For a long time the policy of silence and secrecy which screened
"the front" from popular gaze kept us in ignorance of the
achievements of our airmen.  But finally the voice of the people
prevailed in their demand for more enlightenment.  Names of
regiments began to be mentioned in connection with particular
successes.  And in the same way the heroes of the R.F.C. and
R.N.A.S. were allowed to reap some of the laurels they deserved.

It began to be recognized that publication of the name of an
airman who had destroyed a Zeppelin, for instance, did not
constitute any vital information to the enemy.  In a recent raid
upon London the names of the two airmen, Captain G. H. Hackwill,
R.F.C., and Lieutenant C. C. Banks, R.F.C., who destroyed a
Gotha, were given out in the House of Commons and saluted with
cheers.  In the old days the secretist party would have regarded
this publication as a policy which led the nation in the direct
line of "losing the war".

In the annals of the Flying Service, where dare-devilry is taken
as a matter of course and hairbreadth escapes from death are part
of the daily routine, it is difficult to select adventures for
special mention; but the following episodes will give a general
idea of the work of the airman in war.

The great feat of Sub-Lieutenant R. A. J. Warneford, R.N.A.S.,
who single-handed attacked and destroyed a Zeppelin, has already
been referred to in Chapter XIII.  Lieutenant Warneford was the
second on the list of airmen who won the coveted Cross, the first
recipient being Second-Lieutenant Barnard Rhodes-Moorhouse, for a
daring and successful bomb-dropping raid upon Courtrai in April,
1915.  As has happened in so many cases, the award to Lieutenant
Rhodes-Moorhouse was a posthumous one, the gallant airman having
been mortally wounded during the raid, in spite of which he
managed by flying low to reach his destination and make his
report.

A writer of adventure stories for boys would be hard put to it to
invent any situation more thrilling than that in which
Squadron-Commander Richard Bell Davies, D.S.O., R.N., and Flight
Sub-Lieutenant Gilbert Formby Smylie, R.N., found themselves
while carrying out an air attack upon Ferrijik junction. 
Smylie's machine was subjected to such heavy fire that it was
disabled, and the airman was compelled to plane down after
releasing all his bombs but one, which failed to explode.  The
moment he alighted he set fire to his machine.  Presently Smylie
saw his companion about to descend quite close to the burning
machine.  There was infinite danger from the bomb.  It was a
question of seconds merely before it must explode.  So Smylie
rushed over to the machine, took hasty aim with his revolver, and
exploded the bomb, just before the Commander came within the
danger zone.  Meanwhile the enemy had commenced to gather round
the two airmen, whereupon Squadron-Commander Davies coolly took
up the Lieutenant on his machine and flew away with him in safety
back to their lines.  Davies, who had already won the D.S.O., was
given the V.C., while his companion in this amazing adventure was
granted the Distinguished Service Cross.

The unexpectedness, to use no stronger term, of life in the
R.F.C. in war-time is well exemplified by the adventure which
befell Major Rees.  The pilot of a "fighter", he saw what he took
to be a party of air machines returning from a bombing
expedition.  Proceeding to join them in the character of escort,
Major Rees made the unpleasant discovery that he was just about
to join a little party of ten enemy machines.  But so far from
being dismayed, the plucky airman actually gave battle to the
whole ten.  One he quickly drove "down and out", as the soldiers
say.  Attacked by five others, he damaged two of them and
dispersed the remainder.  Not content with this, he gave chase to
two more, and only broke off the engagement when he had received
a wound in the thigh.  Then he flew home to make the usual
laconic report.

No record of heroism in the air could be  complete without
mention of Captain Ball, who has already figured in these pages. 
When awarded the V.C. Captain Ball was already the holder of the
following honours: D.S.0., M.C., Cross of a Chevalier of the
Legion of Honour, and the Russian order of St. George.  This
heroic boy of twenty was a giant among a company of giants.  Here
follows the official account which accompanied his award:--

"Lieutenant (temporary Captain) ALBERT BALL, D.S.O., M.C., late
Notts and Derby Regiment, and R.F.C.

"For most conspicuous and consistent bravery from April 25 to May
6, 1917, during which period Captain Ball took part in twenty-six
combats in the air and destroyed eleven hostile aeroplanes, drove
down two out of control, and formed several others to land.

"In these combats Captain Ball, flying alone, on one occasion
fought six hostile machines, twice he fought five, and once four.

"While leading two other British aeroplanes he attacked an enemy
formation of eight.  On each of these occasions he brought down
at least one enemy.

