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Studies in English Language
Fighter Pilots of World War I
The story of fifteen flying aces from the Great War, each of whom achieved tremendous military results in the air.
- GenresHistory
158 pages, Hardcover
First published August 9, 2007
26 people are currently reading
21 people want to read
About the author
Robert Jackson
239 books54 followersRobert Jackson was born in 1941 in the North Yorkshire village of Melsonby. A former pilot and navigation instructor, his active involvement with aviation lasted many years. Following his retirement from the RAFVR in 1977 as a squadron leader, he became a full-time aviation writer and aerospace correspondent and lectured extensively on strategic issues. He speaks five languages, including Russian, and has written more than forty nonfiction works on military affairs. He is also the author of the popular Yeoman and SAS fiction series.
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
July 18, 2017
Research for the MT Historical Society Conference presentation
February 21, 2024
A marvelous book. It tells the stories of flying aces of WWI. The flight logs, eyewitness accounts and the pilot themselves tell of the hazards of early military aviation. From the Red Baron the top ace of Germany, to Rene Fonck, the top Allied ace, you learn of the men who pioneered fighting tactics and fighting flying machines. I need to find more books by this author as it was a very informing read.
October 13, 2024
The book doesn’t go in depth into anything. However, as a brief telling of a number of World War I fighter pilots, this was a very good, entertaining book. It is definitely worth reading to get a start on something you might want to learn more about.
January 22, 2024
Good accounts of WW1 Fighter pilots.
November 12, 2015
A Matter of Time, review by Ward.
Today we call it World War 1. Back then, it was the war to end all wars, and it should have. Incredibly, and for four long years, the two sides alternated lining up tens of thousands of young men and marching them into Hell. Millions died, millions more were scarred, physically and otherwise, for the rest of their lives, and instead of ending all wars, the Great War became the catalyst for a bigger, deadlier war.
In World War 1, military technology surged ahead of tactics.
Cavalry, indispensable for reconnaissance (as Robert E. Lee ruefully pointed out to JEB Stuart at Gettysburg, before the battle was over but after it was lost,) had become obsolete by 1914. The gallant charge of brightly-uniformed cavalry met the machine gun. Still, though, there was the need for information regarding the enemy and without cavalry, the nations turned to the sky, to the fledgling aviation industry, and a new branch of warfare was born. (World War 1 also saw the introduction of another new type of warfare – submarines.) What else the air war provided was an avenue for the dashing young men who in previous wars might have been cavalrymen, and a potent propaganda for the nations – those daring young men in their flying machines.
Just how important was the air war? Was it nothing more than an escape from the trenches? Did the men go up there to satisfy a personal quest for fame and glory, or did they contribute significantly to the war effort?
This book doesn’t specifically examine the issue, this is a book about dogfights, but it becomes clear what the men in the air provided, both on a tactical and a strategic level. Tactically, they served as spotters for the artillery, strategically they gave the decision makers a clear picture of the enemy positions.
The air war was an escape from the ground war, from the filth, the rats and the mud. An airman’s day might be capped off with a hot meal and drinks, a change of clothes, and what the infantry most desired – a bath, but going aloft didn’t mean escaping the mortality of the ground war.
What going up there required, above all else, was courage. Unfathomable, unimaginable courage. The airplanes were flimsy affairs, wood and canvas, crude and often unwieldy, and yet these men were expected to go aloft, sometimes more than ten thousand feet into the air, and to bring back information regarding the enemy positions, and to secure the information, they had to control the skies. Hence, the dogfight.
Each chapter is a brief sketch of a single ace on one side or the other, nearly all of the chapters ending with the death of the flier. The skies were unforgiving. A single lesson unlearned, or neglected at a critical moment, meant death. The lifespan was short and the pilots knew it, and still they went up, sometimes two and three times a day.
The book leaves the reader with some horrific images.
The pilot who does everything right and gets lined up behind the foe and blasts his machine gun…and shoots away his own propeller!
The observer, in the back of a two-seater. He’s no pilot. His expertise is with a camera and he’s ten thousand feet in the air and without a parachute (those came later) and he watches as his pilot takes a bullet in the head.
The vigil of the pilot who returns home from a day’s fighting and scans the skies in vain for his comrades, who are never coming home.
There’s the rare, not so gruesome image.
Canadian ace Billy Bishop (who survives the war) fights all morning, returns to his base for a quick lunch (and some petrol) and goes back up again.
And there’s Raoul Lufbery, born in France, raised in America. In the years just prior to the war, he sets out to see the world ─ in an airplane. He flies through Europe and Asia, and in those days, landing and taking off again didn’t require a paved runway. Any field, or most fields, would suffice, so we can imagine the amazement of folks in out-of-the-way locales seeing an airplane for the first time. Raoul supported himself by giving rides to anyone who had the money and the guts. It took guts, you see, to go aloft, even without an enemy hiding in the clouds, prepared to pounce.
Then came the war. Raoul shoots down 17 enemy planes before getting shot down himself.
In a dogfight, in May, 1918, a machine gun bullet strikes Lufbery’s gas tank and his plane quickly becomes a flaming, plunging coffin. Two hundred feet from the ground and travelling at a speed of 120 miles per hour, Lufbery jumps to his death.
If you’re fascinated by the ghoulishness, the awful slaughter, the inhumanity of the First World War, if you stand in awe of impossible courage, or if you’re just in the mood for a vicarious, exciting read, this short book is for you. It is perhaps inappropriate to say you’ll enjoy the read. Enjoy is the wrong verb, but you’ll be in awe of these young men and feel their fatalism. No matter how skillful and brave the pilots, they get it and so will you - it’s just a matter of time.
