Errol W. Martyn reviews Grid: The life and times of First World War fighter ace Keith Caldwell by Adam Claasen for The Aero Historian:
‘Grid was a nickname for a bicycle early in the 20th century. New Zealander Keith Logan Caldwell was wellknown for not only referring to his bike as a grid but also applying the nomenclature to aircraft.
If one spoke of 'Grid' the airman within the Royal Flying Corps (RFC) or Royal Air Force during the latter half of The Great War, it could only mean one was referring to the 'Grid' Caldwell, such was his reputation as an outstanding fighter pilot, ace and leader.
Caldwell was one of the first two Walsh brothers' New Zealand Flying School graduates to leave New Zealand in January 1916 to join the RFC. (The other was Geoffrey Callender whose operational career was cut short upon his being wounded in October 1916.)
Following further training in England, Caldwell embarked for France in late July. His first operational posting gave no hint of what was to come. Here, until November 1916, he served as an 8 Squadron pilot on humble two-seater BE.2 biplanes, flying bombing and reconnaissance sorties. Even by this stage of the war the BE was hopelessly outclassed by enemy machines, but this didn't appear to overly concern the New Zealander, as he frequently indulged in looping the type (five times on one occasion and sometimes above the trenches), demonstrating that he was a confident and above average pilot. In due course these skills were recognised, resulting in a posting to a fighter squadron following a short course at St Omer, flying scouts (as fighters were usually called at the time).
The day after his November arrival at 60 Squadron, then based at Savy-Berlette, he was already engaging the enemy in combat (or "scraps" as they were often referred to by the airmen). Until August 1917, when 60 Squadron began to re-equip with the SE.5 and later the more powerful SE.5a, Caldwell flew single-seater Nieuport scouts armed with just a single Lewis gun installed on a rail on the top of the upper wing (for its fire to clear the propeller arc) to pit against the Germans' synchronised, twin machine guns (although the latter's combined rate of fire was not that much greater than that of a single Lewis). Usually the enemy machines were faster than the Nieuports, and it was only the nimbleness of the latter and piloting skill of the likes of Caldwell that kept the Allies in the game at the time.
The Nieuport Scout, however, suffered a serious structural weakness, one that was foolishly denied by the French manufacturer well into 1917. In December 1916 Grid Caldwell was to experience this failing firsthand when the strut socket began to work loose from his lower wing as a result of the stress placed upon it during a combat. Luckily, he was able to extricate himself from the scrap and nurse the weakened machine back home; many other pilots were not so fortunate and fell to their. death as their Nieuport broke up in the air (pilots not being equipped with parachutes).
With the arrival of the SE.5, the war's see-saw battle for aerial supremacy once more swung towards the British. Not only was the SE.5 a well-constructed fighter but, unlike the single-Lewis gun-equipped Nieuport, it came with both a Lewis gun that could be lowered from its upper wing position (like the Nieuport) plus a Vickers machine gun mounted on the forward fuselage and synchronised to fire through the propeller arc at almost twice the rate of the German Spandau.
Between November 1916 and July 1917, his service broken by two months of sick leave in England, Caldwell's commanding officer reported him as having already "had 59 combats in the air, in every one of which he has displayed considerably gallantry and skill". 'Grid' would go on to fight many more, perhaps becoming the most experienced British fighter pilot of the war. Such was his piloting skill that, in early March 1917, despite not having flown one before, he was selected to fly the first Sopwith Camel (a prototype) to arrive in France, on a Vickers machine gun test.
In October 1917, as his time with 60 Squadron came to an end, he was posted to Home Establishment (England). There he underwent courses at Gosport's Special School of Flying and Ayr's 1 School of Aerial Fighting. As a result, Caldwell's gunnery improved dramatically from his "moderate" rating at 60; this would be amply demonstrated in his next posting - as a major in command of 74 Squadron in January 1918.
