The Last Flight Memory
This is probably the memory that most people want to read. For me, it's probably one of the more painful memories that I have. The result was that I did not return home to Margret and be a part of her life. Also I didn't die exactly the way everyone thinks. It wasn't heroic. It wasn't daring. And being bested by Roy Brown and dying in the air would have been much better than what happened, but I believe in the truth even if it is painful to face. And I try my best to be honest with others as well as myself. The more I investigate into this, the stranger it gets and hopefully, at some point, I will be able to post something that is fully explainable with documentable evidence.

The sun is bright. Only a few clouds in the sky. The grasses below are yellow. There is yellow and bit of green in the vegetation below. I see the plane that I am after. He is alone. I dive down and curve the left. We are flying low and over the trees. I am gaining on his tail. There is shooting from the ground. Bullets hit the plane. I looked behind me and I see that I am being followed. I have been stupid. I let my prey go and I lose control over the machine since my right elbow hurts. The pain goes in both directions up to my shoulder and down to my wrist. The plane flipped about and I lose control momentarily. There are more bullets from the ground.

My right shoulder hurts and bullet holes are all over my plane. I'm not sure that I can keep flying. My shoulder hurts. I see a place to land. It is past the road and the slow wide river that paralleled each other. It is an open area that slopes up a little. I am behind enemy lines. The trees are actually alive in this area. The bullets make a shocking ripping noise when they go through the plane. It's very unpleasant. The plane landing is very rough. There is a section or row of trees or bushes just up ahead and I stop the plane just about 20 or more feet before them.

I unbuckle myself and remove my goggles. The plane is a wreck. I feel light headed and confused a little. My arm hurts. The jacket is torn a little and my elbow is bleeding. I can feel the floppy edges of the fabric. My hands are cold, but the blood is warm. I'm in danger and behind enemy lines. I stand up and look back towards the tail. I have landed on the enemy side. I know the soldiers are coming from that direction. That direction is a gentle downward slope that has grass in it. I keep thinking about the grass. It's not mud. Thank God it is not mud. I hate walking in the mud. I sit on the edge of the cockpit and collect my thoughts. Can I escape? Can I destroy my plane? My heart is pounding. I am very nervous and a bit scared. I feel sick to my stomach. This situation is so unfamiliar to me. I jump down and remove my cap. They are coming. I can see them. They have guns. I don't want them to shoot me. I'm not sure how to handle this situation.

I was told not to do anything to get myself killed if I ever landed on the enemy side. I feel guilty about the plane. It's difficult because I would like to run and hide in the woods and make my way back home. My arm is bleeding though, I am really shaking, and I have my orders. My nerves are really out of control and I try and regain some self composure. I think I might be going into shock from the wound to my elbow since my body and my mind feel so odd. The stories of brutality to the pilots that land at the front by the ground troops are racing through my brain.

I'm not sure whether I should tell them who I am or not. Will it make it worse? The stories of the bounty money for my death flash through my mind momentarily. I decide as I see them come closer that I will face my fate with dignity and courage. I think I sit upon the wing and wait while watching for them to come. My thoughts flash to a bundle of papers that I am caring in my inside coat pocket. They are important. They will be taken from me. Will they end up in the right hands or the wrong hands? The papers have the Kaiser's seal on them. Have I failed in my duty? Or can I make this work out as I was instructed to? My feet are semi dangling and my arm still hurts. I am holding my right elbow with my left hand. And I am waiting. Out of nowhere bullets fly and hit my plane and I move off the wing to turn and look. That is when I am hit in the back and fall face forward to the ground. My knee has also been hit. The ground where the plane is parked is dirt. Fairly dry, medium grey brown dirt with small rocks.

The rest of my memories of this event are more like impressions and quick flashes of images. I get the impression that three men come out of the bushes from behind me and one had opened fire upon me. I keep getting the impression of a man with a helmet that has a ridge on it, but I have been told that only Australians were in that area. The helmet makes me think of the French or maybe the Belgiums? Grey blue in color. I am unsure. (They look French.)  I also have the strong sense of these three men standing over me and one kicks me, I think he kicks me in the face and body. He flips me over with his foot and is saying something to his companion. I don't understand them. Maybe I am losing consciousness or they speak a language I don't know.

Then there is another very strong impression of a man dressed in olive green with a thick dark brown mustache. He is not one of the three men from the woods. I think he is an English officer for some reason. I feel like he is looking me over. He came with the men from the direction of the tail of the plane. The low sloping area with the grass. He was not part of the three. He also had dark kind eyes, a narrow hat the kind that folds flat, thick, very thick dark brown hair, prominent nose, a narrow but square chin. The thick brown mustache is very clear in my memory. He is a slender man. I can see the sun behind him. I'm not sure why I should see him so clearly in my mind. His clothes are made of wool. If I saw a picture of him, I would know him. I have this sad feeling that if he had been the first one to find me that I would not be lying on the ground dying. His face was the last face I saw in that lifetime.

The drawing inserted here is a drawing that I made of the man that I recall. Of course, I don't do him complete justice, but it is a fairly good representation of him. I believe this man to be Officer William, whose memories are also posted on this website. And get this, the photograph of the man in uniform courtesy of Oxford U., is speculated to be the same gentleman. All parties involved myself, Officer William, and Private Jamie Evans believe that this picture is of William Evans.