NIGHT BOMBING
New Zealander’s Book
The first New Zealand airman to bring out a war book is Mr. A. R. Kingsford, of Nelson, who was a pilot in the famous Squadron 100, and, as such, dropped many bombs over Germany when the nights were dark. “Night Raiders of the Air,” which is published by Messrs. John Hamilton, who have recently published many fine volumes upon flying subjects, is a good book.
Mr. Kingsford had an exciting three years of warfare. The war came to him before he got to it, and he was on a troopship which was torpedoed in the Mediterranean in 1915, subsequently being picked up unconscious. After that he served in Greece, and in France, trying all the time to obtain a transfer to the Royal Flying Corps. The reception which his requests evoked is an amusing one. After seeing an aeroplane for the first time, at Heliopolis, he applied for the transfer form. “Tired of life?” the adjutant asked. “No,” Mr. Kingsford assured him. “Well, then, what on earth do you want to transfer to the Flying Corps for?” After further vain efforts, he was able to ask General Sir George Richardson for a transfer. The general looked at him. “Are you tired of life?” he asked.
His training completed, he was attached to one of the home defence squadrons, and was to fight the Zeppelins on a machine which could only climb to about 12,000, feet, "while the Zeppelins seldom came over at less than 18,000 to 20,000 feet.” After that he was attached to No. 100 Squadron, the night bombers of the Independent Air Force, which executed vengeance for the German raids on England, and bombed Germany by night. It was this squadron which bombed Richthofen’s aerodrome at Douai on two successive nights (April 5 and 6, 1917), when the Baron was at the peak of his career, and accounted for 30 Englishmen in one month. Mr. Kingsford was not then in the squadron, but we have Captain W. E. Collishaw’s record, and Mr. Kingsford has published Manfred von Richthofen’s own story of one of those nights, as illustrating the effects of the work of his squadron. The whole book abounds in thrills, and has plenty of humour, while the author has, with admirable taste, remembered to insert a seasoning of pathos.
“Propellor” understands that negotiations are in progress for the film rights of the book. Let us hope that Hollywood will do justice to the book, and perhaps, what is more important, to the wonderful work which Squadron 100 did. -Dominion, 22/11/1930.
The attack on von Richthofen's base was made by Fe2 biplanes, a single engined, two seat design. Not long after Kingsford joined 100 Squadron, they began to fly the Handley-Page 0/400, a much larger twin-engined bomber, attacking German industry and back area targets from August, 1918, to the end of the war. After another war, Alfred Kingsford wrote about his time with 100 Squadron.
Night-Bombing During The “Big Push”
[Specially written for “The Press" by A. R. KINGSFORD]
IN April, 1918, when the “Big Push” to Paris was on, the Germans kept their railways busy at night bringing up troops, ammunition, rations and other war supplies, so to the Allied airmen railways were important targets. Trains were sporting targets and their destruction had far-reaching effects.
On these raids we usually carried eight 20-pound bombs and one 230-pounder, all capable of derailing a train. Juneville, 30 kilometres north-east of Rheims was one our favourite hunting grounds, and on our fourth night we were lucky. It was a clear starlight night when we set off. Nothing happened for half an hour, we were beginning to think our luck was out when my observer spotted the familiar glow of an engine stopping a few miles from Juneville station. We made for it with throttles back and as we dashed down, the furnace door was opened, illuminating the engine cab. Almost silently we swung round on to the tail of the train. And at 1000 feet my observer directed me and let go two 20-pounders and the 230. Anxious to see the result we dropped a flare, which showed overturned waggons and wreckage. We flew off in search of fresh targets and found nothing, so we returned to our wrecked train, let go the remaining bombs and peppered the wreckage with our machine gun.
New Machine After a spell of train strafing I was alloted a new machine, an F.E. 2C, number 450 powered with 160h.p. water-cooled engine. It cruised at 70 m.p.h. at 1200 revolutions. There were three petrol tanks, one gravity-fed, under the top plane. This was always used for take-off and landing. The main tank was under the pilot's seat, which assured him of a warm exit from this world if the worst happened. There was also an auxiliary tank under the engine. A three-way tap on the dashboard controlled the feed.
We were pleased with 450, but she brought us bad luck. And our second flight we crashed. It happened after an urgent order to fly late one afternoon, to a French aerodrome at Villeseneux, 50 miles away, for a special bombing mission on Amiens. We arrived safely but as darkness set in, fog enveloped the aerodrome. To us this meant no flying, but we were assured the target area was clear and that it was imperative to go.
