Part 8 (1/2)
Not the least dangerous of the many services the airplane is performing is that of the artillery ”spotter.” It belongs to some particular battery whose guns are thundering away at the enemy. Hovering above No Man's Land, where its position is a trifle too exposed to be comfortable, it radiographs back to the gunners the exact locations of important objectives, then watches the firing and reports the results.
Thanks to it the big guns do not speak in vain, and almost every shot is a direct ”hit.”
And then there are the dreadnaughts of the sky who actually take part in an attack, flying low over the lines and attacking the enemy infantry with guns and with death-dealing bombs. They must run the gauntlet of the enemy's fire, but on the other hand they spread terror and confusion in the ranks of the soldiers ma.s.sed below, distracting their attention and leaving them open to the surprise of a sudden onslaught of Allied troops.
There are other machines which help in an attack by keeping the various parts of the long line in close communication with each other, so that all efforts are in unison. Their duties correspond in a way to those of the swift horseback rider we read of in the stories of old wars, who sped with news of great import from one commander to another. Only that the airplanes of to-day are so much more efficient than the gallant horseback rider of old, that although the line stretches across a nation, it can act as a man when the moment comes for a big ”push.”
Long before the war Germany had been busy turning out airplanes in large numbers in her factories, and in August, 1914, her air force was far superior in numbers to that of her great opponent France. She fondly imagined that she would be able with the greatest ease to put out her enemy's eyes, but in this she failed utterly. In spite of her military program of construction, according to which airplanes were turned out as if by clock-work, there was something wrong with her calculations. It is amusing to look back and see how German ”method” had been carried to the absurd point of defeating itself. In manner truly characteristic, the Hun had standardized his airplane down to the last bolt. Every machine turned out was of exactly the same pattern, and built up of exactly the same parts--parts which could be manufactured in large quant.i.ties and put together with unusual speed. It was certainly _system_ raised to the _n_th degree. And the machines themselves were good enough--st.u.r.dy biplanes intended to be maids-of-all-work over the front lines. Yet in a little while after the fighting had begun, Germany withdrew them in more or less chagrin, and set herself to constructing others of varied patterns. They were well made and splendidly equipped, but they were not sufficiently _specialized_ for the many different kinds of work they were called on to perform.
France had a motley array of airplanes of every size, shape and make when the war broke out. They had varying systems of control, so that a pilot who flew one with ease was nothing more than a novice when he stepped into another. He did not know how its new set of levers operated, nor how the plane would behave in the air. Moreover, the parts for these French airplanes and for their engines had been specially designed by each maker, and were quite unsuitable for any other type of machine. The result was that when a machine had to be repaired at the front, it was ”laid up” for a long time, while the special part it required was being ordered and made for it. When finally it arrived, very often there had been some mistake, and so there was another long period of uselessness. France had prided herself on her versatility in airs.h.i.+p design. She now had cause to regret it as she viewed the almost helpless confusion it had caused in her air service. Her machines, moreover, were much inferior to the German in armament, speed and climbing gauges, cameras, and all the hundreds of accessories which gave the German machines their initial advantage. But experience is the best teacher, and no sooner had she seen wherein she fell short than dauntless France mustered all her resources to correcting past mistakes.
Order was brought out of confusion, and it was only a very little while before the German war lords had need to look to their laurels, for the Frenchmen were far outstripping them in the air.
There was one ”accessory” which the airplane of the Hun lacked, and which all his mechanical skill and ingenuity were not able to provide: _a pilot with the dash and daring of the French!_ Even in those first dark days when the French planes were the equals of their adversaries neither in numbers nor in capabilities,--a continuous stream of gallant French pilots took to the air and proved that they could surprise and outmaneuver their slower-thinking opponents. While they held the line in their inferior craft, French manufacturers were rus.h.i.+ng newer and better equipped machines to reenforce them.
Great Britain was far behindhand in aircraft production when the trumpet of war sounded,--in fact, her air force was considered a negligible quant.i.ty by friend and foe alike. By dint of persevering search she managed to sc.r.a.pe up a small group of planes of many makes and for the most part antiquated. She sent them--along with her ”contemptible little army ”--to France, and there they succeeded in holding their own during the first great German push. When the Stories of heroic fighting against hopeless odds, of British airmen flinging their lives in challenge against the foe in the great air struggle, began to reach home, the British lion repented his tardiness and a program of aircraft construction on a large scale was inst.i.tuted without delay.
In carefully standardizing those first airplanes there was one point which the crafty Germans overlooked: which is, that you can't make a dray horse run fast, nor a race horse draw heavy burdens. The same thing holds good with the ”steeds” of the air. A plane which is designed for great speed is never as good a burden bearer as one which is built to lift heavy weights at the expense of swiftness in flight. As soon as the duties of the airplane began to be specialized, the airplane itself began to appear in certain definite types.
