seen no machine in the air above them. The use of machines for more local needs, such as artillery ranging, hastened the recognition of the services rendered by the Flying Corps, and brought it into closer touch with the other arms. Photographic cameras and fittings were still very imperfect, and photography from the air was not much practised, but sketch-maps of enemy trenches and gun-pits, as located by air reconnaissances, were issued by Headquarters during the battle of Ypres. Good work was done in directing the fire of the artillery, and the few wireless machines were much in demand. A telegram sent on the 28th of October from Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien to the Royal Flying Corps headquarters runs: 'Can you send us a second machine, with wireless installation, for use to-morrow? The aeroplane now working without wireless with Fifth Division has more to do than it can accomplish owing to observation being required for French artillery as well as our own.' But the wireless machine was required by the First Corps, at the northern end of the line, and a machine without wireless was sent instead.

The deadly and effective method of directing artillery fire on hostile batteries by means of wireless telegraphy played a great part in winning the war, but for the first battle of Ypres the wireless machines were not ready in quantity. The penalty which had to be paid for this unreadiness was heavy. Precious shells, which were all too few, had to be expended for ranging purposes. On the 4th of November Lord Kitchener wired to Sir John French: 'I have been talking to David Henderson about giving more observation to artillery by aeroplanes. As this saves the ranging ammunition, which is worth anything to us, please insist upon it.' Failing wireless, other methods of ranging had to be employed. These methods had been set forth in an official paper issued on the 28th of October. The aeroplane flies at any convenient height and when it is exactly above the target it fires a Very light. The battery range-finders, who have been following its course, then take its range and another observer with the battery takes its angle of elevation. These two observations are sufficient to determine the horizontal distance between the battery and the target. It was sometimes found difficult to take the range of an aeroplane, at a given moment, with an ordinary range-finder, and an alternative method of ranging is suggested. By this method the aeroplane flies at a prearranged height, and, as before, fires a light exactly over the target. But this method also is liable to error, for an aeroplane determines its height by the use of a barometer, and barometers are only approximately accurate for this purpose. So it was suggested that the two methods should be combined: the aeroplane should endeavour to fly at a fixed height, and the range-finders should, if possible, also make their calculations. These methods cannot attain to the accuracy of wireless, but they were found in practice to give fairly good results. They were not quickly or generally adopted; many battery commanders continued to prefer the reports of their trained ground observers to the indications given from the air. When wireless machines were increased in number, artillery observation from the air came into its own. In a report dated the 5th of February 1915, Brigadier-General Stokes, commander of the 27th Divisional Artillery, lays stress on the enormous advantages of wireless. He says that the 116th Heavy Battery of the Royal Garrison Artillery, which had at its disposal an aeroplane equipped with a lamp, had succeeded in registering only three targets in fifteen days, whereas the 130th Howitzer Battery, which had a share in the services of a wireless aeroplane, had registered eight targets in seven days. The disadvantages of the older and cruder method are many; a thin mist which does not prevent the aeroplane from observing the target is enough to prevent signalling to the battery; the lamp is difficult to use on a rough day, and difficult to read against the sun; the aeroplane has to be kept under continual observation by the battery. To get better value out of our artillery, the general concludes, the wireless service must be largely increased.

Reconnaissance from the air was much impeded, during the second half of October, by low clouds and bad weather, but enough was observed to give some forecast of the tremendous attack that was impending. The Germans outnumbered the British three or four times, and threw their whole weight, now against one part, and now against another, of the thin line of infantry fighting in mud and water. Those who would judge the battle will find no escape from the dilemma; either the British defence, maintained for thirty-four days, from the 19th of October to the 21st of November, against an army which esteemed itself the best army in the world, must be given a high and honourable place among the great military achievements of history, or the German army was disgraced by its defeat. But the German army was a good army, and was not disgraced. The Germans themselves respected their enemy, on the ground and in the air. On the 21st of November, at the close of the battle of Ypres, two German second lieutenants of the air corps, called Fribenius and Hahn, were taken prisoner near Neuve-Chapelle, and were examined. They said that the performances of British aeroplanes had caused instructions to be issued that a British aeroplane was to be attacked whenever encountered. British aeroplanes, they said, were easily distinguishable from others, for they always showed fight at once. What prisoners say under examination is not evidence, but this early tribute to the fighting quality of the Royal Flying Corps is repeated in many later testimonies.

The crisis of the battle of Ypres came on the 31st of October, when the line of the First Division was broken and the left flank of the Seventh Division exposed, at Gheluvelt, some six miles east of Ypres. The counter-attack by the First Guards Brigade and the famous bayonet charge of the Second Worcestershire Regiment retook Gheluvelt, and re-established the line. The last act of the long agony came on the 11th of November, when a great attack was delivered all along the line. The place of honour on the Ypres-Menin road was given to two brigades of the Prussian Guard Corps, who had been brought up from Arras for the purpose. The First Division of the British army met this attack at its heaviest point of impact, and by the close of the day the Prussians had gained five hundred yards of ground at the cost of enormous losses. The story of the battle belongs to military history; the loss and profit account can be summarized in two facts. The First Brigade, which met the Prussian spearhead, was taken back into reserve on the following day. It had gone into the battle four thousand five hundred strong; on the 12th of November there remained, of the First Scots Guards, one officer and sixty-nine men; of the Black Watch, one officer and a hundred and nine men; of the Cameron Highlanders, three officers and a hundred and forty men; of the First Coldstream Guards, no officers and a hundred and fifty men. This is not a list of the surrendered remnant of an army: it is a list of some of the victors of Ypres. The other fact is no less significant; after a week of fighting the German attack fainted and died, and when the next great assault upon the Ypres salient was delivered, in April 1915, it was led not by the Prussian Guard but by clouds of poison-gas.

No extraordinary or signal services were rendered by the Flying Corps during the crises of the battle. The weather was bad, and on some days flying was impossible. Yet by every flight knowledge was increased. When the British troops arrived in Flanders and were sent at once into the battle, the country in front of them was unknown. The dispositions of the enemy forces were not even guessed at. Then by the aid of the Flying Corps the enemy's batteries were mapped out, his trench lines observed and noted, his railheads and his roads watched for signs of movement. The reports received just before the battle do not, it is true, indicate the whole volume of movement that was coming towards the Ypres area. The newly raised reserve corps which formed part of the German Fourth Army, the transport of which to the western front began on the 10th of October, were not definitely seen from the air until just before the battle. But observers' reports did indicate that many troops were moving on the Ypres front, and once battle was joined enemy movements were fully reported on.

When at the end of October the Belgian army mortgaged great tracts of their ground for many years by opening the canal sluices and letting in the sea, the Germans were enabled to divert the Third Reserve Corps southwards. The movements of troops from this area were observed by the Royal Flying Corps, and General Headquarters on the 1st of November issued this summary: 'The coast road from Ostend to Nieuport was reported clear this morning, and there are indications generally of a transference of troops from the north of Dixmude southwards.' Again, when the attack on Ypres had failed and died away, the Germans transferred many troops from the western to the eastern front; these movements also were seen by the Royal Flying Corps, who reported on the 20th of November an abnormal amount of rolling stock at various stations behind the German front. 'The rolling stock formerly parked on the Ostend-Thourout and Ostend-Roulers lines has evidently been broken up', says General Headquarters Intelligence Summary for the 20th of November, 'and distributed to a number of stations along the Lys and in the area immediately north of it, which would be suitable points of entrainment for the forces in that district.... This redistribution of the rolling stock, together with the apparent reduction in motor transport, would seem to point to some important movement away from this immediate theatre being in contemplation.' Air reports for the following day proved that much movement eastwards had already taken place.

Throughout the battle tactical reconnaissances had been maintained to a depth of from fifteen to twenty miles behind the German lines. There were some few fights in the air, and a little bombing, but observation was still the principal duty of the Royal Flying Corps. They were greatly privileged; at a time when our people at home knew nothing of what the army was doing, they, and they alone, witnessed the battle of Ypres.

They would gladly have done more. Many of them had been infantry officers, and were eager to lend a hand to the infantry in that heroic struggle, but they lacked the means. Not until the summer of 1916 were they able, by organized attacks from the air, to help to determine the fortunes of a battle.

With the close of the battle there came a lull in the fighting. This lull continued throughout the dark and damp of the first winter, and the interest of the war in the air shifts to the preparations which were being pressed forward at home for renewing the war during 1915 on a larger scale and with better material.

