WAR FLYING BY A PILOT THE LETTERS OF “THETA” TO HIS HOME PEOPLE WRITTEN IN TRAINING AND IN WAR And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky. — Campbell. BOSTON HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 1917 THESE— FROM “THETA” TO HIS MOTHER...

This little volume of “Theta’s” letters to his home people is offered in the hope that it may prove useful, and not for glory or reward. The Royal Flying Corps in war-time works in secret. Many of our gallant lads would gladly become pilots if they knew how to set to work, and, approximately, what they would have to face. When “Theta” decided to try to enter the service he had nothing to go on save a determination to “get there” and a general idea of the difficulty of achieving his purpose. His

( After Kipling )...

The first number of the well-thumbed file of Flight , carefully kept by “Theta” up to the present day, bears date July 30, 1910, just two years after the first public flight in the world. At that time this particular public-schoolboy was thirteen years of age. His interest in aviation, however, dated from considerably before that period, and its first manifestation took the form of paper gliders. Beyond the fact that they could be manipulated with marvellous dexterity and that they could be extr

“Theta” was born in May 1897; the War broke out in August 1914. On his eighteenth birthday “Theta” decided that it was time to “get a move on.” His ambition from the first had been to enter the Royal Flying Corps. This was opposed chiefly because of his youth and seeming immaturity and the excessive danger attached to training. But fate, impelled by inclination, proved too strong. He had been a member of his O.T.C. for four years, and had attended camps at Aldershot and Salisbury Plain; but he d

Arrived here O.K. and reported. Spent the best part of the morning signing papers and books, and buzzing around. On the way across to the hangars discovered two R.F.C. men lying on the ground trying to look like a mole-hill, and fidgeting with a gadget resembling an intoxicated lawn-mower, the use of which I have not yet discovered. Am posted to “A” Flight (and wondering when I am going to get it, so to speak). You report at six o’clock if you are on the morning list; at nine o’clock if you are

( Extracts from “Theta’s” Private Log-Book )...

The following notes from “Theta’s” Diary show the progress from novice (with accompanying pilot) to certificated aviator (solo):...

A stands for Archie, the Huns’ greatest pride, B for B.E., our biplane they deride. C for the “Crash” when by “A” 4 “B” gets hit, D for the Dive before “C” ends the flit. E is for Engine, which sometimes goes dud, F is Cold Feet, as you wait for the thud. G is the Gun that you keep on the ’plane, H as per “trig” 5 is the height you attain. I am the Infant who flies a 2C, 6 J the Joy-stick on most ’buses you see. K is the Kick that you get from a gun, L a forced Landing, too oft to be done. M for

I am here at last. Where that is, however, I can’t tell you.... We had a good journey, but while I was snoozing the carriage door—which must have been carelessly shut by one of our men—opened, and one of my field boots departed. I had taken them off so as to sleep better. I told a police corporal at the next station, and he is trying to get it. I had to put on puttees and boots, and pack the odd field boot.... You would hardly believe we were on Active Service here, although we are, of course, w

Only time for a few lines before the post goes. I was flying at a quarter to three o’clock this morning. I was orderly pilot, and a Hun was reported in the neighbourhood. I went to bed after two hours’ flying and was knocked up again, and spent another couple of hours in the air—all this before I had anything to eat or drink. Luckily I was not at all hungry or thirsty. The Hun I was chasing (or rather looking for) on my second patrol was brought down a few miles from our aerodrome by a French av

Back to work and my old friend Archie quickly. I was on bombing yesterday, not very far over the lines though, and there were about —— of us. It was a wonderfully pretty sight to see the bombs going down in a string, dwindling, and finally disappearing below. Bags of Archie were flying around, but my “machine” was not hit at all. I was first up to-day and we had a non-stop flight of nearly three hours, ranging some batteries. The weather was pretty dud, but W. and I managed all right. S. is miss