The Story Behind The Cover

THIS week we present a cover by Colcord Heurlin! Heurlin worked in the pulps primarily over a ten year period from 1923 to 1933. His work appeared on Adventure, Aces, Complete Stories, Everybody’s Combined with Romance, North-West Stories, The Popular, Short Stories, Sky Birds, Sea Stories, Top-Notch, War Stories, Western Story, and here, the cover of the May 1931 Flying Aces!

Over Germany—1915

SUCH a scene as that depicted on our cover this month could have happened only in the early part of the war. For the French bomber whose pilot you see sending a Boche plane down in flames while his observer drops missiles of death on German terrain is an old pusher-type Salmson that went out of use in 1915. At that time, the Fokker stormed the Front with a new type of machine gun that fired through the propeller, and this Salmson was too heavy and slow to compete. It had had its day of glory, however, for it was one of the earliest ships that were really battle-planes, in which the pilot and observer were protected by a metal-covered nacelle.

“Over Germany—1915”
Flying Aces, May 1931 by C. Heurlin

THIS week we have an early cover by Frederick Blakeslee for Flying Aces. Blakeslee did three covers for Flying Aces in 1930. The one below for the August issue of that year was his third and final cover for the magazine.

The Story Behind the Cover

BRITISH against German—S.E.5 against Fokker—that’s the struggle depicted in this month’s cover. The S.E.5 has taken a long dive and is raking the Fokker from wing tip to cockpit. In this particular bit of action, the German was wounded in the legs, and with great difficulty escaped to his own lines.

Planes of the S.E.5 type appeared in France during the winter of 1917-1918. The German Fokker D7 was the only ship at the Front superior to the S.E.5—and our cover shows that the Fokker did not always win!

“S.E.5 vs Fokker D7”
Flying Aces, August 1930 by Frederick Blakeslee

THIS week we present an early Flying Aces cover from March 1929 by the incomparable R.C. Wardell. Wardell turned out numerous covers for the pulps in the late ’20’s and early ’30’s for magazines like Under Fire, Flyers, Flying Stories, Prison Stories, Sky Birds, Prize Air Pilot Stories, Far East Adventure Stories, Murder Stories, Murder Mysteries, Zoom! and of course Flying Aces, signing most of this work as “R.C. Wardel.” Here he depicts American Ace Frank Luke, shot down behind enemy lines waiting for the enemy troops to advance and take him prisoner—if they can!

Martyrs of the Air: Frank Luke

A German in name, but a fiery, patriotic American at heart, Frank Luke, the greatest ace that ever emblazoned his name in aviation annals, died as he had lived—a flaming, fighting, fast-winged warbird.

FRANK LUKE!

How much the name means to those few who knew how he fought, and died. And contrarily, how little it means to the vast majority of the great American people who knew so little about him.

Lieutenant Frank Luke’s career was short, hectic, and dynamic. He blazed across the wartorn skies of France like a flaming meteor and with equal brilliance. Very few people ever see the same blazing meteor in its dazzling course across the night skies; very few people ever heard of Lieutenant Frank Luke during his short but sensational career on the western front.

But to those who did come in contact with him, his valorous deeds and manner of dying will ever remain in their memories as long as they live. Frank Luke was the most courageous, the most audacious war bird that ever handled a control stick and pressed the Bowden triggers mounted on it.

Only Eddie Rickenbacker topped him in the final list of American Aces after the war was ended. Rickenbacker was officially credited with 26 victories. Frank Luke had 21. But the comparison is hardly fair to Frank Luke, for Eddie Rickenbacker was on the front for almost six months.

Luke’s front line career lasted only a little over two weeks, and even in that short space of time he was at one time the American Ace of Aces and there is no telling what score he would have run up if he hadn’t died. And how he died!

Bom of a German father who had emigrated to this country in the early days, and carrying a German name, Luke was looked upon with suspicion by his squadron mates who fraternized very little with him. Little did they suspect the intense hatred for the Germans that Luke harbored in his breast. He hated the enemy with an intensity of feeling that was only equalled by his supreme courage, and he swore when living that no German would ever take him alive. No German did.

There was another pilot in his squadron who had a German name and was of German parentage, a Lieutenant Wehner. The two, because they were more or less ostracized by the other members of the squadron, teamed up together. And what a team it was. The Germans soon learned to recognize the pair as twin furies of the skies, and would dash for cover as soon as the pair came in sight.

They were such dashing, daring fighters that the Germans gave them a clear sky when they came over, not even bothering to tarry and fight with them. Then it was that Luke originated his plans for bringing down German sausage balloons.

And what a terror the pair were to the German sausage observers—balloon after balloon fell before their streaking tracer fire. Finally, Wehner was killed while holding off an upper flight of German Fokkers who were trying to get at Luke below when he was diving on a German sausage with his twin Vickers guns blazing molten lead. Luke got the sausage, but the Fokkers got Wehner, and from that late afternoon on, Luke was never the same. He loved Wehner like a brother, and the Huns had got him.

“They’ll pay!” Luke stormed, and clenched his fists. “More than one Hun will pay for Wehner’s death.”

And more than one Hun did!

HE HAD been a terror before. After Wehner’s death he became a raving, tearing madman of the skies. Flying alone thereafter, he was the Lone Wolf of the sky trails. He had but one consuming passion; that was to get the Huns and then more Huns. Flying wherever he willed he tore up and down the front lines in search of Hun meat.

He paid no attention to orders and had absolutely no regard for discipline. One night would see his Spad plane bivouaced at some strange French airdrome far from his own squadron. The next night he would be way across France over in Lorraine somewhere. During his flights between he left a path of desolation. The German feldwebels dubbed him the Scourge of the Skies and scurried for cover whenever they saw Luke’s plane skirting down the trench lines.

His own commanding officer never knew where he was or what he was doing. An old army sergeant, one John Monroe, who had charge of an advanced emergency landing field right behind the front lines perhaps knew more of Luke’s movements during his short career on the front than any other man. Luke spent many a night sleeping with Monroe in his pup tent.

The sergeant would service his plane for him each night he landed and make it ready to take off before dawn the next day. Then while the two laid in the tent trying to go to sleep, Luke would tell the sergeant of the events of the day as he saw them from the sky.

Luke’s last day on earth was a spectacular one. He brought down two sausage balloons and one Hun plane, and was himself shot down about five miles behind the German lines near the little town of Murveaux. Luke was not shot to death in the air, but bullets from a Hun Spandau had shattered his propellor and damaged his engine such that he had to make a forced landing behind the German lines.

In addition he had two slight flesh wounds which were not in themselves serious enough to cause death, but they did make him somewhat weak from loss of blood. While the crippled plane was Winging down to a landing with the Hun attackers hovering overhead, Luke spied a cutover wheat-field and by agile manoeuvering, managed to set his plane down safely on it.

