My grandfather, Part 3

As promised here is my grandfather’s journal taken from a small brown diary labeled “L. C. Gilmour Canadian Infantry att RAF Captured July 31, 1918”. NB: Please forgive if use of the word “Huns” is offensive, not sure if he meant it to be then, doesn't seem like him, but I know he would not have meant it to be so today, but it was wartime and in that setting different sensibilities came to play. Still, I deeply, truly apologize if anyone is hurt. Please forgive us both.

He flew a Sopwith Camel.

“On the morning of July 31st I had just finished a tasty breakfast consisting of shredded wheat biscuits with cream, fried ham and eggs, marmalade, buttered toast and coffee, when my flight commander told us to jump into our machines as there happened to be a little excitement over the lines. I had my slacks on at the time, but rather than keep the rest waiting, I pulled my long flying boots over these, put on my leather coat, climbed into my machine and “suck in”, “Contact”, a wave of the hand and opening of the throttle and fine adjustment and we were off. It was a beautiful sunny morning but unfortunately no clouds, which later would have proved invaluable to me. We were over the lines at between 10,000 and 12,000 feet and had patrolled from Bethune to a distance somewhat south of Lens. We had been out about one hour and a quarter and although quite a way east, so far had encountered no Huns. We were going directly south and east of Lens when the flight turned completely around to the right going then straight north. I was flying on the outside right, and this complete change of direction left me a little behind. I put my nose down to regain my position, at the same time I spotted three machines flying above and across my fight commander’s nose bound south east. At first I mistook them for Bristols, and before I could decide exactly what they were two of them turned nose on for me at the same time opening fire. I could see plainly the long swish of smoke left in the trail of the fast approaching bullets, at the same time the two machines were gaining on me. I did my best by climbing, turning in different directions to out maneuver them, but unfortunately they seemed to have me at a sad disadvantage. To make things worse the rest of my flight did not seem to realize the position I was in for the last I saw of them they were flying peacefully along due north. When I fully realized that I could not escape the two machines, I turned my nose to the right intending to (word I can’t make out) and fire a burst but before I had finished my turn a burst from the enemy guns caught me in the petrol tank. I was immediately flooded in petrol, it even got in behind my goggles and for a few seconds I could not see. After I saw my pressure tank was gone I turned on to gravity, my engine sputtered a little but did not puck up. The one burst had done in both my tanks. During all this the bullets were coming like hailstones, penetrating the cock-pit of my machine, but none hitting me. I saw my only chance for escape with engine gone was to spin. I spun down 2000 feet came out and my machine was hit again, even now I can often imagine I hear the ping ping as the bullets passed over my head. I immediately put my machine in to another spin, coming out after another 3000 feet to find one of the enemy machines following me. They were making certain, whether lame duck or not, I was not going to have a chance of escaping them. I could see the double tail plane of my pursuers (since then I heard these machines were called Hanovarian. I must admit they are quite fast for a two seater). By this time my one pursuer opened up on me again. It was Providence alone that saved my life, for never before have I realized what a rain of bullets were. I was dizzy from spinning and sick with fumes of petrol but once again I put my machine into a spin coming out only in time to land. Strange to say, with the exception of making a mess of some German wireless wires and telegraph wires I made one of the best landings since I began flying. I no more than reached the ground than my machine was surrounded by soldiers, the majority had their rifles and I expected them at any minute to open fire. They closed in on me before I could alight from my machine, so my chances of burning same was nil, besides in my spins I had lost my lighter somewhere in the bottom of the cock-pit. It takes some time to describe all this, but it all happened in a twinkling of the eye. Even when I finally climbed out of my machine I was still soaking in petrol. It was fortunate for me the machine did not light or I would have been burned in a second. And under officer and two soldiers marched me away from my machine over into a little stone house used as an orderly room. I found out that I came down by a little village named Estevelles, about six miles east of Lens. If the enemy had not given chase to me after doing in my engine, I could, with luck, have gotten over the lines. I have often thought of that and regretted it could not have been so…”

I’ll stop here so as not to drone on too long as I did yesterday! I will post more tomorrow if anyone is interested.
Lovely evening to all!
xo