“Our Adj”…
Personality of the month.
(republished from an issue of Message To Base, Date of issue is unknown.)
The story given below concerns our highly respected Adjutant, Flight Lieutenant Arthur William Hammond, M.C., who wears the ribbons of the Military Cross and Bar, the Mons Star, and an Observer’s Wing. F/L Hammond (“Hammy” he is best known to his many friends) has had a career which has been just packed with vivid adventure, great danger, and thrills galore. His life has taken him over most of the world, he has been at sea as a boy, has seen service in the Royal Horse Guard, the Royal Engineers, the Royal Air Force, in the First Great War, and in the R.C.A.F. in the present conflict. Little by little, bit by bit, this story was gleaned from Hammy … much of it, actually, was “purloined” from his interesting scrap book. It was obtained only with the greatest difficulty because, like most heroes, our Adjutant is a very modest man. Much of it has been given in his own words, most of it will be of great interest to our lads in the services today, particularly aircrew, and ALL of it will interest those who know Hammy.” Because space will not permit his life history, we shall pick it up during the last war when he won his coveted Observer’s Wing and go on from there. The story is told mainly in Hammy’s own words as related for M.T.B. His commendation of the Red Cross is particularly timely—S/O K. FULMER.
FLIGHT LIEUTENANT HAMMOND wears the coveted O-wing, the Observer’s wing of the Great War, 1914-1918, and his description of how observers and pilots were chosen in those days, should be interesting to all aircrew today. “There were forty of us in the line-up and an officer just came out and divided the line in two. From there on half of us were to be observers and the other half were pilots.”
Hammy’s preliminary training of ten weeks included a short course in navigation but any resemblance to the training now being given at No.1 C.N.S. is purely accidental. The training included flying experience in BE-2c aircraft and advanced gunnery, Morse, army cooperation, extensive map reading, pinpointing and tests of natural instinct for direction finding. At Central Flying School they were given a short pilot’s course on very elementary aircraft (Rumpeties) about two hours dual and about four hours solo, some practical observer’s work as well as four parachute jumps from a balloon from a height of 2,000 feet.
“After being on channel patrol for a while I was posted to No. 2 Squadron, Armstrong-Whitworth aircraft, on general reconnaissance, army artillery co-operation and 2-seater fighter duties.
“After getting my observer’s wing I was allotted to B Flight and flew with Lieutenant Shaw (during this time I retained my captaincy in the Royal Engineers but was seconded to the R.F.C.) and finally was transferred to the RFC. Lt. Shaw was badly wounded during one of our trips and though we brought the aircraft back, he later died of his wounds.
“I teamed up then with Captain J. Allport, the Flight Commander of B Flight and we were in various actions in which we were officially credited with nine enemy aircraft, mostly Phalz and Fokkers, and after the final fight of that series we were both awarded the Military Cross (in February, 1918).
“Later in February we were on photography work, taking photos of artillery targets, usually going over enemy territory in the middle of the day and on one of these midday trips we were attacked by enemy aircraft. Two went down, one was turned back. Then we fought it out getting three of them. Our machine was riddled a bit but we were still intact.
“Following this scrap we were both given a week’s leave. Capt. Allport was kept in England or home duty and I had a choice of pilots, choosing the late Lieut. Allan McLeod, V.C.
“Every day McLeod and I had scraps for a while, and one morning we got one enemy aircraft, an Albatross, practically intact… we caught him raiding our trenches. During the retreat of the 5th Army we were on bombing raids every day, attacking advancing Germans. This necessitated very low flying just over their heads and then peppering them (trying to catch them in the sunken roads). We did a lot of night bombing during this time as well, and thought nothing of eight hours daytime flying followed by a night bombing raid.
“On March 27th, 1918, a flight of seven aircraft had just returned from night bombing and we had settled ourselves comfortably in our beds when we were hauled out and detailed for a bombing raid south of our area to raid the advancing German army at Bruay-sur-la-Somme. The ceiling was 1,000 when we started, so we went up to 6,000, made formation and headed south. In the clouds we got separated from the other six aircraft and decided to go below the clouds to check on our location. We were immediately greeted by very heavy anti-aircraft fire and returned up through the clouds again, still heading south. Finally we decided to head west a bit and when we came down through the clouds found we were on our own side of the lines. We sighted an aerodrome, made a landing and found it to be 49 Fighter Squadron. In landing we broke a tail skid and the C.O. of the 49th said that it was too thick for us to go up, but we were determined to see it through so took off again, heading south towards our target,
“The clouds were about 2,000 at this time, affording protection over our heads. Everything went beautifully until we saw a Fokker tri-plane (we had no idea what type of plane it was, having never seen one before) heading in our direction about 300 yards away. The pilot obviously had not seen us and we side-slipped to within 100 yards of him, opened fire and saw him go down, bursting into flames as he hit the ground. Getting around to our target the clouds opened to big patches of clear sky and shortly about twelve enemy aircraft, same type, were heading for us. (We found out later it was Reichthofen’s Squadron, and he was killed almost in that same spot four days later.) One aircraft got on our tail which we were able to handle although hit (not seriously) but one dived under us and riddled our tank setting the machine on fire. McLeod decided to turn around and head for home in continuous sideslips which prevented aircraft from getting underneath us. Finally the chap on our tail was unable to keep up with our side-slip, exposed himself and we got him. His plane just cracked up in mid-air.
