We often treat ANZAC Day selfishly. Trying to determine cultural meaning from our celebration of it. I am guilty of this too. We throw an ANZAC Day party each year in the US; inviting our friends along to partake in meat pies, sausage rolls, pavlova and ANZAC biccies. In our selfishness we often rob the ANZACs and other former veterans of their humanism. This diminishes their efforts, and often sacrifice.

I spent several years researching the Australian Flying Corps. I published between 1999 and 2002 on a website, and then later between 2002 and 2004 on a different website. It is currently a dynamic site in the hopes it will morph into a historical journal with a vibrant research community. So far that has not happened.

Researching an area of history puts you in touch with the words of those that were a part of that history. It is humanising, often emotional and always leaves you in wonder for the daily courage of the folks that made history. Last year I wrote about the cultural aspects of the ANZACs, this year I think it fitting the WWI veterans have their own voice.

Captain John "Jack" Wright

John Wright was a pilot who flew with No.4 Squadron Australian Flying Corps (AFC). He flew the Sopwith Camels with the squadron in 1918, and then later became a flight commander when the squadron moved to Sopwith Snipes.

Wright was originally a member of the 12th Australian Light Horse. The AFC recruited heavily from the Lighthorse believing horse hands made for a better pilot. The Australian air services were no different from others in this respect. The famous Manfred von Richthofen aka "The Red Baron" had been a member of the cavalry before flying.

My favourite recollection of Wright's was his memory of what happened on September 11th, 1918;

On the morning of 11th November, 1918, I was sitting in my Snipe at 8 a.m just about to "wave the chocks away" and take off to bomb and shoot-up the busy rail junction of Ath, which was an important link in the German line of communications. Just as I was about to give the signal to the other five machines, I noticed signs of a commotion on the tarmac, a lot of waving of arms by the people there. A figure detached itself and with much furious waving of arms, came galloping out on the airfield in my direction. I waited until an orderly from the Sqd. office arrived very much out of breath, and gasped out his message, "Flight 'washed-out' Sir, Cancelled! Peace has been signed!" When he got his breath back, he gave me more details. The Armistice was to operate from 11.am, no more offensive moves were to be made.

I sat for a minute or two in the machine while the news sank in, trying to grasp all the implications, while my prop ticked over. I thought to myself, "perhaps its only a false alarm, but it washes out this flight, anyhow". I detached my Verey pistol [flare] from the fitting, inserted a white cartridge, and aiming into the air away from the other machines and the Airfield buildings, fired the regulation signal "washing-out" the flight, and taxied back to the tarmac in front of our hangar, followed by the other five Snipes. I still felt dubious about it, I felt there must be some mistake.

For the rest of the morning, I, with most of the other pilots of the Sqd. zooned around the airfield buildings and our quarters feeling like fish out of water. We still doubted the news, we really were unable to think clearly. However, when 11 a.m. came we began to show a little more interest. We began to notice the unearthly silence from the direction of the front line, where previously the dull roar of guns, and crackle of musketry fire was the familiar sound; there was now a dead silence. We began to think, it must be right after all; the war could be over!

The aircraft in World War I didn't have radios. The pilots communicated by hand signals or flares in the air and the ground.

Lt Colonel Richard Williams

Richard Williams is in the running for the greatest Australian in the short history of this country. His firm belief that Australian solutions to Australian issues led him to lead the Australian Air Force for many years. He was laid low by political manoeuvring by Robert Menzies, at a time when Australia needed someone like Williams the most. Williams was a century ahead of his time, and an inspiration for Australians today. In his auto-biography he recounts an episode in the air over Palestine in 1916.

The next day, accompanied by Lieutenant S. Headlam as observer, and with [Lieutenant Adrian "King"] Cole in a Martinsyde as escort, I reconnoitred the Hareira-Shellal area. This time Cole was hit by anti-aircraft fire and forced to land. This he did on a good piece of ground in enemy country and we went down and landed alongside. Cole set his aircraft alight by firing a Verey light [flare] into it, then dropped the pistol and ran toward us. I knew we were short of Verey pistols in the squadron and sent him back for it. He did not take long to get it and we took off before any Turks got near enough to stop us, but I think Cole thought it a bit tough to be sent back for that pistol.

This understates the level of danger that is involved in landing a WWI era aircraft behind enemy lines on an uneven desert surface. Many aircraft that tried this after Williams suffered from their undercarriage breaking and the aircraft and crew being captured. It takes a pilot of great skill and courage to not only undertake such a rescue effort on the spur of the moment, but also to carry it off. Richard Williams earnt the Distinguished Service Order for this.

