The Twin City star., 1918-07-27
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Your fighter is never a talker, and
Of all fighters the air men go the limit
in slowness of speech. Even after
Winslow, the hoary elder of two and
twenty, was finally prodded to talk
he left so much to the Imagination
that it is necessary to fill in between
his wide lines. ......
Hear Planes Coming.
He and Campbell had got out early
for the first official flight and were
playing cards in tent near their
hangar while the mechanics tuned up
their machines. The morning was
clear, sunlight streaming between soft
clouds high over the flying field. From
the sand bag targets, where a machine
gun was being lined up and synchro-
nized with the motor, came staccato
bursts of firing. Everything was go
ing on as usual, when in response TO
telephone call from some far OBJ
servation post, bugle shrilled ont
the "Alerte!"
81 was already N my flying togs."
Winslow explained, "and so got into
the air at once. Campbell follow
ed about a minute later. The Boche,
planes had just come into view, flying
quite low, not higher than 1000 feet.
Their pilots said afterward that they
were lost and mistook our station FOR
their own, otherwise they would never
have ventured into such hornets
nest. .....
ITO me It seemed impossible. I felt
sure it must be some of our fellows
coming in from another station. Hut
the 'Alertev kept me ready. They
were flying higher than we and the
instant sighted the German cross !
let fly burst from my gun.
Shot In Second Burst.
"The Boche answered, but already
I had banked steeply on half loop
that carried me above him; then de-
scribing 'vreille;' that Is, tail spin,
1 came squarely behind and shot him
down with my second burst.
"By that time Campbell was chas-
ing his man like hawk after run
ming chicken across the sky, and lit
out after them. How that Boche did
go! But he was too slow. Just as
caught up Campbell sent him down In
flames."
He summed up this remarkable con-
test in the following schedule:
"The 'Alerte! sounded at S:45.
Eight-ffty, closed with the Boche.
Eight fifty-one, shot down my man.
Eight fifty-two, Campbell got his.
Eight fifty-three, back on the ground"
Eight minutes by the clock! Good
work!
We went into their rooms to view
the trophies, guns, cartridge belts,
clocks and so forth that were laid out
on their cots, and while we were look
ing them over Campbell added the last
humane touch to the story. In sky
warfare alone, it Is said, have the Ger
mans displayed any chivalry, a thing
that Is quite understandable. The ut
termost bravery called for in those
desperate duels up there in the wide
and lonely vault of heaven is always
associated with chivalric spirit.
The knightly tradition still obtains
and this lads utterance proved that
our boys can be depended upon to up
hold it.
"My fellow was wearing an iron
cross. I wanted it badly, but the poor
devil was suffering enough from his
burns. I hadn't the heart to take 1t
from him." .E..
Fine feeling! ..
There is no such thing as defeat
for men animated by such spirit
backed up by the thorough, intensive
training given at our fields.
BY a quick combination Of acrobat
les he had learned during instruction
Winslow had got his man. And as I
thought Of the quick-witted lads that
are now getting the same training not
by the tens and twenties but by hun
dreds and thousands, mentally
echoed favorite exclamation Of the
British Tommy:
"Poor old Fritz"