One incident which occurred just after the battle of Ypres shall here be narrated; it serves to illustrate how the air work of the Germans may sometimes have been impeded by a certain defect of sympathy in the German officer class. German two-seater machines were commonly piloted by non-commissioned officers, who took their orders from the officer in the observer's seat. On the 22nd of November Lieutenants L. A. Strange and F. G. Small, of No. 5 Squadron, were returning from a reconnaissance, flying at a height of about seven thousand feet. Their machine, an Avro, with an 80 horse-power Gnome engine, carried a Lewis gun, which had been mounted by them, against orders, on rope tackle of their own devising, just above the observer's seat. In the air they met a new German Albatross with a 100 horse-power Mercedes engine. They showed fight at once. Diving from a height of five hundred feet above the German machine, and at right angles to its line of flight, they turned underneath it and flew along with it, a little in front and less than a hundred feet below. From this position, which they maintained while both machines made two complete turns in the air, they were able to empty two drums of ammunition into the German machine. After the second drum the German pilot lost his nerve, and the machine side-slipped away and down, landing behind our lines, close to Neuve-Eglise. There were twenty bullet-holes in the German machine, but the pilot and observer were both uninjured. The British officers landed close by, to claim their prisoners. The German observer, a commissioned officer, took little notice of them; as soon as his machine landed he jumped out of it, and dragging the partner of his dangers and triumphs out of the pilot's seat, knocked him down, and began to kick him heavily about the body. If ever a collection of incidents shall be made, under the title 'How the War was Lost and Won', to illustrate the causes of things, this little drama will deserve a place in it.



CHAPTER VII

THE ROYAL NAVAL AIR SERVICE IN 1914

When the war broke out the Naval Wing of the Royal Flying Corps had already been separated from the Military Wing, and had become the Royal Naval Air Service. Captain Murray Sueter was Director of the Air Department, and Captain G. M. Paine was Commandant of the Central Flying School. Six officers, all pioneers of the air, held the rank of wing commander, and nineteen held the rank of squadron commander. There were twelve flight commanders, and, with the addition of some few who joined on the 5th and 6th of August, there were ninety-one flight lieutenants, flight sub-lieutenants, and warrant officers. The number of petty officers and men was approximately seven hundred. Some of the officers and men had been appointed for special duties in connexion with gunnery, torpedo work, navigation, wireless telegraphy, and engineering. The duties which fell to the Royal Naval Air Service were naturally more various and more complicated than those which fell to the Royal Flying Corps. The Naval Air Service had to fly seaplanes and airships, as well as aeroplanes. They had made more progress than the Military Wing in fitting wireless telegraphy and in arming aircraft. They had in their possession, when war broke out, thirty-nine aeroplanes and fifty-two seaplanes, of which about half were ready for immediate use. They had also seven airships, of which one, the little Willows airship, may be left out of the reckoning, but of the others, the Parseval, Astra-Torres, and Beta did good work in the war. Some of the aeroplanes and most of the seaplanes were fitted with more powerful engines than any that were used by the Royal Flying Corps. Engines of two hundred horse-power were being installed in Short, Wight, and Sopwith seaplanes, with a view not chiefly to speed but to the carrying of torpedoes. These machines were not successful at first, but experiment was active. Two aeroplanes and one airship had been fitted with machine-guns; petrol incendiary bombs had been tried with success; and gear for the release of bombs was being gradually improved. More important still, wireless telegraphy plants had been set up at the various seaplane stations on the coast, and sixteen seaplanes, operating in connexion with these stations, had been fitted with transmitting apparatus.

These preparations, when they are looked back on across the years of war, may seem tentative and small, but the idea which dominated them is clear enough. Whether war would come soon was doubtful; what was certain was that war, if it did come, would come from the nation which for many long years had boasted of war, preached war, and intended war. The main concern of the Naval Air Service, in co-operation with the navy, was the defence of the East Coast from attack, whether by sea or by air, and the safeguarding of the Channel for the passage of an expeditionary force to the coast of Belgium or France. Other uses for a naval air force were a matter of time and experiment. There was at first no general scheme, prepared in detail, and ready to be put into action, for the offensive employment of naval aircraft, so that the work of the service tended to relapse into defence. Very little had been done to provide for the co-operation of aircraft with the fleet at sea. The Mayfly mishap had left us unsupplied with airships of the necessary power and range for naval reconnaissance, nor were the means at hand to enable seaplanes to do scouting work for the fleet. In December 1912 a design for a specially constructed seaplane-carrying ship had been submitted by the Air Department after consultation with Messrs. Beardmore of Dalmuir, but when the war came no such ship was in existence. The light cruiser H.M.S. Hermes had been adapted for seaplane carrying and had operated with the fleet during the naval manoeuvres of July 1913, but this was no more than a makeshift. The Hermes was refitted and re-commissioned in October 1914 to carry three seaplanes, and at the end of that month was sunk by a torpedo from an enemy submarine on her passage from Dunkirk to Dover.

War is a wonderful stimulant; and many things were done at high pressure, in the early days of August, to increase the resources, in men and material, of the Naval Air Service. The reserve was called up; in addition a certain number of officers were entered direct from civilian life, and were put to school, at Upavon or Eastchurch, to learn their new duties. Thousands of young men were eager to enter the service as pilots, but the training accommodation was wholly inadequate. The Bristol School at Brooklands, the Grahame-White School at Hendon, and the Eastbourne Aviation School were pressed into the service; in addition to these the naval air station at Calshot undertook to make seaplane pilots of some of those who had taken their flying certificates elsewhere. As was to be expected, training under these conditions proved difficult. All efficient machines were wanted for the war, so that machines which had been condemned for use on active service were sometimes employed in training new pilots.

If all those who deserve credit and praise for their part in the war in the air were to be mentioned, their names on the Roll of Honour would be thick as the motes that people the sunbeam. Most of them must be content, and are content, to know that they did their work and served their country. But here and there occurs a name which must not be passed without comment. On the 5th of August 1914 Mr. F. K. McClean, by whose help the first naval air pilots had been trained, joined the Royal Naval Air Service as a flight lieutenant. At the same time he offered to the service his three motor-cars, his motor-boat at Teddington, his yacht Zenaida, with two machines, and his private house at Eastchurch, which was converted into a hospital. A nation which commands the allegiance of such citizens need never fear defeat.

The earliest measure of defence undertaken by the Naval Air Service was the institution of a coastal patrol for the whole of the East Coast, from Kinnaird's Head, in Aberdeenshire, to Dungeness, between Dover and Hastings. This was ordered by the Admiralty on the 8th of August. The Royal Flying Corps, or rather, such incomplete squadrons of the Royal Flying Corps as were not yet ordered abroad, undertook the northern and southern extremes of this patrol, that is to say, the northern section between the Moray Firth and the Firth of Forth, from Kinnaird's Head to Fife Ness, and the southern section between the Thames and the coast of Sussex, from the North Foreland to Dungeness. The most vulnerable part of the East Coast, from the Forth to the Thames, or from North Berwick to Clacton, was to be patrolled by the Naval Air Service. But these arrangements were soon altered. Not many days after the outbreak of war the Germans established themselves in Belgium, and it was believed that they would use Belgium as a base for formidable attacks by aircraft on the Thames estuary and London. The forces of the Naval Air Service were therefore concentrated between the Humber and the Thames, from Immingham to Clacton. The Wash was thought to be the most likely landfall for a German airship raiding London. Regular patrols of the coast were carried out in the early days of the war, to report the movements of all enemy ships and aircraft and to detect enemy submarines. But there was not much to report, and it was weary work waiting for the enemy to begin.

The British Expeditionary Force was ready for service abroad, and it fell to the Naval Air Service to watch over its passage across the Channel. A regular patrol between Westgate, close to the North Foreland, and Ostend was maintained by seaplanes, following one another at intervals of two hours. On the 13th of August a temporary seaplane base was established at Ostend under the command of Flight Lieutenant E. T. R. Chambers, but on the 22nd of August, when the expeditionary force was safely landed and the occupation of Ostend by the Germans seemed imminent, the base was withdrawn, and the men and stores were taken back to England. An airship patrol of the Channel undertaken by airships Nos. 3 and 4 (that is to say, by the Astra-Torres and Parseval) began on the 10th of August, and was continued throughout the month. The average time of flight of a seaplane on patrol was about three hours, of an airship about twelve hours, so that the airship, which could slacken its speed and hover, had the advantage in observation. The chart printed on p. 363 illustrates the patrols carried out by the two airships on the 13th of August 1914. Here are copies of their logs for the day:

'Log of No. 3 Airship, 13th August 1914.

7.10 a.m. Rose. 7.37 Passed Sittingbourne. 7.45 Passed Teynham Station. 7.50 Passed Faversham. 8.20 Passed Canterbury. 9.0 Passed Coastguard Station. 9.49 Sighted No. 4 Airship. 10.41 Sighted seaplane on starboard quarter. 5.50 p.m. Altered course for Coastguard Station. 6.25 Coastguard Station. 6.54 Faversham. 7.4 Sittingbourne. 7.34 Landed.

'Log of No. 4 Airship, 13th August 1914.

