2/A.M. Henry Daniel Beet D.C.M.

The experiences of a number of old St. Mark’s scholars now serving with the colours have already been recounted in the “Mail”, and it is pleasing to be able to record that another member on the school’s roll of honour has now gained the D.C.M.  His name is Harry Beet. The only St. Mark’s boy attached to the Royal Flying Corps, Beet is only 20 years of age, and is serving with the 16^th Squadron of the Corps. Naturally the headmaster (Mr. S.S. Saunders) and the teachers and scholars of his old school are proud of the young hero.

Writing to his parents at 118 Anderton Street, Ladywood, on April 4^th, Beet mentions that he has gained the coveted distinction and describes how, by the merest chance, he met his own brother and other men from Birmingham out at the front. He says: -

 “Well mother, you say that our Fred is out here. A few days ago some of his regiment came on our aerodrome, and while I was asking if anybody of the name of Private Beet came over with them, who should I see walking alongside the hedge but our Fred and Bill Leaver and quite a crowd of the boys from Brum. That was the first intimation I’d had that he was out here at all. He looks a picture of health. We were not together long, worse luck; he had only about half an hour to spare, as they were moving that day and we were doing the same. Still, I’m glad I met him, if only for a few minutes.”

“I’m now going to tell you a few words that will no doubt please you and all at home. Three others and I have won the D.C.M. over that job I told you about, when we went out to the machine that was under shell fire. We are the first to win this medal in the Royal Flying Corps, according to what the colonel said to us when he congratulated us.”

In the previous letter referred to, Beet mentioned the incident in connection with which he won the medal, but only in a very casual manner, as follows: -

“I had a wee bit of an experience the other night, for the plane that I’m on was brought down by German aircraft guns, and five of us were sent to repair the petrol tank, which had a hole in it as big as your fist. While we were working on it the shells were screaming over our heads all the time, and then two burst within about 15 yards of us, and we had to clear out of it pretty slick, for it was getting a bit warm there. We got her away at dawn alright, although she had a dozen or two holes in her. None of us were hit.”

2763 2nd Class Air Mechanic Beet, H.D., Royal Flying Corps.

2152 2nd Class Air Mechanic Dewhurst, H., Royal Flying Corps.

2761 2nd Class Air Mechanic Dollittle, J.H., Royal Flying Corps.

2008 2nd Class Air Mechanic Prance, J.E., Royal Flying Corps.

For gallant conduct and valuable services on the night of 10 – 11 March, 1915, in assisting to repair one of our aeroplanes which had been forced to descend near the firing line whilst being heavily shelled by the enemy. The machine was enabled to fly away by the following morning.
 

354 Corporal Griggs, S.C., Royal Flying Corps.

For gallant conduct and exceptionally good work on 10 – 11 March, 1915, in assisting to repair one of our aeroplanes close to the front line of trenches, under heavy shell fire.

“I have been very busy this week, but I have some good news for you. I expect you will have heard of the great success which has been gained by our troops; you will watch with interest the list of those mentioned in despatches. On the 10^th, during the great battle, one of our machines was shot down by the Germans, and four of us went out to see what could be done to it. We found that it was badly holed in the tank, so we started to work, but could not do anything because the Germans were shelling it for all they were worth. They soon had the range, because the machine was in front of our guns, which they had been shelling all the morning, but did little damage to them. However, the shells were falling around us, and one came so close to me that the mud came all over me. We still kept to work, but things got so hot that we were told to leave it until night came on, and then we went out again and repaired it. We then got the machine away safely and the Germans did not get it after all. It was the grandest thing you could see in a lifetime to see all our guns firing. The Germans were leaving their trenches like rats. I am pleased to say I have been promoted to my first class, and am enjoying the best of health.”

The Aeroplane

Wednesday, June 16, 1915

 A subaltern in the British Army, who has contributed to the “English Review” several most graphic sketches of what active service really means, makes an interesting reference to aircraft in his description of the incidents connected with [the] capture of Neuve Chapelle published in the issue for June, 1915: -

“Again and again the squat, black howitzers, peeping from their screen of leaves, belch forth flame, jerk up their heads, and are immediately surrounded by their little crowd of attendant gunners. Ceaselessly overhead the aeroplanes, English and French, pass to and fro. Suddenly, without warning, a wailing shriek rends the air. A 16-inch German shell coming! We look up, No! We are petrified. For one appalling second we watch an aeroplane, crumpled, disintegrating, hurtle five hundred feet through the air – fall like a stone to the ground.

“Half an hour later another little procession passes along the road. Two stretchers, four bearers to each, two bodies cased in leather, inconceivably torn and battered. So the two aviators, Irving and Morgan, had died. We walked along the road and there, three hundred yards away, in a rickyard, was the shapeless, twisted mass of canvas, wood, and steel that once had been an aeroplane. Hard hit by the German guns, it had flown painfully down to our lines, only to crumple up at safety’s door.

“And presently, a few fields off, another aeroplane descends. This time safety has been reached by a hair’s breadth. The two aviators show us their machine, smiling calmly the while. The petrol tank has a hole large enough to put your arm in. All the way from La Bassee, where the German shrapnel burst around it for half an hour on end, it had been leaking furiously. A narrow shave – but that is the sort of thing our aviators regard as a joke.”

[It is generally understood in the R.F.C. that Mr. Morgan’s machine was hit by one of our own shells while going out low down in the fog, which prevented the pilot from reaching a safe altitude before starting out from behind our guns. – Ed.]