IN THE AIR.

Press, Volume LIV, Issue 16146, 26 February 1918, Page 5

IN THE AIR.

PILOTS IN PALESTINE.

(By Trooper Bluegum, in "Sydney

Morning Herald.")

Airmen, birdmen, fliers, pilots, observers, kings of the air—heroes all.

Wo ordinary soldiers of terra firma, horse, foot, artillery, and camolry—wo salute you.

In tiie good old days when the world was littlo our fathers fought on land and sea. „ To-day Armageddon is so vast that men needs must fight abovo the land and under the water as well,

and tnose wiio still follow tne prosaic paths on land and sea look up and wonder, or look clown and ponder. 1 have flown. For a briof space, ono glorious hour —or maybe less 1 shared, in the kingship of the air. I have mounted up witn wings like an eagle, and breatned tho rariiied air of the high places. To-morrow, and the next aay, and the next, I will ride a camel, breatho dust, live in sand, drink lukewarm water, and eat bully beer and biscuits. But to-day I have been aloft, and looked down on the dwollors on the earth. The first phase is just like a wild rush in an automobile. The 'piano streaks across tho ground at about twenty or thirty miles an hour, and aims straight at a huge hangar, it looks absolutely certain that we' must crash into tho building. Then it seems a miraclo has happened, and we leap into spaco. The pilot has just touched a levor, and the machine, spurning the ground, cleared the hangar and floated away into the rosy dawn. Further and further receded tho earth. Trees dwindled till they becamo littlo smudges. Trenches thinned until they looked like irregular lines disfiguring the landscape. The horizon momentarily widened. For miles and miles the vast panorama stretched away and below, groen fields, golden sands, blue shimmering waters, ono great cyclopean picture. Tho tents of the soldiers looked like littlo whitey-brown drops of paint. The blankets laid out on tho ground to air were just liko tiny black, brown, and grey patches, one-oighth tho sizo of a pocket handkerchief. Way out in the open is a long string of little grey ants —at least, they look liko ants; in reality they arc camels. How the airmen must look down on, tho poor cameliers.

We circled and banked; flew beforo the breeze at anything over a hundred miles an hour. Facing the wind again tho 'plane throbbed and quivered; swerving and swooping as we encountered various air currents or pockets. Then the whirring engine suddenly ceased. We poised like an eaglo with outstretched wings. Anon, the 'piano tilted forward, and with incredible velocity we rushed earthwards. Tho distant horizon droppod out of sight. Bigger and bigger grew the tents and the camels and the trenches. A little toy train some miles off assumed* quite respectable dimensions. Up, up, up came the.earth to meet us. Soon we could distinguish the Liliputian soldiers. A breathless swoop, one final exhilarating rush through the air and we were once more safe on terra firma.

Let it be at once admitted that this was no flight over the enemy's lines, with its attendant dangers from "Archies" and Taubes. K was just a simple "joy ride" right ; back in the safety of our own territory. ! But the experience only served to I heighten the admiration I had always ' felt for our intrepid airmen. Some days before I had been the guest of the Australian Flying Squadron at : Rafa. It had been good day after j day watching those courageous pilots taking their machines out, executing j fancy flights overhead, and then ■ streaking east for the daily duel with. ! the Hun. Now it was fine to see ; thorn at close quarters, when, tho day's ! work was over, happy and care-free as j a party of schoolboys. Indeed, the ; first tiling noticed was the extreme I youth of the majority of tho airmen. • They seemed all to be within the envia- j ble 20 to 25 period. There was not a J middle-aged man amongst the lot of ; them, and hardly a man over 30. They i were really just a party of big boys [ engaged in a great adventure. Each day brought its attendant ox- j citement: a flight over Abdul's lines; j a brief and thrilling duel with a Hun, j a bombing expedition anywhere be- , tween Gaza and Jerusalem; perhaps a forced landing on account of engine troubles, or may be a hilarious rush to funkholes when the Hun airmen paid the return visit. Then when the day's "strafe" was over the airmen lounged about the mess reading or smoking or sleeping. And at night they fought their battles over again—not in a spirit of bravado, but that all might lmow all that was going on, and profit by tho experiences of the day. The airmen have a jargon of their own, and it takes the uninitiated some time to j gauge the import of their vernacular, j And some of their exploits are enough to make one's hair stand on end. A few of tho more spectacular deeds now and then find their way into the cable columns of the papers. But for the most part very little is heard of the ; airmen's doings. ! There seems to bo such a lot of luck ] —good and bad—in the air fighting. A j bullet in the petrol tank, a mishap with the engine, makes all thfe difference between plus and minus. The other day our cameliers saw a thrilling duel aloft. A Hun and a Briton entered tho lists. They were only a few thousand feet up but being close together the "Archies" could not open.

fire. So the Turks and Anzacs looked on. The pilots circled and manoeuvred for position. At last the red and blue circle managed to get over tho Taubo, wliich promptly bolted. Then like an eagle the Briton swooped, blazing away with his machine gun at the flying Hun. It looked a certainty that the German must bo riddled with bullets and brought crashing down. Then luck stepped in. The unexpected happened. Something went wrong with the British 'plane. Tho wings bucklcd, and like a wounded bird it swerved, dipped, then crashed to earth a shapeless mass. Tho report should have been: "We brought down one enemy 'piano to-day." Alas, it read: "One of ours failed to return." .

When the I.C.C. went on tho big demolition "stunt" to the BeershebaA 1 Anja line, we had a 'plane overhead to look out for Turkish reinforcements. But when landing the airman struck an uneven patch of ground, and the under-carriage of his machine was smashed. To mend it ho required a mechanic, a forge, and a tool-box, none of which was forthcoming. It looked as if the machine would have to bo destroyed to prevent tho Turks getting it, when some of the adaptable Australians reckoned they could patch it up. They made a firo with railway 6leopers, and for hammers used bits of steel rails. Green hide and fencing wiro were requisitioned, and in a couple of hours the 'plane was ready for the air again. It was just a bush blacksmith's job, but the fliglit-coimrrander was tremendously pleased, and sent a special letter of thanks to the camellors.

_ The Flying Corps docs not believe in advertising the prowess of its heroes. Of courso, Australia has heard how Macnamara won his V.C., but thoro are several Australian pilots now on tne_ Palestine front, and somo wear the Military Cross for various daring exploits. Very few, however, have heard anything 'about thorn. The other night at Rafa two rtilots - entered having just awarded the Military Cross. Tho others just congratulated them, drank their health, and went on plaving cards or reading. Thpy don't mako a fuss of things m the Flying Corps.