7.40 a.m. Left Kingsnorth. 9.28 Passed Coastguard Station, shaped course for Calais. 10.35 Shaped course for Dover. 11.25 Shaped course for Calais. 11.35[5] Broke one blade of port propeller, rendering it necessary to change two for new blades. 12.55 p.m. Proceeded to Calais. 1.40 Shaped course for Dover. 2.12 Course as requisite to arrive at Calais. 2.52 " " " " " " Dover. 3.20 " " " " " " Calais. 4.00 " " " " " " Dover. 4.45 " " " " " " Calais. 5.45 " " " " " " Deal. 7.30 Arrived at Kingsnorth. 7.53 Landed.

[Footnote 5: 'Off Dover at 11.35 a.m. one blade of the port propeller burst and flew off, narrowly missing damaging the rigging near the envelope. We were able to fit two new blades while under way and continue the patrol. This took one hour and twenty minutes.']



It will be seen that the Parseval, which could not fly for a whole day without landing for the replenishment of fuel, plied continually between Dover and Calais, while the Astra-Torres, which was the stronger ship, laid her course far to the east and north-east to search the Channel for the approach of hostile craft.

Once the expeditionary force was safely across the Channel, these routine patrols were discontinued, though both airships and seaplanes continued to make special scouting flights over the North Sea and Channel. The main work of the Royal Naval Air Service continued to be coastguard work. At dawn and at sunset patrols were carried out every possible day, scouting the line of the coast. The group which had its centre at the Isle of Grain was entrusted with the defence of the Thames estuary. They had to report the approach of hostile ships and aircraft, to help our submarines in attack, and to warn friendly craft. They had two sub-stations, at Clacton and Westgate, facing each other across the estuary. The monotony of the life was relieved at times by alarms. In September a seaplane on patrol from Felixstowe sighted a Zeppelin. The news was received with enthusiasm, which was damped a little when it was learned that the pilot was some way out to sea, and that his estimate of his distance from the Zeppelin was sixty miles. On the 17th of November the Admiralty suspected an impending raid by German warships, and ordered that all available aeroplanes and seaplanes should be in the air for the daylight patrol of Thursday, the 19th of November. But even war, as the philosopher remarked, has its seamy side, and the enemy did not appear.

This patrol work was tedious and, when the winter came, even dangerous; a few pilots were lost and some spent hours adrift on wrecked seaplanes. Here is the report of a December experience of Squadron Commander J. W. Seddon, over the North Sea:

'I have the honour to report as follows on the circumstances of my patrol flight with Leading Mechanic R. L. Hartley in Seaplane No. 829 from Grain on Thursday, 17th inst., which ended with the salvage of this seaplane by the Norwegian Steamship Orn, who took us with the seaplane to Holland; and also on the circumstances of our detention at the Hook of Holland and subsequent release, and of the detention of the seaplane at Rotterdam.

'1. Diary of Events.

8.10 a.m. Left Grain. Wind Wly, moderate.

9.0 a.m. Passed over Galloper, continued eastwards to investigate steamer proceeding eastwards at high speed.

9.10 a.m. Steamer proved to be s.s. Fulmar of Liverpool. Turned back for Galloper. Wind strong Wly.

9.35 a.m. Motor failed suddenly and completely. Landed, nothing in sight. Sea moderately bad. Failure due to breakage of ignition ring, and though several attempts were made and engine started on each occasion, a lasting repair could not be made. As I was not carrying an anchor seaplane commenced to drift at about 2 knots through the water E. by N. (compass).

'I was feeling unwell when I left Grain and consequently was continually ill; Leading Mechanic Hartley also was seasick at first.

'The seaplane commenced to settle on the port main float and about 10.30 the port wing float carried away. Leading Mechanic Hartley moved out of his seat on to the starboard plane.

'The starboard wing float carried away about 11.15 a.m. and the trailing edge of the port lower plane was continually disintegrating.

'About noon, or perhaps 11.30 a.m., the Flushing steamer passed from E. to W., but 7 or 8 miles to the Northward, and did not see our signals.

'From then onwards Hartley was continually moving slightly outwards on the plane to counteract the heel to port, and occasional heavy seas occurring every five or ten minutes accumulated small damages.

'I therefore endeavoured to empty the main tank by overflowing through the gravity tank, but the petrol coming back into my face made me more ill, and after half an hour I could not continue.

'At 2.45 p.m., when I was expecting that a T.B.D. might appear to search for us, we sighted a small steamer to the N. Westward and making more or less towards us (some 6 miles distant). Waiting till she was abeam and only some 2 to 3 miles distant I fired my pistol and also waved. These signals did not appear to be observed at first, but finally she turned towards us about 3.15 p.m. and about 3.30 asked us if we wished to be taken off. This steamer proved to be the s.s. Orn (Captain Rewne). He manoeuvred and lowered a boat and took us aboard about 4.15 p.m.

'I asked the Captain if he could consider salving the seaplane, being worth as she was about L2,000, while the engine alone was worth L600 or L700.

'He promised to try and I went away in the boat again to the seaplane.

'I was not able to board the seaplane myself (going overboard while assisting one of the crew to do so), but this man got on board the seaplane successfully and made the necessary lines fast.

'After some difficulty and damage to the seaplane through insufficient reach of the derrick, she was got on board and the wings folded by 6.0 p.m.; the Orn actually proceeding on her course shortly before this. No other vessels were sighted during these operations. We were picked up about 11 miles east from the Galloper Lightship.

'The Captain of the Orn said he could not put back to England on account of there being no lights, but otherwise would have done so.

'The Captain of the Orn did everything possible for us, supplying us with hot coffee, food, and wine, and myself with dry clothes.

'We arrived in Dutch waters about 3.10 a.m. and anchored off the "Hook".'

After attending to the seaplane and taking all possible steps to secure its release by the Dutch Government, Squadron Commander Seddon was successful in obtaining the release of himself and his companion; on the 20th of December they sailed from Rotterdam for Harwich.

The seaplane patrols had not sufficient range to get into touch with the enemy off his own coasts, as the flying boat patrols almost always did in the later years of the war. Nevertheless, the first six months of coastguard work were of high value. They knit the service together, and produced a large body of skilled and practised pilots who prepared themselves or instructed others for later achievement.

An additional station for seaplane and aeroplane work was established at Scapa Flow to carry out patrols over the fleet. The patrols commenced on the 24th of August 1914 and continued daily in all weathers until the 21st of November, when the machines and hangars were completely wrecked in a gale. On the 27th of August 'Seaplanes Nos. 97 and 156 led the Battle Fleet to sea'. These were both Henri Farman seaplanes. There were also two Short seaplanes and a Sopwith Bat boat. A few more were added in the course of the following weeks, and so zealous and efficient were the mechanics that, with all the wear and tear of the daily patrol, not more than two machines at the most were ever out of action at one time during the first six weeks. Further bases were established during the autumn of 1914 at Newcastle-on-Tyne and Dover, but the lack of serviceable machines curtailed the activities of these stations.

The real dramatic centre of England's effort in the air was to be found, during these months, not at the coastal stations, but in the training schools and workshops. The progress there made, at first invisible, was so rapid that Captain Sueter was able to say in July 1915 that every machine possessed by the Royal Naval Air Service at the outbreak of the war 'is now regarded as fit only for a museum'.

The problem of providing seaplanes with a floating base so that they might operate with the fleet at sea became urgent at once. On the 11th of August the Admiralty, realizing the great utility of aerial scouting with the fleet, took over three cross-Channel steamers from the South-Eastern and Chatham Railway Company—the Empress, the Engadine, and the Riviera. The Empress was fitted out to carry machines and stores for the Naval Air Service. The Engadine and the Riviera were structurally altered at Chatham Dockyard, so that they might serve as seaplane-carriers. Later on, in October 1914, the Empress was also converted into a seaplane-carrier, and her work as transport and messenger vessel was taken over by the Princess Victoria.

The whole business of seaplanes was still in the experimental stage, and during the first twelve months of the war there were many disappointments. It was found that the seaplanes, when they were loaded with bombs, could not get off a sea that would hardly distress a picket boat. Proposals for an aerial raid on Wilhelmshaven and the Kiel canal were put forward by the Admiralty on the 13th of August, but the machinery was too imperfect, and the raid did not come off. But on Christmas Day, 1914, when the weather was propitious, a successful raid was carried out, as shall be seen, against Cuxhaven. In the meantime much experimental work was done at high pressure, and a heavy responsibility fell on the technical staff of the Naval Air Service, who had to place definite orders, a year ahead, for engines to be developed and manufactured upon a large scale. In 1915 this policy produced the 225 horse-power Wight tractor, which could fly for seven hours at a speed of seventy knots, carrying a fair weight of bombs, and the 225 horse-power Short tractor, which could carry five hundredweight of explosives over a distance of three hundred miles. Both these machines could face broken water better than the earlier types, though it was not until the flying boat was perfected that the difficulties presented by a moderate sea were at last overcome.

