The Spectator

The Spectator at war: Bravery in the air

From ‘News of the Week’, The Spectator, 8 May 1915:

The papers of last Saturday published a particularly vivid account by the Canadian Record Officer of the stand of Canadians at Ypres. Such heroism as is revealed in this narrative deserves even more than the tribute we paid to the Canadians last week, Their feat of arms will live for ever in military history. It was performed by men offered by lawyers, professors, and business men. We have since learned from a statement by General Hughes, the Canadian Minister of Militia, that the Canadian casualties exceeded six thousand. According to General Hughes’s account, late in the battle the Canadian Highlanders were cut of by about sixty thousand Germans. Firing was heard far into the night till the last cartridge had no doubt been expended, and it is not yet known whether the Highlanders were annihilated or whether the survivors were taken prisoners. We cannot follow the Record Officer’s narrative in detail, but -we must mention that to read it is to experience the sensations of days when Britain was engaged in wars in which more publicity was allowed. The writer freely states the names of officers and regiments. Recruiting in Canada will be tremendously helped by the glory which is reflected on districts and towns associated with particular regiments. But why is what is right for Canada wrong for Britain? We cannot find an answer.


In the “Eyewitness’s” narrative published on Monday there was a description of one of the most gallant deeds ever performed by our gallant airmen, On March 26th the important railway station at Courtrai was bombed by an airman, who
went alone in a biplane. He planed down to a height of three hundred feet, and became the target of hundreds of rifles, of machine guns, and of artillery. In this fire he was severely wounded in the thigh, and might then with very good reason have saved his life by descending. He determined, however, not to let the Germans have his machine. He therefore descended still further—to a height of only one hundred feet—in order to gather speed. But before he could escape he was wounded mortally by a shot through the body. He still flew on and regained the British lines. He did not even stop at the nearest aerodrome, but flew on to his base, where he made a perfect landing, handed over his machine, and delivered his report. In a short time he died of his wounds. We learn from an obituary notice in the Times that the name of this unconquerable airman was Lieutenant W, B. R. Rhodes-Moorhouse. Why he should not have been named in the “Eyewitness’s” account we cannot imagine. The passion for making us see the war as a kind of shadow-show is indeed an obsession.

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