William Avery Bishop, more commonly known as Billy Bishop, was one of the greatest fighter pilots of the First World War. After months as an observer with the British Royal Flying Corps he eventually earned his wings in November 1916. By March of the next year he was posted in France with No. 60 Squadron RFC near Arras along with his Niewport 17 fighter. Prospects for a newly fledged pilot were not promising at this point of the war as the average life expectancy was eleven days and German pilots were shooting down British planes at a rate of five to one. Bishop’s initial flying days did not begin in glory as during his first flight he became separated from his group and was nearly shot down by anti-aircraft fire, and two days after this he was forced to crash land during a practice flight. Shortly after these events he was ordered to return to flight school. Yet, his poor luck quickly changed, and less than a month later he had shot down his fifth enemy plane and had become an ace. By the end of the war he had claimed a total of seventy-two air victories, making him one of the most successful pilots of the entire war. Bishop’s fascinating book Winged Warfare takes the reader to the heart of what it would have been like to have been a World War One fighter pilot. It is essential reading for anyone who is interested in learning about the development of aviation warfare and the story of one remarkable man. William Avery Bishop was a First World War flying ace who received a Victoria Cross for his actions. After the war he recorded his experiences in his memoir Winged Warfare which was first published in 1918. During the Second World War Bishop was a key part of developing the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan. He passed away in 1956.
Air Marshal William Avery "Billy" Bishop, VC, CB, DSO & Bar, MC, DFC, ED was a Canadian First World War flying ace, officially credited with 72 victories, making him the top Canadian ace in World War I.
Billy Bishop was Canada's top fighter ace of the First World War, credited with shooting down 72 German aircraft in aerial combat over the Western Front during 1917 and 1918.
Shortly after the outbreak of the Second World War in September 1939, Bishop was promoted to the rank of Air Marshal of the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) and he served during the war as Director of the Royal Canadian Air Force and placed in charge of recruitment.
Bishop was so successful in this role that they had to turn many applicants away. He created a system for training pilots across Canada and became instrumental in setting up and promoting the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan, which trained over 167,000 airmen in Canada during the Second World War. In 1942, he appeared as himself in the film 'Captains of the Clouds', a Hollywood tribute to the RCAF.
By 1944, the stress of the war had taken a serious toll on Bishop's health, and he resigned his post in the RCAF to return to private enterprise in Montreal, before retiring in 1952. His son Arthur later commented that he looked 70 years old on his 50th birthday in 1944. However, Bishop remained active in the aviation world, predicting the phenomenal growth of commercial aviation postwar. His efforts to bring some organization to the nascent field led to the formation of the International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO) in Montreal. He wrote a second book at this time, 'Winged Peace', advocating international control of global air power.
With the outbreak of the Korean War in June 1950, Bishop again offered to return to his recruitment role, but he was in poor health and was politely refused by the RCAF. He died in his sleep on 11 September 1956, at the age of 62, while wintering in Palm Beach, Florida. His funeral service was held with full Air Force Honours in Toronto, Ontario. The body was cremated and the ashes interred in the family plot in Greenwood Cemetery in Owen Sound, Ontario.
A Memorial Service for Air Marshal Bishop was held in St Paul's Church, Bristol, United Kingdom on 19 September 1956.
They treated it like a Camelot in the Clouds where they jousted and dueled with their foes. Yet it was anything but a fantasy. Many carried revolvers so that they could put a bullet through their heads if their plane burst into flames and they burst into flames with it. Nevertheless, the number of deaths in the air was nothing like the number of deaths on the ground at slaughterhouses like the Somme, Passchendale, Vimy Ridge, and Verdun. And in the air there was no mustard gas.
I did not pick this up to read about the war though. I wanted to read about the flying - open cockpits, two or three wings (Bishop calls wings “planes” in his memoir), acrobatics in the heavens - twists and turns and spins and spirals and dives. Bishop talks about all those things.
I’ve written about this era in my novels so I’ve researched this type of flying before. Of course, there needs to be some romance when the pilot is on leave if you’re writing fiction. Remember Snoopy, hopelessly in love with a French mademoiselle at a café in Paris? Fighting the Red Baron was one thing. Wine and love and roses and sweet Paree something else entirely and a very important something else.