Unfamiliar Flares I was ordered to take off first and since I was quite unfamiliar with the French system of flares I thought it advisable to make some inquiries about the flare layout, but no-one understood my French. So I decided to take off between two flares and over one in the distance which formed the triangle. We had just left the ground when our port wing hit something. By the glow of the navigation light I could see a strut dangling in the air, the leading edge of the lower plane was smashed, fabric and ribs were torn to splinters, and then the wing dropped. I could not keep the machine on an even keel and it was evident we were for it, so I pressed the flare button, saw a clear patch and waited for the crash. There was a thud, the sound of splintering wood, and I was catapulted from the front seat
I was slightly dazed, but realised that I had an enthusiastic observer somewhere around. Groping about the wreckage I called his name. A muffled sound came from the darkness. I crawled in the direction of the sound, then fell into a ditch almost on top of him. He was injured and lying in a foot of water.
Others came to grief that night; one landed on the tree-tops in a forest, and two crashed in force landings. In one crash the crew was killed. And to cap it all no one found the target.
The next afternoon the Germans occupied Villeseneux aerodrome. We made a hurried departure a few hours before. The enemy pushed on towards Paris, but American troops halted the enemy, pushed them back, and the city was saved.
Two Raids A Night Soon after our arrival at Ochey we were asked by the French to concentrate on an aerodrome in Alsace Lorraine from which German planes were raiding Paris. And for a short period we often flew two raids a night. Apparently our efforts were successful, as one enemy pilot landed in our lines and gave himself up. His reason, so he said, was that no matter where he landed, our machines were waiting to bomb. In 55 Squadron casualties were heavy on their daylight raids. The squadron flew D.H.4’s, a good machine, but no match loaded with bombs for the enemy fighters without a fighter escort, they often lost a third of their aircraft and crews on a raid. In an effort to relieve 55 Squadron we were ordered to bomb the enemy fighter dromes at Morhange and Freisdorf.
Casualties Felt Luck comes in patches, good and bad, it comes in cycles and our attacks on these enemy aerodromes resulted in us losing a number of crews, some by enemy action, others in crashes. These losses were always keenly felt by the rest of us. Living as we did in such close contact we all got to know our companions extremely well. And when it was a room-mate who “failed to return” the grim reality of war was brought home to us vividly. There would be the packing of his belongings and a note to the next-of-kin couched in hopeful terms that he might be a prisoner and safe, but so often it was not the case.
This job nearly fell to my room-mate on the night of our first raid on the steel works at Hagindingen. When I was going in to bomb an anti-aircraft shell exploded uncomfortably close, fragments piercing the radiator and the engine crankcase. My observer immediately let go all the bombs and as the temperature needle rose we headed for our lines. Our height was 4000 feet. The engine lost power by overheating and fire was likely. To retain as much height as possible we jettisoned our machine-gun and ammunition. The altimeter dropped to 2000 ft. when we still had some distance to go to reach our lines where there was a rough emergency landing ground.
Landed In Wire “We crawled on, just keeping flying speed and managed to cross the German trenches with 200 feet in hand. It was obvious we could not make the emergency ground, so switching the engine off I levelled out, and landed — in a barbed-wire entanglement in the French trenches. My unfortunate observer was thrown out on to the barbed-wire and was badly torn in the face, but otherwise unharmed.
Next morning the German artillery shelled the remains of our machine. That evening we reached our aerodrome to find that we had been reported missing; but we were also told our old machines were to be replaced by twin-engined Handley Pages, powered by Rolls-Royce engines and capable of carrying a bomb load of three-quarters of a ton. The Handley Page crew consisted of a pilot, an observer and a gunner. The new planes were roomier and speedier, with a greater range, which meant we could raid Cologne and Frankfurt.
As the days lengthened and summer came, the outlook brightened. On land we had retaken much lost ground and in the air we now had the upper hand. Our slow machines had given way to fast Bristol Fighters, Sopwith Camels, and the S.E.5. The S.E.5, flying at 120 m.p.h., was more than a match for the enemy fighters. Ochey was too small, so we shifted to Xaffervilliers, not far from the Swiss frontier. Electric flares and an elaborate control tower were installed, anti-aircraft guns; machine-gun posts, and searchlights were sited.
Soon Knew “Why all the defence?” we wondered; but we soon knew. The enemy raided us nightly with some success from a few days after our arrival. He got a direct hit on our petrol dump — and it was a great blaze — and this started a latent desire for dug-outs. One unfortunate incident marred our first raid with our new Handley-pages. The squadron’s mascot was a mongrel dog, affectionately known as “Blackie.” It was his habit, like many dogs who run with a car, to run by our planes when taking off, and he was always there to meet us on landing. He had been used to single-engine machines and on this night took up his usual position. When the machine took off “Blackie” got mixed up with the tail wheel.