“By this time, McLeod was hit in the legs, I was hit in the right side and right arm, and the aircraft was very seriously on fire. The pilot, McLeod, was standing on the pedals of the aircraft and leaning on one arm of the chair (the chair was too hot to sit on), the observer’s seat had fallen through and I was actually sitting on a ledge at the back when another enemy aircraft came on our tail and put a bullet in the machine-gun drum, damaging it so that I had to pull the drum off. We had to give up the fight then, of course, and headed for a landing.
“I climbed on the top wing and lay down just waiting for what was to come, and when the aircraft struck, was thrown clear and rolled about 30 feet ahead of the aircraft.
“McLeod crawled out of the burning plane and to his surprise came upon me lying on the ground after thinking that I was in the burning aircraft. He tried to pull me along towards the Allied lines (we were between enemy lines and our own) and in so doing he got a bullet in his neck.
“Finally the South African Scottish Infantry found us while making a sortie and brought us both to their lines. Stretchers were found and we just lay there in the mud until dark (from about noon) because the enemy was advancing at night time and recuperating in daytime. Finally they carried us out and got us to a First Aid station and loaded us on an ambulance wagon. We eventually reached Doullens Advance Hospital where we were attended to. They were able to report us to our squadron, the latter having given us up for lost.
No. 2 Squadron,
letter received by Flight Lieutenant Hammond’s father, written by our Adj’s Command Officer of that time
Royal Air Force, France,
2nd April, 1918.
Dear Mr. Hammond:
I am delighted to be able to write you what I hope you already know, viz., that your son is safe on this side of the lines. We only heard a day or two ago that he is wounded and in one of the Base Hospitals—whether seriously or not I cannot say.
He and his Pilot were attacked by eight enemy aeroplanes of which your son shot down three. Their machine then took fire, but was brought down under control by the Pilot, one of the most wonderful pieces of work I have heard of for along time. Though wounded, your son continued to engage the enemy aeroplanes while his own machine was descending in flames, an act which speaks wonders for his determination and pluck—though from his work in the Squadron, just the sort of thing which I should have imagined he would do.
If we hear any further news I will let you know immediately. With very many congratulations,
MAJOR W. R. SNOW.
“The Squadron had reported us “missing, believed killed” and at that period I seem to have lost track of time. We were taken to a big Chateau where tables were stretched for seeming miles, end to end, our clothing was cut from us and we were just slid along the tables to various doctors. That’s where we saw our doctors and nursing sisters really “in action,” literally just covered in gore. Our families were notified by these wonderful people and my family was told I was “believed to be seriously wounded, but safe.” The next day the Red Cross called at my home in England, my parents were given passes, tickets, and all documents required for a journey to France. I can never thank the Red Cross enough for that service alone. From Doullens we were put aboard a train on stretchers (we were even bombed while lying on the station platform waiting for the train). After what seemed days and days, we arrived at Rouen. German prisoners unloaded us. At this time my leg was in a sort of box and I was just about all in from loss of blood. The doctor just took one look at my leg then I was driven up to No. 2 Red Cross Hospital where my right leg was amputated.
“It was while there, about the second night, that the nursing sister asked if I could receive visitors and, thinking it was all a part of the same dream-fabric, I said yes… but there, in wonderful reality, were my mother and father… thanks, as I said before, to the Red Cross Society.
“After several weeks I was sent to England to the London Hospital, Whitechapel, where I was all healed up and got accustomed to using a pegleg. I was able to visit Allan McLeod who was, at that time, seriously ill.
“Following this, I was sent to Hillington Hall, a beautiful Elizabethan Castle next to Sandringham, the Royal Estate, for convalescence. During my happy stay at this place I had the honor of having tea with Queen Mary, Princess Mary, and Queen Alexandra.
“In the late fall of 1918, after Armistice, I returned to Roehampton, London, for final hospitalization and got my discharge from what was then the Royal Air Force.
“When I was able to walk about on crutches, I was called to Buckingham Palace for the investiture. Prior to the ceremony we were shown to the Palace Library where King George the Fifth chatted with us all, asking us our experiences, etc. When I was in the line leading to the Dais (with Admiral Sturdee in front of me and another admiral behind me) I dropped one of my gloves and the King picked it up for me. That was an interesting, unforgettable experience.
“Lieut. Arthur William Hammond, M.C., R.E. and R.A.F., awarded a bar to the Military Cross for conspicuous gallantry in aerial fighting in circumstances of the very greatest danger.”
Excerpt from newspaper account at time F/L Hammond was in hospital; used with his picture
“After touring England on a motorcycle, working for a while with the Anglo-Chinese Engineering company, I decided to go abroad and accepted an invitation from the McLeod family to come to Canada. I arrived in Stonewall, Manitoba, Allan McLeod’s home town, in August, 1921, remained there and got a job with the Manitoba Good Roads as Transit Engineer. It was while there in the winter of 1921-22 that I got my first real taste of a Canadian winter. Later I came to Winnipeg, stayed at the Y.M.C.A. and went to work at the Winnipeg Tribune, in the advertising department, where I remained until 1923. I then entered the underwriting department of the Great-West Life, where I remained until I joined the R.C.A.F. in the fall of 1940.”
Story from:
A yet unfound copy of Message to Base, Station Magazine of No 1 Central Navigation School, Rivers, Manitoba. Will Update when a copy is found.