'The Spring Offensive' slips to the Autumn

Well, we had it in mind to pop across to France to visit the air and land-space of the drama along with the last resting places of the central characters within our story. Sadly I had a mishap, 'ended up having an operation and the subsequent rehab and further investigations have made the trip impractical. My stoic allies, though inconvenienced, have sportingly agreed not to go without me. We have realigned our  sights on the Autumn - an 'Autumn Offensive' so to speak - where we will try and be as 'inoffensive' as possible.

The research and the writing continues, the project is no less exciting - more so even as we unearth connections from the existing well of enthusiasm and expertise that surrounds the events of 100 years ago.

Messines Ridge - Photograph Mike St Maur Shiel 

See this wonderful image and others at  Western Front Photography

The Learning Curve

I spent an hour chatting to Syd my co-author/researcher yesterday about Arthur’s initial exposure to combat flying. After spending time in the UK, both being trained and immediately afterwards teaching others as a ‘creamy’[1]. We both agree that this consolidation process added massively to his ‘longevity’ and took him from fledgling to comparatively experienced aviator with ability before being exposed to combat.

Syd used to be an RAF (CFS) QFI, I was the civil equivalent. We both remember clearly the impressions formed during and after our own instructors courses back in the day: the way our eyes were opened wide to the complexities of ‘how’ where previously, as pilots we learnt just enough to ‘do’ in the air. A frequent comment from my fellow course members (1975) was ‘how the hell did we manage to stagger around the sky prior to this course?’ Whilst we were engaged in playful banter we all knew the deeper truth behind the self effacing humour.

Beyond the technical achievement that came with understanding how an aircraft flies  would be the craft of moving around safely ‘up there’. Further bonuses arrived for Arthur attached to the opportunity he gained from his students as they took him to the margins of safety with their inept handling as they learned their art. Teaching others is a gift to those wishing to improve, even perfect their own techniques - their craft, it's perhaps the most rapid and effective ways to learn.

To be able to pass on his accumulating knowledge and skill, Arthur would have evolved different ways of presenting individual concepts and techniques to his students, or ‘Huns’ as they called them then. In short, he would have re-visited every corner of his own experience and in the process, turned himself into a rounded, competent aviator.

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1. A newly trained pilot selected (‘creamed off’) after training to immediately become a flying instructor.  ↩
   

 

Arthur's arrival in France during July 1916 blasted him into an entirely new world. Fortunately his hand contained these aforementioned cards, his developed understanding of flight and the confidence this gave him. Any veil of naivety normally present in a pilot fresh from training would have been wiped away by his duties as a flight commander which included clearing up the aftermath of numerous 'smashes', dealing with the fallout of injury and death close up. His letters document plenty of that, but even the exuberance and confidence of youth married to some early military experience would have been unlikely to shield him completely: but the hardening process had started.

So to recap, we are discussing the elements of preparedness for combat, the very structure of what has become to be known as Situational Awareness (SA).  As is well documented and even understood at the time, flight training was rudimentary and largely ineffective until late 1917 when Smith Barry turned that world on its head. A victory for the power of vicarious learning as these lads, initially at least, probably learnt more from their aircraft and each other than they did from some instructors.That has changed with time of course, but we possibly still don't fully appreciate how much the environment and others are responsible for the learning we absorb. The majority lived through the initial learning experience... just.

Without wishing to dwell on accidents...

These factors in turn led to a critical period in the life of new arrivals at the Front, they were either lucky in their leaders and the prevailing circumstances, caught on very quickly or died equally so.
Squadron and Flight Commanders tried hard to ensure that their new boys were up to the job but often they were hard pressed in the extreme themselves to maintain unit strength and at times of great demand had little choice but to use replacements immediately. Poorly selected and trained pilots damaged aircraft and were a liability in the air and constituted a waste of life and resources. They were generally either returned to the UK for further training or posted back to their parent or other units.
Keeping new boys on our side of the line for a while to learn the rudiments of combat flying, build confidence and gather the threads to generate or strengthen their SA was key to their survival and everyone knew it. Yes, Arthur started war flying with a head start but it was what he did following that made the man.

70 Squadron Sopwith 'Strutter'

Transcription

A major challenge that comes with delving into private, hand-written letters is the process of transcription. Arthur's letters home, dashed out in pencil between trips within earshot of the war at the 'Front, are infused with character.
Working across the collection with my 'Timewheel' I can see his handwriting style varying - shaped by the stress of battle and later, responsibility. Exposure to a particular 'hand' enables the transcriber to read what to the unfamiliar eye would be an indecipherable scrawl. Arthur was no scholar, his punctuation was often non-existent, but what he managed to place between the lines remains in place for us to interpret. At times it's as though we are reaching out across the last century toward each other - 'only just failing to touch. It's a remarkable feeling - quite a privilege.

