The historically significant Great War ‘Under the Guns of the Red Baron’ Royal Flying Corps Observer Battle of the Somme 17th September 1916 First Richthofen Aerial Victory Casualty group awarded to Lieutenant Tom Rees, Royal Flying Corps, formerly 14th Service Battalion, Royal Welsh Fusiliers. Rees was from Deffynog, Breconshire, Wales, whose family farmed Cefnbrynich Farm, and having fought out on the Western Front from November 1915, he soon volunteered for transfer as an observer to the Royal Flying Corps in February 1916 and then went on to fly a number of operations in two-seater FE2b fighter aircraft. As such he put into motion his fate and his place in history. On 17th September 1916, Rees and his pilot, 2nd Lieutenant Lionel Morris, in their No.11 Squadron FE2b 7018, would be shot down and killed by the Great War ‘Ace of Aces’ Manfred Freiherr von Richthofen, in what became the first of the 80 of his officially confirmed kills, when he was flying in combat with Oswald Boelcke’s Jasta 2. Richthofen, behind Boelcke, focused on a ‘large machine painted in dark colours’ and began firing at FE2b 7018. Rees instantly fired back and a futile exchange of bullets continued for the next few seconds. Morris and Rees temporarily had the advantage. In his haste, Richthofen had forgotten the commandments Boelcke had so rigorously drummed into the new squadron: he was in full view of the crew of the FE2b, and vulnerable to their wide angle of fire. Morris had learned enough in his few short months as a fighter pilot to know that he had to do everything to avoid Richthofen getting behind him. One of the FE2b’s guns was within his reach, but the best chance of survival lay with him ccncentrating on flying whilst Rees took aim at their attacker. Richthofen was persistent and determined, with a confidence that came from weeks of thorough preparation with Boelcke, and a blue-blooded proficiency with a gun. But Morris’s skill in those terrifying minutes was evident to his opponent. The following account, reproduced many times, remains hauntingly detailed: ‘Apparently he was no beginner, for he knew exactly that his last hour had arrived at the moment if I got at the back of him. At that time I did not have the conviction ‘He must fall’ which I have now on such occasions.’ Richthofen now responded to the proximity of his target with an atavistic recklessness: ‘My Englishman twisted and turned, flying in zig-zags. I did not think for a moment that the hostile squadrons contained other Englishman who conceivably might come to the aid of their comrades. I was animated by a single thought: ‘The man in front of me must come down, whatever happens.’ Richthofen’s chances were not good against the double gun of the FE2b and the solid defence of its experienced crew. Exasperated and aware of the risky position he had put himself in, he retreated, disappearing into the clouds. Given breathing space at this decisive moment, he was able to consider the finer nuances of Boelcke’s Dicta. From that point on Richthofen held the upper hand in his faster and better-armed machine. There would be only one outcome. Morris believed the German had conceded defeat and looked around him. The FE2b formation was comprehensively ruptured and each of No.11’s crews had broken off into their own fights. One FE on its own was a sitting duck. Morris’s only alternative was to head for home as quickly as possible and hope to rejoin at least one of No.11’s machines. He quickly turned the nose of the plane westwards and flew in a straight line. Below him, out of sight, Richthofen seized his opportunity to strike in the FE’s blind spot underneath its tail. In seconds his machine gun fire raked the side of Morris’s aeroplane as he closed in a precipitate speed. His relish for the attack nearly backfired: ‘I had gone so close that I was afraid I might dash into the Englishman. Suddenly I nearly yelled with joy, for the propellor of the enemy machine had stopped turning. Hurrah!’ Von Richthofen would later commission his very first silver victory cup for this action through a jeweller in Berlin, which would be engraved with the legend: ‘1. Vickers 2. 17.9.1916’. Richthofen had landed next to the downed aircraft, images of which survive to this day. ‘I was so excited that I landed also, and my eagerness was so great that I nearly smashed up my machine.’ German soldiers were also approaching the British machine with caution. They quickly realised how little threat its occupants now posed. It was too late for Morris and Rees. Blood pooled on the nacelle floor around the feet of the slumped bodies of both the pilot and observer. A romanticised version exists that described the jubilant but compassionate Richthofen, with the assistance of soldiers who had rushed to the scene, gently removing Rees from the nacelle: ‘Rees opened his eyes with a boyish smile and died.’
