Mountain Home Republican. [volume] (Mountain Home, Idaho) 1915-1946, 1918-07-27
you, but the constant casualties among

you, but the constant casualties among
your friends are very depressing.
You go out with your flight" and
get into muss. You get scattered,
and when your formation is broken up
you finally wing your way home alone.
Perhaps you are the first to land.
Soon another machine shows In the
sky. then another, and you patiently
wait for the rest to appear. Within an
hour, perhaps, all have shown up save
one, and you begin to speculate and
wonder what has happened to him.
Has he lost his way? Has he landed
at some other airdrome? Did the
Huns get him?
| When darkness comes you realize
that, at any rate, he won't be back that
night, and you hope for telephone
call from him telling Of his where
abouts.
IL the night passes without sign or
word from him, he is reported as MISS
ing and then you watch for his cas-
ualty to appear in the war office lists.
| One day, perhaps month later,
message is dropped over the line by
the German flying corps with list of
pilots captured or killed by the Huns,
and then, for the first time, you know
definitely why 1t was your comrade
failed to return the day he last went
over the line with his squadron.
was still musing over this melan-
choly phase of the scouts life when
an orderly told me there was beauti-
full battle going on In the air, and he
volunteered to help me outside the
hospital that l might witness it, and
/ readily accepted his assistance.
That afternoon I saw one of the
gamest fights I ever expect to witness.
There were six of our machines
against perhaps sixteen Huns. From
the type of the British machines I knew
that they might possibly be from my
own aerodrome. Two of our machines
had been apparently picked out by
six of the Huns and were bearing the
brunt of the fight. The contest seemed
to me to be so unequal that victory for
our men was hardly to be thought of,
and yet at one time they so completely
outmaneuvered the Huns that I
thought their superior skill might save
the day for them, despite the fact that
they were so hopelessly Outnumbered.
One thing | was sure of: they would
never give In.
OF course, it would have been COM
paratively simple matter for our men,
when they saw how things were going
against them, to have turned their
noses down, landed behind the Ger
man lines and given themselves up as
prisoners, but that Is not the way of
the r. f. G.
A battle Of this kind seldom lasts
many minutes, although every second
seems like an hour to those who par
ticipate in it, and even onlookers suf
fer more thrills in the course of the
struggle than they would ordinarily
experience In a lifetime. 1t is appar-
ent even to a novice that the losers
fate Is death.
OF course, the Germans around the
hospital were all watching and roofing
for their comrades, but the English,
too, had one sympathizer in that group
who made no effort to stifie his admira-
ton for the bravery his countrymen
were displaying.
The end came suddenly. Four ma
chimes crashed to earth almost stimuli |
taneously. 1t was an even break-two |
of theirs and two Of ours. The others |
apparently returned to their respective |
lines.
The wound In my mouth made 1t i'm |
possible for me to speak, but by means |
of pencil and paper requested one
of the German officers to find out for
me who the English officers were who
had been shot down.
A little later he returned and handed
me photograph taken from the body
of one Of the victims. 1t was picture
of Paul Raney of Toronto, and myself,
taken together! Poor Raney! He was
the best friend / had and one of the
best and gamest men who ever fought
in France.
1t was he, learned long after, who,
when | was reported missing, had
over all my belongings and
sent them back to England with a
signed memorandum-whicb Is now in
my possession. Poor fellow, he little
realized then that but a day or two
later he would be engaged in his last
heroic battle with me a helpless on
locker!
The same German officer who
brought me the photograph also drew
a map for me of the exact spot where
Raney was buried in Flanders. I
guarded it carefully all through my
subsequent adventures and finally
turned it over to his father and mother
when visited them in Toronto IN nor. |