"Several times his aeroplane was badly damaged, once so severely
that but for the most delicate handling his machine would have
collapsed, as nearly all the control wires had been shot away. 
On returning with a damaged machine, he had always to be
restrained from immediately going out on another.

"In all Captain Ball has destroyed forty-three German aeroplanes
and one balloon, and has always displayed most exceptional
courage, determination, and skill."

So great was Captain Ball's skill as a fighter in the air that
for a time he was sent back to England to train new pilots in the
schools.  But the need for his services at the front was even
greater, and it jumped with his desires, for the whole tone of
his letters breathes the joy he found in the excitements of
flying and fighting.  He declares he is having a "topping
time", and exults in boyish fashion at a coming presentation to
Sir Douglas Haig.  It is not too much to say that the whole
empire mourned when Captain Ball finally met his death in the air
near La Bassee in May, 1917.

CHAPTER XXXIX
Aeroplanes in the Great War

"Aeroplanes and airships would have given us an enormous
advantage against the Boers.  The difficulty of laying ambushes
and traps for isolated columns--a practice at which the enemy
were peculiarly adept--would have been very much greater.  Some
at least of the regrettable reverses which marked the early
stages of the campaign could in all probability have been
avoided."

So wrote Lord Roberts, our veteran field-marshal, in describing
the progress of the Army during recent years.  The great soldier
was a man who always looked ahead.  After his great and strenuous
career, instead of taking the rest which he had so thoroughly
earned, he spent laborious days travelling up and down the
country, warning the people of danger ahead; exhorting them to
learn to drill and to shoot; thus attempting to lay the
foundation of a great civic army.  But his words, alas! fell upon
deaf ears--with results so tragic as hardly to bear dwelling
upon.

But even "Bobs", seer and true prophet as he was, could hardly
have foreseen the swift and dramatic development of war in the
air.  He had not long been laid to rest when aeroplanes began to
be talked about, and, what is more important, to be built, not in
hundreds but in thousands.  At the time of writing, when we are
well into the fourth year of the war, it seems almost impossible
for the mind to go back to the old standards, and to take in the
statement that the number of machines which accompanied the
original Expeditionary Force to France was eighty!  Even if one
were not entirely ignorant of the number and disposition of the
aerial fighting forces over the world-wide battle-ground, the
Defence of the Realm Act would prevent us from making public the
information.  But when, more than a year ago, America entered the
war, and talked of building 10,000 aeroplanes, no one gasped. 
For even in those days one thought of aeroplanes not in hundreds
but in tens of thousands.

Before proceeding to give a few details of the most recent work
of the Royal Flying Corps and Royal Naval Air Service, mention
must be made of the armament of the aeroplane.  In the first
place, it should be stated that the war has gradually evolved
three distinct types of flying machine: (1) the
"general-purposes" aeroplane; (2) the giant bomb dropper; (3) the
small single-seater "fighter".

As the description implies, the first machine fills a variety of
roles, and the duties of its pilots grow more manifold as the war
progresses.  "Spotting" for the artillery far behind the enemy's
lines; "searching" for ammunition dumps, for new dispositions by
the enemy of men, material, and guns; attacking a convoy or
bodies of troops on the march; sprinkling new trenches with
machine-gun fire, or having a go at an aerodrome--any wild form
of aerial adventure might be included in the diary of the pilot
of a "general-purposes" machine.

It was in order to clear the air for these activities that the
"fighter" came into being, and received its baptism of fire at
the Battle of the Somme.  At first the idea of a machine for
fighting only, was ridiculed.  Even the Germans, who, in a
military sense, were awake and plotting when other nations were
dozing in the sunshine of peace, did not think ahead and imagine
the aerial duel between groups of aeroplanes armed with
machine-guns.  But soon the mastery of the air became of
paramount importance, and so the fighter was evolved.  Nobly,
too, did the men of all nations rise to these heroic and
dangerous opportunities.  The Germans were the first to boast of
the exploits of their fighting airmen, and to us in Britain the
names of Immelmann and Bolcke were known long before those of
any of our own fighters.  The former claimed not far short of a
hundred victims before he was at last brought low in June, 1916. 
His letters to his family were published soon after his death,
and do not err on the side of modesty.

On 11th August, 1915, he writes:  "There is not much doing here. 
Ten minutes after Bolcke and I go up, there is not an enemy
airman to be seen.  The English seem to have lost all pleasure in
flying.  They come over very, very seldom."

When allowance has been made for German brag, these statements
throw some light upon the standard of British flying at a
comparatively early date in the war.  Certainly no German airman
could have made any such complaint a year later.  In 1917 the