GALLANT FLYING MEN.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XXXIX, Issue 1738, 9 October 1917, Page 4

GALLANT FLYING MEN.

- O ' LIFE AT THE AERODROMES. DEATH OF A BOY PILOT. Our young Hying men have been lighting great battles in the air during the past weeks, when there has been perfect flying weather, so that the enemy squadrons have made :f~ tremendous effort to challenge our command of the air over our own lines, writes Mr Phillip Gibbs. From the ground one only gets a glimpse now and then of this aerial conflict, and hears the distant rattle of mac-bine-gun lire up there, though always one sees the anti-aircraft guns at work, and shrapnel bursts following the wings of our men when they fly over the enemy’s territory. It is in our aerodromes that one gets a real insight into the drama of these adventures in the air, and that one’s heart goes out to the flying men, who arc so impersonal and so merged in their machines when they become mere specks in the sky. In the tents end hangar* one see,-, the hum;!U qualities of these pilots and observers, and hears in a few j -usual word.-, tales more wonderful ’ ssi an vi king in I his war, laid withi * . ; 'Si any cuimm'in-m -.s of i heir mar- : ■ ; , as though belonging to the ; y durdgery of normal life. So it was the other day, when I wen! to see some naval airmen. There was a violent thunderstorm, so that the flying men gathered in their mess. They were all very young. I suppose-oven their squadron commander, who has killed 22 Huns, as be calls them, and never says a word about it, is well under 30. Most of bis pilots and observers are round about the twenties, and rather less, than more. The youngest of (hem was pleased with himself, ami rather excited. lie bad just brought down bis Jirst German, after a long chase and a quick fight. He showed the Iron Cross on bis enemy’s wings. He was going to send it home to put with a pair of oars and bis college trophies, He had other relics from the smashed machine, and played about with them as though they were toys. The squadron commander smiled at me as much as to say: “Ho is very young,” and another man winked across the tabic. The telephone bell rang, and a boy looked up from his novel and said, ‘’Hello! That means a bombing raid to-night,” Yesterday I went to the same aerodrome and looked round for the buy with the Iron Cross from the German wing. “He has gone west, poor kid,” said the buy who bad winked at me. He went west, as they say, for the last long journey a Jew days ago. He was one of six lighting scouts acting as escort to two machines out for photographic records, and slow-going. They were suddenly attacked by 3D German lighters, and (he odds were too heavy. One of oar men drew off one of the enemy and brought him down. Two others l!ew back to protect tlie slow-going photographers, and the oilier three —the youngster among them —turned to keep the f wcnly-n/ne at bay. They gained lime for the others to escape, but two of them fell lighting, and the third had a German bullet through his brain. Somewhere in England an Iron Cross bangs with some college trophies in memory of a gallant boy.