Hero of the Angry Sky. David S. Ingalls
out, locking them in.
Thursday [October 4, 1917]—Shopped all day and wrote letters that night as I couldn’t stand the party that the rest went on. Went to attaché.67
Friday [October 5, 1917]—Walked a lot and saw a couple of shows in afternoon and night, ordered a uniform at Burberry’s and some wings. Lunch at Claridges was very good.68 Also went to attaché and at last got some dope. We are to go to France and go to two schools, one first for about four hours in F.B.A. and then to the Mediterranean for real practice. After the show at night I returned to bed but the rest of course went on a [bat?]. Poor Devils.
Saturday, October 6, 1917. Left at 11:30 and went to Felixstowe to the RNAS station there.69 We were met by a couple of autos and officers and from then on were treated like princes. There a lot of officers took us in charge and showed us around and told us some good stories of their work. This is a big station [RNAS Felixstowe] with 24 pilots and lots of men. The hangars are in wonderful shape with dugouts around because of the Boche raids. The first thing they sprang on us was the Porte or “Baby,” a boat of 136 [124]-foot spread, and three 290-hp Rolls Royces. The most gigantic machines I ever saw carrying six men—two pilots as they go out for five or six hours a day at a time. They carry fuel for eight hours and each motor uses 25 gallons per hour. They have four Lewis guns that can fire in almost every direction. They make about 80 and can fly at 45. Next we saw the regular machines—somewhat smaller with two motors, three men, four guns, but still three or four times as big as our “F” boats. Besides these, there were several pontoon machines and one Sopwith “Pup,” a peach of a land machine, little and just the first fighting machine I had ever seen. They also showed us the 230- and 100-pound bombs they carry, either two of the former or four of the latter.70
As this is the biggest and best station they have it is frequently subjected to Boche raids. At 5:00 the gave us tea and sent us to the town where we had supper at the Felixistowe Hotel and then we left on the 7:11 for London, arriving at about 7:45 after a light supper during which I perceived the first good-looking English girl I’ve seen—most of them, by the way, are in terrible shape—bad teeth, big feet and ankles, but with good complexions, and can’t touch the good old U.S. girls. Then I spent an hour writing in this simple book.
Sunday, October 7, 1917. Being the day of rest none of us seven arose till 1:30. Then after exactly 12 hours sleep we were feeling pretty high. From bed we hurried over to the [Ye Olde] Cheshire Cheese for a fair but large luncheon.71 One felt very intellectual sitting in Sam[uel] Johnson’s seat and reading the visitors’ books. Afterwards we saw Sam’s china, watch, etc. The proprietor apparently felt that with Johnson’s chair, etc., his guests would not worry about the quality of the food. From this wonderful display I went back to 108 Savoy and wrote and read till about seven when Chip, Sam, Fred, and I went to the Carlton for dinner.72 Then home again and I read a bit more before slipping between the sheets.
Monday, October 8, 1917. We all got up feeling pretty high and went to the attaché. He gave us some orders and a lot more dope, probably all bull. We were to leave Tuesday. Sam was appointed sort of leader—a hell of a job as it meant looking out for baggage, etc. Went to Burberry’s to hurry on uniform with “Scab.” Also a last bit of shopping. Had lunch about 3:00 at the Savoy and then frocked about till “Scab,” Chip, Sam, Fred, and I went to the Carlton for dinner and then to “Bubbly,” a show in which the leading lady was a friend of Chip’s! Well, the show was darn good, unusually good, and Chip’s girl Teddie Gerard was pretty good.73 He went out to her dressing room in between acts to give her a time[?]. After the show Reg and I went to the Savoy for supper like two confirmed woman haters should and saw Sam come in with his smelt. After it closed up we started up but ran into Chip, Fred, and two girls from the show who kicked me out of our rooms so they could have a party. I slept with Reg.74
Tuesday, October 9, 1917. We got our orders and packed and slipped off about 4:00 for Southampton. I felt awfully low and had a headache. We got to Southampton about 6:30 and tore to the boat, which was to take us to [Le] Havre. But unfortunately it had been too rough for crossings for two days and a tremendous crowd had filled up the boat. So we were unable to get berths. People were buying and selling rights to the stationary chairs in the salon. Lots of Red Cross nurses were left in the same fix. Also the crossing promised to be cold and rough and our supper was rotten. I felt awfully sick, but about ten I managed to get a berth in a room with three other men and went to sleep. Two of the men got sick and it was rough and cold so I slept little but was somewhat better off than the poor devils who sat up in the dining saloon. In the morning I waded out recovered. It seems Sam had been taken with chills during the night. The steward thought he might die, so to warm him up he put Sam in the big bread oven. When I saw him Sam looked as if he had been raised. We docked about 7 A.M.