Aircraft Mechanic Joe Bull

Joe Bull was a Queenslander who worked on the aircraft of No.1 Squadron Australian Flying Corps. During most of 1918 he maintained the Bristol "Biff" Fighter of Ross Smith. Smith was the leading ace in the Palestinian theatre, and later was the first to fly from England to Australia. On Bull's ocean trip back to Australia in 1919 he wrote in his diary for the 19th of March;

There seems to be some dissatisfaction among the men on account of the O.C. [Operational Commander] going ashore whereas we had a cable posted stating that noone was to go ashore on account of the Spanish Flu. When he went ashore the second time, they pelted him with vegetables and counted him out. Left Colombo at 10.

When Bull reached Melbourne at the end of the sea trip he was quarantined along with others because of an outbreak of smallpox. In the Australian Flying Corps the enlisted men were at most danger from disease, whereas the officers, who did the majority of the flying, were in most danger of dying a violent death.

Lieutenant E.J. Goodson

In a world of air-bags and airlines which will cancel a flight if there is a crack in anything, it is hard to imagine the level of danger the pilots of World War I faced. Their aircraft were wood and linen; held together by wire. They wore no parachutes and their aircraft broke up if subject to high g-forces or high acceleration.

Goodson was flying in a flight of Sopwith Snipes in early November 1918. His aircraft was hit by anti-aircraft fire and he was captured. He recorded the details of the day in his repatriation report;

I was one of a patrol of four machines that left the aerodrome at Ennetieres at 9 am on the 4th of November 1918, led by 2/Lieut Cato, to do a line patrol. Whilst patrolling the line we were being shelled by anti-aircraft guns from the German artillery. When at 13,000 feet I was hit in my lateral controls and bottom of control lever. The machine immediately went into a left hand spin from which it did not recover. When at about 3,000 feet, I received two more direct hits under the right wing. I spun into the canal between two bridges in the centre of Tournai. One wing of the machine was carried away by the bridge and the machine became a total wreck on striking the water.

I was pulled out of the canal by some German soldiers. I was wounded slightly by a piece of shell in the head and badly shaken by the fall of the machine.

Remarkable accuracy by the German anti-aircraft gunners to hit his aircraft twice, even more remarkable that he survived a spinning aircraft that fell from 13,00 feet, hitting a bridge before leaving him in the water.

Captain Arthur "Harry" Cobby

Cobby ended up being the Australian Flying Corps' leading ace in World War I, Rod Dallas and Robert Little recorded more victories than him, but they flew in the Royal Naval Air Service. Cobby was described as an "imp of mischief" in later years when he rose through the ranks of the Australian Air Force. With his mate, Roy "bow" King, they formed a larrikin cabal in No.4 Squadron.

In 1919, shortly before many of the Australians were demobilised, the Australian Imperial Force marched through London to commemorate the landing's at Gallipoli. This is probably the first ANZAC Day march, where the tradition stems from. The Prince Of Wales and General Birdwood were to salute the march in front of Australia House at the Strand.

The Australian Flying Corps pilots had been told they could do a flypast as well, and aerodromes with a choice of aircraft were available. The pilots took advantage of the celebratory nature of the march by filling up the local pubs before picking up their airplanes. Cobby relates;

We had won the war and could now bid farewell to Blighty, where we had had such a glorious time. One could not think of anything more fitting nor anything more stupid than the authority that permitted it [the flypast].

The head of the march would reach Australia House at 2.30 pm. At 2 o'clock odd aircraft started to appear over the Strand, getting lower and lower. At 2.30 about fifty or sixty machines were jockeying around the sky over Australia House, and more kept on arriving. Aircraft were looping and rolling and spinning everywhere, but the libations of the morning [drinking] had added more verve than sense to the manoeuvres. As the head of the column approached the saluting base, there was a mad scramble to pass the Prince, and some of us went down into the Strand in order to do the thing properly. It was probably the most foolish thing I have ever done, but having got down, I had to stay down for about three quarters of a mile before I could get out again.

Somebody else in a Pup, well known to those who participated, also got down, but fortunately some distance behind me. If he had been in front, we would have been involved in a frightful smash as I was in a Camel, which was of course much faster than a Pup and I would have run him down in a couple of hundred yards. The overhead wires from building to building kept us down and I would not have been able to avoid him, and with the roads packed like sardines with onlookers, the casualties would have been terrible. Finally I was able to zoom up just short of Trafalgar Square, but by that time all I wanted to do was get back onto the ground as soon as possible, and I did. The first ANZAC Day will live long in the minds of many people. The other chap got out too - but how I don't know.

The Pup and Camel were rotary engine aircraft, and have no throttle. Richard Williams was the officer who made the request for aircraft, but on the proviso that the pilots maintain a safe height. When Williams saw the aircraft dip out of sight below the buildings he worried that they had made forced landings, but when he saw them pop out again he was relieved. The next morning he met Wing Commander E.L. Gossage at the Air Ministry; Gossage remarked to Williams, "I didn't mind your fellows looking through my window when they were passing yesterday, but I did object to the fellow who winked at me".

Lest we forget.

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