Cold Open

It’s just before dawn on June 2nd, 1917, somewhere in the skies over Northern France.

Captain Billy Bishop leans out of the cockpit of his biplane, peering into the early morning light. With the sun still below the horizon, shadows cloak the battlefield beneath him. But even in the gloom, he can make out the scars on the land, the tangled web of trenches, craters, and barbed wire that stretches as far as the eye can see. Not for the first time, Bishop is glad that he's joined the Royal Flying Corps when he did. Whatever dangers await in the sky, they certainly beat rotting in the mud of the trenches.

Today, he’s chosen to strike out alone in the early hours, hoping to catch the Germans off guard. And squinting through his goggles, Bishop spots his target at last—a German airfield.  

He pushes the control stick forward and the plane dives, its engine screaming as it picks up speed. Bishop knows he has to hit hard and fast, before the enemy has a chance to react.

The ground rushes up to meet him and Bishop levels out, lining up his gunsight on a row of aircraft parked beside the runway.

He squeezes the trigger. Bullets tear through the canvas-and-wood planes.

And after blasting over the airfield, Bishop pulls hard on the control stick and climbs sharply away. He glances back over his shoulder. His attack has certainly caught the enemy off guard. But now German pilots are sprinting toward the surviving aircraft.

Bishop could turn for home before they get airborne, but that’s not his style. Instead, he banks and circles back, lining up another attack as the German planes try to get in the air. It looks like he is about to get into a dogfight.

Captain Billy Bishop will survive the aerial battle that follows, though his biplane will limp back to base riddled with bullet holes. Bishop's astonishing act of bravery will earn him the Victoria Cross, the highest honor in the British Empire. But in the years to come, the lack of witnesses will make some people doubt Bishop’s story and question whether he really did attack a German airfield on June 2nd, 1917.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is June 2nd, 1917: Billy Bishop’s Victoria Cross.

Act One: Head in the Clouds

It’s August 1915 at Shorncliffe Army Camp in southern England, two years before the dawn attack on the German airfield.

21-year-old Lieutenant Billy Bishop trudges through the thick mud of a field at the far edge of camp. A recent summer downpour has drenched the grounds, and rainwater pools in every hollow. Still, orders are orders, and he’s been sent to check the perimeter fence and make sure that the camp is secure.

Bishop steps into another puddle, but it’s deeper than it looks. His boot sinks into the mud, and water spills over the top. He quickly tries to yank his leg back, but his foot slips free, leaving the boot stuck fast. Bishop hops, trying to keep his balance, but it’s no use. He slips and falls, landing on his backside with a wet splash.

All Bishop wants to do is cross the English Channel and join the troops fighting in France and Belgium. When the wind blows the right way, he can even hear the distant thud of artillery on the Western Front. Instead, he’s stuck here. His body aches from weeks of punishing drills and he’s exhausted from early-morning parades. And now, he’s lost his boot.

Bishop has come a long way to join the war effort. Born and raised in Canada, he enlisted as an officer in the British Army as soon as the war was declared. But ever since he arrived in Britain, Bishop has just spent weeks training in this rough, waterlogged camp. It’s a far cry from the glory of war he imagined when he signed up.

As Bishop wrestles his wet boot out of the mud, the growl of an engine cuts through the air. Bishop looks up and a biplane sweeps overhead, banking gracefully before turning back toward him, skimming just above the treetops. The markings of the Royal Flying Corps catch the sun on the fuselage as the plane drops even lower, and then lands in a nearby field.

The propeller slows and the engine falls silent. The pilot pulls off his goggles and gives Bishop a cheerful wave.

In that moment, something clicks for Bishop. Flying planes might not be any safer than serving in the trenches, but it has to be drier at least. Bishop hurries away to finish his patrol. And as soon as he gets back to the barracks, he asks his commanding officer how to transfer.

