“On my way to the squadron I witnessed one of the greatest air fights I
have ever seen. It took place above the cemetery of P——.
“Three Huns were aloft behind their own lines, and back of them was one
of our patrolling scouts.
“The Hun does not believe in coming over our lines if he can possibly
help it, and generally he will maneuver so that any engagement will
have to be waged over German territory.
“One of our men named Price, who was coming in from patrol, was pilot
of the scout, which was flying at the same height as the Hun aircraft,
about 12,000 feet. Price was well behind the Hun lines when they saw
him, and all three of them made for him at once. I happened to be at an
artillery observation post, which I had to pass on my way home, and so
was able to get a good view of the combat.
“The foremost of the Huns made straight for Price, and for a minute
it looked as though he intended ramming him. The combatants separated
again and began to fire upon one another, as the tut-tut-tut of the
machine guns told me. Of a sudden one Hun volplaned, while another made
straight for Price. I wondered what Price would do, but saw the next
moment that he had ‘zoomed’ over the second Hun machine, which just
then swooped down upon him. While Price was ‘zooming’ I noticed that
the first Hun was falling to the ground, having either been disabled or
killed by Price’s machine gun.
“Yet within a few moments the second Hun also crashed to earth, and the
third was now making for home as fast as his motor would carry him; but
Price chased and quickly caught up with him. It was an exciting race.
Price was working his machine gun for all the thing was worth, and
before long the third Hun went down.
“Just five minutes had been required for the fight. When I met Price
later I congratulated him. I remember wishing him all the good luck a
fellow could have. But that did not help, for within a month he, too,
came down in a heap.”
Roberts won his lieutenant’s commission and achieved the distinction of
Ace before he returned home. He was four times wounded in mid-air.
In April, 1918, the American forces just going into active sectors
had three squadrons, two for observation and one for pursuit. Their
strength totaled 35 planes. In May, 1918, the squadrons were increased
to nine. The most rapid growth occurred after July, 1918, when
American De Haviland planes were becoming available in quantity for
observation and day bombing service, and by November, 1918, the number
of squadrons increased to 45, with a total of 740 planes in action.
“THE RED BATTLE FLYER”
Von Richthofen’s Brilliant Career in the Air an Offset to His Failure
as a Uhlan
The cheery egotism of a man fully assured within himself that he merits
his own good opinion is the dominant note of Captain Baron Manfred
Freiherr von Richthofen’s account of his experiences as a flyer. It is
not an offensive egotism; you do not resent it; though you may smile,
wondering that a spirit so entirely valiant could so lock arms with
that quality of juvenile vanity commonly described as “cockiness.”
Von Richthofen was a remarkable fellow, the most debonair as well as
the most redoubtable of the German aviators and really entitled to
exemption from the opprobrious terms of “Hun” and “Boche.” Though a
resolute foe he did not forget that he was a gentleman, an aristocrat,
and he played the game on that level. He was easily the foremost of
aviators—as far as official recognition can determine priority—at the
time of his death, April 21, 1918. He then had a record of 80 downs—70
aeroplanes and 10 observation balloons. His nearest rival at that time
was Major Raymond Collishaw, the British Ace, with a record of 77.
Von Richthofen was shot down on the Amiens front, over the Somme, April
21st, and his machine, a new and elaborate triplane of the Fokker type,
recently presented to him—its speed was 140 miles an hour and it could
climb 15,000 feet in 17 minutes—fell in the British lines. The esteem
in which he was held by those who had so often sought to shoot him down
was attested in his burial with full military honors and the tributes
of genuine admiration heaped on his grave. In the fifteen months of his
active flying he became the favorite of the Kaiser and the idol of the
Germany Army. Some one has said, perhaps not too extravagantly, that
the fall of Amiens, then besieged, would not have compensated Germany
for the loss she sustained in the death of the greatest and most
beloved of her heroes of the air.
Von Richthofen belonged to the country gentry, of noble family. He
entered the Cadet Corps when he was eleven years old. In 1911 he
entered the Army. At the outbreak of the war he was a lieutenant of
Uhlans. He went to the Western front with his regiment. His first
experience with whistling bullets was when he and his company of
Uhlans, out to ascertain the strength of the enemy in the forest
near Virton, were caught in a trap. They fled in wild disorder, not
without casualties. He was in the trenches before Verdun and found
it “boresome.” When off duty he sought amusement shooting game in
the forest of La Chaussée. So passed several months. Then one day he
rebelled against inactivity. It was not the thing for which he went to
war. He made his plea to the higher powers. With much grumbling his
prayer was granted. He joined the Flying Service in May, 1915. He made
his first flight the next day as an observer. Of that experience he
wrote in his book: