Captain William Leefe Robinson, V.C. - Gets his "Wings"

After a months leave, Robinson reported at Farnborough on the 29th June 1915. The next day he was making his first flight under instruction. On 18th July he survived his first solo flight. On 28th July he qualified for his Royal Aero Club Certificate No. 1475 in a Maurice Farman. He had had a total of 230 minutes tuition. On 14th August he reported to the Central Flying School at Upavon for a course of advanced instruction. On the 15th September he gained his "wings." On the 18th he was appointed Flying Officer and seconded to 19 Squadron. On the 20th he reported to Captain R. M. Rodwell at Castle Bromwich. There is no letter home during this busy period, and it is 21 October before the eager pilot pens a long letter to his mother.

Maurice Farman

"You have just heard I have 'got my wings' — that is some time ago now. Ever since I've been here I've been acting as Flight Commander (a Captain's place) and second in command of the squadron . . . I have plenty to do with that alone what with 5 machines and about 35 men under me. I am also squadron photography officer and wireless officer, added to which my machines are the only ones which carry machine guns, so they and their fittings have to be looked after."

The six months training had clearly produced a better than average pilot, and Robinson is proud of his skill. He jokingly warns his mother not to make him more conceited than he already is by praising him but still cannot resist the next piece of news. "Now I'm going to give you an example of my abominable conceit. The other day it was most awfully windy, and I was the only flying officer allowed to go up—I took a passenger too. What do you think of a pilot who can pilot a machine and passenger through a 45 hour gale!"

Robinson's skills were the result of many hours flying. He was busy delivering aircraft, and instructing observers and trainee pilots. For the elite few of the R.F.C. life was never dull. "You seem to think whenever I go to town or anywhere I must have leave—not at all. I go "on duty." I have delivered and brought machines to and from Farnborough, Northolt (Harrow) and various other places and between times I manage to have a peep at 'Town' and my various friends there. Whenever I do, I have a simply ripping time. I landed for lunch near Banbury the other day—you are immediately surrounded by people offering you cars, lunch, tea, bed and the Lord knows what not. Of course, if you are wise you generally pick out the grounds of a country house or large villa of some kind to land in. My last landing was at Kenilworth. I had a passenger with me and we had the time of our lives Talk about autograph books and cameras. By gad, I was positively sick of seeing and signing my own signature. When I swore I would not sign another book one girl caught hold of my machine and said she would not leave go until I signed. So after much amusing argument I told her to give me the book whereupon I placed my filthy hand, writing 'The mark of an aviator, W. L. Robinson' over the top of the handmark—my hand was all dirty with the oil of the engine. The girl I liked best of all was a sweet little Flapper of about 17 called Kathleen Lennox for whom I drew our aeroplane. Another girl lent me her camera with which I took some photographs. She developed them and has just sent me some printed. We stayed at Kenilworth two days and a night!!!!"

This chatty account of "delivery boy" jobs begun on 21st October 1915 and was continued in the second part of the letter, now dated 10th December 1915;

"I have three observers and several flyers to instruct in my flight. I take passengers up every day. Last Tuesday I was to take a passenger to Gosport (other side of the river to Portsmouth). We got as far as Oxford when the weather—wind, rain and fog—got so bad, that we had to land. We saw a machine already on Port Meadow, so I landed there too. The other machine turned out to be one which my best friend here was also taking to Gosport. To shorten a long story we had an Al time in Oxford got the local police and volunteers to guard the machine—put up at the Mitre Hotel—Saw 'Deja vu' at the theatre, and enjoyed ourselves generally. We were followed about most of the time by a band of small boys who would insist on cheering every now and then. Next morning the sky was perfect—and we decided to go on our way via Farnborough where we would fill up our petrol and oil tanks.

I flew fairly high, touching nearly 9,000 feet. As luck would have it my engine began missing; I knew exactly what the matter was but could not remedy it in the air. The poor observer, a fellow who had only been in an aeroplane about once before in his life, grew quite nervous; he kept on passing back notes to me: 'The front part of the machine is vibrating horribly' — 'What is the matter with the engine?' `Will she hold out 'till we get to Farnborough?' etc. I laughed like anything at him, made a long nose and put my tongue out at him for a reply (you can't hear each other speak of course). Once or twice I held up my hands to show I wasn't holding anything—I thought the poor man would have a fit. Anybody who knew the least little bit about flying would know we were as safe as a rock. I then shut off the engine and did a long glide of about six miles into Farnborough aerodrome."

Robinson had yet to see any action as a pilot. He was still learning, and the best training was clearly to be up in the air in all kinds of weather, flying many different types of aircraft. The task of defending England against airship attacks called for may different skills. Of course the pilot needed self confidence, stamina, courage, a thorough knowledge of his machine, and experience of flying in adverse weather conditions but he also needed a particular skill, he had to be a good night pilot, since the raids always came at night. By Christmas 1915 Robinson had all the qualifications necessary. He had mastered the art of night flying while at Castle Bromwich, and so was not to be kept in the business of delivering aircraft for very much longer. On the 24th December 1915 he found himself lodged at the Lion Hotel in Farningham, Kent. He was on loan to No.10 Reserve Squadron, part of the growing network of London defence squadrons, for the specific purpose of "Zepp Straffing."

Robinson again wrote to his mother;
"I've been 'lent' by my Birmingham Squadron to the London defence and here I am 18 miles east of the city and five miles out of Dartford, tucked away with another pilot, some mechanics and two aeroplanes for the purpose of Straffing Zepps', when they next come this way.

The other pilot (who by the way was with me learning to fly at Farnborough) and myself are living in the sweet little country hotel, all on our own—we are awfully comfortable here and the job is really a very slack one, We are chosen for it because we are supposed to be able to fly by night, an accomplishment which not every pilot can boast of I may state. There are only 20 aeroplanes on the London defence, but we are absolutely the first to receive the enemy should they come over. Now for heaven's sake don't get nervous mother, the job is quite safe if one has plenty of confidence."

Robinson had not been loaned willingly. His squadron commander pressed the authorities for his return. But the Home Defence Squadrons now being established in the South East needed pilots of Robinson's calibre, and it seemed his future had been decided. The last letter of 1915 ends with wishes for the New Year from an untested but still boyishly enthusiastic son; "hearty wishes of luck and happiness throughout 1916 and all following years, with love to all, I remain your ever loving son, Billy the Birdman."

On 12th January 1916, Robinson was sent on his last delivery. He was to take a new Armstrong Whitworth FK3 from Newcastle to Upavon. It proved to be a long drawn out job, due mostly to bad weather, and it was not until 31st January 1916, that Robinson returned to Birmingham. That night the Germans launched one of the largest air raids of the war. Nine airships were involved, and twenty of the Home Defence aircraft went up to meet them. The damage inflicted by the raiders was considerable, but not one of the aircraft managed to make contact with an airship. That night cost the Home Defences dear, eight aircraft crashed, and two pilots were killed.

"As I went straight to my billet I heard nothing about the Zepp raid until the next morning. I then went straight off on the London Zepp Strafing job at Croydon, and the next day (Wednesday) was shunted off here—one of the Outer Circle of London Defence Stations."

 

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