DEATH-FIGHT IN BUSH.

Taihape Daily Times, Issue 220, 12 February 1917, Page 2

DEATH-FIGHT IN BUSH.

LOST AIRMAN'S THRILLING ADVENTURE. TRAPPED IN EAST AFRICAN SOLITUDE. Lost in the East African bush, and driven nearly mad with thirst! T-iis was the terrible experience of an airman. In September the parents of an officer of the Royal Flying Corps serving in East Africa, received a cable containing the welcome but vague message, “Returned safely.” They expected to find his name in the casualty list, but it did not appear. The story of how the cable was sent reveals the thrilling adventure of two airmen who came down in the bush and wandered for three days in a waterless country until they staggered into a native kraal and sent a message to their line;

I suppose you wondered why I cabled saying that I had returned safely; Well, I will give you quite an interesting account of strange adventures. On August 26th I was sent on a reconnaisance with an observer. The flight was to be about three hours. We reached our objective after flying for one and a half hours, and were acting as a target for the Hun “Archies” for some time. One came unpleasantly close. In fact, 7 1 thought we were hit, but happily it turned out otherwise. After a while we turned for home, but had not gone more than a couple of miles on our way when —silence —my engine stopped. Well, there we were, 7000 feet up and over 20 miles behind the Hun lines, so of course, I glided down as flat as possible, using every device I knew to make the engine pick up, but no luck. When over the railway line I was only 200 feet up, and we could see Huns on the line watching us. Suddenly, to our joy, the engine started going again and we flew on for five minutes like that, and we were just congratulating ourselves upon our luck when when she stopped again. The only patch at all clear was a little to our right, so I made for that. It was long grass, oval shape, about four feet high but everywhere else was thick bush, so when I got near the ground I stalled the machine —that means I held her off the ground until she had lost all flying speed, so she side-slip-ped oil to one wing with a sickening crash. If I had not done that I should have killed my observer, or at any rate he would have been badly hurt.

So there we were, 50 miles from home. Huns on our left and front, so we streaked off into the bush to work around them. For two days and nights we walked, our clothes in rags from the bush, no water —we had finished our water-bottles —it was rotten! The second night it started to rain, so we collected the rain in my Burberry anc drank it, also getting soaked through; it was heavenly. We afterwards put the Burberry under the trees and shook them. In this way we half-filled one water-bottle. By this time my observer was vomiting all the time—touch of the sun I think —so we had to rest in the shade whenever he foil down! On the third afternoon we literally staggered into a native kraal, clean done in. They were most anxious to do all they could for us when 'they saw our revolvers, and we would have used them, I think; we were nearly desperate for water. We drank, and drank, and drank—it was heaven. Then they killed one chicken and boiled it in mealie meal and fed us. Afterwards I sent a note by native runner to our nearest post, who sent a despatch rided to tell our C.O. that we had “arrived.” Great excitement. Our adjutant did not officially report me missing, as he hoped we would get away, and that would save you receiving a nasty cable. That is the end of my little tale. We found that the engine had not been hit, as I supposed, but that the magneto had given out. Of course the squadron were delighted to see us again, and we had a great night in the mess. Two days afterwards I was sent out to our advance guard to wait until I could find the remains of the machine. Eventually I went out with mechanics and salved what was left of poor old No. ■—.