Part 4 (1/2)

WITH THE FLYING CORPS (OCTOBER 1917)

About this time, the C.-in-C. was granted the Order of a Knighthood of the Thistle. It was given to him by the King during his visit to France in a chateau at Ca.s.sel. No one was present when he received this honour. Just afterwards I did a little interior of the room.

General Trenchard and Maurice Baring chose out two flying boys for me to paint, and they sat to me at Ca.s.sel. One was 2nd Lieutenant A. P.

Rhys Davids, D.S.O., M.C., a great youth. He had brought down a lot of Germans, including two cracks, Schaffer and Voss. The first time I saw him was at the aerodrome at Estre Blanche. I watched him land in his machine, just back from over the lines. Out he got, stuck his hands in his pockets, and laughed and talked about the flight with Hoidge and others of the patrol, and his Major, Bloomfield. A fine lad, Rhys Davids, with a far-seeing, clear eye. He hated fighting, hated flying, loved books and was terribly anxious for the war to be over, so that he could get to Oxford. He had been captain of Eton the year before, so he was an all-round chap, and must have been a magnificent pilot.

The 56th Squadron was very sad when he was reported missing, and refused to believe for one moment that he had been killed till they got the certain news. It was a great loss.

The other airman chosen was Captain Hoidge, M.C. and Bar--”George” (p. 051) of Toronto. Hoidge had also brought down a lot of Germans. His face was wonderfully fitted for a man-bird. His eyes were bird's eyes. A good lad was Hoidge, and I became very fond of him afterwards. I arranged with Maurice Baring and Major Bloomfield that Hoidge was to come to Ca.s.sel one morning at 11 a.m. to sit to me. The morning arrived and 11 o'clock and no Hoidge. Eleven-thirty, 12--no Hoidge.

About 12:30 he strolled into the yard and I heard him asking for me in a slow voice. I was raging with anger by this time. He came upstairs and I told him there was no use doing anything before lunch, and that we had better go down and get some food. We ate silently. I could see he was rather depressed. About halfway through our meal, he said: ”I'm lucky to be here with you this morning!” ”Why?” said I. ”Oh,” he said, ”I made a d.a.m.ned fool of myself this morning. Let an old Boche get on my tail. d.a.m.ned fool I was--with my experience. Never saw the blighter. I was following an old two-seater at the time. He put a bullet through the box by my head, and cut two of my stays. If old B.

hadn't happened to come up and chased him off I was for it. d.a.m.ned fool! But the morning wasn't wasted, afterwards I got two two-seaters.” I said: ”Do you realise you have killed four men this morning?” ”No,” he said, ”but I winged two d.a.m.ned nice birds.” Then we went upstairs and he sat like a lamb.

[Ill.u.s.tration: XX. _Lieut. A. P. F. Rhys Davids, D.S.O., M.C._]

One evening, during the King's stay at Ca.s.sel, I was working in my room about 7 o'clock, when a little sc.r.a.p of paper was brought me on which was written, ”I am dining downstairs.--M. B.” I went downstairs and there was Maurice Baring, and, with luck for me, alone. We had a great dinner. He was in his best form; for after dinner we went up to my room and sat by the open window and talked and talked. Suddenly (p. 052) Maurice stopped, and said: ”What's that noise?” ”What noise?” said I.

So we looked down into the courtyard--only about ten feet--and there was ”Boom,” who had been dining with the King, and Philip Sa.s.soon.

”What the devil are you two doing?” said ”Boom.” ”We've both been shouting ourselves hoa.r.s.e for ten minutes. It's the last d.a.m.ned time you dine with Orpen, Maurice!” It's true we never heard them--but then Maurice was talking.

One morning, when the wind was very fresh, I got a telephone message from Major Bloomfield telling me to come to the squadron at once and see some ”crashes.” It was a glorious morning, blue sky, with great white clouds sailing by. I got down to the squadron as quickly as I could. A whole lot of novices from England had been sent out on trials, and the Major expected ”great fun” when they landed.

The fire was made big and a great line of blue smoke whirled down the aerodrome to give the direction of the wind. Presently they began to come back. Some landed beautifully--one in particular--and the Major said to me: ”Come on, I must go and congratulate that chap,” and started running for the machine. When we got closer, he stopped and said: ”d.a.m.n it! it's Hoidge, I forgot he was out.”

