THE RED BATTLE FLYER
[Illustration: CAPTAIN BARON VON RICHTHOFEN]
THE RED BATTLE FLYER
BY
Captain Manfred Freiherr von Richthofen
Translated by T. Ellis Barker, with a preface and
notes by C. G. Grey, editor of "The Aeroplane"
NEW YORK
Robert M. McBride & Co.
1918
Translation
Copyright 1918
By
ROBERT M. McBRIDE & COMPANY
_Printed in the United States of America._
Published July, 1918
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
PREFACE 1
I. MY FAMILY 19
II. THE OUTBREAK OF THE WAR 29
III. BOREDOM BEFORE VERDUN 52
IV. IN THE AIR 57
V. MY FIRST SOLO FLIGHT 82
VI. I FLY IN A THUNDERSTORM 92
VII. BOMBING IN RUSSIA 98
VIII. MY FIRST ENGLISH VICTIM 109
IX. I GET THE ORDRE POUR LE MÉRITE 127
X. A FLYING MAN'S ADVENTURE 145
XI. MY RECORD DAY 154
XII. SCHÄFER LANDS BETWEEN THE LINES 168
XIII. MY BROTHER 196
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING
PAGE
CAPTAIN BARON VON RICHTHOFEN _Frontispiece_
THE FAMOUS RICHTHOFEN "CIRCUS" 64
THE FORTIETH RICHTHOFEN VICTIM 128
LIEUT. SCHÄFER SPEAKING WITH ANOTHER MEMBER OF THE SQUADRON 194
CAPTAIN RICHTHOFEN WITH HIS MASCOT DOG "MORITZ" 194
PREFACE
SOME time ago a Naval Officer who was engaged on particularly hazardous
duty was discussing calmly the chances that he and his like had of
surviving the war, assuming that it continued for several more years and
that his particular branch of it increased its intensity. He wound up
his remarks by saying, "The chief reason why I particularly want to
survive the finish is that I'm so keen on comparing notes with our
opposite members in the German Navy."
That is the answer to those who ask, as an important official gentleman
asked recently, why this English translation of Rittmeister von
Richthofen's book should be published. It gives our flying people an
opportunity of comparing notes with one of Germany's star-turn fighting
pilots, just as that excellent book by "Contact" gives the Germans the
chance of gathering the atmosphere of the Royal Flying Corps as it was
in 1916 and 1917.
"The Red Battle-Flyer" has evidently been carefully censored by the
German authorities. Also it has possibly been touched up here and there
for propagandist purposes. Consequently, although the narrative as it
stands is extraordinarily interesting, the book as a whole is still more
interesting on account of what one reads between the lines, and of what
one can deduce from the general outlook of the writer. There is,
perhaps, little to learn of immediate topical interest, but there is
much that explains things which were rather difficult to understand in
the past, and the understanding of such points gives one a line of
reasoning which should be useful to our active-service aviators in the
future.
When one makes due allowance for the propagandist nature of the book,
which gives one the general impression of the writing of a gentleman
prepared for publication by a hack journalist, one forms a distinctly
favorable mental picture of the young Rittmeister Baron von Richthofen.
Our old friend Froissart is credited with the statement that in his age
of chivalry it was always "impossible to inculcate into the German
knights the true spirit of knightliness." Which seems to indicate that
the practical German mind of those days could not understand the
whimsicalities of the Latin ideas of chivalry, which--for example--bade
a knight against whose shield an opponent "brake his spear" haul off out
of the fight till the lance-less enemy unsheathed his sword and "drave
into the combat" again. Probably the Hun of those days proceeded to
stick his opponent in the midriff--wherever it may be--and so finished
the fight.
In the same true spirit of knightliness an Englishman knocks a man down
and then stands back so that he can get up and have another chance,
whereas a more practical person would take excellent care that his
opponent never got up till he had acknowledged himself beaten. It is all
a matter of the point of view, and largely no doubt a matter of
education. However, making due allowance for the point of view, one
finds surprisingly little Hunnishness in von Richthofen's manners or
methods as set forth in print.
It is one of the accepted facts of the war that the German aviators have
displayed greater chivalry than any other branch of the German services.
It was a common occurrence for their pilots to fly over our lines in the
course of their business, and, by way of variety from that business, to
drop packets containing letters from captured British aviators, or the
personal belongings of the dead. One gathers that these acts of courtesy
have become less frequent of late, owing to the intensification of
aerial warfare, but it seems that captured and killed aviators still
receive the full courtesies of war from the German aviators, whatever
may be the fate of prisoners in other hands afterwards.
It is not surprising therefore to find that, taking him all round,
Rittmeister von Richthofen conveys to one the general impression that,
_mutatis mutandis_, he is very like an English public school boy of
good family. His egotism, as one finds it in the book, is the egotism of
a young man who is frankly pleased with himself, but is more elated by
his good luck than by his cleverness.
Taking him by and large, one rather likes von Richthofen, and one
fancies that most of the R.F.C. people who have fought him would be
quite pleased after the war to sit at table with him and compare notes
over the cigarettes and liquors, as my Naval friend wants to do with his
pre-war friends of the German Navy. And there are unhappily not too many
of our present enemies of whom one would like to express such an
opinion.
When one comes to read into the book one begins to find many interesting
things about the German Army, and the war in general, as well as about
the German Feldfliegertruppen--or Flying Service. The German is not
really a skilful censor. Just as certain portraits painted by an artist
at Ruhleben conveyed by the expression of the faces a good deal that
Germany would like hidden, so von Richthofen's book, though carefully
censored, lets out quite a good deal of information.