To any ordinary pilot, that would have meant the end of the war. But, not so with Luke. A small company of German infantry were stationed at Murveaux not far from the wheatfield, and when they saw Luke’s plane land, they sauntered out to take him prisoner.

When Luke’s plane staggered to a dead stop Luke jumped out of the cockpit on the side nearest the approaching soldiers. His left hand dangled loosely from his-shoulder and blood was on his tunic sleeve. His right hand he kept inside the cockpit, apparently holding himself up, for his knees buckled and he was half slumped to the ground, and so the approaching captors thought.
Luke looked at them and let them come. On they came in sort of a half run with their bayonets fixed. Luke watched them out of the corner of his eyes, and clenched his right hand tighter. His body swayed a little and he reeled slightly, nevertheless he held his feet, and when th approaching Germans got within about 50 feet of him, he snapped his right hand out of the cockpit. In it was a Colt Automatic. Luke leveled it and fired pointblank into the faces of the captors.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Five successive shots rang out. Five of the approaching Germans fell dead, shot through the heart each and every one of them.

More shots rang out, from the German’s rifles this time. Luke slumped over by the side of his machine, dead, his body riddled like a sieve by the German fire.

But think of the cold, raw courage that was Luke’s. In the height of battle man might do that, many of them. But Luke had time to think while his would-be captors approached.

“Surrender, and live through the war? Or die fighting with the blood of his comrade Wehner further avenged?”

Frank Luke died, and how gallantly!

“Martyrs of the Air: Frank Luke”
Flying Aces, March 1929 by R.C. Wardell

FOR FOUR successive months in 1933, War Birds ran a series of covers featuring “Strange War Planes.”—those freak planes that were used during the First World War. The covers were by Eugene M. Frandzen—known here for the covers he did for Sky Fighters from its first issue in 1932 until he moved on from the pulps in 1939. The Final freaky ship in the series was the Deperdussin Monoplane!

Strange War Ships:
Deperdussin Monoplane

BEFORE synchronization of machine gun fire was perfected, many strange ways were devised to fire in the direction of flight. The Deperdussin Monoplane, with machine gunner mounted atop the wing was one of these. A rudder attachment kept the gun from whipping from side to side. The ship was armoured and a superstructure of steel pipes formed the gunner’s cockpit. A gunner on this ship had to have a sense of balance equal to an acrobat to be accurate with the gun.

The Deperdussin was the forerunner of the 5pad. This ship and the single place were used extensively on the Russian front. Germany, at that time, considered these ships the most dangerous used by the allies. The single seater had the phenomenal speed of 131 m.p.h. when stripped.

LENGTH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .24′
SPAN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36′3”
AREA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 226 sq.ft.
WEIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1050 lbs.
MOTOR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .80 h.p. Gnome
SPEED . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .105 m.p.h.
CLIMB . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .247 ft.per min.

Strange War Ships: Deperdussin Monoplane • War Birds, August 1933
by Eugene M. Frandzen

THIS May we are once again celebrating the genius that is C.B. Mayshark! Mayshark took over the covers duties on Flying Aces from Paul Bissell with the December 1934 issue and would continue to provide covers for the next year and a half until the June 1936 issue. While Bissell’s covers were frequently depictions of great moments in combat aviation from the Great War, Mayshark’s covers were often depictions of future aviation battles and planes, like January 1936’s thrilling story behind its cover is a tribute to Pan American as it spans the Pacific!

Pan American Spans the Pacific

MAN has fulfilled one of the most ambitious dreams of modern transportation! He has conquered the Pacific. Giant, four-engined Pan-American flying boats now ply in regular passenger and mail flights from California to China, with intermediate stops at Hawaii, Midway, Wake, Guam, and the Philippines. People are flying across the world’s vastest body of water in some 60 hours of flying time, whereas hardly yesterday such a journey consumed the greater part of a month.

To be sure, people now make this momentous flight for the novelty of it. But tomorrow the whole matter will be routine. It will be accepted in the same manner as the rising generation takes airplanes and radio for granted.

It’s possible that the passengers who make the inaugural flights in the clipper ships will be under the delusion that they are pioneers of some sort who possess in abundance that fortitude required to undertake hazardous adventures. Unfortunately, however, they’ll be wrong if they think so, for the real pioneering will have been long since completed when they board the speedy aircraft that will link the Occident with the Orient. In fact, there will be no hazardous elements whatsoever attached to their venture—the real pioneers have seen to it that the line offers the maximum of security.

“Still, we might satisfy the ego of the initial passenger by making a concession. We might, with a stretch of the imagination, term him an armchair adventurer. And when we say “armchair adventurer,” we mean just that. For as the huge China Clipper streaks across the Pacific skies, our friend will be slouched comfortably in an upholstered chair, tilted so that the maximum restfulness is assured. From this point of vantage, he can gaze out of the windows at toy objects thousands of feet below—ships. Or he can read his favorite magazine or book, play a hand of bridge, write a letter, doze off for a nap, or . . . . oh, well, he can do any one of a dozen pleasant things. Be assured that Pan-American has it all figured out.

And our hero doesn’t have to worry about navigation, radio communication, gas consumption, engine control, wind velocity, or any other of the hundred and one things which are checked constantly. There is a first-rate pilot, co-pilot, and radio operator in the control cabin attending to all of these things for him. And those men are the finest of their profession in the world. They have seen years of experience on the extensive routes of Pan-American in the Caribbean and in Latin and South America. They have intensive schooling in flight and theory behind them.

But there are other and more important elements which enter into the picture. The officials of Pan-American didn’t decide overnight to establish a transpacific air route. It is much more involved than that. As far back as early 1931, the project was outlined and experimentation launched. Juan Trippe, president of Pan-American Airways; Andre Priester, the line’s chief engineer, and Colonel Charles A. Lindbergh together conceived the idea of the Pacific run and directed the actual work. There were many angles to be considered—route, type of ship, fueling bases, servicing stations, ad infinitum. By the merest chance, the islands which were the most logical stepping stones for such a flight are in the possession of the United States.

And so the work of fitting out the island stations was started. On March 27, 1934, the steamer North Haven steamed out from the Golden Gate with enough equipment on board to establish five air bases—and the bases were built and in running order in four months’ time. One of the islands—Wake—heretofore has been devoid of human life. Radio and power equipment as well as food and knock-down houses had to be transported and set up. But the work progressed step by step, with the result that in a few months’ time a complete island air depot existed on a speck of rock and coral which had never before supported human beings.

At the same time that the route was being studied and laid out, the problem of the type of ship to fly over it was being considered. A large part of the Pan-American equipment consists of Sikorskys and it was logical that a new Sikorsky be built for the Pacific route. About a year ago the S-42 was completed and given her trial runs over the already established Caribbean routes. When it was decided that the new ship possessed the requirements for a trans-Pacifie run, it was brought to the West Coast and on April 15 a crew headed by Captain Edwin C. Musick took her off the water at San Francisco and headed her for Honolulu, 2,400 miles away. Several test flights over the Pacific were made in the new Sikorsky, and so thorough had been the planning and laboratory work that even these first trips were accomplished exactly according to schedule.