With his flying and leadership experience Caldwell, then aged only 22, tall and with a shock of unruly black hair, created a commanding impression amongst pilots who were posted to this recently-formed fighter squadron. He quickly laid down his expectations of them: "You must all fight like hell. It must never be said, however, that a pilot of 74 ever failed to go to the aid of a comrade, even if he is in a position to knock down a dozen Huns."
During its time in France, from March until the Armistice, under Caldwell's leadership and aided by outstanding flight commanders such as 'Mick' Mannock, 74 Squadron soon established itself as the premier fighter squadron.
It was while in France, on 4 September 1918, that Caldwell had another close shave. 'Timbertoes' Carlin (he was equipped with a wooden leg) collided with him in mid-air during a combat. The New Zealander's machine was crippled and began spinning down due to damage to its upper left wing. 'Grid' managed to restore some stability to the SE.5a by standing up in the cockpit, leaning as far out to the right as he could and with his left leg placed firmly on the right rudder bar. As he came close to the ground over the British trenches he leapt from the machine, rolled a few times, stood up, brushed himself down and asked the troops if he might use their telephone.
A well-known illustration of the event by American artist Clayton Knight unfortunately has Caldwell about to leap from the port side of the SE.5a instead of the right. The error is repeated in the full-size replication of the event at Omaka's Aviation Heritage Centre. Claasen draws attention to the error, quoting Caldwell's first-hand account of his actions at the time.
Caldwell was well aware of just how fortunate he had been: "very lucky still" he wrote in his logbook. Although his piloting skill had saved him many a time, he was still extraordinarily lucky, his aircraft being shot about on numerous occasions (and once with bullet holes ripping into his clothes) but himself never once wounded.
Claasen furnishes a list of Caldwell's 26 victories. There is also a map of Western Front lines and airfields of 1918. The work is rounded out by a four-page bibliography and an eight-page index. Caldwell's wartime life in particular was associated with a large number of prominent fighter pilots - such as the supreme RAF ace 'Mick' Mannock - the index is an invaluable aid for those who wish to revisit mention of them in the book's more than 400 pages.
After an unsettled period immediately following the war, Caldwell took up farming at Glen Murray. In 1923 he became a foundation member of the territorial New Zealand Air Force. In 1930 he was promoted to wing commander and appointed as the reorganised Territorial Wing's commanding officer, though it still had no aircraft of its own. He retired from the NZAF in 1937. From the late 1920s he also flew as a founding member of the Auckland Aero Club.
With the outbreak of war in 1939, his services were again called upon, firstly as Commanding Officer of 2 Flying Training School at Woodbourne and then, from March 1942, as CO at RNZAF Station Wigram. One of the novelties he had to cope with was the introduction of women into the service - as members of the Women's Auxiliary Air Force - in 1941. There was also the occasional threat of a strike by airmen to deal with.
In November 1944 he was posted to India as head of the New Zealand Liaison Office there. Six months later this was followed by a London appointment as Air Officer Commanding RNZAF Overseas Headquarters, where part of his have then migrated to Australia. There is no record of him ever being in New Zealand.
The publishers are to be congratulated on publishing this account of one of New Zealand's most significant aviators. The flaps of the dust jacket are unusual, however, being blank where normally one would find a blurb about content and a brief biographical note about the author (the latter being tucked away on page 430).
Twenty-nine pages of notes demonstrate the thoroughness of Claasen's research and why it took four years to complete the biography. The author's writing is first class. Claasen has a way with words that is paralleled by few other writers of our aviation history, bringing facts and incidents together in logical fashion but without waste of words.
AHSNZ member Adam Claasen has previously published two works on Second World War military aviation, and immediately preceding GRID was his masterly Fearless: The extraordinary untold story of New Zealand's Great War airmen (Massey University Press, 2017). For those who wish to gain an authoritative insight into New Zealand's contribution to the air war during the First World War they could to no better than to start with these two superb works.’
