Lt. Willy Coppitt, no. 10 squadron RNAS, in a letter dated 3rd June 1917 to his brother.
"Dear George,
Sorry I haven't written in while; been a little bit busy sausage side, and they've been busy with us too.
Had a heck of a show yesterday. Took off, ostensibly to go and rough up some Hun field as vengeance to them doing it to one of ours, no doubt, but got caught up in a bit of a scrap near Ypres which is taking a lot of Hun effort at the moment, despite you might read at home. Anyway, I'm with five other chaps in these lovely triplanes, cruising along at about 8000 feet, when we see Hun two seaters buzzing around below. Our leader "Tippy" Wade signals to go down, so off we go, only to find out about 20 seconds later that the Damn Huns have got scouts with them; namely about half a dozen Albatros scouts, and all intent on doing us in.
Well, I tried to keep with Jimmy Bernard (I'm his wing and guardian angel), but we were all soon lost in the fight as triplanes, Albatrii and DFWs were all whizzing about the sky. I was more concerned with keeping the damn Hun scouts off my back, and I'm afraid to say that I was probably a little selfish in that respect. I kept on rat-at-at-atting when some Hun whizzed in front of me, and I became aware that were we all dropping down quite low - one could see the cathedral, quite untouched; something of a miracle, you might say - and I knew I was very low on ammunition, having blazed away quite merrily for some minutes. So, it became apparent that the best course of action was to break off and return home.
No such luck!
I made course back to Bailleul - some miles South West of Ypres - where the RFC have a base (a Pup squadron I think; 46 perhaps), and I skimmed the trees as I went, fully aware that I was at something of a disadvantage. Well, it was worse than I thought. Some damn Hun in his DIII had evidently seen me sneak away and made a beeline for me. As I approached Bailleul airfield, all I could hear was this Hun scout trying to put rounds into me. Ta ta ta ta; ta ta ta ta! I could see the chaps on the ground running to the Lewis's, but I calculated that by the time they'd drawn a bead, I'd be dead and buried in the woods before the airfield, given that I could hear and see bullets pinging all over.
I looked at the belt and saw the red tip that indicated 50 bullets or less in my Lewis, looked over my shoulder to see a red nosed Hun not more than a few hundred yards back from me, and pulled the stick back hard to the left.
The triplane is a lovely aeroplane - she whipped back in a turn that made me catch my breath, and then suddenly, there I was: over the airfield but with my pursuer in front of me. Knowing I had but a few bullets left, I gunned the motor (the Albatros is a fast 'plane) and found myself within yards of the Hun, all green, yellow and black. I pulled the trigger and prayed.
I fired no more than 20 rounds, but I must have found his fuel reservoir: the underside of the DIII blew out, and his wings crumpled. The poor chap stood no chance as the whole flaming mess fell into the woods beyond the field about 500 feet below.
I was too shaken to fly back to Droglandt, where the squadron's based, and put her down at Bailleul. I'd like to say that I was given a hero's welcome - but all that I got was a roasting from the OC for drawing in the Hun! Still, I'm alive, and I've been told that I've been credited with the Albatros, as the chaps on the ground didn't make a claim. So now I have two kills. Let's hope I can pop a few more; but I hope to be back in England soon, so that might have to wait.
Love to Elsbeth and the children.
William"
Edited by SimonC (03/08/10 03:25 PM)
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