This memoir moves along swiftly. Bishop openly admits when he is afraid or having difficulties with his flying. Like others of his time, he sees himself as someone shooting down planes not men. Killing others was something he and other pilots tried to blank out of their minds though of course they knew that’s what they were doing. It was war. Their planes were traveling at 130 miles per hour, the cockpits were open, and they could see their enemies’ faces. In WW2, fighters were traveling at 400 miles per hour, cockpits were sealed, and rarely were any faces seen. With the advent of jets, where the fighting was done at speeds in excess of 600 miles per hour, no one saw anyone.
The second highest ranking Allied pilot of the Great War and a winner of the VC (Victoria Cross), Bishop is something of a legend in Canada and the Commonwealth, comparable to Eddie Rickenbacker’s status in the US. A play about him was popular for many years as it went the rounds, Billy Bishop Goes to War.
If I’d been there 100 years ago, and I had to go to France, and I was offered the choice between the trenches and a Sopwith Camel or Nieuport or SPAD .. I’d have taken the open cockpit.
This was an enjoyable first-hand account from one of the most successful pilots of WWI. I enjoyed the stories of his dogfights and his time at the aerodrome. I believe the book was written during the war, probably with the goal of boosting morale for the Allied public and encouraging war support. Bishop was an enthusiastic flier and fighter, and his love for the job comes through in his writing. He didn’t seem as war-weary as writers of similar memoirs, perhaps because he was pulled from action before he started suffering from combat fatigue (there was concern that if he was killed, the effect on Allied morale would have been devastating), or perhaps because he wanted to keep things upbeat while the war was still being fought. A good read for those interested in WWI aviation.
Well written account by the highest-scoring Canadian ace in WWI. He's a bit jingoistic and definitely hates the "Hun". Was that because the book was written while the war was still going? No mercy shown as he is like all the great high scoring aces-attack from high, unseen, and leave if he sees advantage slipping away. He aims for the pilot & observer, as that will assure the kill. He isn't afraid to confess his mistakes and his overconfidence when it gets him into trouble. Very good descriptions of many of his fights and his successes and misses. 4 Stars
Brief memoir of a young Canadian man who went over to Europe to do his part during WWI and decided after seeing a military plane in flight that he wanted to fly. He applied to be an observer and eventually got his chance to become a pilot. He shot down 48 enemy planes becoming Canada's Ace of Aces (highest scoring ace of all time for Canada).
I love his language (from the beginning of the book speak of seeing the airplane that motivated him to fly): "I had succeeded in getting myself mired to the knees when suddenly, from somewhere out of the storm, appeared a trim little aero-plane. It landed hesitatingly in a near-by field as if scorning to brush it's wings against so sordid a landscape; then away up again into the clean grey mists."
Perhaps it's a product of his times that people thought like this as others from the same time spoke this way. Or perhaps it's part of that times' education system. Either way it's not the first memoir I've read with this sort of poetic thought/language.
This is a fantastic story of the combat career of one of the top Allied fighter aces of the First World War: Billy Bishop. Bishop had initially served in the Canadian Army before transferring to the Royal Flying Corps (RFC) in 1915. He first trained as an observer and served in France with No. 21 Squadron, a photo-reconnaissance and artillery-spotting unit, during 1916. He later retrained as a pilot and returned to France in February 1917 with No. 60 Squadron, flying the Nieuport 17 fighter. Bishop had arrived in France at a time when the life of an RFC pilot at the Front could be measured in but a few weeks. The Germans, with their Albatros DIII fighter, and top units like Jasta 11, commanded by the Red Baron, Manfred von Richthofen, were taking the measure of the RFC and establishing air supremacy over the Front. So much so that by April 1917, the RFC suffered a casualty rate that was 4 times that of the Imperial German Air Service.
Yet, in spite of the hazards he had to face in learning his trade as a fighter pilot, Bishop persevered. Indeed, on one of his patrols over the Front, his squadron tangled with the Red Baron's unit, Jasta 11. Bishop himself battled with von Richthofen and even managed to put a few holes in his machine. It proved to be an inconclusive combat for both men, who didn't meet in battle again.