May 1st, 1917

"I haven’t worked today. I have written quite a few letters, I don’t know if you have got them. I haven’t had any from England yet. The weather has been simply beautiful, much too beautiful for now.  We’re very close to the line here and see a lot of interesting things. I landed rather near the line today and was told that a house just next door had been blown up a few minutes before so I hopped into my machine and skidaddled as quick as I could. I am just about to have dinner it being 8 o’clock and I haven’t had any food since breakfast.

Love to all from Arthur"

Arthur - the work continues

Careful transcribing and research is slowly bringing the underlying truth to the surface as it would from the tip of the archaeologist's trowel. The process is a fascinating one, so much is there to be found if only you know enough of where it hides. On this journey you meet fellow time travelers, those investing large tracts of their lives rustling through the often priceless detritus left for us to find with a sharp eye and analytical mind.

Flying has always been a huge adventure for pilots, never more than in its early years where danger lay at the surface facing them every day.  Crashes, whilst often survivable due to low mass and the frangibility of the machines, were very frequent. Protection for the pilot was minimal and entanglement in cartwheeling wreckage often involved hideous injuries. The attrition rate among those learning to fly from those who could barely manage the feat themselves was grievous.
As flying training establishments flowered across the United Kingdom and far into the Empire, the casualty rates rocketed. At the end of hostilities it was estimated that we had lost more young men to accidents and training than we had to the conflict.

The figure commonly bandied about is around 14,000+ total flight crew casualties, some 8000 or more to non combat losses. These numbers have been disputed having appeared in one biography and cited without confirmation. Another more scholarly figure puts the losses during training 1914-1918 at nerer 2000, still appaling by any measure but considerbly fewer than the former [looking for the reference].

During 1916 Major Robert Smith-Barry found this situation intolerable. This eccentric, deeply intelligent aviator decided to do something about it. Had he failed to convince the GOC RFC Hugh Trenchard that there was a better, more considered way to conduct flying training, it is likely that we would have lost many, many more before the truth and a better way dawned. Smith Barry transformed flying training into a relatively safe process by schooling instructors in his personally evolved techniques, he made it possible to turn callow youths without a clue into aviators whilst keeping the vast majority alive.



Like many of his compatriots Arthur Keen returned from the Front to Home Establishment (the UK) to recuperate from the stress and fatigue of combat. During the interval at home it was normal for returnees to be used as flying instructors to bring along their replacements. Until the sweeping changes brought about by Smith Barry were introduced, tutoring the 'Huns' (as they called them) was a dangerous and low status job. One often loathed by exhausted young men who, having survived the tumult over France and Belgium, felt ill inclined to be sent to their maker by those resembling themselves months earlier. 
In this light it's hardly surprising that instruction was often very poor. Students typically spent little time actually handling the flying controls before staggering into the air themselves for the first time in grossly underpowered aircraft of pitiful performance and dubious handling characteristics. Where these aircraft still exist either in original or replica form they are generally flown by the very well qualified (often test pilots) to ensure their continued existence and keep insurance rates tolerable.



Captain Albert Ball presents us with a fine example here of the flowering, emergent aviator. He completed his service training on the 29th January 1916 and was immediately posted to Gosport arriving on 31st of that month. He took up duties as a flying instructor with 22 Squadron and wrote in a letter home on the 6th February "... thirty officers up for instruction, and out of thirty, six off solo..." and all in a single day (Bowyer, 1977. p.49). This was quick work indeed even for the time, we would love to know how many survived the experience.
Ball scribbled a short note home on the 17th February prior to embarking for France. In the early years of the RFC, if you were a 'brevetted' pilot you knew how to fly and could therefore (of course) teach others to do the same.

A large part of Arthur's story is entwined in the drama surrounding flying training. It is clear from the material that he was a talented pilot, what also emerges is the picture of the committed instructor. Someone who graduated from Smith-Barry's earlier Gosport instructor courses with 'a final assessment exceeding all who had gone before' (a statement taken from one of his letters that we hope to establish evidence for one day). What he might have done post conflict with that talent will never be known but he was spotted by those structuring the new Royal Air Force and given attractive options, one that he took, the rest he left behind to return to 40 Squadron at Bruay/Bryass, this time as its commanding officer.

