Auction Catalogue

25 & 26 March 2014

Starting at 10:00 AM

.

Orders, Decorations, Medals and Militaria

Washington Mayfair Hotel  London  W1J 5HE

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Lot

№ 1133

.

26 March 2014

Estimate: £4,000–£5,000

A Great War Pilot’s M.C. group of five awarded to Lieutenant J. H. “Hootsmon” Cooper, Royal Flying Corps, late Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, who favoured especially close aerial combat and the low-level attack

Military Cross, G.V.R., the reverse privately inscribed ‘Lieut. J. H. Cooper, M.C. 20.11.17’; British War and Victory Medals (Lieut. J. H. Cooper. R.F.C.); Defence and War Medals, unnamed as issued, nearly extremely fine (5) £4000-5000

M.C. London Gazette 4 February 1918:

‘For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty. He assisted to bomb an enemy aerodrome and destroyed some billets close to it. On another occasion he flew over the enemy’s lines in a very thick mist and bombed some enemy transport, completely destroying one wagon and scattering the remainder with machine-gun fire. He then bombed and blew up a factory. His machine was badly hit and returned to our lines with the greatest difficulty in very bad weather conditions. Later, in the course of three flights, he dropped bombs and fired 1700 rounds on enemy infantry from a low altitude. He showed the greatest courage and determination.’

John Henry “Hootsmon” Cooper, who was from Oban, off the west coast of Scotland, was originally commissioned into the 5th Battalion, Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders in August 1915, and, ‘after completing his preparation for the work of a soldier, he was for some time engaged in training machine-gunners.’ Transferring to the Royal Flying Corps in the autumn of 1916, Cooper qualified as a pilot and was posted to No. 12 Squadron, a BE2 unit, in France, and flew operationally between that November and April 1917, his schedule including Army co-operation and general reconnaissance flights, in addition to the odd contact patrol. It was while engaged on one of the latter exercises on the 10 April 1917, that Cooper was wounded by machine-gun fire and compelled to make a forced landing, thereby bringing to an end his current operational posting.

In late September 1917, sufficiently recovered, Cooper reported to No. 46 Squadron, a Sopwith Pup unit operating out of Le Hameau, an event recorded in the diary of Lieutenant (afterwards Air-Vice Marshal) A. G. Lee (see his published memoir
No Parachute), who described him as ‘an amusing Scot, an Argyll and Sutherland Highlander, whose pet exclamation is Hootsmon, and who in consequence now has it as a nickname.’

It is clear from the same memoir that Cooper quickly settled in to Squadron life and became a notable character with a zest for daring low-level attacks. This was just as well, for No. 46 was to play a very active role throughout the Cambrai operations, latterly in their newly arrived Sopwith Camels. Operational from the beginning of October, Cooper flew on virtually a daily basis until grounded by a serious crash in mid-December, a brief but traumatic period of combat that won him the admiration of his fellow pilots and the M.C. And while the Squadron was often employed on trench-strafing and bombing duties, it rarely missed an opportunity for air to air combat, the 28 October 1917 being a typical example:

‘While on patrol at 4000 feet, four Albatross scouts were observed. The Sopwiths started climbing. The E.A. attacked at about 8000 feet. All the Sopwiths were engaged. Lieutenant Ferrie got on to one E.A. and drove it down vertically and it disappeared into a cloud. Lieutenant Cooper attacked two E.A. The first one was not damaged owing to a stoppage after 50 rounds. The second he got right on to the tail of and nearly ran into it. It went down vertically after about 50 rounds ...’

Indeed Cooper’s preference for encounters of the closest kind nearly landed him in trouble again a few weeks later, on 20 November, when possibly he chose to adopt a Nelsonian blind-eye:

‘On 20th instant, Lieutenant Cooper assisted in bombing a German aerodrome from a height of 400 feet in a very thick mist and fog. He succeeded in blowing up some billets at the side of the aerodrome but the other two bombs failed to explode. In the afternoon of the 20th he went up with the rest of his Flight in a very thick mist to bomb German positions. The mist was so thick and the danger of collision so great that the signal to return was displayed on the aerodrome but Lieutenant Cooper failed to see it in spite of the fact he was over the aerodrome at the time. He went off and found the line, crossing it very low. He found a column of wagons proceeding down a road and dropped a bomb on one wagon destroying it and the drivers and horses completely. He then used his machine-gun on the remainder, scattering them in all directions. He went further East and then blew up a factory with one bomb. Two other bombs were dropped. One on a village full of Germans but this failed to explode and a fourth missed a railway line aimed at. Just after dropping the fourth bomb his machine was heavily hit and the spar of the bottom plane collapsed. Lieutenant Cooper after a while using full aileron control managed to turn his machine gradually in a westerly direction, re-crossed the lines very low and landed this side safely with slight damage to his machine, owing to the roughness of the ground. The weather during this attack was absolutely hopeless for flying and this attack shows remarkable skill and pluck. On the 23rd he made two flights firing 1600 rounds in all at German infantry and dropping two bombs and scattering them. On the 26th he made another attack on Bourlon village dropping four bombs and firing 400 rounds from a low altitude.’