It was an acute disappointment to the Naval Air Service that the enemy fleet at Wilhelmshaven and the enemy dockyards at Kiel should be left so long unmolested. The tendency to find some one to blame for lost opportunities is always strong in England. We are a strenuous and moral people, and we ask for a very formidable blend of virtues in our leaders. We are proud of the bull-dog breed and the traditions of our navy, but we demand from the bull-dog all the subtlety of the fox. We came through the war with credit not chiefly by intelligence but by character. Perhaps the two are never perfectly combined in one man. We know what it is to entrust our good name and our safety to men of stalwart and upright character, whose intelligence may in some points be open to criticism. Fortunately, we do not so well know what it is to trust our ultimate welfare to men of quick intelligence whose character is not above suspicion. The Lords of the Admiralty, like the rest of that great service, are good fighting sailors and good patriots.

What are called the principles of war, though they can be simply stated, are not easy to learn, and can never be learned from books alone. They are the principles of human nature; and who ever learned from books how to deal successfully with his fellows? War, which drives human nature to its last resources, is a great engine of education, teaching no lessons which it does not illustrate, and enforcing all its lessons by bitter penalties. One of the notorious principles of war, familiar to all who have read books about war, is that a merely defensive attitude is a losing attitude. This truth is as true of games and boxing, or of traffic and bargaining, as it is of war. Every successful huckster is thoroughly versed in the doctrine of the initiative, which he knows by instinct and experience, not by the reading of learned treatises. A man who knows what he wants and means to get it is at a great advantage in traffic with another man who is thinking only of self-defence. Every successful boxer is an expert in military science; he tries either to weaken his adversary by repeated assaults on the vital organs, or to knock him out by a stunning blow. He does not call these operations by the learned names of strategy and tactics, but he knows all about them. The most that a book can do, for trader or boxer or soldier, is to quicken perception and prepare the mind for the teaching of experience.

The experience of the war from beginning to end taught the old lesson of the supreme value of the offensive. The lesson was quickly learned and put to the proof by our forces on the western front. The Royal Naval Air Service, from the first, sought every opportunity for offensive action. Raids over enemy centres, for the reasons which have been given, were impossible to carry out except in the best of weather. Offensive action in collaboration with ships of war was impeded by the imperfect structure of the seaplanes and the imperfect arrangements for conveying them to the scene of action. Meantime the public, impressed by the dangers to be feared from the Zeppelin, called chiefly for defence. It has never been easy to instruct even the members of the other services concerning the right use of aircraft in war. When once they were reconciled to our aeroplanes they liked to see them in the air above them, which is the place of all places where our aeroplanes are least useful. It is greatly to the credit of those officers who commanded the Royal Flying Corps and the Royal Naval Air Service that they divined the right doctrine, and practised it, and established it in use, thereby securing for the air force the liberty to use its power to the best advantage.

The best and most highly trained of the naval air units was the first to be sent abroad. This was the Eastchurch squadron, under Wing Commander Samson. Just after the outbreak of war it had been sent to Skegness, to carry out patrol duties. On the 25th of August its commander was summoned to London by the Director of the Air Department, and was ordered to take his squadron on the following morning to Ostend, which had been chosen to serve as an advanced base for reconnaissance. They were to co-operate with a force of marines. Air Commodore Samson, in the reminiscences which he has kindly contributed for the purpose of this history, speaks with enthusiasm of the men and officers under his command.

'Never once', he says, 'were we let down by our men, and both in France and the Dardanelles they worked like slaves without a single complaint. It is an absolute fact that during these periods I never had to deal with a single disciplinary offence. They were the very pick of the Royal Naval Air Service.'

The pilots, after receiving their orders, were kept waiting for a day at Eastchurch, to give time for the landing of the Marine Brigade. 'This depressed everybody,' says Air Commodore Samson, 'as we were all suffering from the fear of the war being over before we could get a chance to take part in it.' The fear proved groundless.

On the 27th of August there flew over:

Wing Commander C. R. Samson. Flight Lieutenant S. V. Sippe. Flight Lieutenant E. Osmond. Squadron Commander R. B. Davies. Flight Lieutenant C. F. Beevor. Squadron Commander E. F. Briggs. Flight Lieutenant I. H. W. S. Dalrymple-Clarke. Squadron Commander I. T. Courtney. Flight Lieutenant H. A. Littleton. Flight Lieutenant Lord Edward Grosvenor.

An airship (No. 3) was flown across by Wing Commander N. F. Usborne, with him Flight Lieutenant W. C. Hicks and Flight Lieutenant E. H. Sparling. Squadron Commander R. H. Clark Hall, Captain Barnby of the Royal Marines, and four junior officers of the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve were attached for special duties. The motor-cars, lorries, and stores were embarked at Sheerness on board H.M.S. Empress and s.s. Rawcliffe. The machines that were flown over were a various assemblage—three B.E. biplanes, two Sopwith biplanes, two Bleriot monoplanes, one Henri Farman biplane, one Bristol biplane, and a converted Short seaplane fitted with a land undercarriage in place of the floats. Warrant Officer J. G. Brownridge, R.N., was in charge of the repair and upkeep of the aeroplanes. In these early days there were no distinguishing marks on aeroplanes; it was arranged that every machine should fly a Union Jack lashed to one of its struts, but this was not done.



The whole force arrived in safety, with only one or two minor mishaps. Wing Commander Samson was fired at by rifles as he was coming down, and after landing was stalked by a couple of British marines, who had come to Belgium to shoot Germans and were aching to get to work.

The force remained at Ostend for three days only. There was no artillery except the guns of the ships lying off the port, and the Marine Brigade had only about half a dozen machine-guns. The defence of Ostend against a German attack in force would have been more than difficult. The aeroplanes carried out reconnaissance flights daily over the area between Bruges, Ghent, and Ypres, and, on the suggestion of General Aston, who commanded the Marine Brigade, Wing Commander Samson made a motor-car reconnaissance as far as Thourout and Bruges, in two cars, one of them fitted with a Maxim gun. 'At Bruges', says Air Commodore Samson, 'we were received with great enthusiasm, the streets being crowded with people. The popular delusion, which we did not contradict, was that we were the advance party of a large British army. The Civil Guard hastily donned their uniform on our arrival, and turned out briskly, with weapons and valour. They used, we found out later, to be quick-change artists, from uniform to plain clothes, and vice versa, according to the circumstances. Having gained some information in the town, we returned to Ostend. The whole party enjoyed themselves immensely, although some of the more bloodthirsty members were disappointed at not getting a fight. This trip made us consider the question of motor-car operations, and ideas were discussed for armouring the cars.'

On the 30th of August orders came that the Marine Brigade and the aeroplane squadron should return at once to England. It was a depressed party that loaded up the stores and transport on board H.M.S. Empress and the attendant collier. The aeroplanes flew by way of Dunkirk, where there was a slight haze and they landed. Lord Edward Grosvenor made a faulty landing, and crashed his Bleriot beyond all hopes of repair. This accident, which would have been treated as insignificant if it had occurred on the way out, proved important enough to delay the aeroplanes for three days at Dunkirk. During this time General Bidon, who commanded the French troops at Dunkirk, and Mr. Sarel, the British vice-consul, made urgent representations to the British Foreign Office, pleading that the squadron should be permitted, for military and diplomatic reasons, to co-operate with the French. Meantime, two of the aeroplanes carried out a reconnaissance towards Lille and Douai. On the 1st of September a telegram came from the Admiralty ordering that the squadron should remain at Dunkirk, to operate against Zeppelins and enemy aeroplanes, and to carry out reconnaissances as required by the French general. The policy that was now adopted was subsequently explained at greater length in an Admiralty telegram to the French Ministry of Marine:

'The Admiralty considers it extremely important to deny the use of territory within a hundred miles of Dunkirk to German Zeppelins, and to attack by aeroplanes all airships found replenishing there. With your permission the Admiralty wish to take all necessary measures to maintain aerial command of this region. The Admiralty proposes therefore to place thirty or forty naval aeroplanes at Dunkirk or other convenient coast points. In order that these may have a good radius of action they must be able to establish temporary bases forty to fifty miles inland. The Admiralty desires to reinforce officer commanding aeroplanes with fifty to sixty armed motor-cars and two hundred to three hundred men. This small force will operate in conformity with the wishes of the French military authorities, but we hope it may be accorded a free initiative. The immunity of Portsmouth, Chatham, and London from dangerous aerial attack is clearly involved.'

So this little naval force began at once to operate from Dunkirk, carrying out reconnaissances by aeroplane, and using motor-cars for raids on the flank of the German communications. It gave assistance to the French and put heart into the much-tried civil population of Belgium. Most of the work at first was done with motor-cars, for the aeroplanes were few in number.

