His loss, in February 1918, was a great blow. Everyone will remember this staunch, strong and silent Irishman, and the Captain Kettle beard he grew: he was a most daring and fearless pilot and it seemed a terrible sacrifice to lose him in one of those low-flying stunts that H.Q. were then serving out with increasing frequency. I then lost McDonald in the same way in May 1918. A fine big-hearted Canadian the Squadron could ill afford to spare.
The foregoing are isolated incidents. To give a more accurate
picture of our activities, click on the following link to read
from one day in my operational diary:
Such was the pace for below-normal activity on a winter’s day in 1918, as the Germans geared their strength for the massive blow that was to fall later in the greatest of great “big pushes.”
There was no prouder squadron commander than I on the
whole of the Western Front that January. In the short
space of eight days I received notification from the
Admiralty of the following decorations (click on the link):
The 
success of a Squadron in the air depended first and foremost on its Flight Commanders, and Compston, who had “B” Flight, was a wonderful example. He was one of the most remarkable men at the front, and because of his youth, frail nature and highly strung temperament I was always anxious about him. He suffered greatly from neuralgia and loss of sleep, caused no doubt by the ever-increasing altitudes at which we had to work, he had indomitable courage and nothing held him back. Although this was his second long spell at the front, it was not until the whole Squadron went home in March 1918 that I could persuade him to give up and take the rest he so well deserved. His air tactics were worked out to the highest degree and he holds the unique distinction of never having lost a pilot over the lines.
The one with me longest was Jordan, who was a Flight Lieutenant when I joined the Squadron and was a Flight Commander from April to August 1918. In December 1917 he was awarded the D.S.C., a Bar to it within five weeks, and the D.F.C. in July 1918. He was a remarkable fellow, thin, and pale, and here was another who had simply to be forced to go home for a rest. He had joined up originally as an air mechanic, so knew how to get the best out of his men.