Group of 3: 1914-1915 Star; (LIEUT. T. REES. R.W.FUS:); British War Medal and Victory Medal; (LIEUT. T. REES.)
Condition: Good Very Fine.
Sold together with the original watercolour painting by the artist Chris Thomas, painted and signed in 1995, titled ‘Victory No.1’, and detailing the 11 Squadron FE2b 7018 flown by Lionel Morris and his observer Tom Rees, 17th September 1916. Morris, mortally wounded, brought his machine down by an airfield near Villers Plouich. In the background, Manfred von Richthofen’s Albatros aircraft can be seen swooping past. This painting was printed in the book ‘Under the Guns of the Red Baron’. In all, the artist painted 10 paintings for publication in the book, these commemorating victories No.1, 6, 15, 33, 44, 52, 62, 70, 73, and 76. Painting No.1 is a well known image, and has been reproduced on a number of occasions.
On 17th September, the German ace Oswald Boelcke led his eight-strong Jasta 2 formation into its first action and sighted eight BE2c’s of No.12 Squadron, R.F.C., and six F.E.2b’s of No.11 Squadron, R.F.C., bombing Marcoing railway station. ‘Manfred Freiherr von Richthofen, flying Albatros D.111 491/16, chose an FE.2b as his quarry and opened fire but missed the enemy aircraft which retaliated with heavy machine gun fire. Avoiding the lethal response Richthofen banked out of range then came back under and behind the F.E.2b. Closing to point blank range and unseen by the enemy aircraft’s crew, he opened a deadly burst of fire on the F.E.2b’s engine and cockpit that wounded both the pilot, 2nd Lieutenant L.B.F. Morris, and his observer, Lieutenant T. Rees. The doomed F.E.2b plunged downwards with the dying pilot, Morris, managing to land it behind German lines. Richthofen followed it down where he found the pilot mortally wounded and the observer dead.’
Richthofen’s personal combat report slightly differs from the above account and reads: ‘When patrol flying I detected shrapnel clouds in direction Cambrai. I hurried forth and met a squad which I attacked shortly after 11 a.m. I singled out the last machine and fired several times at closest range (10 metres). Suddenly the enemy propellor stood stock still. The machine went down gliding and I followed until I had killed the observer who had not stopped firing until the last moment. Now my opponent went downwards in sharp curves. In approx. 1200 metres a second German machine came along and attacked my victim right down to the ground and then landed next to the plane.’ The action took place near Villers Plouich.
In his combat report, Richthofen confused Rees with the pilot. Morris, claiming that the pilotL ’N.C.O. Rees, wounded, hospital at Cambrai’ and observer: ‘killed, buried by Jagdstaffel 4.’
As the book ‘German Knights of the Air 1914-1918’ continues on pages 147-148: ‘Richthofen had scored his first victory, and to mark the event had a silver cup made by a Berlin silversmith. It was to be the first of his 80 such cups. By the end of October 1916 Richthofen would have six confirmed victories to his credit. His hunter’s prowess needed to be demonstrated by his collecting relics from each of his downed adversary’s aircraft which were sent to his family home in Silesia for proud display.
Tom Rees was born on 18th May 1896 in Deffynog, Breconshire, Wales, being born into a Welsh farming family, who farmed Cefnbrynich Farm, he being one of five brothers and sisters, and the youngest son. As such he was spared the application of many middle names, his short and to the point first name being ‘the first attempt in the Rees family to cease repeating Christian names exactly in every generation’, and it marks him out in the records: always Tom, rather than Thomas.