On the 4th of September Wing Commander Samson, having started out with two cars, one of them fitted with a Maxim gun, heard at Cassel by telephone that six German officers in a motor-car had just passed through Bailleul on their way to Cassel. The steep hill down from Cassel to the plain beneath offered him an excellent point of vantage to lie in wait for them, but he was unwilling to take it, for a fight close to the town would have given the Germans an excuse for pretending that they had been attacked by civilians, and for shooting some of the inhabitants. So he went out to meet them, and engaged them at a range of five hundred yards on the Cassel-Bailleul road. Two of the Germans were wounded, and their car made off to Bailleul. Wing Commander Samson lay in wait for them for almost two hours, in the hope that they would return reinforced to continue the engagement. During this time an old French captain of gendarmes, about sixty-five years of age, with a long-barrelled pistol, arrived in a limousine, accompanied by his wife. He had raised a little army of ten gendarmes, who came up soon after, armed with carbines. Madame and the limousine then retired from the battle-field, while the gallant captain disposed his army behind the hedge to await the return of the enemy. But the enemy did not return; a message from the Bailleul post office told how they had halted only three minutes in Bailleul, and how they and all the other German military cars in Bailleul had gone back post-haste to Lille, leaving behind them a quantity of wine which they had collected from the residents. 'We had a tremendous reception', says Air Commodore Samson, 'from the inhabitants of Cassel, who had enjoyed a splendid view of our little engagement from their commanding position on the hill-top. I was pleased that they had seen Germans running away, as it would remove from their minds that 1870 feeling which there is little doubt the Germans still produced in the minds of civilian Frenchmen. This fight gave us a prestige in the villages greater than its result called for. Probably the six German officers reported that they had run up against tremendous odds.'

In the course of the next few weeks there were many such adventures. On the 5th of September, the eve of the battle of the Marne, General Bidon reported that the Germans, who had occupied Lille in force, were about to leave, and that he intended to send some infantry, supported by a squadron of cavalry at Bailleul, to capture the transport wagons which were likely to be left behind. He asked for some motor-cars to escort the infantry back from Lille. Wing Commander Samson, having borrowed from the French two machine-guns (he had only one of his own) and four French artillerymen, started off early on the morning of the 6th of September, with four motor-cars (three of them armed with machine-guns), six officers, ten of his own men, and the four Frenchmen. An aeroplane, flown by Flight Lieutenant Dalrymple-Clarke, was detailed to escort them, with instructions to fly well ahead and to come down low and fire a Very light if any of the enemy were sighted. In the outskirts of Lille the party learned that the Germans, two thousand infantry and eighty cavalry, had left Lille that morning, so they went on into the big square where the Prefecture stands. The square was packed with people. The rest shall be told in Air Commodore Samson's own words:

'We got through the crowd, and took the cars into the courtyard, lining them up abreast facing the square. The gendarmes at my request kept the roadway in front of the building clear of the populace, so that we were afforded a clear exit in case we had a fight, although I did not much look forward to one with this seething crowd of civilians in the way. Practically the whole of Lille appeared to be here; they were most enthusiastic, cheering, singing, and shouting out, Vive l'Angleterre! I did everything I could to impress the people with our discipline and military behaviour, placing four of my men as sentries in a line behind the railings, and one man standing by each machine-gun. Our sentries stood like Guardsmen, and even when beautiful French girls came on the scene, and sponged their faces and brushed the dust off their clothes, they stood like lumps of granite. Leaving Davies in charge of the party, I went inside to see the Prefect. He was pleased to see us, and said that our arrival had reassured the town to a most extraordinary extent, demonstrating to the people that they were not entirely at the mercy of the enemy. He then told me of the brutal treatment he had received at the hands of the Germans, showing the marks made on his throat by the fingers of a German lieutenant who had nearly throttled him. They had gone so far as to lead him out to hang him from a balcony, and he said he had only been saved from this terrible fate by the coolness of his secretary, who told the German that the Prefect du Nord was one of the chief officials in France, and that his murder was a serious matter, not lightly to be undertaken. The Prefect gave me the German officer's name, and said, "If ever you come across him, do not let him go". I promised I would not. The Prefect then went on to say that the Germans had been quite worried over the fight at Cassel, and they had got the idea into their heads that there was a large force of English round about Cassel. Two German officers had been wounded in the fight, one seriously and the other only slightly. There were, he said, about fifty French and some few English wounded in the town; they had been left there by the Germans, and if I signed a proclamation to say I had taken the town they could be evacuated to Dunkirk, otherwise the town would be held responsible. I therefore made out and signed the following Proclamation:

To the Authorities of the City of Lille.

I have this day occupied Lille with an armed English and French Force.

'C. R. Samson, 'Commander, R.N. Officer in Command of English Force at Dunkirk.

I added the latter sentence in order to impress upon the Germans that there was a large force at Dunkirk. This proclamation the Prefect ordered to be immediately printed and posted all over the town. I remained at the Hotel de Ville until late in the afternoon, and as by then it was found out that the Germans had not left any transports behind, and that there was no chance of any French troops being sent to Lille, I reluctantly decided that I ought to return to Dunkirk. We had an ovation on our return journey through the streets, and our cars were full of flowers, chocolate, cigarettes, &c.; the dense crowds cheered themselves hoarse, and one felt rather as I imagined a Roman General used to feel on being given a Triumph. The only mishap was when an excitable individual threw a bottle of beer at me which smashed the screen and gave me a severe blow on the jaw; I fancy he must have had German sympathies.

'On our return to Dunkirk the French General, Bidon, was most complimentary concerning our expedition, which he considered had been of great value.'

The fight at Cassel had inspired the people of the district with a plenary belief in the powers of the little English force. A few days later, while Commander Samson was on a reconnaissance near Armentieres, he was stopped by an excited civilian in a motor-car who offered to conduct him to a place where he might kill some Germans. The Germans, it appeared, were from two to three thousand in number, with two batteries of artillery, and were going from Lille to Douai. 'Personally', says Air Commodore Samson, 'I thought about two thousand Germans rather a tough proposition for four Englishmen and one unreliable old Maxim, and I regretted that we could not carry out the slaughter he desired. He was very crest-fallen, and said, "But I will come too".'

The motor-car work was daily gaining in importance; what was needed was a stronger force and armoured cars. Two of the cars were fitted with improvised armour made of boiler-plate at the Forges et Chantiers de France, the big shipbuilding firm of Dunkirk, and application was made to the home authorities for a larger force of marines and specially designed armoured cars. The First Lord of the Admiralty (Mr. Winston Churchill) and the Director of the Air Department (Captain Murray Sueter) were quick to support any enterprise that showed life and promise; on the 8th of September there arrived a reinforcement of 250 marines under Major Armstrong, most of them reservists and pensioners, but stout men when it came to a fight. Further, Wing Commander Samson got into touch with Captain Goldsmith, of the General Headquarters Intelligence Department, and, by his efforts, was put in control of the gendarmes in the villages of the zone where he was operating. The aeroplanes daily watched the movements of German troops along the roads, and the motor-cars, assisted sometimes by the infantry, carried out sweeps and drives, to surround parties of German horsemen or cyclists. There were some fights. On the 13th of September there was a brush with some German cavalry patrols, on the Albert road, just outside the town of Doullens. 'We got out of the cars', says Air Commodore Samson, 'and opened fire with rifles at about five hundred yards range. We hit five of them. Three were killed, and one was picked up severely wounded. We took him to a hospital in Doullens, where he died without recovering consciousness. It rather made me feel a brute seeing this poor fellow dying, and War seemed a beastly business. He was a rather half-starved looking fellow, and looked as if he had been on short rations for a long time. It was rather a repugnant job searching him whilst he was passing away from this life, but it had to be done. Goldsmith, who could read German, found from his papers that he belonged to the First Squadron of the 26th Dragoons, Wurtemberg. He had a little child's atlas with which to find his way about the country, and the map of France was about three inches square, with only the names of half a dozen towns on it.'

