Louis Strange wrote about responsibility after WW1:
Many of the things I learnt will apply in the next war, for in some few thousand respects the science of navigating the air is as immutable as that of navigating the sea. As pilot of a machine you are responsible for that machine all the time, and it is always your fault if you crash it in a forced landing occasioned by any failure, structural or otherwise, of the machine or its engine. It is your fault if in thick weather you hit the top of any hill that has its correct height shown on your map, for the worst offence you can commit is to lose your way across country. Therefore until altimeters are more reliable, always give them a good margin on the right side, and never fly above clouds without two of them on your machine, in addition to making sure that you know the exact height above sea level of the aerodrome from which you take off. In war it is entirely your own fault if you run out of petrol when coming home against a head wind after a four or five hours’ reconnaissance, or if you fail to come down on the right spot after a couple of hours cloud flying. It is your own fault if enemy aircraft spot you first, and it is likewise your own fault if after spotting a hostile machine you get shot up by another formation streaking down from out of the sun just when you have your opposite number nicely sighted. It is, furthermore, your fault if you allow your Squadron to drift too far down wind in a dogfight and leave its machines with no margin of petrol for emergencies when they have to fight their way home again. It is your fault if you have nowhere to make a landing when the engine fails just after you have taken off; in the event of a forced landing your machine is a glider that should take you down safely on any possible landing place. It is your fault—well, it is a golden rule to assume that whatever goes wrong, is your fault. You may save yourself a lot of trouble if you act accordingly.