Initially educated at the village school in Deffynoy, he then went on to the grammar school in Brecon town, becoming a pupil teacher locally in his last year at Brecon Boys School. From there he went to the University College of Wales at Aberystwyth in 1913, where he joined the Officer Training Corps, and was the only student to start an honours course in geology in the autumn of 1914 at the college in Aberystwyth. But with the Great War he then attested for service with the British Army on 2nd December 1914, joining as a Private the 14th Service Battalion, Royal Welsh Fusiliers, which unit was formed at Llandudno and came under the orders of the 128th Brigade, 43rd Division. No doubt owing to his Officer Training Corps experience he was rapidly promoted to Corporal on 18th December 1914 and on 22nd December to Sergeant, before being commission as a 2nd Lieutenant on 21st January 1915. Family legend has it that his father, ‘on observing the ways of the local gentry’, was concerned that his youngest son would not be able to survive on a subaltern’s pay and offered to supplement his wages, Rees however made it quite clear that he intended to live within his means.
From April 1915 the battalion would find itself part of the 113th Brigade in the 38th (Welsh) Division. Through into the early summer of 1915 his battalion remained on training in Wales, and for a period he was the Acting Assistant Adjutant. The local Congregation Church at Cwmcamlais would record the activities of the two Rees brothers who were in uniform, and in November 1914 noted concerning Tom Rees that ‘at the present time he is on the point of being transferred to the front. He is destined, if spared, to rise still higher, for he is gifted with a good physique, tall, strong and energetic, and he is one who is born to command. May these noble brothers be spared to return to their respective professions, after the Armageddon is past!’
That same month, the 14th Service Battalion travelled via Southampton to France, and four days and ‘a hundred hours of rain’ later they reached their billets around Richebourg, in the vicinity of Neuve Chapelle. By the time the Welsh Division met the Prussian Guards at Memetz Wood during the Battle of the Somme on 10th July 1916, Rees had already left his battalion, he having volunteered for transfer to the General List n secondment to the Royal Flying Corps as an observer in early 1916. His role would be to operate in the two seater aircraft, taking over guns, wireless equipment and performing the photography during the photographic reconnaissance missions, leaving the pilot to fly the aircraft. He had already shown an interest in photography, and evocative prints still exist of his family when taken before the war around the family farm.
Tom Rees first appears on the records of No.11 Squadron on 3rd August 1916 when he flew an offensive patrol near to Gueudecourt in an F.E.2b aircraft as the observer to a Captain Rough. ‘Flying at around 7,000 feet at a speed of seventy to eighty miles per hour, they spotted a solitary Fokker which seemed to Rees to be threatening the formation. The new observer took immediate action, emptying a whole drum at it. The German machine, lacking the courage of its convictions, continued on a downward dive out of the FE’s way. Which was just as well: Rees’s gun had jammed and he was unable to fire any longer.
Around this time, Rees teamed up with his pilot, Lionel Morris, on whom the book ‘Lionel Morris and the Red Baron’ was written by the author Jill Bush. It is from this book that we take a lot of the text below.
On 17th August the ill-fated pair flew a reconnaissance mission over the railway systems around occupied Douai. ‘At 7.15 a.m., Rees recorded: ‘Two trains going towards Douai from E. consisting of about forty trucks each. Trucks were open and seemed to be greyish-white - probably wooden cases.’
Then on 21st August they were detailed for a reconnaissance patrol, west to the enemy-occupied Valenciennes on the border of Belgium, and the circling southwards via the railway town of Solesmes, towards Cambrai. As they flew in decreasing circles around the area, Rees’s attention was drawn to grounded kite balloons near the village of Hamblain-les-Pres and a few solitary trains running. Closer inspection of Valenciennes and Cambrai centres revealed something more interesting: two aerodromes, neither with any aircraft visible. The Cambrai aerodrome, ‘a landing T and a white circle near Petit Fontaine; in Ree’s words, was Proville, near the Saint Quentin canal. Already very familiar with the territory east of the lines around Cambrai, Morris and Rees flew over an area swarming with renewed German aviation effort. The signs that a shift in the aerial war was coming were increasing.
On the following day, Morris and Rees fired an opening salvo for the Royal Flying Corps in a day of tremendous dogfights involving dozens of aircraft. Another of Rees’s squadron colleagues was also in action on this day, the soon to be legendary ace and Victoria Cross winner, Albert Ball. By the end of the day, 22nd August, ten combat reports had been reported by members of No.11 Squadron.