The Naval Air Service now looked about for an advanced inland base, with an aerodrome, for their aeroplane and motor-car reconnaissances. They found one at the village of Morbecque, about three miles south of Hazebrouck, and just north of the forest of Nieppe. There, on the 19th of September, they established the headquarters of the unit. Most of the officers and men were housed in an old chateau by the favour of Madame la Baronne de la Grange, who had shown a fine example to her villagers by remaining on duty, and had so impressed the Germans that they left the village untouched. Two aeroplanes and six armoured cars and lorries were the equipment of headquarters, and what in the navy is called the lower deck personnel numbered 187 marines and 31 naval ratings. Most of the work continued to be done by the motor-cars. Some of the lorries were armoured with boiler-plate by the shipbuilding firm at Dunkirk, and new armoured cars began to arrive in driblets from England. A cyclist force was raised from the marines, and a number of French boys who knew the country well were embodied in a boy scout unit. The main idea of these preparations was to organize attacks on the German lines of communication in the zone of country between Lille and Valenciennes. The troops for this purpose were to consist of a brigade of French territorial infantry with a squadron of Algerian cavalry, popularly known as 'Goumiers', and a battery of the famous 'Soixante-quinze' field guns. The Royal Naval Air Service were to operate, with as big a force of armoured cars as possible, under the French general in command. On the 22nd of September the French troops occupied Douai. The cars made a reconnaissance to Aniche, between Douai and Valenciennes, and there had a sharp engagement in the streets with German cavalry. Two days later they had a stiff fight at Orchies, where a French territorial regiment, detached to guard the route between Lille and Douai, was being heavily attacked by two German battalions. The cars helped to extricate the French troops and covered their retirement to Douai. But the German forces in this northern territory were being reinforced strongly, and reconnaissance by road became difficult. When Wing Commander Samson, on the day after the fight at Aniche, was required to make a reconnaissance to Cantin, a village three or four miles to the south of Douai along the Cambrai road, he started off in a Talbot touring car with Sub-Lieutenant Lord Annesley and Lieutenant F. R. Samson. They had two rifles, ten rounds of ammunition, and three automatic pistols. 'It appeared perfectly evident', he says, 'that between us and Cantin there were not only the German guns, but plenty of German infantry. I must confess that the three of us did not at all relish the idea of ambling into the whole German Army and the local von Kluck in a touring car, but the job had to be carried out to keep up our good name and the reputation of the R.N.A.S.'

The Germans were in force, as he expected, and after a brisk engagement he returned to Douai. The Douai operations, which were to have been an attack on the German lines of communication, now became a defence of Douai against the Germans. By the 29th of September Douai was virtually in a state of siege, and it became a question whether the French troops could be extricated. On the afternoon of the 1st of October the end came. By that time the Germans had got into the town and were firing at the Hotel de Ville from the housetops. 'A shouting mob of cyclists and infantry', says Air Commodore Samson, 'rushed into the courtyard of the Hotel de Ville, yelling out that we were surrounded, and the Germans had taken the Pont d'Esquerchin. I went to General Plantey and said that the only thing to do was to recapture the bridge and drive the Germans away from that sector. He agreed, and said that if I would lead the way with my cars he would follow with what of the troops he could get to fight. There was no doubt that if we did not do something a wholesale surrender was certain. I strongly objected to being mixed up in that. I felt certain that if we could only start a fight the morale would improve and that we would have every chance of extricating the whole force from its predicament. I led out our cars therefore from the Hotel de Ville, and forcing our way through crowds of infantry and civilians we reached a corner where I found about four hundred Infantry. I implored, and swore, and ordered them to follow us against the enemy, but only one came, jumping on to the step of the last car. From this corner a straight street four hundred yards long led to a bridge over the canal, which bridge was held by the Germans. As we went along this road I certainly thought that here was the end of our little party, and I felt very guilty at bringing Armstrong, Coode, and the other fine fellows to death for no purpose except to keep up the Pride of the Service. The fact that the infantry would not come on after us made us very fierce, and I am certain, speaking for myself, that this feeling of anger made us far braver than we had felt at first. I took the cars to the head of the bridge and then halted them, and we opened fire along the roadways which ran on both sides of the canal and along the road ahead of us. I ordered the marines out of the cars on to the roadway, and told them to keep up a hot fire on the Germans who were on the opposite bank. Going myself with one marine on to the bridge I saw some Huns on board two barges which were alongside the far bank, and emptied my magazine at them. I can remember to this day the sound one of their bullets made as it hit the girder alongside my face. We were so excited that I am afraid our fire was very wild, but it made up for lack of accuracy by its volume, our three machine-guns firing like mad. We kept up this game for about five minutes, when I saw the Germans clearing off in all directions. I ordered, "Cease fire", and ordered all on board the cars. I then led the cars at full speed along the main Henin-Lietard road, intending to get to the position we had held in the morning, as from there we could cover the retreat of the French and command the approaches to the Pont d'Esquerchin.... I knew that in front of us there was a double trench across the road, and which entailed cars stopping and reversing to get through in the gap left between the two trenches. Just short of this obstacle was a side road leading to Beaumont. I determined, if we met the enemy at the trench, to hold the corner at the side road as long as we could, hoping that the Infantry would follow on. This side road would be the line of approach of the cavalry division reported close to Beaumont. On arriving at the corner we encountered a very heavy fire coming from the trench and the high ground close to it. It would have been useless to have attempted to go on against that volume of fire, so we stopped at the corner, where we got some shelter from a cottage, and opened fire with the machine-guns from the two armoured cars, whilst the rest of us lay down on the road and kept up a hot fire with rifles.

'We held out at the corner for nearly fifteen minutes until the Germans opened fire with field guns from Le Polygone; the situation then got too hot, as shrapnel was bursting all round us, and the cottage was quickly demolished by high explosives. I therefore gave the order to retire, and we jumped on board the cars and went along the Cuincy-Esquerchin road. After we had put a mile between us and the corner I halted to see how we had fared. Our casualties now consisted of eight men wounded. All the cars had many bullet-marks, but no serious damage had been done to them, except one of the armoured cars had a bullet through its radiator, causing it to lose practically all its water. We only had about 200 rounds of ammunition left, and were running pretty short of petrol, otherwise all was well with us.... I considered that we had done everything we could to open a line of retreat for the infantry, and that we had held out at the corner as long as was possible. As it happened we had cleared the way for the French, as the general got 2,500 infantry out of the town across the Pont d'Esquerchin and keeping close to the canal bank he had got them well clear of the Huns without firing a shot, whilst we were fighting them at the corner. I am afraid that a good number remained in the town and were captured. General Plantey was kind enough to write to say that if it had not been for the English cars who had opened the door he could not have extricated his force.

'Just short of Beaumont I came across the cavalry division. I went up to the General, who was a fine martial figure surrounded by an escort of Cuirassiers with steel breast-plates. After I had told him what had happened, I said that there was every probability of the Douai Force having surrendered, but there was a chance of them having got out whilst we were holding the cross-roads. He was complimentary about our performance and said we had done all we could. He recommended that I should return to Morbecque and report to General Aston. He said that he was not pushing on any farther, but was going to retire to Beaumont. I therefore went through Beaumont to Bethune and back to Morbecque, where we were received as if we had risen from the dead. Briggs told me that they had fully expected never to see us again. I went to bed after telephoning to General Paris, who had relieved General Aston in command of the Marines. General Paris sent the following report to the Admiralty: "Commander Samson and all ranks appear to have behaved very gallantly in difficult circumstances, and I consider his action was perfectly correct."'

These motor-car operations were no part of the war in the air. But they were carried out by the Royal Naval Air Service, and they illustrate the immense diversity of business which was undertaken by that service during the course of the war. Off the coast of Cornwall or over the rivers of West Africa, in raids on German cities or in expeditions to assist beleaguered Allies, the Naval Air Service were incessantly active on the fringe of things. They were sailors and adventurers by tradition; they adapted themselves to circumstance, and made the best of what they found. Their courage put new heart into desperate men, and their humanity (the greatest tradition of the British navy) added lustre to their courage. The half-witted pedantry of the German doctrine and practice of war, which uses brutality as a protective mask for cowardice, was far from them. It was against that doctrine and practice, as against an alien enemy, that they fought; and only those who have been guilty of inhuman practices have ever had cause to complain of their cruelty.

Beyond the usual reconnaissances not very much work was done in the air from headquarters. The available aeroplanes were few, and there were many calls on them. Nominally the Dunkirk force was to consist of three squadrons of twelve machines each, but in these early days two or three machines were, often the most that a squadron could muster. On the 3rd of September Squadron Commander E. L. Gerrard arrived at Ostend with three additional machines intended to operate from Antwerp against airship sheds in Germany. These machines remained at Ostend, pegged down under the lee of the sand dunes, while Squadron Commander Gerrard went by road to Antwerp to find an aerodrome and to arrange for the proposed raid. On the 12th of September a violent squall came up from the west and caught the machines, uprooting or breaking the stakes to which they were secured. The machines turned cartwheels along the sands and were totally wrecked. The party returned to Dunkirk to refit, and as the attack on the Zeppelin sheds in Germany was reckoned to be of the first importance, Wing Commander Samson, who was ordered to take charge of the flight, had to give up three of the best machines he had.

It was believed at that time that Antwerp would not fall. When the British army was moved north from the Aisne to Ypres, the original idea of the Allied strategy was resuscitated. That idea had been to take the offensive in Belgium and to repel the German advance or to make a flank attack on it. But the German blow had been too heavy and too quick for this plan to develop, and in the effort to save Paris the British army had been driven far southwards into France. Paris was saved at the Marne, and now that the Germans had entrenched themselves in a corner of France it was hoped that an attack upon their communications would compel them to retreat. Again the Germans were beforehand. When things came to a standstill on the Aisne, they concentrated a large force in Belgium to make a push for the Channel ports. The British naval division, arriving at Antwerp on the 5th of October, could do no more than delay the fall of Antwerp by a few days. The Seventh Division of the British army, under Sir Henry Rawlinson, which was disembarked at Ostend and Zeebrugge on the 6th of October, found that its task was not an assault on the German flank but the defence of the Channel ports from a furious German assault.

