Fullofit – Ziggy is set to surpass Mulberry at the pace he is going. I loved your video of downing the Breguet!
Carrick – congratulations on victory number four for Rupert. He is really finding his feet in that Albatros!


War Journal of Flight Sub-Lieutenant George Ewan MacAlister

8 Squadron, RNAS

Mont-St-Eloi, France

Part 3


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"My next burst, a long one, caused the German machine to come apart in the air."

28 November 1917 – Wednesday. I find myself struggling to remember the day of the week. One day is much like the next, and with the big push we have been flying constantly. A few days ago it seemed that we were going to break through at Cambrai. Our attack there was a massive surprise. Unlike every other offensive, this one did not begin with days of bombardment. The artillery put on a crashing show for a few hours and then we let loose more than a hundred tanks. The great steel monsters slithered across no man’s land and set the Huns to flight. McDonald told me that he even saw mounted cavalry moving up through our rear lines. The weather grounded us for a couple of days at the start of the offensive and then we were pressed into action. As we are located well to the north of Cambrai, we patrolled this side of the main attack. That probably spared us a few weeks of ground support. Ground support does not sound like fun – it consists mainly of flying at treetop level above the Hun lines with every German on the Western front taking pot shots. Now the attack has stalled and the enemy is regrouping. The great minds at headquarters seem to have forgotten to lay on reserves to exploit their win. I suppose it can be forgiven since they are not very used to winning.

I could get cynical but it wouldn’t do any good.

In the morning we were to patrol the lines east of Arras and a little south. The Huns had a different idea. No sooner had begun to take off than we heard the clanging of our ship’s bell over the din of engines. A large group of Albatri were diving on us out of the sun. I’d seen these fellows before. Their machines were painted deep blue with scarlet noses. I was the second machine off the ground behind Compston. The Huns passed over the two of us and I was able to turn about and get on the tail of the rearmost Albatros. Those lovely twin Vickers guns tore the Hun machine apart and it fell on the eastern fringe of the field. We chased after the others, but they had no spirit left after that first pass. We landed to replenish ammunition and the skipper sent another flight in our place so we had the morning off. My Albatros was easily confirmed, bringing my bag up to ten Huns in the week I have been with the squadron. I am convinced that this success is mainly a matter of luck. Like today, in many of the scraps I have had the good fortune to be just in the right place to get behind an enemy machine. If you can do that and are close enough, the rest is pure mechanics.

In the afternoon we patrolled the lines south of Arras, much as we were intending to do in the morning. Towards the end of our time we scrapped with a few Albatri with no losses on either side.

Thursday 29 November was a frustrating day. Our morning patrol was led by Flight Lieutenant Day. We stayed low over the enemy lines – far too low, in my opinion. On three different occasions, my machine was holed by ground fire. And on the third such occasion, a near miss by Archie threw my machine over on its side. I smelt petrol and found my feet awash in the stuff! That is most disconcerting. I switched off and planed across the lines to land at our aerodrome at Lechelles.

In the afternoon we took Cooper bombs and headed down to entertain the Hun aerodrome at Riencourt. Unfortunately, I never saw the place. The Clerget decided to go on strike just as we reached the enemy lines and once again I had to glide home, this time putting down at our aerodrome at Courcelles.

At lunch this day, Squadron Commander Draper apologised to me for not getting a chance to celebrate the six Huns bagged on Tuesday. We had swilled some champagne in the wardroom that evening but the planned dinner had been put off because of the pace of operations and the need to keep clear heads. He said he’d make it up as soon as we had a breather. He confirmed that he had sent a telegram to General Trenchard who was most impressed and responded this morning, conveying his congratulations. Unfortunately, the General has been called away to London and is unable to visit us.

That evening I got permission to wander into the village of Mont-St-Eloi along with my cabin mates, White, Holmes, and Sneath. The village was very pretty, not yet badly scarred by war. It stood on the side of a hill, unusual in that flat place. The people were friendly and smiled and laughed while they charged you double for anything they had. White knew of a good little café where one could get omelettes and chips with decent red wine in clay jugs. The woman who ran the place and who seem to own it was a somewhat heavy farmer’s wife of unfortunate countenance. White, ever the charming Canadian, had christened her Hairy Legs, a name he used even to her face. She replied by slapping the back of his head but seem to enjoy his attentions.

“She’s wearing stockings tonight,” said White. “I dare you to look at her legs on a full stomach if she isn’t wearing them.” We each tried our schoolboy French on her, complementing the food and wine and her hospitality. She smiled stiffly at us. White had a better handle on the language and propositioned her most indecently. She tousled his hair and called him “Mon chou.” It means “cabbage”, and is apparently a Good Thing. Funny people, the French.

Friday was a cloudy day. We were once again ordered to shoot up Riencourt. This time the Cooper bombs were left at home. They are being conserved in case we need them down close to Cambrai. We flew south past Arras and then made a direct line for Riencourt. Flight Lieutenant Day was leading and he brought as well to the east of the Hun aerodrome so that we could attack it from that direction. Several machines were lined up on the field. As we began our approach I noticed a lone Albatros lining up to land. I got behind him and chased him about at treetop level for a bit before I was able to get a decent shot away. The machine knows down and crashed just west of the field. It was confirmed by Williams – number 11.

That afternoon we suddenly were ordered to take the Cooper bombs we had been denied in the morning and attack a German rail siding over the lines north of Monchy. Flight Lieutenant Munday took us on a route that had us approach the target from the south. When it was only two or three miles off, Munday fired a red Very light, which was our signal for enemy in sight. A large formation of Albatri were diving on us. For several seconds I thought I might be able to reach the railyard and release my bombs there, but the Huns two quick. I had to let the bombs go prematurely in order to defend myself. It was a jolly scrap with some seriously determined Huns. One after another, either a Camel or an Albatros would break away and head home nursing damage or jammed guns. I soon found myself alone in Hunland and set course for home. That was when I saw in the distance a green Albatros stalking one of our own machines. I raced after it at full throttle. The Hun must have opened fire because the Camel he was chasing – it turned out to be White’s – turned to meet him, which gave me a chance to catch up. After a short fight, I put a few rounds into the Albatros and slipped behind him. My next burst, a long one, caused the German machine to come apart in the air. White was more than happy to confirm this as victory number 12.

Attached Files Kill 12.jpg
Last edited by Raine; 12/02/20 05:31 AM.