But when regular mail and passenger flights commence, a ship other than the Sikorsky will be put into service. Early in October, Pan-American accepted delivery from the Glen L. Martin Co. of the largest flying boat ever to be built in this country. The ship has been christened the China Clipper and it is this new huge, four-motored flying boat that’will see service on the new route.

AND so it can be seen that if our friend lounging in a comfortable armchair tilted back at the angle which most serves his convenience and gazing out of the windows of the streaking China Clipper has any fears, they are only imaginary. But very likely he will still insist that what he is doing parallels the feats of the pioneers in the early 1800’s. And that’s okay with us and probably with the officials of Pan-American, too.

The real story of the trans-Pacific conquest, to our way of thinking, centers upon the formidable work accomplished in laying the foundations of the line. The real heroes are the squads of men who struggled in the face of many hardships to construct the island stations in order that those who now fly the long route may enjoy the securities and conveniences which are one with modern transportation.

Flying Aces, February 1936 by C.B. Mayshark
Pan American Spans the Pacific: Thrilling Story Behind This Month’s Cover

THIS May we are once again celebrating the genius that is C.B. Mayshark! Mayshark took over the covers duties on Flying Aces from Paul Bissell with the December 1934 issue and would continue to provide covers for the next year and a half until the June 1936 issue. While Bissell’s covers were frequently depictions of great moments in combat aviation from the Great War, Mayshark’s covers were often depictions of future aviation battles and planes, like January 1936’s thrilling story behind its cover portrays one of the means by which military action might be applied against Italy, whom the League regards as the aggressor in the Italo-Ethiopian conflict by the other League of Nation members!

Legions of the League

FOR the first time since the inception of the League of Nations, members of that international body have combined in an effort to restrain a member State from pursuing a “war of aggression.” The invocation of the Covenant’s dreaded Article XVI sets a decided precedent, and those peace-loving inhabitants of the earth who place their faith in the League are proud of the fact that at last a united exertion of power has been mobilized in opposition to conquest by the force of arms. The League Covenant states that a member may not go to war, either officially or unofficially, against another member for the purpose of annexing territory. If an act of war is committed in defiance of the Covenant, the other members have the right to punish the offending nation with a view to ending hostilities. If economic and financial sanctions fail to provoke an attitude of cooperation on the part of the aggressor, then the only course open for the League is the application of force. In other words, the League may declare a war to end a war.

This month we have portrayed on our cover one of the means by which military action might be applied against Italy, whom the League regards as the aggressor in the Italo-Ethiopian conflict. The ominous shadow of the powerful air forces of the three leading members of the League—England, France, and Russia—might prove in itself to be a threat of sufficient force to curb Italy. On the other hand, it might not.

Italy is rightly a proud nation. More than once in the course of her colorful history she has been the most powerful nation on the face of the earth, and the Twentieth Century finds her among the world’s first rank powers. However, the consensus is that Italy cannot afford to resist such military sanctions as Britain, France, and Russia could array against her.

Thus far, Italy has turned a deaf ear to the dangers of economic and financial sanctions. As this is written, the League has just applied boycotts on Italian exports and has barred the import of key products. This drastic move is designed to cut Rome’s vital sales by 70 per cent, thereby putting millions of Italians out of work. Common sense tells us that if this move is effective, Italian resources will be strained to the limit if Rome intends to continue the African war. However, the likelihood of her immediately withdrawing her troops seems remote, however effective the League boycott may prove to be. It is with alarm, therefore, that we view the future if present sanctions fail to force peace. As has been said, the only recourse is the application of armed force—unless the League backs out.

If an actual conflict between Italy and the League members comes to pass, it is difficult to say whether it would take place on the Continent, in Africa, in the Mediterranean, or all three. The present concentration of Italian troops in Libya forces us to imagine a bloody slaughter on the rolling sands of north Africa. On the other hand, Italy’s fortification of her own borders is stronger than ever.

But wherever the struggle takes place, the fearful hum of League planes over the boot of Italy would be inevitable—providing such a fracas actually begins. And that is the picture that the League will attempt to force on the minds of those it blames for the continuance of current hostilities in Africa. For it is only with the realization of such opposition that Italy will retreat.

Of course it is ridiculous to suppose that a gigantic League air force would advance on Italy and bomb a helpless civil population. Only points of military importance would be marked for annihilation, but, as in all conflicts, the invading force would not be held responsible for damage done to civil property. And in the end, of course, the civil population always suffers the most.

Air raid drills for the protection of the populace are already being held in Italy. By posters, apparatus, and demonstration, the people will be taught how to face gas attacks from the air. Undoubtedly, this is throwing a scare into the entire Italian population, but the people are being assured that there is no chance of anyone finding a new gas against which they cannot be protected. That, however, must be taken with a grain of salt.

But all of this may not come to pass. The desperate peace overtures now being pushed by the League may be successful, with the result that the general mobilization moves now in progress all over Europe will come to a halt. Yet the tension that exists as this is written is greater than at any time since 1914. Each government involved in present negotiations hardly desires to retreat or give quarter for fear of losing international prestige. And prestige is something that is coveted by every country. But a way out may be found. If a treaty contains provisions for Italian expansion, very likely peace will ensue.

A parting word concerning the attitude of our own country, the United States: An arms embargo is now in effect and provisions are being made to halt the export of key implements and products to the belligerents. It is obvious that our nation does not want war. The likelihood of our remaining free of the conflict is possible only if we show a disposition to steer clear of the brief and dangerous profits that invariably ensue from an armed contest. It appears that we are taking adequate measures to prevent menacing foreign entanglements.

THE three planes on our cover are symbolic of the air forces the League might call into action. The British ship is a Handley-Page “Heyford” night bomber equipped with two Rolls Royce “Kestrel” engines. It is a single-bay biplane with dihedral on both wings. Automatic slots are fitted to the upper wing, giving lateral control and added stability. Three gun positions are provided, being so placed that the gunners are afforded excellent arcs of fire.

The French ship is a new style Breguet bomber and is touted as “the fastest bomber in the world.” It has only recently been adopted by the French Army, hence no details on the ship are available.

The Russian ship is an Ossaviachim Air 7. It is a low-wing monoplane and is classed as an attack ship. Figures on the performance of this plane are likewise unavailable.

