'and they bothered us only now and then. We always flew in close formation and had a good chance of driving off an attack until some of our escort could come up. The bombing  p252 itself was pretty crudely done as the sights were not of the best and the pilot had to drop them besides keeping in formation, dodging the 'Archie,' taking care of his motor and watching out for enemy planes. Beyond doubt, he was a fairly busy bird. Our machines were DH‑9s with Siddeley-Puma motors of much too small horse-power. They were fast on the level and handled beautifully, but climbed sluggishly and, when loaded, their ceiling was far too low for comfort. The British pilots in this outfit were youngsters of from seventeen to twenty‑two — nothing sluggish about them — a nervy, reliable bunch and always full of pep.'

On one of the patrols, the four of us Americans went up, also two French enlisted pilots and the French captain. We were ordered to do what they called the middle patrol which was about 14,000 feet up. While climbing up there we saw some Huns diving but we couldn't get anywhere near them. The clouds were in the way. When we reached our 14,000 feet, the clouds were still heavy and hanging in fringes. Meanwhile the Huns were also climbing and we caught glimpses of them above us. We were then •fifteen or twenty miles back of the German lines in Belgium. The two French pilots had dropped out with motor troubles.

I happened to be flying with Gates at the rear of the formation. Looking ahead, we noticed that the French captain and two other Spads ahead of us had dived. This startled us. We glanced upward and saw a plane right over our heads. It was somewhat disturbing to see it come bolting out of the clouds. I recognized it as a new German plane, a Fokker D‑7, which was then a novelty.

Casting a pallid gaze behind me, I was even more astonished to observe twelve or thirteen German planes bursting out of the clouds. It was their habit to fly in squadrons in this area. They had some biplanes with tremendous speed on the level and first‑class diving qualities, also a type of triplane which was much  p254 superior to our Spads in climbing. I noticed that on this occasion they were after us with both kinds.

The rest of our squadron disappeared into the clouds in front of us. This left 'Di' Gates and me with a very lonesome feeling. I saw him go into a spin and streak down back of the German lines. I perceived that the dozen hostile planes were directly behind me, so I did a spin on my own account. Our machines were very good at getting away when you were in a hurry. They dropped like a stone. I was never so scared in my life. I had a great many thoughts while I went whizzing down a great many thousand feet.

When I came out of the dive, which was a plain act of Providence, I was fairly near the ground and not awfully far from the lines. I recovered my breath and my courage and flew madly about to find the rest of the squadron. Not a soul in sight! And 'Di' had vanished with the rest of them. Poor fellow, he had been hit or had failed to come out of his spin. It was rotten luck. I sailed back to the hangars, but found no Gates. My fears were confirmed.

I felt rather badly about it until I remembered that he had recently purchased a large box of cigars and had been a bit stingy with them. So I went to his room to rummage about for the cigars, and there he was — Artemus L. Gates alive and in the flesh! He loosened up with the cigars after that, and every evening for a couple of weeks we would smoke up and tell each other how scared we had been.

Raid. 6‑8.30 P.M. July 29, 1918

Lt. Berthe leading. My position 1st right. Very misty. Climbed from 2000 to 8000 in dense fog. Two rear planes dropped out. Bombed Mole at Zeebrugge. No hits observed. Archies did not spot us until we had dropped and turned. Then they put up some good ones, behind leader's trail. Uneventful home trip.

Sea Patrol. 5‑6.30 P.M. July 30

Lt. Shaw and myself. My position to rear and right. Dense fog at 1000 to 2000 feet. Went entirely by compass. Ran upon four Hun destroyers. We were less surprised than they. They fired usual Very pistols, white turning into red. We bombed at 1700 feet — they zigzagging. Shaw scored hit on stern of leading destroyer. I bombed the second one, but Rourke did not see bombs as he was emptying machine guns on their decks. Intense anti-aircraft fire.

Raid. 1‑3.05 P.M. July 31

Capt. Boyd leading. My position 1st left. Climbed to 14,000 and bombed seaplane base on the Mole at Zeebrugge. Immediately after release, met five DH‑4s which we at first took for Huns. Archie was concentrated on them, not on us, thank the Lord. On return trip saw two British destroyers dropping depth-bombs on subs and seven of the American seaplanes hovering around.

Mole and harbor entrance, Zeebrugge

Sea Patrol. 5‑7 A.M. August 3

Shaw leading. Very misty weather prevented good patrolling. So we went on over Middlekerque and dropped our bombs on Hun depot headquarters. Large fires were seen to break out. In clear weather we should not have been able to do it on account of the Westende Battery.

 p257  Sea Patrol. August 5

Special patrol, as high water prevailed on inner channels for subs. None sighted. I had motor trouble and flew back to drome and got another plane. Failed to locate Judge, my patrol leader, Noted large fire between Nieuport and Ostend.

