Christmas 1917 aerial activity on the Western Front came almost to a standstill; very little flying was possible owing to dense fog on Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day brought snow. We could celebrate and we did. Such evenings were wonderful, full of spontaneous humour with a comradeship that is peculiar to wartime, when dangers are shared.
Johns was the squadron wag. On one occasion he shinned up the hot pipe
of the Mess stove, and from that elevated position gave a hilarious rendering of: “Now lads when I was aboard the French frigate Flossie.” He managed to take a drink up with him to pour down the pipe: “to quench the fearful fire raging ’tween decks.” On a more formal occasion, a squadron take-off, his mechanic reported his machine dud; he turned to me, saluted and said: "Sir, my Camel’s got the hump.”
We got back to work on December 27. Only two German aircraft were claimed shot down that day along the whole Front. We got one and No. 35 Squadron R.F.C. the other. Unfortunately we could only claim ours as out of control while the R.F.C. boys forced theirs to land in our lines.
The new year started well for the Squadron by Flight Commander Compston and Flight Lieutenant Cooper bringing down into our lines, at Fampoux, a German two-seater equipped with wireless. Later Compston, together with Flight Sub-Lieutenant Dixon, became entangled with two Albatros Scouts and by their combined efforts one was downed w
ith spurts of smoke coming from the cockpit. Flight Lieutenant Jordan and Flight Sub-Lieutenant Johnstone also claimed one between them the same day.
My other Flight Commander, G. W. Price, gained a well-deserved D.S.C. that month. Price was a tactician; on two successive days he brought down a D.F.W. by a plan worked out jointly with a member of his flight. He was utterly fearless and on January 2 gave battle to seven Albatros Scouts which he caught in the rear. Firing 300 rounds into the hindmost machine he saw it burst into flames and fall to the ground.
He had a similar experience on January 21. Taking on the hindmost of a formation of six Albatros Scouts, he opened fire, but found that he had no novice to contend with. Twisting and turning, he had great difficulty in bringing his guns to bear, but the final result was the same. After 300 rounds, the enemy aircraft stalled, turned completely over and disappeared through a thick bank of cloud.