“Blackie,” to us, was part of the squadron and his loss was keenly felt. He had flown more than most dogs and many a time when 55 Squadron visited us, they smuggled him into one of their machines. There was a feud between the squadrons over “Blackie” and he made many return trips. As summer gave way to autumn, we went further into Germany to bomb. Strategic targets — power stations, factories and railways.
The end came sooner than expected. Returning from a raid on the night of November 10-11 we were told the war was over. It was a bright sunny morning, cold and frosty, and one of those days it was good to be alive.
Mr Kingsford, who was a flight commander in the Royal Flying Corps, later the Royal Air Force, in the First World War, is past-president of the 1914-1918 Airmen’s Association. “At the closing stages of the war, great strides were being made in the design, speed and armament of aircraft. War always accelerates science," he writes. “Another thing war teaches us is never to underestimate the enemy. We had the greatest respect for him in the air. He was a gallant and brave adversary." The association will hold a reunion in Christchurch this month. -Press, 11/2/1964.
A minor details regarding the Fe2 which Alfred Kingsford does not mention in his account of flying it was its tendency, due to the mass of the engine being behind its crew (in what was known as a "pusher" plane), for the engine, during instances of very rapid deceleration (often referred to by the RFC as a "prang"), to break free from its mounting and do its very best to occupy the area between its usual position and the front of the plane, which was usually occupied by the crew. This usually did not go well for the crew.
Lord Trenchard’s Work.
Dear Sir, — It was with pleasure that I read Mr R. Holt’s reference to Lord Trenchard and I can bear out what he has stated for, like him, I served under that distinguished airman. When the Independent Air Force was formed in 1918 Lord Trenchard was appointed Commanding Officer. Our job was the night bombing of German towns as reprisals for the enemy raids on London, a somewhat trying and nerve wracking undertaking. As our Commanding Officer he was ever considerate and thoughtful for everything tending to our comfort and welfare and endeared himself to all ranks. He paid many visits to our aerodrome to see for himself what improvements might be made, and to have an informal chat with the boys, and I am sure that his heart-to-heart talks inspired us and helped us on in our work. He was always most approachable. I remember on one occasion when leave had been stopped for some considerable time owing to the shortage of pilots and the enemy’s desperate efforts for victory, he paid us a surprise visit one afternoon. As was his custom, h« always strolled up to some pilot to get first-hand information. The particular airman he picked on this day was the one who was due for leave next, and was somewhat peeved at having to wait so long. When asked by Lord Trenchard how things were going, he replied, “Not so good,” and complained of the fact that no leave had been granted. His listener promised to look into the matter and the peeved one thought that would be the end of it. Imagine his surprise when on the following morning he was awakened from his slumbers after a raid the night before, to be told that his leave was granted and to pack at once. There are many such incidents of Lord Trenchard’s thoughtfulness that I could relate, but space is valuable But I know that I am voicing the feelings of all old pilots of the 100th Squadron when I say that they would be happy to serve under him again.
— I am, etc., A. R. KINGSFORD. Nelson. -NZ Herald, 27/11/1935.
Alfred's son Peter joined the Air Force
Peter Reginald Kingsford's last flight is described on the excellent "aircrewremembered" page:
DEATH OF NELSON PILOT
SERGT.-PILOT PETER KINGSFORD (Contributed).
Sergt.-Pilot Peter Kingsford, who lost his life in air operations in the Middle East, is the eldest son of Major and Mrs A. R. Kingsford, of Nelson. He was educated at the Central School and Nelson College. The late Sergt. Kingsford was a keen member of the Nelson Tramping Club. He commenced flying with the Nelson Aero Club and later qualified with the R.N.Z.A.F., going overseas in August, 1941. As captain of a Wellington bomber he took part in the thousand bomber raids on Cologne and Essen. Shortly afterwards he flew to the Middle East where he was engaged in operations up to the time of his death.
A TRIBUTE
(To My Winged Son)
We played together, you and I, my son,
From early morn till day was done.
What boundless love was ours, what joy, what fun;
Together, you and I, my son.
It seems but only yesterday that I
Bought you an aeroplane to fly.
You were eleven. I still see your eyes
So bright as your craft flew the skies.
You did not flinch when called to do or die,
(so proud was I at your reply);
But took your wings to battle in the sky.
I only wish ’twere you and I.
I, too, must fight; and pray to God that we
May be united when ’tis done.
I also humbly pray that He make me
As great man as you, my son. -Evening Mail, 29/7/1942.
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