ars, and wheel
control.' It required enormous strength to steer it, and was
perseveringly and valorously flown by Lieutenant Hynes. There was also a
Deperdussin two-seater monoplane, which Captain Fulton flew; and the
earliest of the B.E. machines from the Aircraft Factory, which fell to
the lot of Captain Burke. The battalion was much impressed by the number
of instruments fitted to their new machines. In the machines they were
accustomed to there was nothing but a revolution counter, and sometimes,
though not always, a compass. If the pilot's scientific ambitions went
beyond this simple outfit, he carried a watch on his wrist and an
aneroid slung round his neck. The risks that these early pilots
cheerfully faced at the call of duty were serious enough, and it is
surprising that their casualties were so few. The only fatal accident in
the Air Battalion was the death of Lieutenant R. A. Cammell, R.E., who
was killed while flying a Valkyrie monoplane at Hendon on the 17th of
September 1911. The machine was not familiar to him, and it is believed
that he forgot to work the forward elevator; at the height of about
ninety feet the monoplane tilted to one side, and fell with a crash.
Lieutenant Cammell was one of the pioneers of British military aviation.
So early as June 1910 he had been sent to France to take over a Bleriot
machine. He attended the Rheims meeting of that year and sent home some
valuable reports. He was a daring and skilful aviator, and had
qualified also as an airship pilot.

The story of Great Britain's apprenticeship in the air has now been
brought down to the point at which the Royal Flying Corps, famous on
every battle front of the world war, makes its first appearance. So far
it has been a story of small things, of interrupted experiments and
tentative advances; of the caution of the Government, and the boldness
of the private adventurer. There is nothing new in the story; the air
was attacked and mastered in the English fashion. When we are confronted
with great issues, it is our habit, or so we are fond of saying, to
'muddle through'. Foreign nations, and especially enemy nations, do not
so describe our activities. But we are great self-critics, and not free
from that kind of inverted self-esteem which makes a man speak of his
own achievements with deceitful and extravagant modesty. The business of
history is to tell the truth; the truth is that we muddle through with
amazing success. This success w