Flying Aces, January 1936 by C.B. Mayshark
Legions of the League: Thrilling Story Behind This Month’s Cover

THIS May we are once again celebrating the genius that is C.B. Mayshark! Mayshark took over the covers duties on Flying Aces from Paul Bissell with the December 1934 issue and would continue to provide covers for the next year and a half until the June 1936 issue. While Bissell’s covers were frequently depictions of great moments in combat aviation from the Great War, Mayshark’s covers were often depictions of future aviation battles and planes, like December 1935’s thrilling story behind its cover gives us a possible glimpse into the future (of 1935) of what could happen should England go to war with Italy over access to the Suez Canal!

Sky Skirmish Over the Suez Canal

A BLOODY war that will draw in all the nations of the world—a conflict that will drain civilization of its youth—a conflagration that will make the World War seem like a series of practice maneuvers! All that, and more, is what many experts insist is now in store for us.

There is no doubt but what the Italo-Ethiopian situation is the gravest impasse that has confronted Europe’s statesmen since 1914. Proposals and counter-proposals have devolved into quibbling and bickering. As this is written, peace moves have been of no avail, and instead of the positions of the various nations becoming clearer and more easy to define, they have now been tightened in a web of confusion. It is extremely difficult for even those “on the inside” to make an open-minded analysis of the situation. Indeed, most reports are colored so that they overly favor either one faction or another. It is clear that it would be ridiculous for us to attempt to predict success for either side. Moreover, it is not our purpose to pass judgment as to right or wrong in this imminent war or even to vouchsafe an opinion as to the outcome. We seek to offer only a purely fictional viewpoint dealing with possibilities.

Newspapers are replete with news of the British Fleet maneuvers in the Mediterranean Sea. There is not one iota of a doubt in anyone’s mind as to the purpose of the operations. As a matter of fact, the British Government finally acknowledged the fact that the operations were other than routine. During the summer, the Italian Government has transported hundreds of thousands of troops and millions of dollars worth of war materials through the Suez Canal to the territory adjacent to Ethiopia.

The Suez Canal is controlled by the British, and one might think they would be happy at the thought of the increased traffic and the correspondingly increased revenue. That, however, is a much too simple conclusion. The problem that the Suez Canal offers is much more involved than that, for this thin strip of water is the key to the widespread British Empire.

As a matter of fact, the British are so adverse to an African conflict that there has even been talk of closing the Suez Canal. Should things come to a head, it is very likely that the Canal will be closed. Certainly the repercussions of such an act would be far reaching, and it was this thought that gave birth to the idea for our cover this month.

Assuming that the British have denied the Italians access to the Suez Canal, we can likewise assume that the Italians will retaliate. Let us suppose that a flight of flying boats has been dispatched from a base in Italy to proceed to the Canal region to force access, or gain it by intimidation. But a British aircraft carrier is found lying in the mouth of the canal, and with the first appearance of the Italian planes, orders are issued for flight preparations of several British two-seaters. As they take the air, the Italians veer off. Perhaps they did not expect any stiff opposition. However, the British are determined. The orders read that the aircraft carrier must remain in the mouth of the Canal and deny the entrance of any ship flying the Italian flag. Nor is the British Naval commander taking any chances on being bombed by the persistent Italians.

Sensing the fact that they must beat down the British two-seaters before they can accomplish their purpose, the Italians swing into action with a vengeance. Attacking in an echelon formation, they sweep in upon the British with all guns roaring. The leading Italian ship is the first one to become entangled, and the two-seaters pounce upon it with the vigor of tigers.

Banking and climbing with everything they’ve got, the British ships finally manage to attain a position of advantage. But the Italian flying boats are fast and easy to maneuver, and the two gunners in the bows of the twin hulls spray their opponents with lead. The bomber officer inside the Italian ship is also on the job and several bombs are released. As shown on our cover, these projectiles have caused a conflagration among buildings on the shore, but thus far the aircraft carrier has not been touched.

But how long can the British planes protect their mother ship—or, on the other hand, how long can II Duce’s machines be effective? Will some of those bombs blow the carrier to smithereens? All that is only a matter of conjecture. In an air battle, anything can happen. Nor does victory always go the strongest.

THE armaments of Italy and Great Britain present a truly interesting picture. England is admittedly the strongest on the sea, but the question of strength in the air is something that requires careful analysis. Italy possesses approximately 1,600 service planes and the home flying fields of most of the Italian squadrons are within easier striking distance of most of the areas where hostility is likely to occur than are the air forces of Great Britain, which is naturally forced to keep a good part of her air strength at home. Most likely the only British planes which would see any real action are those carried by King George’s aircraft carriers and by his other naval vessels.

At the present writing, it would seem that a war between England and Italy would be a war involving ships and airplanes. There is nothing which would be indicative of the outcome of such a conflict. Certainly. Italy’s submarines would supplement the fight of the Italian airplanes and surface craft, but on the other hand England’s ability to blockade Italy and thus inflict severe damage on Italian commerce must be taken into consideration.

Such a set-to, however, may never come to pass at all. The League of Nations is making a concerted effort to preserve the peace of Europe—and of the whole world. There is always a chance that the various overtures which are being made will finally be successful, and it is our devout hope that this will be the case. Yet, if worst comes to worst, it is likely that the conflict will be of short duration.

The Italian ship shown on this month’s cover is a Savoia-Marchetti S-55. It is a long range bomber and one of the most airworthy—and seaworthy—of the Italian flying boats. The British planes are Hawker Ospreys. They are two-seater, fleet reconnaissance ships and possess the fine features of performance that are to be found in all Hawker aircraft.

Flying Aces, December 1935 by C.B. Mayshark
Sky Skirmish Over the Suez Canal: Thrilling Story Behind This Month’s Cover

THIS May we are once again celebrating the genius that is C.B. Mayshark! Mayshark took over the covers duties on Flying Aces from Paul Bissell with the December 1934 issue and would continue to provide covers for the next year and a half until the June 1936 issue. While Bissell’s covers were frequently depictions of great moments in combat aviation from the Great War, Mayshark’s covers were often depictions of future aviation battles and planes, like November 1935’s thrilling story behind its cover in which Mr. Mayshark shows us what it might look like when they test the new Boeing Bomber!

Action Test of the Boeing Bomber

OVER the distant horizon, a speck suddenly becomes visible from the housetops of a teeming industrial city. As if by magic, the speck grows in size, finally taking on gigantic proportions. Crowds in the streets are attracted, all eyes are turned heavenward. And now the aerial monster—the new Boeing Bomber—hurtles over the city at more than 250 miles per hour! This giant, powered by four Pratt & Whitney engines, is the newest thing in the air—the latest marvel of an age which already boasts innumerable mechanical wonders.

Suddenly, the local airport is alive with activity. Three brand new Navy Northrops are speedily rolled from a hangar. Commands are curtly barked, starters whine, and the deafening roar of three powerful engines pervades the air. The single-seaters are off the ground with a leap; and once in the air, they head in Vee formation toward the circling bomber. Their job is a test attack on the immense ship before them. They must attempt, theoretically, to send it to destruction.
Will they be returned the victors? Will the Boeing Bomber, in supposition, go “down in flames?” Will the years of research and toil be written off as short of the goal?