Raid. 1‑3.45 P.M. August 10

Shaw leading. My position 1st right. Objective Zeebrugge. Came up with sun at our backs, 13,500 feet. Six hits out of ten bombs. Archie scarce, due to sun. One burst just off my wind. No perforations.

Sea Patrol. 6.30‑8.30 P.M. August 12

Shaw and myself. Spotted five seaplanes off Zeebrugge. Prepared to attack when five land machines came at us. We fired at long range and veered off with three of the seaplanes while the others followed us. We soon outdistanced them.

One morning six of us started on patrol just before daylight, getting off in pairs at ten minute intervals. Our duty was to sneak up along the Holland coast and return, skirting the three-mile limit, past Walcheren, the mouth of the Scheldt, Zeebrugge, etc., and try to spot certain submarine movements which had been reported to us on the preceding evening.

The sun was up and fiery red as we rounded Holland and flew toward the Mole. We noticed a number of black specks on the surface and went down to inspect. Then we made out twelve destroyers convoying four submarines. They were, if anything, inside the three-mile limit of the coast of Holland. As my companion plane and I had been the first to take off, we decided to wait until the other four planes should arrive and attack in concert. Soon one pair came along, and then the other.

Up to this point we had not been seen by the flock of German surface craft. As we approached them with the sun at our backs, they spotted us and began to break formation and zigzag. Anti-aircraft and pom‑pom stuff began whizzing up, but as yet nowhere  p258 near us. My partner and I piqued down, firing out forward guns in a stream to make the sailors on the deck take cover, and as we drew nearer it was funny to see them tumble down the hatches and companionways.

When •five hundred feet up, we released our bombs and flew off at right angles, doing twists and turns to dodge anti-aircraft fire which had become pretty thick. The other planes followed us and we soon met and continued on home to report and send out more planes. My partner scored a direct hit on the bow of one destroyer which, we learned from the report of a later patrol, had to be towed back to the Mole.

If we were going on patrol in the morning, we slept on the field the night before. Then if the weather was favorable and everything in good shape, we were awakened to partake of our oatmeal, eggs and coffee, and the indispensable jam or marmalade. Sauntering out on the field, we waited until the motors were warmed up and we had received our instructions. Then away we sailed. It was distinctly de luxe. In fact, the Unit had found it pretty much that way from start to finish, including Peacock Point, Palm Beach, and Huntington.

The British had been in the war long enough to understand that aviators were not infantrymen and that they had to be handled differently, that flying was a test of nerves, a sport for which you had to be kept fit. Shave in the evening, take a hot bath, get your shoes shined whenever you liked — a perfect snap.

There was one amusing adventure while I was day bombing. It rated a hearty laugh. A little Canadian named Shay and I were assigned to bomb the German headquarters at Middlekerque, •about fourteen miles east of Nieuport where their lines passed through to the sea. It was a foggy day and the clouds were very low. We found our target and were only •250 feet above the buildings in which the brains and strategy of the German army staff were supposed to be concentrated. Shay dropped a bomb and I let one go. We noticed a couple of fires break out,  p259 Then we turned so as to get a better mark for our second bombs. Just then there came striding out of the building to the terrace a large, fat German war lord in his nightshirt.

It was unusual to see a German general parading in such a costume as this. Of course we tried our best to bomb him out of his nightshirt. But a lot of machine guns were trying to pot us by this time and we were flying mighty low, as I say, so we couldn't be as careful as we wished in depositing our last bombs. However, we did put the fear of God into the German general and he beat it from the terrace with the tail of his nightshirt standing out straight behind him.

When I was an innocent little boy, before I went to college and fell into bad company and joined the Unit, my mother took me one time to the Casino at Ostend. And I played roulette for small stakes, just as a pastime. When I was out on one of these patrols along the Dutch coast, we went over to Ostend to drop our bombs. We were not very high up and there were five Hun seaplanes sitting on the water. Our patrol leader waggled his wings and we followed him down to try to bag these birds, but they rose too soon and flew over the land and escaped. It struck me as a diverting thought that as a kid I had played roulette in the Ostend Casino, and here I was a dozen years later flying about over this same Casino on such a very different errand. Life, indeed, consists of one thing after another, and there you are, what, what?

I want, first of all, to thank you, Admiral Rodman, the captains, officers, and ships' companies of the magnificent squadron, for the wonderful coöperation and the loyalty you have given to me and my admirals; and the assistance that you have given us in every duty you have had to undertake. The support which you have shown is that of true comrade­ship; and in time of stress, that is worth a great deal. You will return to your own shores; and I hope in the sunshine which Admiral Rodman tells me always shines there, you won't forget your 'comrades of the mist,' and your pleasant associations of the North Sea.