Nevertheless, the Naval Air Service carried on. Two attacks were made on the airship sheds at Duesseldorf and Cologne. The earlier of these was made on the 22nd of September by four aeroplanes, two for each place. There was a thick mist extending from the river Roer to some miles east of the Rhine, and only Flight Lieutenant Collet succeeded in finding his objective. He glided down at Duesseldorf from a height of 6,000 feet, the last 1,500 feet through the mist, and came in sight of the shed when he was a quarter of a mile from it at a height of 400 feet. One of his bombs fell short; the others probably hit the shed, but failed to explode. Germans ran in all directions. All four machines were back in Antwerp by one o'clock in the afternoon.

The second and more successful attack was made on the 8th of October, during the evacuation of Antwerp. Antwerp was being bombarded, the panic-stricken retreat of the population had begun, but the Naval Air Service stuck to its aerodrome, and carried out the first notable air-raid of the war. On the 7th of October the machines at Antwerp had been taken out of their shed and planted in the middle of the aerodrome, to avoid damage by splinters if the shed should be hit by a shell. On the forenoon of the 8th the weather was misty, so Squadron Commander Spenser Grey and Flight Lieutenant Marix spent the time in tuning up their Sopwith Tabloid machines. In the afternoon there was no improvement in the weather, but if an attack was to be made from Antwerp it was important to start, for the Germans were about to enter the city. Flight Lieutenant Marix, starting at 1.30 p.m., flew to Duesseldorf, dived at the shed, and let go his bombs at a height of 600 feet. The destruction was complete. The roof fell in within thirty seconds and flames rose to a height of 500 feet, showing that an inflated Zeppelin must have been inside. The aeroplane was damaged by a heavy rifle- and shell-fire, but Lieutenant Marix managed to get back to within twenty miles of Antwerp, and to return to the city by the aid of a bicycle which he borrowed from a peasant. Squadron Commander Spenser Grey, starting at 1.20 p.m., flew to Cologne, where he found a thick mist and failed to locate the airship sheds. He dropped his bombs on the main railway station in the middle of the town, and got back to Antwerp at 4.45 p.m. At six o'clock the general evacuation of Antwerp was ordered, and the officers of the Naval Air Service succeeded in reaching Ostend by noon on the following day. The transport and stores had preceded them. Since the 3rd of October Wing Commander Samson's force had been employed in assisting the naval division at Antwerp. Some seventy motor omnibuses, taken off the streets of the cities of England, and driven by their civilian drivers, who made up in cheerfulness and skill for what they lacked in military science, had been employed to carry the stores of the naval division, and were escorted by the armoured cars. Their stay in Antwerp was brief. Where once the Germans had succeeded in bringing their big guns within range the end was certain. 'I used to find the streets of Antwerp', says Air Commodore Samson, 'a most depressing sight, thronged as they were with Belgians; beautifully dressed ladies were apparently carrying on their usual life, shopping and promenading as if the siege was a minor affair.' The people of a great commercial city are slow to realize the facts of war. When the realization comes it comes with panic swiftness. The crowd of refugees which hurried by all roads out of Antwerp during the night of the 9th of October bound for anywhere, and fleeing from the destroyers of Louvain, was one of the most disheartening spectacles of the war. There were some bright spots in the prevailing darkness. One of these was General Sir Henry Rawlinson, of the Seventh Division, who took over the command at Ostend. 'I came into contact continuously with him for the next month,' says Air Commodore Samson, 'and I never saw him down-hearted once, even in the worst periods at Ypres. I never left his presence without feeling that we were bound to win: he was worth an Army Corps by himself.' The English nurses, who had two omnibus loads of wounded, are another luminous memory of that awful night. 'They were a splendid advertisement for the English race; absolutely unperturbed, calm and competent, amidst the surrounding mob of panic-stricken people. They impressed me more than I can say. Their one job was to get their wounded charges safe to Ostend, and that they would do it was evident to the most casual observer.'

The evacuation of Antwerp put an end to all plans for a British offensive in Belgium. Ostend was crowded with refugees, and the streets were full of distressing scenes. The harbour railway station was a seething mass of humanity attempting to get on board the few steamers that went to England. The British forces, and with them the Royal Naval Air Service, retreated by stages. Aerodromes were occupied successively at Thourout, Ypres, and, on the 15th of October, Poperinghe. On this same date Zeebrugge and Ostend fell into the hands of the Germans. 'During the last three weeks', says Air Commodore Samson, 'we had been always on the go, without a home, without any idea where we were going to next, without food sometimes, without adequate transport, and yet we had kept going because all ranks had pulled their pound and a bit over.'

Thus ended the Belgian adventure of the Naval Air Service. It had been good while it lasted. If a force of five thousand skilled and fit men, with armoured cars and aeroplanes, had been available for these operations, the German communications might have been seriously disordered. Some critics condemn all such adventures as 'side-shows'. They may be right; but it is always to be remembered that the national character is seen at its best in solitary adventures of this kind, and that the British Empire, from the first, was built up by side-shows—many of them unauthorized by the Government. The experience of this war, and of former wars, proves only that these enterprises lose a great part of their value if they are timidly designed or half-heartedly executed. To condemn them out and out is to prefer the German plan of empire, which depends wholly on central initiative and central control, to the sporadic energy of the British Empire, which can never be killed by a blow aimed at the centre, for its life is in every part. Military theory, based as it is chiefly on the great campaigns of continental conquerors, has so impressed some of its British students that they forget their own nature, renounce their pride, and cheapen their dearest possessions.

The overseas work of the Naval Air Service during the closing months of 1914, from the battle of Ypres onwards, can be briefly stated. It consisted of help given to the British army, reconnaissances and attacks carried out along the occupied coast of Belgium, and two great air-raids.

During the battle of Ypres one naval aeroplane was working for the First Army Corps. Reconnaissances were carried out daily by the few available machines. Squadron Commander Davies on three occasions attacked German machines in the air; they escaped by planing down to behind their own lines. Flight Lieutenant Collet, whose aeroplane had been wrecked, flew as observer to Squadron Commander Davies, and reported the positions of six new German batteries. Flight Lieutenant Pierse, in an old inefficient machine which climbed badly, made many flights along the coast, and was wounded by shrapnel in the air over Antwerp.

Meantime, on the 31st of October, a seaplane base was established at Dunkirk in the works of the shipbuilding company, which occupied a part of the harbour. Under Squadron Commander J. W. Seddon the seaplanes did some good work; they located enemy guns, dropped heavy bombs on Bruges railway station, co-operated with the ships' guns in the bombardment of the coast, kept a look-out for German submarines, and reported on the enemy defences.

This base at Dunkirk remained an active centre for our seaplane and aeroplane work throughout the war, and did much to defeat the German plans. The possession of the coast of Flanders had a twofold value for the Germans; it served to safeguard the right flank of their invading army and it provided them with a base both for their submarine campaign and for occasional attacks on the naval forces which held the Dover Straits. There can be no doubt that it was part of their plan to take permanent possession of the Belgian coast. It is not easy to understand why, before the war, when Zeebrugge and Ostend were made into fortified harbours, a clause was inserted in the contractors' orders that the mole at Zeebrugge should be fit to carry hundred-ton guns and to withstand heavy gun recoil; also, that the Zeebrugge and Ostend locks and basins should be capable of accommodating a flotilla of torpedo-boats. These things were not done in the interests of England, nor had the Belgian Government any reason to fear naval aggression from the west. The plans which had this beginning were developed and completed during the first two years of the German occupation. Bruges, which was joined by canals both to Zeebrugge and Ostend, became the naval headquarters of the German forces, the base for submarines and torpedo-craft, and the centre for construction and repair. Everything was organized on a solid basis, as if to endure; yet at some time during the third year of the war the enemy must have begun to feel doubtful whether he could keep his hold on the Belgian coast. About thirty miles along the coast from Ostend, and forty or more miles from Zeebrugge, lay the port of Dunkirk, occupied in strength by the navies of France and Great Britain, and by the Royal Naval Air Service. Dunkirk was a thorn in the side of the Germans. The docks and harbours at Bruges, Zeebrugge, and Ostend were incessantly bombed from the air. Ships and works were seriously damaged, but the effect on the morale of the German forces was even more considerable. Repeated alarms, which sent all hands to take shelter in dug-outs, interfered with the work of every day. In the main basin at Bruges, and alongside the Zeebrugge mole, shelters, jutting out over the water, were provided for submarines and destroyers. The respect felt by the Germans for the menace of Dunkirk is perhaps best witnessed by the fierce nightly attacks from the air which they made on the town during the later period of the war. Admiral Sir Reginald Bacon, who commanded the Dover Patrol from April 1915 Until the end of 1917, speaks of these as 'the martyrdom of Dunkirk'. A great many of the houses in the town were levelled with the ground. Yet the inhabitants, knowing that they were maintaining a force which gave as good as it got, went about their daily business cheerful and unperturbed. They were rewarded in the end. When, after the armistice, the last German submarine came through the lock-gates at Zeebrugge, with her crew fallen in on the fore superstructure, her captain called for three cheers,—'As that's the last you'll see of Flanders.' The cheers were given very heartily—an involuntary tribute to the four years' work of the naval services at Dunkirk.

