Sgt Oliver Webber's Journal.

[Siggi]

7/2/1916
St Omar
Flanders
France

I arrived at the field a few hours ago. Been through all the induction malarkey, got the expected pep-talk from the adjutant. Usual toffee-nosed officer without a clue. Acted like I'd been done a favour to be allowed to fly one of the RFC's precious kites instead of wallowing in a mud-filled trench as I undoubtedly deserved.

Been to the sergeants mess and met a few of the other sgt-pilots. Most of the officers are "alright" apparently. We'll see. Our CO is the famous Lanoe Hawker. Not met him yet, but the chaps are quite taken with him. He took the DH up and put it through a few spins to show everyone how 'safe' it is, made quite an impression as far as I can tell.

Weather's not bad. Cold and wet but that's february. I'm to get my flying kit tomorrow, sheepskin lined clobber that the Major (Hawker) helped develop.

I'm not sure when I'll start flying against the huns or what the routine is. Probably want to have me fly a few circuits and get the lay of the land generally, or so I'm told.

We're sleeping in tents at the moment, which isn't very impressive, but the erks are putting up some huts as I write. Hope we haven't all caught pneumonia by then, that's one of the reasons I joined this lot instead of the poor sods in the trenches.

Right, I'm off for some beer and a woodie.

 

[Siggi]

From hospital, 18th feb 1916.

I'm having to use some type-writer paper, kindly supplied by a nurse, my journal is back at the aerodrome. I'll stick this in when I get back.

Well, we got beaten and beaten badly. After a few days of familiarisation, then a doddle of a mission defending balloons, we were given to escort some recce kites over the lines. I became a little separated from the others, by about a mile, and saw them get into a scrap with some huns very low over our side of the lines. By the time I got there we'd already lost Lt Parker, and he's still missing. The hun was all over our boys, we didn't stand a chance. I took hits before I'd even chosen a target. Tried to chase them but they were just too powerful. As soon as I'd got my sights on one he'd zoom up and out of harm's way and my crate just didn't have the guts to stay with him. Then I'd be taking fire from behind again and have to skedaddle out of the way. Lucky I was so slow, the hun kept over-shooting.

I managed to get a few hits on a couple of the *******s, but the peashooter seemed to have little effect on their barges. Around and around we went, our chaps being hit again and again and nothing we could do in return. After about five minutes of this unequal struggle, with me pushing the old crate way beyond her capabilities, she fell over from about 100ft and 50mph and went into the ground. I was knocked out stone cold and woke up in hospital. Broken wrist, cracked ribs and a bad concussion. Lucky to be alive I suppose.

The DH2 is worthless against what they have and I'm not looking forward to doing it all over again. But what choices do I have? Transfer to the trenches as a Tommy? Either way I'm dead. We need a new scout and bloody fast.