“At 150 yards I pressed my triggers. The tracer bullets cut a streak
of living fire into the rear of the Pfalz tail. Raising the nose of
my aeroplane slightly the fiery streak lifted itself like a stream
of water pouring from a garden hose. Gradually it settled into the
pilot’s seat. The swerving of the Pfalz course indicated that its
rudder no longer was held by a directing hand. At 2,000 feet above
the enemy’s lines I pulled up my headlong dive and watched the enemy
machine continuing on its course. Curving slightly to the left the
Pfalz circled a little to the south and the next minute crashed onto
the ground just at the edge of the woods a mile inside their own lines.
I had brought down my first enemy aeroplane and had not been subjected
to a single shot!”
So capital a beginning had an appropriate sequence of performances and
honors to match, among them, as early as May 15th, the Croix de Guerre.
That day, too, Lieutenant Jimmy Meissner, the merriest, most reckless
member of the squadron, took to his breast the Croix de Guerre,
and much ado the two had to keep their elation within the limits
of decorum, which stunt flying for the entertainment of the French
officials did not diminish. Rickenbacker says:
“Suddenly Jimmy Meissner stood by my side, grinning his most winsome
grin. ‘Rick,’ said he, ‘I feel that “Hate-the-Hun” feeling creeping
over me. What do you say to going up and getting a Boche?’
“‘Right!’ I called back over my shoulder. ‘Come along. We’ll take a
real ride.’
“As luck would have it, we had hardly left the ground when we saw a Hun
two-seater, probably a Rumpler machine, very high above us. The Rumpler
has the highest ceiling of any of the German two-seaters and frequently
they sail along above us at an elevation quite impossible for the
Nieuport to reach. It is maddening to attain one’s maximum height and
see the enemy still sailing imperturbably along, taking his photographs
and scorning even to fire an occasional burst at one. We climbed at
our fastest to overtake this fellow before he could reach his safety
spot. Evidently he got ‘wind up,’ for after a few minutes climbing he
sheered off towards Germany and disappeared from our view. We completed
our patrol of the lines without finding another enemy in the sky and
returned to our field, where we landed with the mutual vow that on the
morrow we would begin seriously our palm collecting shows until we
might dangle our new Croix de Guerre well down below our knees.
“Jimmy looked contemplatively down at my long legs.
“‘Have a heart, Rick!’ he said softly, ‘think of the cost of the red
tape!’”
As combats in the air, however varied in the performance, have a great
similarity in narrative, it were bootless to follow the captain through
the many experiences that earned his distinction. The earlier incidents
were when the squadron was confined to the use of Nieuports because
more satisfactory machines were not available. He dwells with some
pride of possession on the later equipment of Spads. Soon after getting
them he had become Flight Commander, and relates an unusual experience
to illustrate the extent to which the Flight Leader of a squadron feels
himself morally bound to go.
“Six of my Spads were following me in a morning’s patrol over the
enemy’s lines in the vicinity of Rheims. We were well along towards
the front when we discovered a number of aeroplanes far above us and
somewhat behind our side of the lines. While we made a circle or two,
all the while steadily climbing for higher altitude, we observed the
darting machines above us exchanging shots at one another. Suddenly
the fracas developed into a regular free-for-all.
“Reaching a slightly higher altitude at a distance of a mile or two
to the east of the mêlée, I collected my formation and headed about
for the attack. Just then I noticed that one side had evidently been
victorious. Seven aeroplanes remained together in compact formation.
The others had streaked it away, each man for himself.