What the above report and recommendation fails to clarify is just how low the gallant Cooper went to bomb the factory, a fact not lost on Lieutenant Lee:

‘The prize effort was by Cooper, who went so low to bomb a factory that he hit a metal chimney, and came back with a yard of it dangling from the buckled lower wing.’

And his forced-landing on reaching our lines was perhaps more hazardous than stated, his damaged Sopwith Camel actually ending up in a trench:

‘Front and rear engine bearers bent, front of fuselage badly strained. Planes, right hand bottom main, centre section and elevators damaged. Undercarriage bent; one wheel broken, axle bent ... Will take more than 36 hours to repair in Squadron and is recommended for return to depot for repair.’

On 30 November, Cooper was again in the thick of the action in support of the Cambrai operations. The events of this busy day are described at length by Lieutenant Lee:

Yesterday [the 30th November] was altogether too exciting for comfort. It began with an ordinary early patrol, with me leading Dusgate, Cooper and Robinson. The clouds were low, about 2000 feet, and heavy, and there were patches of mist. As we entered the salient just below the cloud base, looking for Huns to fight, I saw that there was a great deal of activity around Bourlon, with widespread shelling and smoke ... I led the flight down to 800 feet and from there could plainly see that the Boche had broken through and overrun our forces to a depth of 3-4 miles ... It was difficult to distinguish the Boche from our own troops, as they were deployed and our people were scattered. We couldn’t tackle this problem in formation, so I gave the signal to break up and attack independently ...’

Cooper subsequently fired ‘the whole supply of his ammunition and one refill into hostile trenches around the new salient.’
Refuelling and rearming at the advanced landing ground at Bapaume, Cooper once more set off to the salient with Lee and another pilot, but they became separated ‘as soon as they went low’, the former finding his own target and expending another 1600 rounds. But as Lee explains in No Parachute, the burden of carrying out the highly dangerous game of trench-strafing was taking its toll, the Squadron’s less experienced pilots not being permitted to enter into the fray, and ‘because Odell, Wilcox, Hughes and Ferrie are on leave, eight of us have to do everything ... I hadn’t much spirit for yet another low job, but not a hint could I give of that. I was leading it!’

Thus, notwithstanding his growing anxiety, Lee set off for his third sortie of the day, Cooper and four other pilots accompanying him, each of their aircraft armed with four Cooper bombs:

‘The weather was fairly clear, with cloud at 3000-4000 feet. At the salient the air was positively lousy with D-Vs at all levels, but especially over Bourlon. There was also the Hun ground-strafing two-seaters which were being chased off by Camels and S.Es. It was impossible to stay in formation with bombs on, so again I gave the break-up signal, and off they went to find their own targets ...’

Cooper bombed an enemy trench just north of Moeuvres, where he also observed six enemy aircraft, but luckily escaped their attention and made it back to base.

And through into December the trench-strafing sorties continued, Lee complaining that it was no longer necessary, the fighting having died down and the Germans having dug-in. The strain was intolerable:

‘To fly along a winding trench, bristling with successive nests of machine-guns and mortars, and rifles by the score, all blasting at you every time you lift up to dive, and fired by people largely hidden and protected by traverses, really makes my hair stand on end ... The strain of waiting for that one bullet with your name on it, knowing that you can’t dodge it like you can archie, is quite petrifying ...’

Views no doubt shared by “Hootsman” Cooper, who spent an hour at 8000 feet in ‘atrociously bitter cold’ on the 2nd, prior to diving down to enemy trenches for another strafing run. He saw two enemy aircraft on the way home and persuaded them to retreat back over their lines. On the 7th he engaged another pair, expending 80 rounds at long range. Then on the 13th, Lee records with delight the announcement that five MCs had been won by the Squadron, he and Cooper among them:

‘After the news came through last night we settled down to make a night of it, those who’d already gone to bed getting up at the prospect of a prize party. Following Thompson’s leave binge, it did develop into a major orgy, and no wonder, five M.Cs at a go, when the Squadron’s only won two in a year!’

Just two days later Cooper’s Sopwith Camel span into the ground at No. 8 Naval Squadron’s aerodrome at St. Eloi. Concussed, he was carted off to hospital, eventually winning a ticket home for further treatment. And in addition to collecting his M.C., he received from the grateful inhabitants of Oban a suitably inscribed gold fountain pen.

Sold with a small quantity of original documentation, including Buckingham Palace telegram requesting the recipient’s attendance at an Investiture on 14 June 1919; two aerial photographs of trench systems in the vicinity of Stroombeek, August/September 1917; and several newspaper cuttings regarding the award of the M.C.