A few weeks later, Bishop’s request is approved. He becomes the newest recruit in the Royal Flying Corps, the British Army’s air section. He’s soon transferred to France. But he’s not a pilot yet. There’s a huge backlog of eager trainees and not enough instructors to go around. So, instead, Bishop’s first assignment is as an observer. Airplanes are mostly used for reconnaissance, and Bishop’s job is to sit behind the pilot and scout enemy positions from the air. In one of his first missions as the plane circles over targets, he helps direct artillery fire. So though he may not be behind the controls just yet, at last, he feels like he’s making a real contribution to the war effort.

But airplanes are a new technology, and they’re evolving fast. Even during Bishop’s early days as an observer, new aircraft take to the skies. Engineers successfully mount machine guns on planes and synchronize them to fire in time with the propeller, allowing aircraft to become weapons in their own right. Soon both sides in the war form fighter squadrons to patrol the sky and attack the enemy. For observers like Bishop, the sight of these squadrons is terrifying. He is stuck in an old, unarmed plane while cutting-edge fighters scream down on him from above.

But luckily for Bishop, he doesn’t have to remain an observer for too long. In October 1916, Bishop gets the call he’s been waiting for. He reports to flight school in England, and two months later, he’s awarded his wings as a fully trained pilot.

At first, Bishop joins a squadron in Essex, just outside London. Its job is to protect the capital from German airships. But the work is dull and unsatisfying. Bombing raids are rare, and even when Bishop is called into action, it’s only ever at night. He has to fly in the dark, navigating only by the stars above and shadowy landmarks below. It’s also so cold that he gets frostbite. And he never gets a single glimpse of the enemy.

So, Bishop is relieved when, after weeks of night flying, he finally gets the orders he wanted. He will be sent back to France and finally get the chance to go into battle—but he’ll soon discover that flying in combat is becoming more dangerous and more complicated than he ever imagined.

Act Two: Rough Landings

It’s March 24th, 1917, at an airfield near Arras in Northern France, two weeks after Billy Bishop was assigned to a fighter squadron on the Western Front.

Lieutenant Bishop climbs into his biplane. Settling into the seat, he nods to his mechanic. He’s ready to get back in the air—and this time, he’s hoping for better luck.

It's been a week since Bishop arrived at the base. He spent his first few days getting acquainted with his new aircraft and studying maps of the front. Then, two days ago, he was sent up for his first combat mission. It didn’t go well. He became separated from the rest of his group and strayed over enemy territory. The fire was so heavy, he only just made it back alive. Now, though, the bullet holes in his aircraft have been repaired, and Bishop is ready to take his plane up for a test flight.

Bishop’s mechanic grips the propeller and then pulls down. The engine coughs and sputters until it roars to life. Bishop taxis to the end of the uneven grass runway, takes off, and climbs into the pale sky. He follows his assigned patrol route behind the British lines and the air is quiet. Bishop doesn’t see another plane, and his own machine handles perfectly.

Satisfied, he turns for home. But at the last moment, it all goes wrong. When Bishop comes in to land, he cuts the engine too early, and the plane drops like a rock. The nose plows into the ground, the propeller shatters, and the entire aircraft flips over. 

Miraculously, Bishop is unharmed. He hangs in his harness, upside down, until he manages to unclip himself and crawl out of the wreckage. Mechanics run over to help, but Bishop walks straight past them, burning with embarrassment. There’s no avoiding his commanding officer, though. Bishop is summoned—and not just for a reprimand. They’re sending him back to flight school. He clearly needs more training.

But Bishop can’t leave before a replacement arrives. So reluctantly, the commanding officer allows Bishop to go up for one last group patrol—on the condition that he stays out of trouble. Bishop agrees, but he doesn’t get the chance to keep his promise. During the mission, his patrol is ambushed by three German fighters.

In a matter of seconds, the sky explodes into a frenzy of twisting aircraft, and almost accidentally, Bishop suddenly finds himself in the perfect firing position. He pulls the trigger and bullets streak through the air. He makes a direct hit, and a German plane falls into an uncontrolled dive. Bishop watches it explode on the ground below. But his moment of triumph doesn't last. Suddenly, his own engine starts to splutter.