Morris and Rees took off at 5.00 p.m., in advance of two bombing raids leaving Savy not long after them. As they flew south the ground beneath them cracked into trench lines; landmarks were few, but the incongruous chalky mound of the Butte de Warlencourt stuck out, an ants’ nest of German resistance. It was only 250 feet high but it may as well have been a mountain to the British troops in 1916, built on top of an ancient burial ground, it was riddled with dugouts and laced with barbed wire. Morris and Rees’s role, along with the other patrol aircraft, was to divert as many enemy planes from the area as possible whilst the bombers did their work either side of the Butte at Irles and Thilloy. Two other 11 Squadron pilots flew in this role, whilst Albert Ball was nearby in his Nieuport Scout, on hand in case of trouble.
As they heeded towards the battered city of Bapaume, a group of fifteen to twenty hostile aircraft appeared below. The crews of No.11 dispersed, then each chose a target. The strange dance of dogfighting, this time on a bigger scale than anything the British squadron had previously experienced, began. Aircraft sprang and surged in all directions like dragonflies. Morris and Rees’s part in the melee was dramatic:
‘A number of hostile machines were observed at about 7,000 ft. The nearest was engaged qt 300 yards, it was apparently hit and spiralled to earth under control. Another formation of about four hostile machines was observed South of Bapaume. Nearest was engaged and fire first opened at 200 yards. It was apparently hit and was observed to side slip then nose dive to earth out of control. This machine was seen on the ground later in a wrecked condition at M.36 B approx. sheet 57c. Another 4 hostile machines were engaged in turn, one of which dived to earth apparently under control. Hostile machine fired white puffs of smoke apparently to show their identity to Anti-Aircraft.’
At least three other enemy aircraft were believed shot down by No.11 Squadron, and a further seven were engaged but the actions were indecisive. Despite the efforts of their patrol colleagues from No.11 Squadron, the bombers en-route to Irles and Thinly also met trouble at around 7.00 p.m. For the observing German defenders of the Butte de Warlencourt, it was an evening of great spectacle. The ring leader of No.11 Squadron’s hit squad, Albert Ball, would being credited with three. Having used up all his ammunition, and then having returned and rearmed, he flew back alone and was met by some 14 enemy aircraft when about 15 miles behind their lines, and in a running fight that he described as follows: ‘windscreen was hit in four places, mirror broken, the spar of the left plane broken, also engine ran out of petrol. But I had good sport and good luck, but only just, for I was brought down about one mile over our side.’ He was then recovered by the ground crews of No.11 Squadron who worked over night to allow his aircraft to return to base the following morning. The RFC 3rd Brigade’s War Diary would report 33 combats for 22nd August, four German planes seen to crash (one being that shot down by Morris and Rees), three more were stated to have been sent down out of control and less specifically, ‘numerous other machines’ which were ‘driven down under control and compelled to abandon their formations’. Just three of No.11’s men were named in the Brigade’s intelligence report after this day of intense fighting, Albert Ball, Lionel Morris and Tom Rees. For the latter pair, it was their first victory.
On 25th August, Rees was again in action when flying as the observer to a Captain Gray when on escort duty during a repeat bombing raid on the Warlencourt/Irles Valley. They made a diving attack on one of three enemy aircraft, which Rees said ‘was seen going down at great speed.’ But this does not appear on any victory list.
On 14th September, at 9.30 a.m. Morris and Rees were back in the air in a reconnaissance formation over the town of Bapaume as part of a flight led by Captain Gray. They then attacked a force of seven German L.V.G.’s. For Morris and Rees it was an inconclusive engagement though they witnessed one enemy aircraft being shot down by Captain Gray and his observer, Lieutenant Helder, as Rees would detail it in his combat report.