I remember one poor chap in particular. He circled the aerodrome twelve times, each time coming down for a landing and each time funking it at the last moment. At last he did land, two or three b.u.mps, and then--apparently slowly--the machine's nose went to the ground and gracefully it turned turtle. ”Come along,” said the Major, and when we got to the machine the wretched pilot was getting out from under it. ”You unspeakable creature,” said the Major. ”Don't let me see your face again for twenty-four hours.” And away limped the (p. 053) ”unspeakable creature,” covered with oil and dirt. I must add that after lunch the Major went up to him and patted his back and said he hoped he felt none the worse. But the thing that amazed me was, that although the machine seemed to land so gently, the damage to it was terrific--propeller and all sorts of strong things smashed to bits.

[Ill.u.s.tration: XXI. _Lieut. R. T. C. Hoidge, M.C._]

Ping-pong was the great game at this squadron (56th), and I used to play with a lot of them, including Hoidge and McCudden, but I did not know the latter's name at that time. It was before he became famous.

One day I went there with Maurice Baring, and the Major was greatly excited because they had just finished making a little circular saw to cut firewood for the squadron for the winter. The Major had a great idea that, as the A.D.C. to ”Boom” was lunching, after lunch there would be an ”official” opening of the circular saw. It was agreed that all officers and men were to attend (no flying was possible that day) and that Maurice should make a speech, after which he was to cut the end of a cigar with the saw, then a box was made with a gla.s.s front in which the cigar was to be placed after the A.D.C. had smoked a little of it, and the box was to be hung in the mess of the squadron. It was all a great success. Maurice made a splendid speech. We all cheered, and then the cigar was cut (to bits nearly). Maurice smoked a little, and it was put safely in its box. Then Maurice was given the first log to cut. This was done, but Maurice was now worked up, so he took his cap off and cut this in halves. He was then proceeding to take off his tunic for the same purpose, but was carried away from the scene of execution by a cheering crowd. It was a great day. I remember Maurice saw me back to Ca.s.sel about 1 a.m., after much ping-pong and music. (p. 054) ”I'll go back to the shack where the black-eyed Susans,” etc., was the song of the moment then in the squadron.

Shortly after this Major Bloomfield was ordered home, promoted and, I think, sent to America. At this loss, a great gloom fell over the 56th Squadron. I never saw any squadron in France that was run nearly so well as the 56th under Bloomfield, nor any Major loved more by his boys.

[Ill.u.s.tration: XXII. _The Return of a Patrol._]

CHAPTER VIII (p. 055)

Ca.s.sEL AND IN HOSPITAL (NOVEMBER 1917)

About this time I went to Paris and met several Generals and Mr.

Andrew Weir (now Lord Inverforth), and it was arranged that Aikman was to go home to the War Office and that I, perhaps, might have my brother out later to look after me. Aikman left, and I was very lonely. A better-hearted companion and a kinder man one could not meet, and regarding the intricacies of ”King's Regulations” and such-like things, he was a past master.

After this, whenever I went to Paris, the great thing was to stop on the way at Clermont and lunch with ”Hunchie.” ”Hunchie” kept the buffet at the station. He had a broken back and had been a chemist in Paris, but said he had come to the station at Clermont for excitement.

It was so exciting that Maude proposed stopping there for a rest cure!

But ”Hunchie's” lunches were excellent. I remember one day on my way to Paris, I asked him at lunch if he had any Worcesters.h.i.+re Sauce; he had not. He asked me when I was coming back North again. I said the next day, which I did, and stopped for lunch. He had the sauce. He had been to Paris to get it. ”Hunchie” was a wonder, so was Madame, and so was their dog ”Black.”

One spot in Paris, the Gare du Nord, will always mean a lot to the British Army on the Western Front. What sights one saw there!--ma.s.ses of humanity, mostly British officers and men, each with their little (p. 056) ”movement order”: there they were in the heart of the Gay City. Yet that little slip of paper would, in a couple of hours, send them to Amiens, and a little later they would be at the front suffering h.e.l.l.