Judged from the standpoint of actual flying, Little was just an average sort of pilot with tremendous bravery and a flair for finding his way about. There was nothing particularly accurate or finished about his flying, but for getting the last ounce out of an aeroplane as an offensive weapon, he had few equals. Air fighting seemed to him to be just a gloriously exhilarating sport, and he had been doing regular work over the lines for many months before I can remember his showing any sign of fatigue or nervous strain.
When out on a job of work he never ceased to look for trouble, and very little escaped those keen eyes of his. In combat, his dashing methods, close range fire and deadly aim made him a formidable opponent, and he was the most chivalrous of warriors. As a man, he was a most lovable character, and a sportsman in the truest sense of the word. When not flying his greatest joy was to go out after rabbits or rats with those other two great sportsmen, our fox terriers “Maurice” and “Tich,” who adored him.
Booker and I went on leave on June 26th and whilst at Dover on the way back on July 7th, I saw something of the big Gotha raid on London. One effect of this raid was to prolong our stay at St. Eloi, for which we were profoundly thankful. There had been a proposal to transfer us to the 14th Wing on the Belgian coast, but the Gotha raid put the wind up people at home to such an extent that the Military Authorities were forced to withdraw squadrons from France to defend London. No. 45 Squadron was taken from our Brigade, and as this left only two Fighter Squadrons (No. 40 and ourselves) our move was cancelled.
Early in July we started to change ou
r triplanes for Sopwith “Camels” and the note in the Squadron Diary for the 10th of July that Arnold, Johnston, and Knight flew "Dixie," “Veda” and “Peter III.” to Dunkirk will recall some of the names we had for machines in those days. “The Frivolities" entertained the Ship’s Company that night. We were still very Naval, you see.
It had been a hot summer so far and this had encouraged us to dig a swimming bath. I cannot remember whose brainwave this was, but it proved a huge success. In our spare time, too, we had been playing quite a lot of cricket, and early in August we organised a riding school. One, Captain Stadward, used to send up half-a-dozen horses and a Sergeant Major from his Camp close by whenever we had a spare afternoon, and D‘Albiac, Booker, Johnston, Jenner-Parson, Thompson, Thornley, Scott, and myself used to place ourselves at the mercy of the S.M. and have the greatest fun. Who can ever forget “Cross your stirrups--- ter-r-r-ot” !