On the 15th September the fighter squadrons endured a day of brutal combat whilst fulfilling reconnaissance roles. Morris and Rees were in the air by 5.30 a.m., and with another 11 Squadron crew, noted the movements of German trains north-east of Arras and then south to the village of Croisilles. Just after 11 a..m they were again in the air over German aerodromes, and Rees’s detailed report of observations took in the village of Mourvres where all was quiet on the ground; no troop movements were seen on the roads or canals but he would have been worried about other developments of ‘pronounced hostile aerial activity.’ Thirty-five minutes later they reached Velu, where Oswald Boelcke’s new squadron had started life in a few administrative buildings. Rees took four photographs, and they dropped two bombs from the FE2b as a parting gift. Their cheek was not appreciated by the inhabitants and Rees wrote with typical RFC understatement that they had not been able to observe any explosions. ‘It was impossible to locate them accurately owing to being engaged by enemy aircraft.’ His report confirmed their dilemma:
‘Several hostile aircraft were seen north of Velu flying south east. They were followed, and made for the aerodrome at Velu. Here there were four other hostile machines above us. We first of all opened fire at long range and made for the aerodrome; and there dropped our bombs and took photographs of the aerodrome; then continued to fight. There was little chance of a quick exit as more German aircraft suddenly appeared. The four Hun aircraft were now re-enforced by about 6 or 7 more, and attacked all four of our machines. A machine was singled out and we flew towards it and fired about half a drum at it and it turned away and then the others were engaged in quick succession and by circling around one another our formation were able to keep all Hun aircraft engaged and prevent them from getting behind anyone. During the fight two Hun aircraft were seen to retire, and one dived in smoke, the other went down so steeply that it must have been out of control. Owing to all our ammunition, except part of one drum, being used up, we were compelled to come home.’
Rees’s account showed how the ‘bristling hedgehogs’ worked, and why their unorthodox formation was so necessary. On the day the Flers-Courcelette Offensive began, and at 12 noon Rees would write: ‘no infantry flares were seen but shrapnel barrage was well to the front of Flers.’
The Dicta Boelcke.
Before striking, obtain an advantageous position and keep the sun behind you.
Don’t stop an attack once you’ve started it.
Get as close to your opponent before firing and make sure you can see him properly.
Don’t be fooled by trick strategies and never take your eye off your opponent.
Go straight for your opponent if he dives at you.
In enemy territory, keep your line of retreat clear.
There is safety in numbers; attack in groups of four or six and don’t all go for the same opponent.
Always strike from behind.
‘A gloriously fine day’, remembered Manfred von Richthofen of the morning of 17th September 1916. At Bertincourt, Jasta 2 received a through briefing from Boelcke and left for their first hunt. No.11 Squadron’s ‘C’ Flight rose early to shepherd the station bombers of No.12 Squadron. One of the bomber pilot’s would recall that: ‘we started at 6 am and by 7 am we had reached our necessary height of six thousand feet. A thin ground mist partially obscured vision, and I was congratulating myself that we should get over and back again before the sun had time to dispel it, when to my amazement and annoyance, the leader fired a green light (the ‘Adandon’ signal) and went down again. He was followed by the rest of the patrol.
It was obvious to this pilot, Lieutenant Raymond Money, if not his flight leader, that the weather would change for the better; and by 9.05 am the first of No.11’s escort aeroplanes, with its squadron marking of a white triangle on its nose was airborne for the second time. As leader, Captain Gray’s aircraft FE2b 7019 flew with two streamers attached to the wing struts. Five minutes after Gray’s take off, Morris was up with Rees, trailing one streamer as deputy leader. Eight BE2c’s of No.12, shadowed by six FE2b’s, crossed the lines by 10.30 am; flying eastwards through clear skies. Two more of No.11’s aircraft carrying 2nd Lieutenant Thompson with Glover, and Turk with Scott joined the formation.
Before the BE2s had reached their targets, they and their escorts had been spotted by the leader of Jasta 2. Boelcke’s perception of every black speck on the horizon was beyond his new recruits, who saw nothing until they were much closer to the British squadrons. Boelcke’s ‘pups’ took their cues from the leader, who held back, and held back, for endless minutes at a height of 10,000 feet.
The British bombers arrived at Marcoing and quickly let loose their explosives on the station buildings. Money struggled to keep up as his petrol pump had failed, and the others finished the job without him. Smoke and fire billowed from the ground, distracting the British crews eager to see what damage they had done, but their moment of gratification did not last long. Money became aware something was going very wrong: ‘I saw the leader turn back for home with three others with him. The fifth machine had disappeared.’ As the aircraft of both No.12 and No.11 headed west for home, Jasta 2 closed in, trapping and confronting then between the front line and Marcoing, where anti-aircraft guns were now awake and ready. The tension for the desperately keen German squadron was unbearable as Boelcke continued to hold his fire, waiting for the optimum opportunity of close combat. Finally, he made his move, choosing Gray and Helder’s FE2b, and all hell appeared to break loose. The British formation splintered as the rest of Jasta 2 began to careen into them. In a letter later sent to Albert Morris, his son’s reaction as Boelcke struck were described by Captain Gray: ‘We were attacked by hostile aircraft near Cambrai… the escort of six or seven machines which I was leading (and your son second leader) engaged them. I was ahead with two other machines and one of them which I believe was your son turned back to assist those in the rear.
The back of the formation was a dangerous place to be and Morris’s swift response to the trailing FE fatally exposed his own machine. Instinct would have led the British pilots to try to form a spinning circle for protection but now the opposition was too fast and their guns too numerous. Money provided a chilling theory of how the Germans had engineered the flight:
‘The circus had done its work only too well. It must have come up from behind and below the BE2cs, and gallant No.11 had dived to the rescue. This would be just what the Germans wanted. It looked to me as though they opened out to let the Festival’s get among them, and then closed in in bunches of three or four on the tails of the FEs.’
Richthofen, behind Boelcke, focused on a ‘large machine painted in dark colours’ and began firing at FE2b 7018. Rees instantly fired back and a futile exchange of bullets continued for the next few seconds.
Morris and Rees temporarily had the advantage. In his haste, Richthofen had forgotten the commandments Boelcke had so rigorously drummed into the new squadron: he was in full view of the crew of the FE2b, and vulnerable to their wide angle of fire. Morris had learned enough in his few short months as a fighter pilot to know that he had to do everything to avoid Richthofen getting behind him. One of the FE2b’s guns was within his reach, but the best chance of survival lay with him cncentrating on flying whilst Rees took aim at their attacker. Richthofen was persistent and determined, with a confidence that came from weeks of thorough preparation with Boelcke, and a blue-blooded proficiency with a gun. But Morris’s skill in those terrifying minutes was evident to his opponent. The following account, reproduced many times, remains hauntingly detailed:
‘Apparently he was no beginner, for he knew exactly that his last hour had arrived at the moment if I got at the back of him. At that time I did not have the conviction ‘He must fall’ which I have now on such occasions.’
But i contrast to the slow and careful build-up of the encounter, paced so expertly by Boelcke, Richthofen now responded to the proximity of his target with an atavistic recklessness:
‘My Englishman twisted and turned, flying in zig-zags. I did not think for a moment that the hostile squadrons contained other Englishman who conceivably might come to the aid of their comrades. I was animated by a single thought: ‘The man in front of me must come down, whatever happens.’
Richthofen’s chances were not good against the double gun of the FE2b and the solid defence of its experienced crew. Exasperated and aware of the risky position he had put himself in, he retreated, disappearing into the clouds. Given breathing space at this decisive moment, he was able to consider the finer nuances of Boelcke’s Dicta. From that point on Richthofen held the upper hand in his faster and better-armed machine. There would be only one outcome.
Morris believed the German had conceded defeat and looked around him. The FE2b formation was comprehensively ruptured and each of No.11’s crews had broken off into their own fights. One FE on its own was a sitting duck. Morris’s only alternative was to head for home as quickly as possible and hope to rejoin at least one of No.11’s machines. He quickly turned the nose of the plane westwards and flew in a straight line. Below him, out of sight, Richthofen seized his opportunity to strike in the FE’s blind spot underneath its tail. In seconds his machine gun fire raked the side of Morris’s aeroplane as he closed in a precipitate speed. His relish for the attack nearly backfired: ‘I had gone so close that I was afraid I might dash into the Englishman. Suddenly I nearly yelled with joy, for the propellor of the enemy machine had stopped turning. Hurrah!’
As Richthofen stayed close and prepared to fire again, the FE began moving erratically. Morris struggled to keep it under control but a hail of bullets had found their way into the nacelle and hit three of his limbs. In the front of the plane, Rees suddenly stopped firing and disappeared from Morris’s view. The observer’s gun now abandoned, and the engine of the FE spluttering into silence, Richthofen now saw how devastating Boelcke’s strategy of restraint and guile could be.
