animals.
It was the routine business of observation and reconnaissance that gave the RFC its
raison d’être
, however, and when the retreat was over General French gave fulsome
recognition to the role the Corps and its commander, Henderson, had played in enabling his forces to escape.
‘Their skill, energy and perseverance have been beyond all praise,’ he wrote in his despatch. ‘They have furnished me with the most complete and accurate
information which has been of incalculable value in the conduct of operations. Fired at constantly both by friend and foe, and not hesitating to fly in every kind of weather, they have remained
undaunted throughout.’
Within a few weeks the RFC had established a fighting posture that it would maintain through the long years of what soon felt like an interminable war. Whatever the odds, whatever the weather,
it was committed to answering every call the army issued. Part of the airmen’s determination stemmed from the desire of newcomers – still regarded as upstarts in some quarters –
to prove their worth. But it also reflected their sympathy for their earthbound comrades whose plight they saw with bitter clarity from what seemed like the relative safety of the air. The aviators
felt themselves privileged and, in the months ahead, even pampered as they settled down in comfortable bases, while the soldiers endured the squalor of the trenches. It was a perception they never
lost sight of, even when the demands placed on them by the generals brought appalling casualties.
In early September the German breakthrough was halted at the Battle of the Marne. Again, the reconnaissance reports of the RFC helped the Allies’ analyse German movements and guide their
reactions. But the Allied counter-attack launched immediately afterwards failed after a few days. The war of manoeuvre was over and the armies began digging in along aline
that by the end of November stretched, with a few gaps, from Nieuport in the north to the Swiss border. The war had changed decisively. It was stuck in the mud of Flanders and henceforth would be a
ghastly battle of attrition that would define the future function of the air force.
It was clear that the RFC had an important, possibly crucial, part to play in the land war. The same could not be said of the Royal Naval Air Service and the war at sea. In August 1914 the War
Office had insisted on control of the country’s air defences, even though almost all of its aircraft were already earmarked for France. At the Admiralty, the First Lord, Winston Churchill,
took advantage of the army’s predicament to move in. Soon the Royal Naval Air Service had taken over the responsibility and a rudimentary aerial defence system was put in place. The RNAS set
up a string of seaplane bases in east coast ports, facing Germany. In early September the army grudgingly accepted the situation and – for the time being at least – ceded the air over
Britain to the navy.
The admirals’ conviction that the special needs of the navy made close co-operation with the army impossible had led them to ignore the amalgamation the creation of the RFC was supposed to
bring about, and had carried on their own course, training their own pilots and buying their own aircraft. Such was their power and political prestige that their disobedience went unpunished and
was accepted as a fait accompli with the official recognition of the RNAS in July 1914. The navy’s headstrong attitude, however, was not easy to justify. Wresting control of the domestic air
space from the army wasan empty victory, as in the first months of the war the German air force stayed away. Effort concentrated instead on how to put the navy’s
aeroplanes to use at sea. Flight brought huge potential advantages to the prosecution of naval warfare. In theory, aircraft could carry out reconnaissance from ships at sea, launch offensive and
defensive operations against hostile aircraft and bases, attack enemy
It was the routine business of observation and reconnaissance that gave the RFC its
raison d’être
, however, and when the retreat was over General French gave fulsome
recognition to the role the Corps and its commander, Henderson, had played in enabling his forces to escape.
‘Their skill, energy and perseverance have been beyond all praise,’ he wrote in his despatch. ‘They have furnished me with the most complete and accurate
information which has been of incalculable value in the conduct of operations. Fired at constantly both by friend and foe, and not hesitating to fly in every kind of weather, they have remained
undaunted throughout.’
Within a few weeks the RFC had established a fighting posture that it would maintain through the long years of what soon felt like an interminable war. Whatever the odds, whatever the weather,
it was committed to answering every call the army issued. Part of the airmen’s determination stemmed from the desire of newcomers – still regarded as upstarts in some quarters –
to prove their worth. But it also reflected their sympathy for their earthbound comrades whose plight they saw with bitter clarity from what seemed like the relative safety of the air. The aviators
felt themselves privileged and, in the months ahead, even pampered as they settled down in comfortable bases, while the soldiers endured the squalor of the trenches. It was a perception they never
lost sight of, even when the demands placed on them by the generals brought appalling casualties.
In early September the German breakthrough was halted at the Battle of the Marne. Again, the reconnaissance reports of the RFC helped the Allies’ analyse German movements and guide their
reactions. But the Allied counter-attack launched immediately afterwards failed after a few days. The war of manoeuvre was over and the armies began digging in along aline
that by the end of November stretched, with a few gaps, from Nieuport in the north to the Swiss border. The war had changed decisively. It was stuck in the mud of Flanders and henceforth would be a
ghastly battle of attrition that would define the future function of the air force.
It was clear that the RFC had an important, possibly crucial, part to play in the land war. The same could not be said of the Royal Naval Air Service and the war at sea. In August 1914 the War
Office had insisted on control of the country’s air defences, even though almost all of its aircraft were already earmarked for France. At the Admiralty, the First Lord, Winston Churchill,
took advantage of the army’s predicament to move in. Soon the Royal Naval Air Service had taken over the responsibility and a rudimentary aerial defence system was put in place. The RNAS set
up a string of seaplane bases in east coast ports, facing Germany. In early September the army grudgingly accepted the situation and – for the time being at least – ceded the air over
Britain to the navy.
The admirals’ conviction that the special needs of the navy made close co-operation with the army impossible had led them to ignore the amalgamation the creation of the RFC was supposed to
bring about, and had carried on their own course, training their own pilots and buying their own aircraft. Such was their power and political prestige that their disobedience went unpunished and
was accepted as a fait accompli with the official recognition of the RNAS in July 1914. The navy’s headstrong attitude, however, was not easy to justify. Wresting control of the domestic air
space from the army wasan empty victory, as in the first months of the war the German air force stayed away. Effort concentrated instead on how to put the navy’s
aeroplanes to use at sea. Flight brought huge potential advantages to the prosecution of naval warfare. In theory, aircraft could carry out reconnaissance from ships at sea, launch offensive and
defensive operations against hostile aircraft and bases, attack enemy
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