William Morton Paterson

Rank:

Flight Lieutenant

Unit at enlistment:

Royal Flying Corps, 23rd Squadron

Force:

R.F.C.

Volunteered or conscripted:

Volunteered

Survived the war:

Yes

Commemorated at:

Grace Anglican Church, Victoria Public School Honour Roll

Birth country:

Canada

Birth county:

Brant

Birth city:

Brantford, Ontario

Address at enlistment:

305 Brant Avenue

Next of kin address:

104 William Street, Brantford, Ontario

Religious denominations:

Church of England

Marital status:

Single

Age at enlistment:

Letters and documents

BX November 23, 1917

Flight Lieutenant William Morton Paterson, of the Royal Flying Corp Squadron 23, has been admitted to No. 24 General Hospital, Etaples, according to word received by Mrs. Paterson, of 104 William Street. He had been admitted to the hospital on Nov. 19 and his case had not been diagnosed when the telegram was sent. Lieut. Paterson is a son of Mr. and Mrs. W.F. Paterson. He has been in the thick of the aerial fighting on the western front for some time and has had some narrow escapes.

BC August 23, 1917

Flight Lieutenant Paterson Tells of His Close Call When Engine Stalled

Flight Lieutenant William Morton Paterson, of the Royal Flying Corps, in writing of his recent narrow escape, as previously reported in the Courier, says:

I was sent upon rather a bumpy day in a machine that for some strange reason, I had taken a dislike to. It was rather a cloudy day, the clouds being at about 5,000. I thought I’d go up above them and spend an hour or so. At about 3,500 feet I ran into a very black cloud. It seemed to come from nowhere at all, because I didn’t see it. I got in this thing and it was so black it was hard to tell whether I was upside down or not, so I decided the best thing to do was to come down as fast as possible. I shut off my engine and put my nose down and managed to come below the cloud without much trouble. I then proceeded to start my engine again, but to my sorrow I couldn’t get it to go. This made me sore, as only a few days previously I had been obliged to land in some good farmer’s hedge through engine failure, so I said to myself, “I’ll make you go, you devil.” I put my machine into a straight nose dive, which of course sent my propeller around at a good speed. I felt very confident that the engine would start and I could pull myself out of anything, but alas, nothing doing.

By this time, I was very close to earth and going nose down at about 100 miles per hour, or more. There was no time to select suitable landing ground so I flattened out heading for the biggest field I could see. I hit at about 90 miles per hour and the field instead of being of short grain as I thought, was a crop of wheat five feet high. You can imagine what happened. My machine was a total wreck. The big petrol tank was thrown 15 yards, the cowling 25 yards; the engine was spread all about the ground. The propeller well there was no chance of me getting a walking stick made of what was left of it. The body was completely done in and amongst all this wreckage there sat one Morton Paterson – alive.

I have much to be thankful for. The sergeant in charge of the crew who came over to collect the pieces said it was the worst mess he ever saw. The O.C. said it was the most marvelous escape from sure death that he had ever seen – and we’ve had a lot. Of course I was a bit upset and was given two weeks leave which I spent at Folkestone. I am back on duty now and expect to start flying again today, or tomorrow. It looks as if I may be a scout pilot. To be a good scout one must be a stunter. We are given a special course; taught to loop, spin, roll, or stall. In other words taught to fly upside down, on the wing edge or at any angle we choose.