In short, were the designers fully warranted in making this new swing in military aviation? At this writing, the answer seems to be an emphatic “Yes!” To begin with, the argument is advanced that the days of the single-seater hero pilot are gone forever. Already there are indications that present day single-seater squadrons may become somewhat outmoded before the advance of fast and powerful two- and three-seater attack jobs. This fact gives credence to the growing acceptance, in military circles, of the large capacity, long-range bomber, of which the new Boeing is the acme.

Of course, we all know of the romance and spirit of adventure which characterized the fighting of the daring war-time pilots. In those days it was generally a case of man against man. But today things are different.

There are those who declare that single-seaters have little chance against a four-engined giant with five gun platforms—a ship which cruises at better than 250 m.p.h. The present day fighters of less speed would, of course, have difficulty in getting within range. As for the faster fighters, it may be pointed out that it takes plenty of skill to hit a fast moving ship; and when you are forced to zig-zag and literally throw yourself all over the sky in order to escape burst after burst of withering fire from such a formidable flying fortress—it requires more than skill!

However, in spite of what the experts think, and in spite of what the consensus is among those who think they are experts, the new Boeing Bomber must be put to test. A violent encounter must be simulated.

And so, the Northrops appear on the scene. One of the finest single-seater types in the world, they are fast, powerful, highly maneuverable. If anything can get near the Boeing Bomber, the Northrop can.

Coming upon the bomber from behind, they spread out fan-wise as soon as the first warning burst of tracer sprays the air about them. One Northrop climbs, another maintains its position, and the other dives. Attack the ship from more than one angle! Close in on it! Throw tracer from all directions! Those are the accepted tactics.

But the Northrop pilots soon find their task difficult. The Boeing Bomber cannot safely be approached from any angle. It is protected from above by a turret along the top of the fuselage. A “bird cage” gun emplacement protects the nose of the ship. Moreover, guns bristle from “blister” turrets on both sides and belly of the bomber’s fuselage. There are no blind spots!
The gunners aboard the Boeing are wide awake to every movement of the Northrops. But even so, their task, too, is not the simplest one in the world. The shifty little Northrops are giving them the fight of their lives. But finally, the hugh bomber prevails.

AND so, the Boeing theoretically is successful in bombing the industrial center it has attacked. True, the city is also protected by anti-aircraft defences. But the speed at which the Boeing flies makes one sceptical as to the success of such fire. And this brings up an interesting question: Have anti-aircraft developments kept pace with plane developments? A city is a huge target for a bomber speeding at high altitudes—but to gunners on the ground the bomber is, of course, a very small and highly-elusive object. While we’ve heard rumors of super-effective anti-aircraft pieces, the powers that be have thus far kept such inventions well veiled.

As for our Northrops, they now land, and the pilots climb wearily from their cockpits, haggard, exhausted. They have been through an ordeal. The tight turns and steep power dives have told upon them; for the tricky maneuvering in the hurtling fighters of the present day exerts a terrific strain upon the body.

Of course, the air battle pictured on our cover is entirely fictitious. Our purpose has simply been to help you visualize the new Boeing Bomber in a real air scrap. If such a test takes place, there will be a board of judges to render a verdict as to the outcome. Blank cartridges or camera guns will be substituted for bullets.

Performance figures of the new Boeing have not been released. At this writing, its top speed is a matter of conjecture. Your guess is as good as ours.

Flying Aces, November 1935 by C.B. Mayshark
Action Test of the Boeing Bomber: Thrilling Story Behind This Month’s Cover

THIS May we are once again celebrating the genius that is C.B. Mayshark! Mayshark took over the covers duties on Flying Aces from Paul Bissell with the December 1934 issue and would continue to provide covers for the next year and a half until the June 1936 issue. While Bissell’s covers were frequently depictions of great moments in combat aviation from the Great War, Mayshark’s covers were often depictions of future aviation battles and planes, like May 1935’s thrilling story behind its cover which imagines what an aerial fight between France and Italy might look like!

If France and Italy Fought

DEATH in the Alps! Smashing tracer that severs control wires and snuffs out human lives with equal ease! Pursuit ships tearing across frigid skies with reckless abandon, primed for the kill! A powerful reconnaissance flying-boat winging its way belligerently towards a French objective! All this and more could happen on the mountainous Franco-Italian border.

Let us suppose that an Italian flying-boat is ordered to fly over French territory on a secret reconnaissance job. The resultant information is to be used by a fleet of bombers which are to wipe out certain industrial centers in the south of France. Munition manufacturing plants are to be the prime objective, most of which are within easy range of Italian flying fields. But everything depends upon the success of the reconnaissance expedition.

The Cant flying-boat has almost reached the border when two French single-seaters tear into view. Something has leaked out! The French are aware of the impending danger, and they are determined to avert disaster. But the three Italian airmen must carry out their orders, and they prepare for the imminent encounter.

Flying a ship in the Alps Mountains is at best no simple task. There are towering snow-capped peaks which mask themselves in the surrounding hazy atmosphere, and they are a constant menace. Treacherous air currents are also particularly dangerous, so that a pilot never knows when his ship is going to be sucked down and smashed. Then, too, the wind reaches such a high velocity at times that it is almost impossible to turn the controls against it.

Having learned of all these dangers through painful experience, the French and Italian airmen proceed warily. Circling at a safe altitude above the Italian ship, the French fighters wait for a chance to strike. But the Italians do not deviate from their course. They, too, are waiting.

Suddenly, without warning, one of the Frenchmen drops. Like a plummet he falls, seemingly out of control. But quickly, as if he had hit something solid, he pulls out of the dive. Now the Italians are directly in the Frenchman’s line of flight, and as the pilot of the fighter turns on the heat, two murderous streams of machine-gun tracer splatter upon the wings of the flying-boat.

Now the Frenchman is forced to pull up and retreat to safety. The rear gunner in the Italian ship has entered into the picture and is returning the fire with a zest. In the meantime, the second Frenchman has projected himself into the fray. The Hisso motor screams as the single-seater lunges down, but again the Italians are successful in beating off the speedy enemy.

And so back and forth across the sky weave the three planes, the French ships possessing the greater speed, and the Italians the greater fighting power.

It is difficult to predict the outcome of such an air battle. Although the flying-boat does not possess great speed or maneuverability, its two gunnery should be able to protect it against any reasonable attack. On the other hand, the speed and the fighting fury displayed by the French single-seaters give rise to the belief that nothing could withstand the power of their vicious onslaught.

The Italian ship taking part in this air battle is a Cant 21 bis two-seater reconnaissance flying-boat. It is powered with a 500-horsepower Isotto Fraschini “Asso” engine. Gunners’ cockpits are situated in the rear and in the nose of the fuselage, the one in the nose being directly connected with the pilot’s cockpit. The ship’s speed is 134 miles per hour, and its range is ten hours.