Later in the war, Bishop was given his own command with No. 85 Squadron, Royal Air Force (RAF), which flew the S.E.5A, one of the top fighters of the war. Within the space of a month - May 22 to June 19, 1918, Bishop shot down 25 German planes, bringing his final victory tally to 72. He finished the war as a Lieutenant-Colonel, "Officer Commanding-designate of the Canadian Air Force Section of the General Staff, Headquarters Overseas Military Forces of Canada."
Bishop speaks plainly in 'Winged Warfare' of his combat experiences, so much so that the reader will feel him/herself a part of the action. He also provides the reader with his philosophy of combat flying and tactics that makes the immediacy of the pressures of combat that much more tangible. A terrific book, this.
The life span of a WWI flyer, on average, was measured in weeks. Bishop flew for the Allies, got his 48 kills, and went home to Canada. He was crazy for flying and fighting, often going out on his own while the others in his squadron took their well-earned rest from danger. Bishop had a young man's disregard for extreme danger and a lust for ariel adventure.
Bishop also demonstrated a young man's immaturity when he and his flying mates "borrowed" the animals of a nearby farmer and painted them in the color schemes of the airplanes that surrounded them, adopted them as part-time pets, and occasionally paid the farmer after damaging or killing them. It seems that this was mostly done out of boredom, as bad weather could put the flyers out of action for days at a time. I wouldn't emphasize this if Bishop hadn't spent so many pages writing about it. We don't often think about soldiers maintaining a college boy's sense of immature prankery as they turned into killers.
Military buffs might be disappointed by Bishop's lack of details. We learn that airplane engines failed, machine guns jammed all the time, and the planes returned to base covered with bullet holes on a regular basis, but we don't learn much else about them. Bishop's squad is eager to fly new, updated machines, but we don't even learn what the new planes were. It may be the glossing over of details that makes the last part of the book drag a bit, but at the same time, it is a relief from historians that cling to minor details until the reader falls asleep.
The men on the muddy, murderous battlefields lost their sense of humor early on, but the flyers in the cold, clean air had a different view. No one else it seems came through WWI with their lust for adventure and sense of fun intact, and that is what makes this book different from the rest.
“Lt. Colonel William A. Bishop” is better known as “Billy Bishop,” Canada’s “ace of aces” in World War I and, for that matter, any air war. Pan Books, Ltd.’s, back cover advertising is incorrect, however. Bishop was not the Allies’ highest scoring pilot; that distinction belongs to René Fonck (seventy-five), and, among the Commonwealth’s pilots, “Mick” Mannock, who has one more victory than Billy’s seventy-two. Researchers have cast doubt upon pilots’ totals lately, comparing claims against German records. Pan tells us, “This was the air war of individual combat. Each man knew who he was fighting.” Sometimes; there were some pilots who decorated their planes and became recognizable (von Richtofen and Voss, for example); most did not.
Bishop wrote this sometime between August 1917 and May 1918 when he was stationed in Canada and the States, on duties not involving air combat. The air combats do seem repetitious and boring; it was a good learning point to read that he, as did most pilots, favored the surprise attack. He seemed to especially like approaching from under the enemy craft. He certainly wasn’t afraid of a fight; but he does say when superior numbers against him encouraged discretion as the better part of valor.
Early in the book he describes the kinds of missions air forces undertook; the air war was not just going out and getting into fights. There was a point to it all, such as observation, straffing, artillery spotting, and protecting air craft involved in such. One can tell Bishop enjoyed fighting and seeing his totals climbing. He also describes off-duty activities.
I suspect books by other aces will read much the same.
After a century the Great War has been examined from all perspectives, achieves have been opened and studied and conclusions drawn but first-person accounts still provide spirit and details of the war in a unique fashion. Such is the value of “Winged Warfare” by Canada’s great flying ace, Billy Bishop. Bishop chronicles his ambition to join the Royal Flying Corps to lift himself out of the mud of the cavalry, the distinction of going up against the red Baron’s Flying Circus, and the techniques of combat. His identification with the British Royal Flying Corps and obvious pride at Canadian exploits give an insight into Canadian national identity of the time.