Wednesday, October 10, 1917. Getting ashore about 8:00 at Havre [put] all of us in a hell of a humor, and sick and tired we beat it for a hotel, procured rooms, and fell asleep. I slept from 9:00 to 4:00 and reckon most of the others did too. Then we had tea and caught the 5:00 for Paris, arriving at 10:30. We took a couple of horse-drawn vehicles and set off to find a hotel. Believe me, Paris was full. After trying several hotels, Hen, Sam, “Scab,” and I got rooms at the Chatham,75 a rotten place, whose bar was already famous among Americans, and the others got in the Grand,76 a very nice place. Even Chip and Hen didn’t care for a party that night. While waiting out a ride, observing naught in my innocence, a sweet-faced little girl passed but stopped and returned to say “Will sleep with me?” probably all she knew. I had learned something in London but realized I would learn more in Paris. However, with perfect sang froid I said, “Sorry, not tonight,” which passed over her head, and I realized that she had learned only as much English as was actually necessary.
Thursday, October 11, 1918. Arose to see Paris for the first time. It wasn’t worth getting out of a nice warm bed. It was raining, cold, disagreeable. Had lunch at the Café de la Paix,77 after which we reported to naval aviation headquarters at 23 Rue de la Paix. We checked up on the regulations and Reg, always a thorough individual, read from his manual that officers reporting for duty should do so in full dress. Well, full dress included some tin swords we’d been forced to buy and had brought with us in much the same spirit as a married man carries with him on a trip his rubbers. Still, Chip, Hen, and I were loath to appear as prescribed. We got ready but delayed till the other four preceded us in full dress to report. So we were in the anteroom and heard our associates enter, garbed as they were in fitting attire. And we listened to a strange voice, “What the hell are you? Where did you get that uniform from? Are you boys in the naval cavalry?” It seems one’s sword should be carried tight against the side hooked in one’s belt, not dragging and swaying full length as ours were; that a U.S. naval aviator should wear ordinary naval officers’ uniform, not one with RFC wings attached; and finally the blue dress uniform was not for reporting at a foreign base. Chip, Ken, and I retreated in good order to our hotels and altered our attack, with the result, “Well, thank God, at least some of you novices have some sense.” Maybe we weren’t thereafter the leading spirits of us seven. Actually, two very nice Lieuts. talked to us [Virgil] Griffin and [Norman] Van der Veer.78 They said we could stay in Paris for a few days and they would take care of our pay accounts, etc.
After leaving the naval office I left the others and walked around for awhile, then went to the Chatham and wrote a couple of letters telling mother and Harry [Davison] what a hell of a trip we had. On the same day who did I run into but Cy Clark, my old friend from St. Paul’s School,79 and Wakeham, who roomed with Red Martin at college.80 I certainly was glad to see an old Boze and arranged to dine with him. Met Cy at 6:30 and had supper in a little restaurant nearby and then went to the Folies Bergères.81 After all, London is a tame city. Here I saw life—about the rottenest life that could be lived and I certainly was disgusted with the French. Here also I ran into Charlie Blackwell, senior in Sheff[ield], St. Anthony.82 After leaving this hole I returned home and read for a bit till Hen came in when we both agreed that the Lord slipped up when he made the French.
Friday, October 12, 1917. After breakfast, Hen and I reported and received orders to leave Paris Saturday night or Sunday morning for Bordeaux. I also was informed in a nice way that I was an ass for leaving my commission and pilot’s license behind. I had written for them the night before. Until they come I’ll get no pay. Pay reminds me that on Thursday