The two French ships are Bleriot-Spad 510’s. This ship is designated as a single-seater high-altitude fighter. Its speed is 231 miles per hour, which places it among the fastest military planes in the world. Its power plant consists of one 500-horsepower Hispano-Suiza twelve-cylinder supercharged engine.

In view of the present fictitious description, it would be interesting to note the difference in the make-up of the French and Italian air forces. The Italians have a particularly difficult problem to face because of their geographical surroundings. Bounded on the south, east, and west by water as they are, the need for flying-boats and seaplanes can be readily seen.

On the other hand, an entirely different kind of aircraft is needed for work in the mountainous regions which bound the peninsula on the north. Italy leans more towards large, long-range ships than it does toward fast intercepter fighters. Very strenuous training must be undergone by all Italian military pilots, and once they have accomplished their training, their duties are varied and often hazardous. As a result, Italian military airmen rank among the best in the world. Proof of this fact was exhibited when General Balbo led the Italian Air Armada to America and back again to Italy in 1933.

When we look at the air arm of France, we see an entirely different picture. France has always been regarded as the nation which possesses greater strength than any other nation, in so far as fast pursuit jobs are concerned. Ever since the war, France has concentrated upon efficiency and speed in single-seater fighters. A great many different makes of pursuit and intercepter fighters are now in the French service, and their performance is indeed enviable. An example of this fact is to be found in the performance figures for the Bleriot-Spad. However, France is not lacking in reconnaissance and bomber types. Farman has been world-famous since the days of the war for the production of high-efficiency bombers.

The idea of anyone’s entertaining seriously the thought that the air battle pictured on our cover could actually take place is, in the light of present-day diplomatic developments, quite inconceivable. Our only aim has been to show our readers how representative ships of France and Italy would appear and what would be the advantages of each, if they were to engage in combat.

Flying Aces, May 1935 by C.B. Mayshark
If France and Italy Fought: Thrilling Story Behind This Month’s Cover

FOR FOUR successive months in 1933, War Birds ran a series of covers featuring “Strange War Planes.”—those freak planes that were used during the First World War. The covers were by Eugene M. Frandzen—known here for the covers he did for Sky Fighters from its first issue in 1932 until he moved on from the pulps in 1939. The third in the series was the Spad Tractor-Pusher.

Strange War Ships:
Spad Tractor-Pusher

THIS was one of the freakiest ships of the war, presenting the diverting 5pectacie of pilot and gunner in the same ship but separated by the whirling propeller.

Before the days of the front fire fokker engineers and pilots were dreaming of a device which would enable them to fire a machine gun in the direction of flight. The existing pushers permitted this but they were being replaced by tractors with their higher performance. The pilot wanted to take his front fire gun with him from the pusher to the tractor, but synchronization was unheard of then.

The result was as pictured on the cover and in this sketch. Sechereau, the designer, took the standard Spad tractor with 150 h.p. hisso and suspended a nacelle before the prop by a pair of members which formed part of the undercarriage.

The ship flew and was being considered for military use when the Fokker Eindecker came out. Naturally this type of ship became obsolete immediately.

Strange War Ships: Spad Tractor-Pusher • War Birds, August 1933
by Eugene M. Frandzen

What is next month’s strange ship? Check back again for pictures and complete data on another freak ship of the war!

FOR FOUR successive months in 1933, War Birds ran a series of covers featuring “Strange War Planes.”—those freak planes that were used during the First World War. The covers were by Eugene M. Frandzen—known here for the covers he did for Sky Fighters from its first issue in 1932 until he moved on from the pulps in 1939. The second issue featured the Maxmilian Schmitt Monoplane.

Strange War Ships:
Maxmilian Schmitt Monoplane

THE U.S. Army, after extensive tests, ordered this odd looking ship for service. At that time it was considered one of the fastest and safest of ships. It was to be partially armored. This feature anticipated Germany’s armoring of ships by several years.

The wings were supported by cables both top and bottom. The upper cables hanging from a pyramid of four steel tubes gave it an odd appearance. The most radical part of the design was the long rectangular section upon which was the tail planes. Another advanced feature of this ship was tubular steel construction of the landing gear.

It was powered by a 50 h.p. Gnome motor, had a top speed of 65 m.p.h. and could climb 50 feet per minute. It had a span of 25 feet. It’s length was 18 feet. The lifting surface was only 150 square feet, The weight was 600 pounds.

Strange War Ships: Maxmilian Schmitt Monoplane • War Birds, July 1933
by Eugene M. Frandzen

What is next month’s strange ship? Check back again for pictures and complete data on another freak ship of the war!

FOR FOUR successive months in 1933, War Birds ran a series of covers featuring “Strange War Planes.”—those freak planes that were used during the First World War. The covers were by Eugene M. Frandzen—known here for the covers he did for Sky Fighters from its first issue in 1932 until he moved on from the pulps in 1939. First up we have the Nieuport Triplane of 1918!

Strange War Ships:
The Nieuport Triplane of 1918

DESPITE the unusual appearance op this month’s cover ship, the designers were not trying to be funny. Triplane design was based on the pact that the use of three planes would permit a narrower chord and hence greater visibility for the pilot; increased maneuveribility; shortening of span and reduction of length without loss of lifting surface.

The “tripes” had the fatal weakness of shedding their linen on the upper wings and breaking up in the air. Sopwith, of England, produced the first successful tripe followed soon by Albatross and Fokker tripes. Nieuport engineers conceived the idea of staggering the wings like stair-steps. The result is pictured here, it was undergoing tests as the war closed. It was powered by a 110 h.p Le Rhone and had a top speed of 121 m.p.h., a span of 26 feet and length of 18 feet.

Strange War Ships: Nieuport Triplane 1918 • War Birds, June 1933
by Eugene M. Frandzen

Item of note: the cover image has apparently been reversed from the way it was painted as Frandzen’s signature is backwards on the ground under the tail of the Nieuport Triplane.

What is next month’s strange ship? Check back again for pictures and complete data on another freak ship of the war!

Eugene M. Frandzen painted the covers of The Lone Eagle from its first issue in September 1933 until the June 1937 issue when he would share duties with Rudolph Belarski. At the start of the run, Frandzen painted covers of general air action much like his Sky Fighters covers, shifting to covers featuring famous aces at the end of 1935. For the May 1936 issue, Frandzen gives us a Nieuport 28 and Pfalz D3 locked in combat!

The Story of the Cover

SOME planes had famous ancestors whose reputations had to be upheld. The Nieuport line was of the French aristocracy of war planes. The early Nieuport scouts were named “avions de chasse.” They were to the world war what the cavaliers clad in shining armour riding prancing Arabian horses were to the Middle Ages. The end of the war saw the Nieuport 28C1, a single-seater fighter, which made those American pilots speak of this plane with affection almost twenty years after the war.

