The Great World War 1914–1945: 1. Lightning Strikes Twice. John Bourne

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Chapter 5

       War in the air: the fighter pilot

      David Jordan

      The first flight of an aircraft in 1903 created a new arena for warfare. In simple terms, the aircraft was another piece of machinery produced by advancing technology. Although from the perspective of the 21st century it is difficult to perceive the Wright Flyer or Blériot’s monoplane as articles of cutting-edge technology, at the time of their construction they represented the height of innovation. They were also dangerous. Their newness made them unreliable, and herein lay the difficulties. If a piece of new technology failed to function on the ground, it did not usually lead to death or injury. The person operating the machine would simply note that it was not functioning and attempt to make it work. If he failed, he would send for technical assistance, either from the machine’s inventor or the manufacturer. For a pilot this was not an option. If a piece of equipment failed, the aviator had no time for the luxury of sending out for help. Technological failure meant a rapid return to earth, with all the attendant risks. Although the knowledge existed to get a man into the air, the development of the parachute to get him down again was running some way behind. As a result, the public came to adore the ‘magnificent men in their flying machines’, ranking them as a special breed.

      When the First World War broke out, their image was enhanced. The nature of warfare between 1914 and 1918 meant that the public at home could not easily find heroes from among the armies on the ground. The days of the knightly champion indulging in single combat were at an end. The great naval heroes of the 19th century were largely absent, thanks to the absence of great naval battles, leaving only the airmen. Initially, the acclaim they enjoyed related to the dangerous nature of flight rather than war, but within 12 months of the outbreak of conflict there was a new type of pilot to admire. The fighter pilot.

      The need to prevent interference with operations by enemy aircraft led to the development of machines first equipped and then specifically designed for the task of fighting with other aircraft. The nature of this work provided heroes for the Home Front of every nation engaged in the conflict. Aerial combat seemed to possess the chivalry of old – man against man, machine against machine. Pilots, not just those in fighters, were eulogised as an elite band, engaged in combat that owed something to the age of chivalry. David Lloyd George informed the House of Commons:

‘The heavens are their battlefield; they are the cavalry of the clouds. High above the squalor and the mud… they fight out the eternal issues of right and wrong. Their daily, yea, their nightly struggles are like the Miltonic conflict between the winged hosts of light and darkness… They are the knighthood of this war, without fear and without reproach.’¹

      Lloyd George was not altogether accurate. In fact, fighter pilots knew fear, and they soon discovered that chivalric acts were just as likely to get them killed as to be to their benefit. Nonetheless, the image held. This leaves historians with a problem. The popular perception of fighter pilots of both World Wars is one dominated by the ‘aces’ – those pilots with five or more victories against the enemy. This neatly overlooks the fact that approximately 40 per cent of aerial victories have been achieved by around 5 per cent of all fighter pilots.² This means that to understand the fighter pilots’ experience in two World Wars, we need to look beyond the aces; if we do not, we miss out of the equation large numbers of fighter pilots. They flew many hours on operations and scored only a few, if any, aerial victories. In fact, if the experience of fighter pilots, ace and non-ace, is considered, there is a remarkable seriality of experience. This applies to both conflicts and across national boundaries.

      Although the popular perceptions of fighter pilots may be distorted, there are a number of truisms that can be drawn from the false imagery. Air combat is a difficult pursuit. Unlike other forms of warfare, it is fought in three dimensions, which adds to the challenge of being successful. The truly successful fighter pilot needs to possess great perception of what is happening around him; in the course of an air battle, this has proved to be extremely difficult. This ‘situational awareness’, or ‘SA’, is important to all fighter pilots. Those who possess the best SA have tended to be the high scorers. In the two World Wars pilots could not rely upon technology to guide weapons against enemy aircraft, and had to rely upon their shooting skills. For every crack shot, there were tens of others who were unable to bring a sufficient weight of fire to bear upon the enemy. This consideration applies across the board. It is notable that many aces have been described as only average pilots.

      ‘Billy’ Bishop was regarded as being a particularly ham-fisted pilot, but his shooting skills enabled him to become one of the leading aces. As will be discussed below, just how accurate was Bishop’s total of claims is now open to serious doubt; nonetheless, there is enough evidence to state that he destroyed enough aircraft to be considered an ‘ace’ (although the Royal Flying Corps and its successor the Royal Air Force have never officially used the term), and his shooting skills were undoubtedly important. In comparison, the New Zealander Keith Caldwell, who ended the First World War commanding 74 Squadron RAF, was noted for his skilful flying and abysmal shooting. Mike Spick regularly makes the point that the adage ‘good flying never killed anyone yet’ holds a great deal of truth.³ Spick also makes an important contribution by noting that the idea that the top-scorers were only average pilots is inherently subjective. As most, if not all, of the highest-claiming men possessed better situational awareness, they were able to use this superior judgement to avoid placing themselves in circumstances where superlative flying skill was required to save themselves.⁴

      The debate over the importance of flying skill and shooting ability is not an easy one to resolve. The easiest way to score while avoiding trouble was to sneak up upon an opponent and press home an effective close-range attack before he knew what had occurred.⁵ This apparently required only competent flying, but demanded good planning and accurate shooting. Although this type of attack fell outside the bounds of chivalric behaviour, this consideration did not worry fighter pilots. One of the leading British pilots of the Great War, Philip Fullard, firmly believed that his high score of victories owed more to his ability as a pilot rather than to superior shooting skills. Fullard was not shy in his self-analysis, calling himself a ‘brilliant pilot’. He also remarked upon his penchant for getting so close to the enemy aircraft that he could see the bullets striking home.⁶ Even if pilots were excellent shots, the need to get in close to the enemy was stressed time and time again. The second highest-scoring American pilot of the Second World War, Thomas B. McGuire, told new arrivals to his unit they should ‘go in close, and then when you think you’re too close, go in closer still.’⁷

      With the arrival of batteries of wing-mounted guns in Second World War fighters, it is noticeable that the British aces all harmonised their guns to a set point, so that the rounds would converge. In the Battle of Britain a number of pilots had the harmonisation set at 50 yards.⁸ This was in contrast to the initial alignment of the guns so that a ‘shotgun pattern’ was achieved. Although this was an admirable recognition of the lack of shooting ability of the vast majority of pilots, it did nothing to compensate, reducing the concentration of weight of fire. The same difficulty affected the Luftwaffe, where it was noted that the armament of the early versions of the Messerschmitt 109 created problems for the less experienced pilots. The Me109’s armament of two rifle-calibre machine-guns over the engine and one cannon firing through the propeller hub demanded precise shooting for full effect.⁹ The successful pilot invariably preferred to get in close. The leading ‘ace’ of the Second World War, Erich Hartmann СКАЧАТЬ