All these things were yet to come when the third of the naval aeroplane raids into enemy territory was made on the 21st of November 1914. This, the successful attack on the Zeppelin sheds at Friedrichshafen, Lake Constance, was planned and executed to perfection. Lieutenant Pemberton Billing, of the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve, left England on the 21st of October under Admiralty instructions. He arrived at Belfort on the 24th and, by the courtesy of the French general in command, obtained permission to use the aerodrome within the fortifications and its large dirigible shed as the starting-point for a raid. German spies were believed to be at work in Belfort, so arrangements were made for the machines to be brought into the place by road transport at night, and for their pilots to be boarded and lodged, during the whole of their stay, in the dirigible shed. Having completed these preliminaries, Lieutenant Billing carried out discreet inquiries which enabled him to draw up a chart of the proposed route, a complete plan of the Zeppelin factory, and a draft of instructions for the proposed raid.

Meantime the French had themselves been meditating a raid on Friedrichshafen, and the Governor of Belfort had received some valuable reports on the factory and the prevailing weather conditions. After some discussion it was decided that as Zeppelins were intended to assist in the destruction of the British fleet, the Royal Naval Air Service should be privileged to pay the first visit, but that this privilege should lapse if the visit were not paid within thirty days.

In the season of late autumn, when the barometer is high and the air calm, the whole of the Swiss plateau and the Rhine valley bordering it is often plunged in a thick mist which reaches to a height of about 3,000 feet. Above this sea of mist the air is clear and the flight of an aeroplane safe and easy. The course chosen from Belfort to Lake Constance, a distance of about 125 miles, was bent, like an elbow at an obtuse angle, round the northern border of Switzerland, so that Swiss neutrality should not be violated. It lay over country much of which is wooded and sparsely inhabited—first from Belfort to Muelhausen, thence over the Black Forest and some groups of wooded peaks to a point north of Schaffhausen. Here the prescribed course was to bend southwards, between the two arms of Lake Constance which stretch to the north-west, and when once the lake was reached the objective would be full in view.

On the 28th of October Lieutenant Pemberton Billing returned to England to collect men and machines. A squadron of four Avros, with 80 horse-power Gnome engines, had already been formed at Manchester under Squadron Commander P. Shepherd. The four pilots were:

Squadron Commander E. F. Briggs. Flight Commander J. T. Babington. Flight Lieutenant S. V. Sippe. Flight Sub-Lieutenant R. P. Cannon.



There were eleven air mechanics. The machines and stores were shipped at Southampton for Le Havre and arrived in Belfort by night on the 13th of November. When he reached Belfort, Squadron Commander Shepherd fell ill; moreover, the weather was bad, with a falling barometer and a strong easterly wind. At last, on Saturday, the 21st of November, conditions improved and the raid took place. At half-past nine in the morning the four machines were lined up on the western side of the aerodrome to undergo engine tests and bomb-release tests. They were then dispatched, at intervals of five minutes, Squadron Commander Briggs, on machine 873, being followed by Flight Commander Babington on machine 875, and Flight Lieutenant Sippe on machine 874. Sub-Lieutenant Cannon's machine failed to rise and broke its tail skid. The other three reached Friedrichshafen about noon, almost together, and wrought havoc on the Zeppelin works. Squadron Commander Briggs was brought down by machine-gun fire, which riddled his petrol tank. The other two returned in safety.

Two accounts of this raid shall be quoted, one from the air, the other from the ground. Here is Flight Lieutenant Sippe's log:

Attack on Friedrichshafen, 21st November 1914.

'9.55 a.m. Left Belfort. Shaped course for Basle, following Nos. 873 and 875.

10.25 a.m. Arrived Basle, passed to north, observed No. 873 going away to south, overtook No. 875. No. 873 several miles to starboard. Followed Rhine at height of about 5,000 feet, keeping to north.

11 a.m. Above clouds in Rhine Valley. No. 873 passed across and took up position ahead and about a mile to port. Continued to Schaffhausen, when suddenly lost sight of 873. No. 875 about two miles astern and about same height.

11.30 a.m. Arrived extreme end of lake and came down to within 10 feet of water. Continued at this height over lake, passing Constance at a very low altitude, as considered less likelihood of being seen. Crossed lake and hugged north shore until five miles from objective. Started climb and reached 1,200 feet. Observed twelve or fourteen shrapnels bursting slightly north of Friedrichshafen. Presumed these were directed against No. 873.

11.55 a.m. When half a mile from sheds put machine into dive, and came down to 700 feet. Observed men lined up to right of shed, number estimated 300-500. Dropped one bomb in enclosure to put gunners off aim, and, when in correct position, two into works and shed. The fourth bomb failed to release. During this time very heavy fire, mitrailleuse and rifle, was being kept up, and shells were being very rapidly fired. Dived and flew north until out of range of guns, then turned back to waterside shed to try and release fourth bomb. Bomb would not release; was fired on by two machine guns (probably mitrailleuse), dived down to surface of lake and made good my escape.

1.50 p.m. Arrived Belfort.'

The other account was given by a Swiss engineer who saw the raid from an hotel near the Zeppelin sheds. He counted nine bombs which fell in an area of 700 square yards round the works and sheds, and he said the earth and debris were thrown up to a height of 25 feet. Each machine had four twenty-pound bombs; one of Flight Lieutenant Sippe's bombs, as has been seen, failed to release. That leaves two bombs of the twelve to be accounted for; these fell on the sheds themselves, one greatly damaging a Zeppelin, the other destroying the gas-works, which exploded and sent up gigantic flames in the sky. The bombs made the town tremble; the military officers lost their heads and gave contradictory orders to the troops. The mitrailleuse section, however, kept cool, and fired from 200 to 250 shots before Squadron Commander Briggs was brought down. The three British biplanes crossed, recrossed, and circled at such a speed over Friedrichshafen that many onlookers thought there were six of them. Squadron Commander Briggs was attacked and injured after landing; when captured by the military he was nearly fainting, and was transported to the large Weingarten hospital at Friedrichshafen, where he was tended with every care. In fact the local officers regarded him with admiration, much as the British public regarded Captain von Mueller of the Emden.

The damage done was severe, and now that the horse was stolen the German authorities took every care to lock the stable door. A great network construction was built above the sheds. The Bavarian regiments and the night sentinels were doubled; the number of mitrailleuses and anti-aircraft guns was much increased. Five powerful searchlights were installed on the hills around the town and were kept at work all night. Two additional gun-boats were stationed in front of the floating shed. At eight o'clock every evening all the lights of the town were put out. Every civilian was compelled to carry a passport, and no foreigners were allowed to approach. The Zeppelin sheds were not attacked again, but all the men and all the material required for these additional defences were kept out of the war by the four hours' adventure of three British pilots. So true it is that the best defence is attack.

The pilots deserve all praise for their admirable navigation, and the machines must not be forgotten. There have since been many longer and greater raids, but this flight of 250 miles, into gunfire, across enemy country, in the frail little Avro with its humble horse-power, can compare as an achievement with the best of them, and some part of the credit must be spared for those who planned it and for those who tended and prepared the machines. The men on the ground, or in the engine-room, or in the racing stable, who have no part in the excitement and renown of action, are the invisible creators of victory.

Shortly after the raid the Swiss Government complained that the British aviators had flown over Swiss territory, and had thereby violated Swiss neutrality. Flight Lieutenant Sippe's log, which has been quoted above, certainly gives some ground for this contention. The British Foreign Office, in their reply, said that instructions had been given to the British aviators not to fly over Swiss territory, that it was not their intention to do so, and that it had been the belief of the Foreign Office that they had not done so. The British Government assured the Swiss Government that if Swiss neutrality had been violated it had been by inadvertence, and expressed their great regret that any British aeroplanes should have flown over any part of Swiss territory. At the same time the British Government were careful to point out that the International Congress of 1910 had failed to come to any agreement as to the recognition of territory in the air, and that Great Britain's desire to respect the wishes of the Swiss Government should not be taken as an admission 'that Great Britain is necessarily bound in all cases to respect a doctrine which, however it may be viewed by herself, is not accepted and may not be acted upon by other Powers'. This point of law has since been settled. The International Air Convention of 1921, which has been signed by the Allied Powers, sets forth in its first article 'that every Power has complete and exclusive sovereignty over the air space above its territory'.