The Germans had the Pfalz line of single-seater planes whose ancestry was not so clear. The early Pfalz D3 in fact had so many characteristics of the Nieuport of its time that it has not been free from the slur of being a copy. The Pfalz D13 of 1918 tried to save the family name by having a design all its own.

A Brilliant Ace

Frank L. Baylies was a member of the old Lafayette Escadrille. He was invited to join the Stork squadron of French veteran fighters. This young American airman was a brilliant star in a firmament of older aces. Baylies had twelve official victories credited to his skill in less than six months. The courageous qualities that endeared him to his comrades led him into an ambush on June 17, 1918. Flying well in German territory he attacked three enemy ships but a fourth German plane lurking above unseen came down on Baylies from the rear. Baylies’ plane fell in German territory.

The details of his last fight are clouded in the mystery of war, but the memory of one of America’s most intrepid airmen lives as a shining glory.

Prisoners of war were not always treated as “enemies” on our side of the lines. Usually they were steered to a liquid-soaked plank on which sundry bottles, glasses and other necessary drinking paraphenalia reposed.

Cognac and vintage wines skidded over appreciative palates. Any differences of opinion went by the board. After that. Max, Fritz or Oscar was merely on the wrong side of the argument, but he was a flyer and deserved a square deal before being thrown into clank for the duration of the war.

Such a situation arose one day when a wobbling German plane was forced down adjacent to a Yank drome. He was in one piece and thirsty. He sang a good bass to “Sweet Adeline.” He held his liquor like a gentleman and he could run like Nurmi.

He demonstrated this fact by grabbing the only .45 automatic in the crowd and sprinting across the flying field, hopping into a Nieuport 28 and getting off the field fifty yards ahead of a Yank who was testing a captured Pfalz D13 which had a trick Fokker tail in its rear section. Neither of the ships had ammo.

Duelling in Darkness

Both aviators had side arms, A cockeyed duel ensued as darkness began to fall. Two powerful planes heeled with pea shooters. They blazed at each other industriously. They did not see three cruising Allied planes rushing at them, nor did they see three German planes until the half dozen ships broke in on their private scrap with a bang. The German pilot in the Nieuport shrugged his shoulders and snuggled in among the Allied planes. The Yank took his lead and flipped his Pfalz among the Germans. Both foursomes veered off and headed for their own lines. The two revolver dueling airmen raised imaginary glasses to their lips; toasted each other, then as dusk crept deeper over the blurred formations, cut out and headed for their own lines.

As they passed each other at combined speeds of about 280 miles per hour, they let go a final parting shot from their pea shooters, a friendly salute till they could get a few assorted machine-guns anchored on the top cowling and go after this business of killing each other in a really serious manner.

The Lone Eagle, May 1936 by Eugene M. Frandzen
(The Story of The Cover Page)

THIS week we present another of Paul Bissell’s covers for Flying Aces! Bissell is mainly known for doing the covers of Flying Aces from 1931 through 1934 when C.B. Mayshark took over duties. For the October 1933 cover Bissell put us right in the action as a …

Yank Rookie Gets German Ace

IN THE early summer of ’18 the 95th Yank Squadron was having a busy time of it on the Front near Verdun. The long-promised Spads had not yet arrived, and they were still flying their old Nieuports to combat the new Albatrosses and Fokkers with which the Germans were filling the skies.

The squadron losses had not been unusual, but quite heavy enough so that replacements were constantly coming up. Often these were lads who had previously been with the French or English, and so had some actual combat experience. But sometimes there would be one who came fresh from the training centers, with only what experience he had received in “aerial combat” at those fields, and not enough of that.

As a general thing, these lads could be broken in gradually, the usual procedure being for the experienced pilots to take them over in formation, avoiding, if possible, a serious scrap, but allowing them to get accustomed to archie and the feel of being out—assisted to be sure, but on their own, where the stakes were life and death.

If a scrap was unavoidable, the new lads were told to stick close in their formation, or if the formation was broken, to pull out of the scrap entirely if the opportunity presented itself. However, things didn’t always work out 15,000 feet up as they were planned on the ground.

So it was with Lieutenant Walter Avery, who came up entirely without experience to join the 95th. He, like all other rookie aviators, without underestimating his job or the danger in it, was impatient to get at the enemy, and restlessly waited for his time to be taken over.

While waiting, he heard tales of the activities of the Boche squadrons in this sector, especially of an ace named Menckeff, who flew a red Albatross with the tips of its lower wings painted black.

This ace had thirty-eight official victories to his credit, and he and his men had been in many a spectacular dogfight with the Allied birdmen of this sector. Possibly at night Avery dreamed of that red ship with the black lower wing tips. Anyway, those markings must have stuck in his memory for—but that’s part of the story of Avery’s big day.

WITH the sun shining down blindingly from the vast blue dome above, seven German ships sped along over the big white clouds below them. High up there, everything was so quiet, so beautiful and peaceful, that it was almost incredible that the veil of smoke seen drifting across the landscape far below was really the shroud of hundreds who at that instant were dying—a sacrifice to the gods of war.

So, indeed, it was impossible to believe that these ships flying swiftly and easily, beautiful in the sunlight, their red wings flashing, were in reality a squadron of death, mercilessly searching for their victims.

Far below, coming from behind a cloud, five tiny specks had appeared, almost invisible against the shell-torn earth still miles beneath them. The quick eyes of the Boche leader had observed them, however, and already his wings were wagging their signal to his comrades. The red, blue and white circles on the lower planes showed them to be Americans. It was the 95th, and Lieutenant Avery was being taken over for the first time.

He had already come through his first tryout with archie, and had marveled at the apparent unconcern of the older pilots when puffs of smoke had appeared all around them as if by magic, and their ships had been bumped around as if by the hand of the magician himself. The flight had shifted course suddenly, and at certain definite intervals, but that was all, and soon the smoke puffs had ceased.

But now it was different. The flight leader had banked up sharply, at the same time giving a quick signal. Avery, looking over his shoulder, saw seemingly countless red ships, their guns blazing, diving straight down on him, and he knew that this was one scrap not as per ground instructions.

Just what happened during the next few moments will always remain a confused mass of memories to the young airman. He tried to remember his warning to stay in formation, but there seemed to be no formation left. He had escaped the first driving onslaught and was now just one of twelve twisting and dodging planes. So far he had not even used his machine gun. There had seemed nothing to shoot at—just flashes of color that passed him before he had opportunity even to determine what they were.

Then some bullets, spattering close to his cockpit, brought him abruptly out of his confusion. His senses cleared. All his training came back suddenly. He threw his ship into a screaming vrille and came out with a red ship square in front of him. Automatically his fingers squeezed the trips, and for the first time he felt the thrill of actual combat. His aim was high. He saw his tracers pass over the top wing of the other ship.