40 Squadron Nieuport

Reference
Bowyer, C. (1977) Albert Ball VC, Manchester, Crecy Publishing Ltd.

Shuttleworth - 7th October 2012

..

An adjusted post from the The Digital Aviator to kick off.

'Had a superb day at Old Warden watching the The Shuttleworth Collection's last display day of the season. The major objective of the day was to bring together all the members of the team with an interest in Arthur's story. Piers, Andrew and Rupert (Dent) were all there along with my friend, colleague and co-researcher, Syd Buxton. Syd spent part of the day with Tony Blackman at a book signing wedged into a chair gripping a pen whilst recounting his very interesting past.

The good news for us was that the SE5a, a Wolseley (Viper V8) engined model that we hoped to photograph, was to fly. Along with the Bristol Fighter, the Sopwith Pup and Triplane, this classic of the conflict on the Western Front was flown beautifully in the early evening light.

 Earlier, whilst the show was in its opening moments Andrew had bumped into a young lady called Tracey Curtis-Taylor, an Old Warden based pilot who was utterly charming and made us feel very welcome. After hearing Arthur's story and looking into his tin chest she swept us into a privileged position near the control tower and introduced us to the guys flying the display. A lucky break for us....

When the SE' returned to earth we were escorted 'up close and personal' to shoot take photographs and try a little alchemy. History takes on an immediacy when one of the principal actors comes alive in front of you, being so close to this living, breathing machine dripping hot oil fresh from flight leaves you on something of a high.

Syd and I returned to my car parked on the flight line and divided up the photographic and written archive of Arthur's life. We have now gone our separate ways to pore forensically through the evidence, record, scan and collaborate on-line. When I last saw the material I gained an impression of the depth of detail available to us; after working more closely with it I now fully realise that the task is deliciously vast.
All of the data will be arranged, appended to a time-line and integrated with other information we have from sources that reach from The RAF Central Flying School through to the principal UK museums dealing with the first great War in the Air. When we see clearly what we have, how it all relates and in turn what it reveals about the man and his time, the story that we want to tell will emerge.

Then the writing begins...

The flower of British Youth

I finished Arthur Rhys Davids story a little while back and have had time to reflect on the tale and all within it. And what a story it is; a peculiar character viewed through today's eyes. Shaped by what looks like a cloistered early life and a rumbustious, demanding schooling at the hands of Eton's masters, Arthur made it easily through flying training to the Western Front to discover his métier - combat flying. He admits to hating the killing and longing to return to the academic world, his first love. It's clear he didn't make friends easily, from the texts this seems to be through choice as he had little time for light banter and the normal run of a fighter pilot's social activity. He was nearer to Ball in this respect I think, though Ball was no academic.
I admire Arthur for his ability to adapt to his surroundings, his obvious courage and sense of duty. I think he would have made a fascinating guest at a small, well chosen dinner table. What a shame that like so many of his contemporaries, he didn't make that dinner gong, nor return to the classics, his first and enduring love. He could have said and done so much more...  Perhaps we should leave regret behind, Cecil Lewis in the company of notable others told their story and left an exquisite record for us all.

Arthur died on October 12th 1917 and has no known grave. He was 'almost certainly shot down by Leutnant Karl Gallwitz, at the time acting Staffelführer of Jasta Boelke' (Revell, 2010). He returned to earth within an area later heavily shelled and fought across during the battles for Passchendaele Ridge.

A scrimmage in a Border Station

A canter down some dark defile

Two thousand pounds of education

Drops to a ten-rupee jezail.

                      Rudyard Kipling

Reference

Revell, A (1984) Brief Glory, the life of Arthur Rhys Davids, DSO MC, William Kimber & Co, London.

Rarified Atmosphere

It has always struck me how our impressions and visualizations of the history of war are coloured by the media that recorded it and the attitudes of those who wrote it. The Great War was, to all intents and purposes, fought in black and white running at 1.25 the speed of reality. What is sometimes difficult to appreciate given the power of this media, is that all wars are fought in Technicolor and full surround-sound with no volume control. Hot is hot, cold is cold and tortured spinning steel has no respect for rank, title or script - as there isn’t one. To get the full benefit and understand it at a visceral level, you had to be there really, which in our case is impossible. Enough of the obvious.

 I am reading Alex Revell's brilliantly researched history of 56 Squadron (Revell, 1995) and his story of the short life of Arthur Rhys Davids, the scholastic RFC SE5a ace who flew with '56' during 1917. All this as background work for a closer look at Arthur Keen about whom little has been written.