File:Winged warfare - hunting the Huns in the air (1918) (14783542282).jpg

Identifier: wingedwarfarehun00bish (find matches)
Title: Winged warfare : hunting the Huns in the air
Year: 1918 (1910s)
Authors: Bishop, William Avery, 1894-1956
Subjects: Bishop, William Avery, 1894-1956 Great Britain. Royal Flying Corps World War, 1914-1918 World War, 1914-1918 Fighter pilots
Publisher: London Toronto : Hodder and Stoughton
Contributing Library: ASC - York University Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Ontario Council of University Libraries and Member Libraries

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Ger-man lines. Was my real flying career, justbegun, to be ended so soon ? Was I to sufferthe fate the flying man most abhors—thehelpless descent in Hunland and the meeksubmission to being taken prisoner ? Ahundred thoughts were racing through myhead, but in a moment they were dispersed.It was that always ghastly rattle of a machinegun, firing at me from the ground. Thisleft no doubt but that I was over enemvterritory. I continued to glide, listlessly,toward the ground, not caring much nowwhat the machine gun might do. Myplight couldnt be much worse. I was con-vinced, in fact, that it couldnt possibly beworse. Mechanically, little realizing justwhat I was doing, but all the time followingthat first great instinct of self-preservation,I remember carefully picking out a clearpath in the rough terrain beneath me, andmaking a last turn, I glided into it andlanded. Some hostile spirit within me made meseize the rocket pistol we used to fire signalswith in the air— Very lights, they are
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WINGED WARFARE 49 called. What I expected to do with suchan impotent weapon of offence or defence, Idont know, but it gave me a sort of armedfeeling as I jumped out of the machine. Iran to a near-by ditch, following the irre-sistible battlefield impulse to take cover.I lay for some time in the ditch waiting—•waiting for my fate, whatever it was to be.Then I saw some people crawling towardme. They were anxious moments, and Ihad to rub my eyes two or three times beforefinally convincing myself that the oncominguniforms were of muddy-brown and homely,if you will, but to me that day, khaki wasthe most wonderful, the most inspiring, themost soul-satisfying colour scheme ever be-held by the eyes of man. In an instant mywhole life-outlook changed; literally itseemed to me that by some miracle I hadcome back from the land of the missing.The British Tommies had seen meland and had bravely crawled out to helpme. They told me I had just barely crossedover into our own country ; the last 150y

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