With the exception of two little episodes in France and England, I remember nothing of interest on the other side. Just after we landed in France, Alphy, Eddie McDonnell, and I were in a train compartment going from Havre to Paris. The train was very crowded, so some Belgian Red Cross nurses came in and sat down with us. We soon started up a conversation with them. After talking a while, I noticed that the prettiest one had fastened her gaze on Alphy. Finally she leaned over and touched his eyes with her hand and exclaimed that he has such wonderful eyes. No one but a woman had a right to such wonderful eyes, said she. Alphy blinked and stared out of the window.

The other episode happened in London. Alphy took me to a dance at the Grafton Galleries the night after the Armistice was signed. We knew nobody in the crowd, but this never stopped Alphy for a minute. About midnight I saw him suddenly wave to a girl on the other side of the room [Of course Alphy maintains the girl waved first]. She rushed over to him and they immediately began dancing. After half an hour or so, I got a chance to ask him who she was and where he had met her. He had never seen her before, he blandly replied, and had no idea what her name was. A perfectly nice girl, but completely fascinated, as I doped it. About one‑thirty in the morning I got tired of being the waiting bystander and told Alphy I was going home. He was still turning up the maximum revolutions. What a man!

On the morning I arrived at Dunkirk [he informs us] I was sitting in the C. O.'s office and 'Di' was signing some reports. There came a terrific roar as if several shells had arrived simultaneously. The building shook itself almost off its foundation and the few window panes that were left went A. W. O. L. My cap was spun around three or four times on my head. Nearly all the expensive filings in my back teeth were started. 'Di' never missed a stroke of his pen. I don't remember that he even looked up. When the tremors had subsided from my voice and knees, I asked, in what was meant to be a careless manner, how about this Dunkirk earthquake? Gates, the man of iron, replied that at ten o'clock every morning they exploded all the mines that had been swept up in the channels and collected. Nobody paid any attention to it.

All the hangars and buildings had been shot ragged with shell  p264 fire and bombs. One long-distance shell had dropped plunk in the middle of the station. When that happened I suppose 'Di' turned in his chair and said 'come in,' thinking that somebody had knocked at the door.

At our other stations I had heard of the splendid work he was doing at Dunkirk, and the same thing was told me by his own officers. There was a remarkably fine spirit among his personnel. I was proud of the fact that he was not only one of my friends but also one of the Unit.

He arranged it so I could cross to England in the 'duty destroyer' which carried mail and naval passengers between Dunkirk and Dover. It was a rough trip but a sadder experience awaited me in London. Bad news! No service at the front for me! I was anchored to the aviation outfit at Headquarters and there I stayed until the finish. Captain Cone and his staff moved from Paris a few days after I reported. After he was injured in a torpedo steamer between Holyhead and Dublin, Lieutenant Allen Edwards took his place. I was still under Lieutenant Fearing who took charge of what they called the 'Planning Section.' It was really another name for Operations. I assisted him and also developed the intelligence work in so far as it was of use to our office.

This brought me into personal contact with the staff officers of the Royal Air Force and with some of the people in the Admiralty. I shall never forget their courtesy and kindness and sincere endeavors to coöperate in every way possible. Knowing so much more of the game than we did, they were always patient and generous. I never did stop fidgeting to get to the front, but those months in London were very interesting, nevertheless.

It would be wrong to leave the impression that I stayed in one spot like a barnacle. There were little trips to break the routine. After a few days in London, for instance, I went out to Hendon and had a flight with Captain Hucks, R. A. F., in a DH‑10. He was the first English flier to loop the loop. In this flight of ours he tried a loop in a DH‑10. I stayed with it. Soon after this I had the pleasure of flying over London in a Handley-Page.

Afraid that I might get rusty for lack of practice, I was attached to a British pilot's school at Dartford, through the efforts of Charley Fuller. The field was only an hour from London so it was possible to run out there quite often. This was a bright spot  p265 of my period of duty in London. There were Camels, SE‑5's, DH‑4's, DH‑9's, and Avros, and I was allowed to fly any type of machine I liked and as long as I wanted to. The C. O., Major Clark, an Australian, and his officers couldn't have been more cordial to their own people.

I made one trip to Killingholme, Commander Kenneth Whiting's big station which was running like a clock. I had a good time with 'Lotta' Lawrence and Frank Lynch who were doing great work there. I visited Dunkirk and the Northern Bombing Group twice more. The first time was before 'Di' Gates was captured. This was not eventful. During the last visit, however, shortly before the Armistice, Captain Hanrahan very kindly let us have a Cadillac and we set out from his headquarters near Calais. The Germans had evacuated the Belgian coast and we went to Lille and Menin, then up to Bruges, Zeebrugge, and finally past the last Belgian guard on the road leading to Ghent, where we just escaped being made targets for a Hun machine‑gun.