Now of course the duties of the airplane in wartime are numberless, but out of the early confusion _three_ types of machines were finally evolved, which, with the addition of equipment, such as a camera, machine guns, etc., are suitable for practically any sort of work over the land. They are:
1. The high speed fighting machines.
2. The reconnaissance machines.
3. The bombing machines (including the day and the night bombers).
Of all military airplanes there is none so fond of ”aliases” as the high speed fighting machine. Possibly in order to baffle the uninitiated, or to surround itself with an atmosphere of uncertainty and romance, it goes by first one t.i.tle and then another. Most often we hear it called a _speed scout_, perhaps for the reason that _it does no scouting!_ At other times it masquerades proudly under the fine French t.i.tles of ”Avions de Cha.s.se” or ”Avions de Combat.” It is referred to as a ”chaser,” a ”pursuit machine,” a ”battle plane” and a ”combat machine”--but whatever it is _called_, in type it is the small, fast airplane, usually a single seater, quick in climbing, agile as an acrobat, able to ”go” high and far,--for its duty is to run every enemy machine out of the sky and sweep the board clean before the heavier service machines begin their tasks of the day. It should be able to reach a height of from 18,000 to 23,000 feet, or in the language of the air, it must have a high ”ceiling.” From alt.i.tudes so tremendous that they awe the mere earthly pedestrian it swoops down upon its unsuspecting victim, opening upon him a stream of machine gun fire. For its pilot is also a skilled gunner and a crack shot. Upon his ability to maneuver his machine swiftly and cleverly and hit his target unerringly depends his own life and the life of a costly military airplane.
The reconnaissance machines and the bombing planes may do valuable service,--and indeed they invariably do--but it is the ”speed scout”
that covers itself with glory. The reason is that its career brings it nearer to the ”personal combat” of the knights of old than anything in modern warfare. Driving his swift Nieuport scout as a knight would have ridden his charger, the beloved Guynemer went forth to challenge the German fighters,--and other Frenchmen and Englishmen and Americans have followed him. It is a fact beyond all question that this branch of the service has produced some of the most truly unselfish and heroic figures of the whole war. The ”speed scout” pilot did not need to be a man deeply versed in military affairs--as for instance the pilot and observer of the reconnaissance machine must be,--but he did need dauntless courage, unfailing nerves of steel, dash and daring and contempt for his own safety. So wherever the ”speed scout” has blazed its trail of fire across the sky, there have sprung up the names of men whose heroic deeds have made them the idols of the whole world. Usually they have been very young men--young enough for their ideals to have kept fresh and untarnished from the sordid things of life, and thus they have written their names among the immortals.
[Ill.u.s.tration: _Copyright Underwood and Underwood_
A PHOTOGRAPH OF NORTHERN FRANCE TAKEN AT A HEIGHT OF THREE THOUSAND FEET]
Less appealing to the imagination, perhaps, but no less vital to the progress of modern warfare, is the slower flying reconnaissance craft.
This machine is always a two-seater, and sometimes a three, for at the very minimum it must carry a pilot and an observer, while a gunner is a very convenient third party in case of an attack from enemy scouts. This type of machine is used for photographic work, for artillery ”spotting,”
and for many general service duties over the lines. In the early days of the war it was customary for the photography airplane to be escorted on its mission by a group of fighting machines, who hovered about it and engaged in battle any airplanes of the enemy that might seek to interrupt its important work. But the last year or so have brought many improvements in airplane construction and it has been found possible to build a machine which can not only carry the heavy photographic apparatus and a couple of machine guns, but which can also travel at a good speed and climb fast enough to escape from the anti-aircraft guns.
Instead of the rather helpless, clumsy, slow-flying reconnaissance machines of the early part of the war, we now have powerful ”aerial dreadnaughts,” which no longer need to run away, but can stay and fight it out when they are interrupted in the course of their air duties.
Military photography is one of the most fascinating of the side issues of the war. Before the day of the airplane it was the scout or spy who worked his way secretly into the enemy's lines and at great personal risk,--and often after many thrilling adventures, if the story books are to be believed--brought back to his commanding officer news of the disposition of troops, etc., in the opposing camp. To-day the spy's job has been taken away from him. No longer is it necessary for him to creep under cover of night past the guard posts of the enemy. A big, comfortable and efficient airplane flies over the ground by broad daylight and collects the necessary information a great deal better than the spy ever could have secured it.
[Ill.u.s.tration: _Copyright Underwood and Underwood_
AN AIRPLANE VIEW OF THE CITY OF RHEIMS, SHOWING THE CATHEDRAL]
A reconnaissance camera has very little in common with a kodak. The observer does not tilt it over the edge of the machine, focus it on some interesting object and ”snap” his picture. As a matter of fact it works more after the manner of a gun. It is fixed in the bottom of the airplane, facing downward. The observer has been instructed before leaving the ground that a certain area or trench is to be photographed.
Straight to the beginning of that trench line the pilot heads his machine. The observer compares the country over which he is flying with the chart or map which he carries. Just as a gunner sights a target, he locates the beginning of the trench line to be photographed through a bull's eye, and immediately pushes the b.u.t.ton which sets the camera working. From that point the camera operates automatically, taking a series of overlapping pictures of the country it looks down upon. With calm determination the pilot holds his machine to the course laid out, in spite of any opposition that may arise in his path, for the slightest deviation from that fixed line of flight will mean a gap in the reconnaissance report which the pictures represent. But once he has covered the required area, he turns and flees. In less time than it takes to tell that magazine of films is being developed in a dark room.
From there the printed pictures are rushed to an expert interpreter who reads the secret meanings of the things he sees--this or that dark blotch or peculiar looking speck suggests to his trained mind a machine gun nest, a railroad center, an observation post, a barbed wire entanglement, a camouflaged battery, an ammunition dump, or what-not.
Pasted together so that they give a continuous view of the foe's territory, the printed pictures are hurried to headquarters, where in a few brief moments their message has been turned into a command to the troops. By the word that those pictures bring the battle is directed, and the blow is aimed straight at the enemy's vital spots.