Today we call it World War 1. Back then, it was the war to end all wars, and it should have. Incredibly, and for four long years, the two sides alternated lining up tens of thousands of young men and marching them into Hell. Millions died, millions more were scarred, physically and otherwise, for the rest of their lives, and instead of ending all wars, the Great War became the catalyst for a bigger, deadlier war.
In World War 1, military technology surged ahead of tactics.
Cavalry, indispensable for reconnaissance (as Robert E. Lee ruefully pointed out to JEB Stuart at Gettysburg, before the battle was over but after it was lost,) had become obsolete by 1914. The gallant charge of brightly-uniformed cavalry met the machine gun. Still, though, there was the need for information regarding the enemy and without cavalry, the nations turned to the sky, to the fledgling aviation industry, and a new branch of warfare was born. (World War 1 also saw the introduction of another new type of warfare – submarines.) What else the air war provided was an avenue for the dashing young men who in previous wars might have been cavalrymen, and a potent propaganda for the nations – those daring young men in their flying machines.
Just how important was the air war? Was it nothing more than an escape from the trenches? Did the men go up there to satisfy a personal quest for fame and glory, or did they contribute significantly to the war effort?
This book doesn’t specifically examine the issue, this is a book about dogfights, but it becomes clear what the men in the air provided, both on a tactical and a strategic level. Tactically, they served as spotters for the artillery, strategically they gave the decision makers a clear picture of the enemy positions.
The air war was an escape from the ground war, from the filth, the rats and the mud. An airman’s day might be capped off with a hot meal and drinks, a change of clothes, and what the infantry most desired – a bath, but going aloft didn’t mean escaping the mortality of the ground war.
What going up there required, above all else, was courage. Unfathomable, unimaginable courage. The airplanes were flimsy affairs, wood and canvas, crude and often unwieldy, and yet these men were expected to go aloft, sometimes more than ten thousand feet into the air, and to bring back information regarding the enemy positions, and to secure the information, they had to control the skies. Hence, the dogfight.
Each chapter is a brief sketch of a single ace on one side or the other, nearly all of the chapters ending with the death of the flier. The skies were unforgiving. A single lesson unlearned, or neglected at a critical moment, meant death. The lifespan was short and the pilots knew it, and still they went up, sometimes two and three times a day.
The book leaves the reader with some horrific images.
The pilot who does everything right and gets lined up behind the foe and blasts his machine gun…and shoots away his own propeller!
The observer, in the back of a two-seater. He’s no pilot. His expertise is with a camera and he’s ten thousand feet in the air and without a parachute (those came later) and he watches as his pilot takes a bullet in the head.
The vigil of the pilot who returns home from a day’s fighting and scans the skies in vain for his comrades, who are never coming home.
There’s the rare, not so gruesome image.
Canadian ace Billy Bishop (who survives the war) fights all morning, returns to his base for a quick lunch (and some petrol) and goes back up again.
And there’s Raoul Lufbery, born in France, raised in America. In the years just prior to the war, he sets out to see the world ─ in an airplane. He flies through Europe and Asia, and in those days, landing and taking off again didn’t require a paved runway. Any field, or most fields, would suffice, so we can imagine the amazement of folks in out-of-the-way locales seeing an airplane for the first time. Raoul supported himself by giving rides to anyone who had the money and the guts. It took guts, you see, to go aloft, even without an enemy hiding in the clouds, prepared to pounce.
Then came the war. Raoul shoots down 17 enemy planes before getting shot down himself.
In a dogfight, in May, 1918, a machine gun bullet strikes Lufbery’s gas tank and his plane quickly becomes a flaming, plunging coffin. Two hundred feet from the ground and travelling at a speed of 120 miles per hour, Lufbery jumps to his death.
If you’re fascinated by the ghoulishness, the awful slaughter, the inhumanity of the First World War, if you stand in awe of impossible courage, or if you’re just in the mood for a vicarious, exciting read, this short book is for you. It is perhaps inappropriate to say you’ll enjoy the read. Enjoy is the wrong verb, but you’ll be in awe of these young men and feel their fatalism. No matter how skillful and brave the pilots, they get it and so will you - it’s just a matter of time.
September 8, 2018
The material for this book is first rate, especially since it is all true, but I felt the impact was lessened by all of these brave pilots' experiences being treated in such a (necessarily so for such a work) quick, broad fashion.
I'd certainly recommend this book to someone with little previous knowledge of the subject, but in my opinion the best way to truly understand what any of these men went through would be to read individual biographies of them. This book just whets the appetite.
As a fan of author Jackson's other books, I must admit I was a little disappointed with this title- but I also acknowledge the fact that my opinion in this matter is biased due to the knowledge of the topic I already had before I read it.
Bottom line: these stories are all the more amazing because they're true, but if you already have studied the subject you will most likely not learn anything new.
I'd certainly recommend this book to someone with little previous knowledge of the subject, but in my opinion the best way to truly understand what any of these men went through would be to read individual biographies of them. This book just whets the appetite.
As a fan of author Jackson's other books, I must admit I was a little disappointed with this title- but I also acknowledge the fact that my opinion in this matter is biased due to the knowledge of the topic I already had before I read it.
Bottom line: these stories are all the more amazing because they're true, but if you already have studied the subject you will most likely not learn anything new.
February 10, 2018
Interesting read, good detail
While the book was interesting and contained good details on the pilots covered it suffered from poor proof reading with many misspelled and run on words.
While the book was interesting and contained good details on the pilots covered it suffered from poor proof reading with many misspelled and run on words.
May 9, 2015
A series of too-brief sketches of early chase (fighter) pilots. Really on the young adult level.
I read while preparing a lecture, but found little of value.
I read while preparing a lecture, but found little of value.
June 7, 2023
Short accounts of the short service lives ofa5 WWI aces. All but two died in action. Interesting tidbit: several did rather poorly in initial pilot training.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews