V TAKING A NEW MACHINE TO FRANCE
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Note.
In the second week of May, 1915, Harold Rosher arrived home unexpectedly with orders to fly a new machine, a B.E. 2 C, from Hendon to Dunkirk. He tried the machine, but was not satisfied with the engine. On the 12th May, however, he telephoned to his father to come to the aerodrome to lunch with him, as he intended, if possible, to make a start immediately after lunch. The latter accordingly joined him, and about 3 p.m. Harold got into the machine and his father bade him farewell. As he rose, one could hear the engine missing, and at about 1000 feet, realizing that there was clearly something wrong, Harold turned back to the aerodrome. Mechanics from the makers were sent for and they spent a day or two on the engine. On the 16th as he was told nothing more could be done to it, he decided to move off. He got across to Dunkirk, and his experiences en route are described in the following letters.
XXVI. To his Mother.
The Grand Hotel, Folkestone.
17th May, 1915.
Dearest Mum,
I was up betimes yesterday morning, but did not get away from Hendon until about 7.0 a.m. I could only secure half a dozen biscuits and a cup of tea before leaving. It was very thick, and clouds at 4,000 feet. I went via Harrow, Staines, and Redhill. Once at this last place, all you have to do is to follow the railway line, which runs straight as a die to Ashford. My engine was most alarming, making all sorts of weird noises, and I was kept very busy the whole way spotting the field I should land in if it petered out.
A pretty strong head wind made the going slow, and just after Redhill I ran into rain. I stuck it for half an hour, getting very wet and seeing hardly anything. Then the engine showed serious signs of giving up the ghost. What finally made me decide to come down was that I couldn't get any pressure in my petrol tank. I went on a bit and then chose a good-looking field with a road on one side and some houses at one corner. Here I landed in great style.
On getting down, the field was not quite so good as it looked from above, being on a slope and with a somewhat uneven surface. The usual crowd collected, despite the rain, and I soon had the machine covered up with tarpaulins and a territorial guard installed. I had breakfast with a Mr. and Mrs. R—— close by, and afterwards went into Headcorn, a mile away, and telephoned to the Admiralty, etc. I had lunch with the R——s and five daughters (swish, I was all of a doo-da!), and then spent the whole of the afternoon trying to get my beastly engine to go. It's an awful dud.
I eventually took the air before an admiring crowd at about 5.0 p.m., and made for Folkestone soon after. It was a wretched evening, and though it had stopped raining, I had to come down to under 2,000 feet to avoid clouds. I caught a glimpse of Wye when passing Ashford. Made a very stunt landing here and met a R.F.C. officer I know. We came straight on to the Grand, and after a drink at the Metropole, I had a bath, then dinner and a smoke, and went to bed. To-day it is blowing a gale and raining cats and dogs. Am proceeding to Dover first opportunity.
Love to all.
Ever your loving son,
Harold.
XXVII. To his Father.
No. 1 Wing, R.N.A.S., B.E.F.
19th May, 1915.
Dear Dad,
I have at last arrived safely at my destination. Yesterday was a rotten day, but I motored to Dover in the afternoon and from there into St. Margaret's Bay, where I saw the holes made by the Zepp bombs. They were most disappointing, being very small, one foot by six inches deep. They were incendiary and not explosive.
I took the air from Folkestone this afternoon at 3.15 and circled round for 15 minutes, getting to only 2,000 feet. At that I pushed off across the Channel. My engine developed a most appalling vibration, and I hardly hoped to reach the other side. I arrived at Calais at 1,500 feet, and struggled on up the coast here.
Things are much as usual. I am taking an 80 Avro out to an advanced base to-morrow morning, the B.E., of course, being useless. Maude and Andreae are at Whale Island, the Commander in town, and Sippe and Wilson [J. P. Wilson, D.S.O., Squadron Comdr., R.N.] in Paris. We are all at the aerodrome and most uncomfy—Baillie [Lieut. J. E. Innes Baillie, R.M.A.] on leave, and Courtney going on sick leave to-morrow. Please send the gramophone at once.
21st May, 1915.
Here I am, going strong at our advanced base, only five miles behind the firing line. I was up yesterday morning at four, but did not get away in the Avro until five, as it was very misty. I arrived here in due course. We have a ripping little villa at ——. It is a most interesting place; the King of the Belgians lives here. We were shelled the night before last, and a Taube came over this morning and dropped a bomb at the end of the aerodrome. Will write more later.
22nd May, 1915.
Nothing very much in the way of news. A Taube came right over the aerodrome this morning at about 7,000 feet. I at once went after it in the Avro, but got nowhere near. First thing this morning I saw a Maurice coming down vertically and spinning hard—lost sight of it behind the housetops—pilot and passenger badly hurt—was surprised to hear they were alive. It was a horrid sight. Anxiously awaiting arrival of gramophone.
23rd May, 1915.
Turned out soon after five this morning and went up for an hour and a half waiting for Taubes. I chased several allied machines, but found nothing hostile. Had not been down twenty minutes before one came out. Later on in the morning two came right over the aerodrome. I went up in pursuit, but got nowhere near them. Things are pretty lively on the whole. Besides the regular artillery, there is an intermittent cannonade of anti-aircraft guns, either from us at the Taubes or from the Huns at us. The sky becomes absolutely dotted with little puffs of shrapnel, which are visible for half an hour at least.
This evening I went into the town. It's full of life, a band playing and all the shops open.
Babington flew my B.E. yesterday,[11] and the beastly thing nearly caught fire. We are getting a new engine for it from Paris.
Love to all.
Ever your loving son,
Harold.