With a dead engine and a wounded observer no longer able to help him, Morris now had to summon all his skill and strength and try to land, aware that Richthofen could kill him at any moment. A few months of dealing with every kind of mechanical failure in the air gave him the hope of still gliding the plane to earth. But he was bleeding heavily from gunshot wounds to the left leg and both arms. Every shallow breath took him closer to unconsciousness. On the ground, armed German troops were watching and waiting.
In the original combat report, Richthofen described the fight, and the FE’s tortuous descent to a dead stick landing on its undercarriage. It also stated that another German plane had joined him as he followed Morris down: ‘I singled out the last machine and fired several times at closest range (10 metres). Suddenly the enemy propellor stood stock still. The machine went down gliding and I followed until I had killed the observer who had not stopped firing until the last moment. Now my opponent went downwards in sharp curves. In approx. 1200 metres a second German machine came along and attacked my victim right down to the ground and then landed next to the English plane.’
According to this account, Morris had landed the plane under control whilst being hounded by two enemy aircraft, coming to a rough but safe landing on farmland near a German aerodrome not far from Flesquieres, about seven miles south-west of Cambrai. But a later version of events in Richthofen’s autobiography had a more heroic emphasis that removed any acknowledgement of assistance: ‘I was so excited that I landed also, and my eagerness was so great that I nearly smashed up my machine.’
As Richthofen landed close to the FE, German soldiers were approaching the British machine with caution. They quickly realised how little threat its occupants now posed. A Tommy on the ground could sometimes be saved from catastrophic arterial gunshot wounds by the quick and simple application of a tourniquet, but it was too late for Morris and Rees. Blood pooled on the nacelle floor around the feet of the slumped bodies of both the pilot and observer. A romanticised version exists that described the jubilant but compassionate Richthofen, with the assistance of soldiers who had rushed to the scene, gently removing Rees from the nacelle: ‘Rees opened his eyes with a boyish smile and died.’ Richthofen himself did not include such magnanimous details; his last sight of Morris was of him being placed on a stretcher and taken to the military hospital in Cambrai. A remarkable series of photographs exists of FE2b 7018 apparently shortly after the landing, surrounded by a swam of curious officers and men. There was no crumpled wings or nose tips buried in the earth, and mercifully no prone figures nearby; the only obvious sign of an unusual landing is the odd sunken appearance of the fuselage and the stained tail, spattered with fuel from the bullet-punctured tank.’
The loss of Morris and Rees’s aircraft was not the end of it for ‘C’ Flight of No.11 Squadron. ‘C’ Flight would initially be though to have lost all six aircraft in this engagement with Jasta 2 and others who joined in. Another squadron member would recall whilst observing the empty hangars of ‘C” Flight while the aircraft were overdue. ‘One Sergeant said: ‘Sir, it don’t seem possible. We had such fine officers with perfect ships, and they only left four hours ago. To lose them all in one flight is hell’. All the ground crew of Eleven’s C Flight could do was to wait for six new planes and twelve new officers.’
In fact two of the six did return, namely Sergeants Thompson and Clarkson, who had driven off their attackers and reported, as Turk and Scott did also, seeing one of them down out of control. Their survival was probably due to the timely arrival of at least two of No.60 Squadron’s scouts.
For the other three aircraft of ‘C’ Flight, Turk reported seeing two FE’s going down under control west of Marcoing. 2nd Lieutenant Hector Thompson and Sergeant John Glover had come to grief under the guns of Leutnant Leopold Reimann of Jasta 2, coming down behind German lines south-west of Cambrai at Trescault. Glover was dead, and Thompson was seriously wounded and died the following day. The scale of the fighting had attracted Jasta 4 who joined in and claimed a fourth of the Festival: Molloy and Sergeant Morton were forced to land at Etricourt south of Cambrai. Morton was wounded in the leg and both were on their way into German custody. Money had also been taken prisoner: drawing the attention of anti-aircraft fire from the ground, he was forced to land on the wrong side of the lines. Finally Helder and the flight leader, Gray had gone into a spin after Boelcke’s attack. Gray had managed to bring it under control before they landed, and they successfully set fire to their aircraft before they were captured.
