FlyPast – August 2018

OVER THE TRENCHES MONS

“I was told to hang on to an Avro that was threatening to take off backwards. I

hung on grimly, suffi cient to persuade it to remain a serviceable aeroplane”

That night, however, things got
lively again. We left at 9pm to arrive
at Serris, to the east of the capital,
at 3pm. According to rumour, there
were no British troops between us
and the Germans.
The RFC built defensive positions
around the landing ground and ‘A’
Squadron of the North Irish Horse
came up to fight a rearguard action
if necessary until the aeroplanes
could be flown away, which they
were before dawn. [Maurice
Farman Long Horn 356 of 5
Squadron was abandoned, as it was
unable to take-off.]
As we got a ‘visit’ from a German
machine at Serris, several of our
aeroplanes went in pursuit but
with little chance of catching it.
A Sopwith Tabloid piloted by Lt
Norman Spratt went after the
enemy, but unfortunately [the
Tabloid] turned on its back when
landing. [Spratt survived and went
on to serve as a group captain in
World War Two, but died in 1944].
Our stay at Serris was the
usual two days. We left during
the morning of September 3
and arrived at Pézarche around
3.30pm. Some of us by now had
been issued with rifles and when
a German Taube flew over us we
stopped and took a few pot shots
at it. Needless to say our hostility
appeared to go entirely unnoticed.
At Pézarche, we sustained
our only casualty amongst the
squadron ground personnel.
During the numerous alarms
caused by marauding Uhlans one
man picked up a loaded revolver
and clicked the trigger, shooting
another man in the thigh.

On September 4, we left at

2.30pm and arrived at Melun

about 5.30pm, and the retreat had

ended. We were once more on a

recognised flying ground with the

facilities that go with such an area.

Bully beef and

biscuits

As I been graded an instrument

repairer, I was as a consequence

called to any machine requiring

attention. There were hangars of

sorts at Melun and during the night

there was a terrific thunderstorm

and the transport vehicles began

to sink into the softened earth.

I have so far spoken only of

our movements, work, etc,

during those early days; I have

not mentioned the way we lived.

Whenever we were on the move we

had to rely on ‘bully beef’ [tinned,

salt-cured beef] and biscuits. The

biscuits were hard and packed in

airtight tins – one tin opened was

dated 1881.

During the retreat we sometimes

got fried bacon for breakfast.

We usually got our cups of tea,

morning and evening thanks to

the cooks.

When we got the chance to sleep

at nights we did so where we could,

often under lorries or in the open.

One great problem was washing. I

went three days without a wash on

one occasion and was 13th to wash

in a single bucket of water.

However we saw enough to

know that our problems were

negligible compared with those of

the infantry.

The main roads in France

at that time were paved with

cobblestones and were very dusty,

so each vehicle caught the dust

and the exhaust fumes from the

one in front.

It had been fine and very warm

for the first fortnight in France

but soon after starting the retreat

we got heavy rain. Bad weather

was a real hazard to aeroplanes.

Great credit must go to pilots for

the way they did reconnaissance

from one landing ground and

found a new one to land on

without breaking their machines.

It showed considerable skill and

determination.

When the aeroplanes landed at

Saint-Quentin the weather was fine

but the next move, to La Fère, had

to be flown in mist and drizzle with

the result that only two, one flown

by Major Higgins, alighted on the

correct landing ground.

Throughout the time we had

been in France the aeroplanes had

had to be housed in the open in

all weathers, with the result that

the fabric-covered wings became

soggy, lost their tautness and

therefore much of their lift.

So ‘B’ Flight, 5 Squadron, was

sent to Étampes on September 6 to

overhaul their machines. In effect

this meant changing many of the

main components. We had a very

busy time from dawn to dusk.

We left Étampes on the 11th,

though the Crossley light tender

with Flt Sgt ‘Dan’ Goodchild, 1st

Air Mechanic (AM) ‘Bob’ Foley and

the driver, 2nd AM Chilton lost its

way and finished up over German

lines. They entered captivity and

remained prisoners until the end

of the war.

Miracle on the

Marne

In the meantime, on September 6,

the French offensive at the Battle

of the Marne had begun and the

Germans were compelled to pull

back. The BEF took part but played

a minor role. Its resistance to the

German advance gave the French

the time and the opportunity to

organise their armies and so make

the victory possible.

We crossed a large river – which

I think must have been the Seine

at Melun – by a pontoon bridge

as we headed east, conscious

that we were advancing and not

retreating. We caught up with the

squadrons late at night and in

pouring rain at Coulommiers,

east of Paris.

Next morning at about 10.30am

we left and later arrived at the

village of Saponay, near Fère-en-

Tardenois. This was to be our home

for nearly four weeks.

We were told we could sleep in

a barn where there was a lot of

straw, a luxury to us at the time. I

had not been asleep long before

I was rudely awakened with the

order: “Turn out everybody. The

machines are blowing away!”

Being one of the first on the

landing ground I was grabbed

by the Technical

Sergeant Major and

told to hang on to an

Avro that was threatening

to take off backwards. I

hung on grimly, sufficient

to persuade it to remain a

serviceable aeroplane. Other

men came up to secure

the remaining

Right
Maurice Farm Longhorn, a type operated by 5
Squadron. 5 SQUADRON RECORDS

42 FLYPAST August 2018