Losing altitude rapidly, Bishop searches for a safe place to land. There’s only one suitable patch of ground—but it’s in no-man’s land, between the Allied and German trenches. But he has no choice. As the plane rolls to a halt, Bishop knows he’s dangerously exposed. He climbs out of the cockpit and runs toward the nearest trench.

Thankfully, he chooses the right direction. British soldiers pull Bishop into a dugout, and he spends an uncomfortable night with them in the trenches. But he uses his time well. Borrowing a pencil and paper, he writes a report of the day’s action, claiming his first kill.

Two days later, Bishop makes it back to base. His commanding officer is waiting—and this time, his tone has changed. He congratulates Bishop on his first kill and tells him that the order sending Bishop back to flight school has been withdrawn. Instead, as one of the few members of the squadron with a confirmed kill, Bishop is promoted to captain and flight commander.

Over the next few weeks, Bishop flies many more missions. He leads group patrols over the trenches, protecting Allied soldiers and chasing away enemy fighters. But he also embarks on more unorthodox solo missions, heading out by himself at dawn to hunt the enemy. And within days, Bishop claims to have shot down five German planes, a feat that officially makes him an “ace.”

Then two and a half months after arriving in France, Bishop undertakes his most daring mission yet. On June 2nd, 1917, he attacks a German airfield at first light, strafing enemy planes while their pilots are still having breakfast. Then, rather than fleeing, he circles back destroying another two German planes as they try to take off and then shooting down a third in a dogfight at 1,000 feet.

There are no witnesses to the raid, and it happened outside his squadron’s normal area of operations. Even so, the squadron commander will forward Bishop’s spectacular report up the chain of command. And soon, Bishop’s aerial prowess will take the young Canadian from the battlefields of France to the halls of royalty.

Act Three: The Empire’s Finest Ace

It’s August 29th, 1917, at Buckingham Palace in London, almost three months after Billy Bishop’s raid on a German airfield.

In full dress uniform, Captain Bishop stands at attention as King George V steps forward. One by one, the King pins three medals to Bishop’s chest. First, the Military Cross. Then, the Distinguished Service Order. And finally, the Victoria Cross, the British Empire’s most prestigious award for gallantry.

The king leans in and whispers that he’s always wanted to award all three medals at the same time. And thanks to Bishop, he finally can. It’s the proudest moment of Bishop’s life.

Now a celebrated war hero, Bishop is in high demand. Soon after leaving the palace, he boards a ship for Canada. Back home, he marries the fiancée he left behind two years ago. Then, he throws himself into recruiting drives, encouraging young Canadians to enlist. After that, he travels south to Washington, D.C., helping the United States to set up its own air force. And along the way, he finds the time to write an autobiography, recounting many of his daring solo raids behind enemy lines.

Then after six months away, Bishop returns to Europe to take command of his own squadron. Back in the air, he adds to his list of victories. But soon he becomes a victim of his own success. Senior officers and government officials worry that Bishop’s death in combat would devastate morale. So he’s pulled from active duty.

With a total of 72 kills, he ends the war as one of the British Empire’s top flying aces.

And in the years that follow, Bishop continues to fly and later becomes an air marshal in the Royal Canadian Air Force. But after his death in 1956, questions will be asked about his extraordinary war record. Some historians will wonder whether Bishop exaggerated his victories on the Western Front. Lost, incomplete, and disputed records will complicate the search for the truth. And of all of his exploits, it’s the attack on the German airfield that will become the most contested —because no one witnessed exactly what happened in the skies above Northern France on the morning of June 2nd, 1917.

Outro

Next on History Daily. June 3rd, 1844. Icelandic fishermen kill the last-known pair of great auks, driving the species of flightless bird to extinction.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Sound design by Mollie Baack.

Music by Thrumm.

This episode is written and researched by Samuel Hume.

Edited by Scott Reeves.

Managing producer Emily Burke.

Executive Producers are William Simpson for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.