The German was busy on the tail of one of the other Americans and had not noticed Avery. A yank of Avery’s stick brought the whole enemy ship more into line. Then for the first time his eyes caught something that sent his heart into his mouth. The red Albatross had black lower wing tips.

Carefully he sighted, aiming at the nose of the Albatross so that the German would have to pass through the line of fire. Once again his guns throbbed, and this time his aim was true. The German plane shot up in a tight loop like an animal stung unawares, but at the top, his motor sputtered and he dropped off to one side. Right behind him went Avery, his guns blazing, the bullets ripping the sides of the diving Albatross.

It was soon over. They had drifted too far over the Allied lines for the Boche to make the German side; so, with motor gone, unable to fight, and himself wounded, he threw up his hands in surrender. The scrap was over, and Avery headed back for the airdrome.

His squadron mates had seen the newcomer get his German, but it was not until the prisoner had been brought in that Avery was sure his eyes had not deceived him. And not until then did his comrades realize that the young American lieutenant had on his first flight over the lines brought down the famous German ace, Menckoff—a record we believe unique in the annals of the war.

“Yank Rookie Gets German Ace”
Flying Aces, October 1933 by Paul J. Bissell

THIS May we are once again celebrating the genius that is C.B. Mayshark! Mayshark took over the covers duties on Flying Aces from Paul Bissell with the December 1934 issue and would continue to provide covers for the next year and a half until the June 1936 issue. While Bissell’s covers were frequently depictions of great moments in combat aviation from the Great War, Mayshark’s covers were often depictions of future aviation battles and planes. April 1935’s thrilling story behind its cover features an Attack on San Fancisco!

Attack on San Francisco

FROM across the Pacific a harmless-looking tramp steamer is churning its way to a point within five hundred miles of San Francisco. There is nothing about her appearance to arouse the slightest suspicions on the part of anyone. She is just like a thousand other tramp steamers—black and smoky and clumsy-looking.

As the ship nears the California coast line, it heads into the wind and drops anchor. Activity on deck is apparent as huge hatches are removed and the swinging arm of a derrick is brought into play. Terse orders are barked out, and obeyed with smart promptness. Military procedure appears to be the keynote of all operations—a thing unusual in a tramp steamer’s crew.

An observer, if he had the good fortune to watch the activity unseen, would by this time begin to doubt the steamer’s appearance. As a matter of fact, he could not help suspecting a warlike objective. Tramp steamers do not stop five hundred miles off San Francisco for the fun of it.

In San Francisco Bay, a batch of United States destroyers and cruisers are weighing anchor, preparatory to steaming out of the harbor and joining the rest of the fleet for operations off Catalina Island. The smooth lines of the fighting craft are set off in sharp relief against the blue hills of the Tamalpais range. Unlike other mechanical devices, they add immeasurably to the natural beauty of the surroundings, and as they slowly get under way, they remind one of a giant cat carefully threading its way through leaves and branches, only to bound into action with a roar as its prey is hopelessly pinned beneath it.

One by one, Uncle Sam’s ships steam up the bay, through the Golden Gate and out into the broad Pacific. As they pass the hundreds of workers busily employed on the construction of the new Golden Gate Bridge, a spontaneous cheer floats across the still air from riveters and engineers alike. With a sense of proud security, the bridge workers drop their tools to gaze intently on each vessel as it passes beneath them. There is something awe-inspiring about the United States Navy, and it makes the men on the steel towers reflect upon the possibility of foreign invasion. Each Navy ship seems like such a mountain of strength and durability that an offensive move against our coastline by anyone would most assuredly lose. However, torpedoes that find their mark are seldom ineffective.

By this time, the tramp steamer has completed its work. Two Kawasaki two-seater torpedo planes are well on their way to San Francisco, and as they flash up over the horizon, their pilots see that they must hurry. Almost half of the destroyers and cruisers are already clear of the Golden Gate channel. The rest must remain inside.

As the two airplanes draw near, a cry of fear rings out. The bridge workers realize that this is not a friendly air visit. The torpedoes hung between the wheels of each plane give cause for grave doubt, and all operations on the Golden Gate span stop as the men scramble to places of safety.

But what is this roaring out from the mainland? Two Navy planes to the rescue! The approach of the two foreign torpedo ships has been observed from a land station and, taking no chances, the C.O. has sent a couple of Vought landplanes into the air.

The pilots of the Navy planes, of course, figure the move a useless one. Nobody would torpedo United States cruisers or destroyers out of a clear blue sky, when there is no apparent motive, they think. Doubtless, the Navy pilots are unaware of a recent diplomatic breach between the United States and a certain Eastern power. They are unaware of the fact that a certain power considers itself Uncle Sam’s equal and is out to prove it. Most of all, they don’t know that a whole fleet is at that very moment charging across the Pacific, intent upon taking swift advantage of the preliminary work to be done by the torpedo planes.

The object being pursued by the invading power is simply this. As the fleet, or part of it, is departing from San Francisco Bay, one or more ships are to be torpedoed and sunk directly in the Golden Gate Channel, thereby making it impossible for the remainder of the craft to accomplish their scheduled departure. In this way, the attacking warships would be left more or less free to proceed with the bombardment of San Francisco and the near-by coast-line cities, thereby paving the way for the actual landing of troops. Of course, failure to bottle up the fleet in the bay would mean failure at the very start of the enterprise.

In the particular instance, some of the Navy fighting craft have already made their safe departure through the Golden Gate, but there are still numbers of ships which theoretically could be locked inside. Besides the ships that are in the clear, the rest of the fleet is still somewhere off the coast of southern California. These combined forces might possibly fight off the attacking navy, but that is doubtful.

The only course left open, then, is defense by air. Naturally, the attacking forces are well equipped with aircraft carriers and launching apparatus on all battleships. Quite possibly the combined strength of the Pacific Coast Army and Navy Air Forces might turn the tables completely and force the invaders into confused retreat. The whole affair would be a huge air battle, with both sides sending hundreds of planes into the air. If the invaders should win, California would be doomed. If Uncle Sam’s ships came out victorious, the outcome even then would be problematical.

But to get back to the two torpedo planes bearing down on the Golden Gate. Will they accomplish their purpose and block off San Francisco Bay? Or will the Corsairs send them charging into the water?

No one can say what would be the outcome of such a venture, but this much we do know. Judging from the recent better understanding which has been accomplished between most of the nations of the world, and from the bitter lessons which we all learned in the last great war, we have good reason to assume the belief that no nation would care to or have reason to attempt a wholesale invasion such as the one fictitiously described here. We earnestly hope this to be the case, and we pin our hopes on the strength of the United States Army and Navy Air Forces.

Flying Aces, April 1935 by C.B. Mayshark
Attack on San Francisco: Thrilling Story Behind This Month’s Cover