WITHIN three months of gaining his Aero Club certificate, William Hodgson Sugden-Wilson found himself in France with 10 Squadron, Royal Flying Corps.
The squadron's role was to spot for the artillery.
After a two-week training course on battery and aircraft communication, he was posted to work with 10 Siege Battery, Royal Garrison Artillery.
The battery was involved in the preliminary bombardment ahead of the Battle of Loos.
Lieutenant Sugden-Wilson was the son of Mr and Mrs W. H. Wilson of Hexgreave Park, Southwell. Educated at Harrow, he had become a land agent in Somerset before being commissioned in the West Somerset Yeomanry in April 1913 and applying for a transfer to the corps when war broke out.
His task as an observer was becoming riskier as the German fighter tactics evolved with the likes of Max Immelman taking full advantage of the Fokker Eindekker's ability to fire through its propeller.
Sugden-Wilson had a close shave on September 13, 1915, when his aircraft was attacked by a Fokker. The lower petrol tank of his B.E.2c was pierced by gunfire. Sugden-Wilson fired back as the Fokker turned away. A fuel shortage meant he and his pilot could not pursue.
Eight days later, Sugden-Wilson's luck ran out at the hands of Lt Immelman.
In what he later described as "a great fight lasting 15 minutes" over Willerval, in northern France, he expended all of his ammunition before his pilot was fatally wounded. Though wounded himself, Sugden-Wilson, also a qualified pilot, managed to land the crippled machine and was taken prisoner.
Initially posted as missing, he wrote to his mother on October 1, 1915, from a hospital in Germany: "When we were 11,000ft up we were attacked by two hostile machines.
"Lieutenant Caws, who was the pilot, was shot dead; the bullet passed through his neck downwards to his heart, passing through the instrument board and hitting my leg. I went on fighting till I had no more ammunition left, but by this time the aeroplane was in a spinning nose dive. I had to get the machine under control before we hit the ground.
"The machine at once caught fire, and before I got out of the wreckage my boot was burning fiercely. I was able to get it off quickly, but not before my leg was slightly burned.
"I then tried to lift the dead pilot out, but he was too heavy, both his legs having been broken in the fall. My face was burned a little when I tried to get him out, but my right leg was useless, and I could not stand any longer, so it was no good.
"The remains of Lieutenant Caws were buried by the Germans with military honours, and they were very kind to me, and looked after me well.
He added: "Up to the present I have been in four different hospitals, and am as cheerful as my position permits."
Immelman also wrote his account of his battle in his diary: "I took off at 9am in my Fokker monoplane. I had no special orders, but wanted to protect a machine of our section which was putting our artillery on to newly located objectives by telegraphic signals.
"At 9.45am I fly my circles over Neuville village, as agreed. I am 3,100 metres up, and cannot see the other machine, which has arranged to climb to 2,500. That does not matter; it will certainly be there.
"For a long time I have been looking out on my right; when I peer out to the left again, I see - quite close behind me on my left a Bristol biplane which is heading straight for me. We are still 400 metres apart.
"Now I fly towards him; I am about 10-12 metres above him. And so I streak past him, for each of us had a speed of 120 kilometres an hour.
"After passing him I go into a turn. When I am round again, I find he has not yet completed his turning movement. He is shooting fiercely from his rear. I attack him in the flank, but he escapes from my sights for a while by a skilful turn.
"Several seconds later I have him in my sights once more. I open fire at 100 metres, and approach carefully. But when I am only 50 metres away, I have difficulty with my gun. I must cease for a time.
"Meanwhile I hear the rattle of the enemy's machine gun and see plainly that he has to change a drum after every 50 rounds. By this time I am up to within 30 or 40 metres of him and have the enemy machine well within my sights. Aiming carefully, I give him about another 200 rounds from close quarters, and then my gun is silent again.
"I look round for my 'comrade of the fray', but he is no longer to be seen. I am still 2,500 metres up, so we have dropped 600 in the course of our crazy turns.
"At last I discover the enemy. He is about 1,000 metres below me. He is falling earthward like a dead leaf. He gives the impression of a crow with a lame wing. A thick cloud rises from the spot where he crashes, and then bright flames break out of the machine. Soldiers hasten to the scene.
"I find soldiers are attending to one of the inmates. He tells me he is the observer. He is an Englishman.
"When I ask him where the pilot is, he points to the burning machine. I look, and he is right, for the pilot lies under the wreckage - burnt to a cinder. The observer is taken off to hospital."
Immelman said he later visited Sugden-Wilson in hospital.
This article is based on research by Hucknall historian Jim Grundy.