At Bertincourt there were celebrations. Richthofen was exultant after the scrap that his commander described as a ’thorough house cleaning’: Boelcke wrote of Jasta 2’s first outing: ‘With some of my men I attacked a squadron of FE biplanes on the way back from Cambrai. Of these, we shot down six out of eight. Only two escaped. I picked out the leader, and shot up his engine so he had to land. It landed right near one of our kite-balloons. They were hardly down when the whole airplane was ablaze. It seems they have some means of destroying their machine as soon as it lands.’
Richthofen’s combat report stated (erroneously) ‘Pilot: NCO Rees, wounded hospital Cambrai. Observer. Killed, buried by Jagdstaffel 4’ and he was awarded his first victory. A party was held that evening to mark the occasional debut of Jasta 2. It was a remarkable achievement for a previously untested unit in new machines against battle-hardened and resourceful opponents. Richthofen decided on a commemorative souvenir to mark his first victory, paying homage to his aristocratic hunting roots. He wrote to a Berlin jeweller ordering a small silver cup, to be inscribed with the legend: ‘1. Vickers 2. 17.9.1916’, Vickers being the usual name the Germans gave for the FE pusher aircraft. Sixty cups later he was forced to stop. His winning streak had yet to come to an end, but silver was rare and exorbitantly expensive in a nation struggling to survive economically after three punishing years of war.
Rees’s father was notified of his son being missing in action in s letter written on the 18th September by his squadron commander, Major T.O.B. Hubbard. ‘My dear sir, I much regret t have to inform you that your son is, in all probability a prisoner. He and his pilot, Lieutenant L.B.F. Morris were on escort duty in company with other of my machines yesterday and failed to return. A machine which may have been theirs, was seen to go down under control after a fight, so it is believed that the engine was shot through, compelling them to land. It may be some weeks before you hear from him, but the Germans always treat their RFC officers very well. He was the best observer and is a great loss to the squadron. I have never had a braver of keener officer. I sincerely hope you may soon hear from him…
This crumb of hope however was to be dispelled when on 30th September 1916, Captain Gray wrote a letter from a prisoner of war camp, in which he wrote that ‘an aeroplane containing Second Lieutenant Morris and Lieutenant Rees was driven down during an aerial encounter. Lieutenant Rees was killed in the air and Second Lieutenant Morris died of his injuries in hospital at Cambrai. The death of Lieutenant Rees has been accepted for official purposes. The death of Second Lieutenant L.B.F. Morris has been accepted for official purposes. The date of his death has not yet been reported.’ Morris actually died later that same day on 17th September 1916 whilst being treated in the Kriegslaz Abt. 1. at Cambrai, but it was only in late November 1916 that the War Office would confirm the death of both Morris and Rees.
Morris and Rees’s bravery was still in Major Hubbard’s mind when on 5th October 1916 he recommended both for the award of a Mention in Despatches. However neither would receive an award.
Morris lies buried in Cambrai. A photograph of Tom Rees’s grave was printed in the Illustrated Sunday News in December 1917, showing it bedecked with flowers from the enemy. A full seventeen years later, the Rees family were forwarded a letter from an Ernst Beichter of Wurttemberg in Germany containing a similar photograph and letter: ‘After many years I decided to send this snapshot of the grave of the late Captain Tom Rees to his relatives. I shall be only too pleased to give you any particulars you might wish to know about his death. I was detailed for the funeral service, which was carried out in a very impressive manner, from the snapshot you see home many tokens of respect were offered.’
His family had actually suffered a double tragedy in 1916: news of Rees death reached them on the day that they buried his elder brother, David John Rees, who had been assisting his father in felling a tree, when a branch fell on his head and killed him. In the small Congregational Chapel of Sardis in the Cwmcamlais valley near the old Rees family home at Cefn Brynich, a memorial chair with a simple inscription commemorates the brothers. Rees body now lies buried in Villers-Plouich Communal Cemetery, his rank being shown as Captain. With numerous copied images of the receipt amongst the quantity of research, and also a copy of the book ‘Air War on the Somme - Lionel Morris and the Red Baron’ by Jill Bush.