At Zeebrugge it was fascinating to go out on the Mole with a British naval officer who had been in the show with Captain Carpenter and the Vindictive. Of all the stories of the war, this thrilled me most. It was a German squadron from this seaplane station which had shot down 'Al' Sturtevant. After seeing the fortifications and machine‑gun emplacements, it was marvelous to think that the British vessels had been able to make their landing and partly block the canal.

On October 4th, I called up 'Di' Gates from London and 'Shorty' Smith answered the phone. He told me 'Di' had gone out with a French Spad squadron and had been missing for several hours. I can truthfully say that I never wavered in my belief that the old Indian was going to come out of it alive. It looked pretty dark at the time, I will admit. The official report, of course, did not come in for several days. Meanwhile I called up Bob Lovett and other friends in the Northern Bombing Group. The Sunday following 'Di's' capture was the longest day I ever spent in my life while we waited in London for a message from France telling us the results of the investigation.

Several days after 'Di' disappeared, 'Ken' MacLeish came to London. He told me he was going to relieve Dave Ingalls who had been with an English squadron near Dunkirk. 'Ken' didn't know it, but he was on the last lap of his road to glory. And I  p266 didn't know it when we shook hands and said au revoir in London.

To be perfectly honest, I think that my contribution toward helping to win the war in London failed to amount to a hill of beans. I continued to be the most pestiferous 'Bolshevist' at naval aviation headquarters. It was a great satisfaction, however, to work directly with Fearing, Charlie Fuller, Roger Poor, and with Guggenheim, Ellsworth, Captain Cone, Atlee Edwards, and the rest of them.

Lieutenant (j.g.) Charles F. Beach

Period from 20 September to 30 September, 1918:

An excellent pilot and officer. Very careful and reliable. Made a very good record while attached to 218 Squadron, R. A. F., for six weeks on bomb raids over the lines. A student of Aeronautics and a good knowledge of mechanics.

Artemus L. Gates, Lt. R. F.

N. A. S. Dunkirk, France

Period from 5 September to 13 September, 1918:

Very good pilot, very capable.

G. de C. Chevalier, Lt. Cdr. U. S. N.,

N. A. Repair Base, Eastleigh, England

Period from 16 October, 1917, to 6 February, 1918:

Ensign Beach was appointed engineer officer of the station. Upon his arrival he knew little of the characteristics of French motors. He, however, applied himself and not only became master of his subject in a very short time but developed a group of mechanics who were excellent and able to handle any ordinary repairs to motors. All testing of seaplanes came under his jurisdiction as well as their assembly and the excellent work performed by his men in record time deserves mention.

G. C. Dichman, Lt. Cdr., U. S. N.

Commanding Moutchic-Lacanau

Period from 16 October, 1917, to 6 February, 1918:

Ensign McIlwaine as chief Pilot has fulfilled all his duties in a most satisfactory manner. At the time of his arrival in Moutchic the majority of the pilots knew little of the theory of flight and might have been classed as 'aeroplane chauffeurs.' He took them in hand, and expended much energy in laying out courses for study for them, also lecturing to them. The ground and flying which he established were excellent.

G. C. Dichman, Lt. Comdr., U. S. N.

Commanding Moutchic-Lacanau

Period from 1 July to 30 September, 1918:

Has not come under my observation except for a very short period on special detail at Paris when he performed his duties in a very able manner. He was previously attached to active British Squadrons in the field for training as pilot. Is an exceptionally fine pilot.

D. C. Hanrahan, Captain

Commander Northern Bombing Group

Lieutenant A. W. Ames

Period from 1 October to 19 November, 1918:

A very good and conscientious and capable officer.

Lieutenant Commander W. A. Edwards, U. S. N.

Aide for Aviation, Staff of Vice-Admiral W. S. Sims, U. S. N.

Period from 29 July to 30 September, 1918:

A very capable officer.

Lieutenant G. R. Fearing, U. S. N.

Planning Section, Headqtrs., Paris and London

Period from 27 April to 28 June, 1918:

Lieutenant Ames is an excellent pilot and is extremely conscientious and thorough in the performance of his duties.

Captain N. E. Irwin, U. S. N.

Director of Aviation

Period from 24 December, 1917, to 18 February, 1918:

The officer reported upon herewith, is one of exceptional ability, reliable, and thorough capable of any duty called upon to perform commensurate with his rank. Highly recommended for Foreign Service.

Wm. Masek, Lieut. U. S. N.

Commanding Naval Air Station,

Bay Shore, L. I.