What I like about this classic is the author’s own description of challenges and thrills of air combat, the details that only a warrior would know and his mental impressions of what he was doing. The writing is that of a pilot, not a skilled author, but even that has its charm. His references to the “Hun” and “Archie” and his constant mentioning of his aeroplane as the “machine” reminds me of my grandfather’s term for his car. Bishop’s explanation of why seeing “an enemy going down in flames is a source of great satisfaction” and the scores he sought to settle provide thought for reflection.
Read newer tomes for the history of the Great War but savor “Winged Warfare” for its spirit.
To be honest, this is only the third aviator autobiography that I have read, and I can’t fairly compare Bishop’s account to modern pilots’ great accounts of self-reflexion, humility, and the teamwork involved in what Chris Hadfield calls “expeditionary” attitude: putting your team first in everything that you do, while giving the best performance possible. This was a slow read, and the sizeable ego of the narrative was almost un-palatable. I felt appalled by the casual racism (which I tried to overlook): not so much about calling the Germans “huns”, which was common back then, but more so about Bishop’s attempt at a “funny” anecdote about naming his smelly stray dog a racial slur. Bishop took pleasure in shooting pilots, rather than their crafts, in watching them burn. He excuses his blood thirst as stemming from sorrow for losing friends to the Germans. It isn’t a fun read, and I personally could only stomach a few chapters at a time. If you’re in the mood to read it, it’s worth watching Waldo Pepper, starring Robert Redford.
An interesting description of air combat during WWI. The author appears to have been blessed with uncommon good luck as well as some natural skills! He does come across as a bit cold blooded; however although probably unsurprising given the business he was in! Very mechanical in his manner of story telling although he did have a story worth telling!
How this man survived I don't know going out on his own and coming back but must have been lucky. The stalking his prey and working out the best way he certainly succeeded in most of his combat.
The word 'pulp fiction' comes to mind when I think about this book. Written to please the masses back in the day. McCudden's 'Flying Fury' is its counterpart, but honest, forthright, and endearing. Strange but true - McCudden was slated to replace Bishop as commander of 85 Squadron. (McCudden died in a flying accident while enroute to 85 Squadron.)
A hero of the Air War in France. Gallantry and humility abound in this first person account. Depicts the horrors and excitement of WW I air combat. Excellent narrative.
I first read this book when I was a teenager, almost 60 years ago. Liked it then; like it now. It's hard to imagine how pilots were able to function up near 20,000 ft., without oxygen, without radar or radio, or parachutes, navigating by sight and compass.
I am just about done with this book and will hate to see it end - though I'm glad Bishop was eventually able to leave the war! He was having a "good time," but he should have been killed, over and over again. Several other things keep impressing me as I read this: 1) How quickly pilots (and per Bishop and McScotch the Germans especially) would disengage or avoid a fight. That's understandable. But it also makes men like Bishop stand out so much, because of their eagerness to find a fight. 2) The effect of the prevailing wind on the conflict. It's just something - very obvious - that I never considered. 3) A pilot survived based on a combination of both experience and luck. Bishop's experience increasingly made him more effective and saved his life. But there were so many times when he was doing what he should have done, but the unexpected would happen and you can only say, "God was watching over him." For people like me, I don't tire of reading one story after another of guys like this. There's a sameness but there are also so many unique things that happen every time they go up. Remarkable.
This is Britain's and Canada's top WW1 Ace's account of his early days in the Royal Flying Corps. He wrote this in 1917 when he was home in Canada on leave and to get married, so he hadn't yet achieved his full glory, although as a VC, he was already a hero. The delights of flying, and the enthusiasm and audacity of aerial combat are contrasted with the stress and sometimes disgust of warfare.
An interesting book about a WW1 fighter pilot. One of the allied sides most notable aces. I had never before read a book by one of these pilots. This told about how he started as an observer in a scout plane, to going to flight school, and his ability to become one of the best ever.
Billy was a Canadian pilot who fought for the British in WWI...he was relentless, focused and shot down more airplanes than anyone for the Allies... explains the psychology and performance of German and Allied pilots.... Humbly yet well written...
A nice account of the air war in World War One by the pilot who reportedly shot down the "Red Barron" . Unfortunately no account of that mission in depth.