The first thing that strikes one is that Germany's standing army at the
beginning of the war was nothing like so perfect a fighting machine as
we in this country believed. Although, like all the people with any
sense in this country, the German Army knew that a war was coming, the
officers and men seem to have set about their work in a singularly
amateurish way, judging by the short section of the book devoted to the
opening of the war on the Russian Front. And one is pleased to find that
von Richthofen has the grace to laugh at himself and his
brother-officers for their mistakes.
In some ways the soldiers of all nations resemble one another strongly.
For instance, one finds in this book the same contempt for what the
Germans picturesquely call a "base-hog," as the French have for the
"embusqué" and as the British front-line officer has for the young and
able-bodied officer who is "Something on the Staff." This obnoxious
breed is the same in all armies, and must be clearly distinguished from
the carefully trained and expensively educated General Staff Officer,
who is very much of a specialist and is the very brain of the Army.
When we come to the purely aviatic portion of the book one finds more of
the real von Richthofen and less of the cavalry officer. His honesty
about his utter mental confusion the first time he went into the air
recalls General Brancker's famous remark in his lecture to the
Aeronautical Society when he said that no one ever sees anything at all
during his first hour in the air owing to the hopeless confusion in his
mind caused by the novel aspect of everything. Von Richthofen's
description of his experience is about the best thing that has been
written on the subject.
An interesting bit of information is disclosed in his description of his
flight in a "Grossflugzeug," on September 1st, 1915. At that period
little was known about twin-engined aeroplanes. The Germans were known
to have tried them, but they were not a success. The only example known
to our people--though probably there were actually several different
machines--was commonly known in the R.F.C. as "Wong-wong," on account of
the curious noise made by the engines or air-screws when they got "out
of phase"--as an electrician might call it. This noise is now quite
familiar to the inhabitants of Southeastern England as the
characteristic note of the Gotha bombers.
Von Richthofen's good judgment of fighting values, though he was then
only an observer, and a novice at that, is shown by his disapproval of
the twin-engined aeroplane as a fighting machine. It is also of interest
to learn that at that period the Germans had tried an auto-lock device
to hold the rudder of a twin-engined machine over to one side so that it
would fly straight if one engine went out of action, an ingenious idea
even if foredoomed to failure.
It is encouraging to find that though these twin-engined machines were
in operation in September, 1915, the first bombing squadron so composed
only came into action against defenceless Bucharest a year later. This
shows that actually we in this country are not so very much slower in
producing our new ideas, for our big Handley Page twin-engined biplanes
first flew towards the end of 1915, and we began to use them regularly
early in 1917--only a little more than a year later.
The similarity of aviators in all countries is shown by von Richthofen's
frank confession of blue funk when he made his first flight alone. That
first solo is always the most anxious time in a pilot's career. Another
touch of that nature which makes all aviators akin is seen in his
accounts of how he and other pupils under instruction used to fly off on
cross-country training trips and suffer from opportune forced landings
in the parks of their friends or in likely-looking estates. One imagined
that this manifestation of "wongling" was an essentially English trick,
and would not have been tolerated for a moment under the iron discipline
of the German Army. In the early days of the R.F.C. this looking for
opulent hosts used to be known sarcastically as "hunting for
Jew-palaces."
The state of affairs on the Russian front is well shown in the brief
reference in the book. "Flying in the East is absolutely a holiday,"
says the writer, who adds that there was no danger on the Russian front,
except the danger of being massacred by the Russians if brought down by
engine failure. From which one understands that the Russians did not
approve of making prisoners of enemy aviators. Their "Archies" were
apparently good, but too few to be useful, and their aviators
practically did not exist. Which is rather what one ventured to surmise
in print at the time, despite the magniloquent Russian communiqués. When
one thinks of all the good British and French aeroplanes and engines
which were sent to Russia one regrets the waste of material.
On the subject of air fighting, von Richthofen is always worth studying
carefully. None will dispute his wisdom in laying stress on the
importance of calmness in an air fight. We have lost many good fighting
pilots through their getting excited and dashing headlong into an
unequal combat. He, or his editor, has been sufficiently skilful not to
give away his pet method of attack. However, one gathers that he
depended largely on his first rush for his results, rather than on a
prolonged series of manoeuvres.
His dictum that "in air fighting results depend on ability and not on
trickery," rather bears out this impression. Nevertheless he
occasionally tells of a lengthy tussle with a particularly skilful
enemy.
Such a story relates how that very gallant gentleman, Major Lanoe
Hawker, one of the best loved and admired of the R.F.C.'s many gallant
fighting leaders, fell. It would seem that Major Hawker's machine was
outclassed rather than that he was beaten by superior skill. One is glad
to find that von Richthofen pays a tribute to the bravery and ability of
his enemy, and it is perhaps some slight consolation to those of us who
knew Lanoe Hawker to think that he fell a victim to the Germans' best
man and not to a chance shot from an unworthy foe.
It is rather curious that some time after emphasizing the fact that
trickery does not pay in air fighting, von Richthofen should show how
trickery does pay by describing his young brother Lothar's trick of
pretending to be shot and letting his machine fall apparently out of
control, so as to break off a fight with opponents who were above his
weight. One is inclined to wonder how many optimistic young air-fighters
have reported enemy machines as "driven down out of control," when in
reality the wily Hun has only been getting out of the way of harm. The
older hands in these days are not easily caught by such a trick, and the
High Command refuses to count any victims so claimed unless the
performance is verified by independent witnesses either on the ground or
aloft.
Another point of interest in von Richthofen's fighting methods is that
he states, that as a rule, he opens fire at 50 yards. Distances are
hard to judge in the air. The pilot is more likely to underestimate them
than otherwise, just as one does in judging distances at sea. But von
Richthofen is probably as good a judge as any, and in this he seems to
be stating a plain fact. In these days 50 yards is fairly long range.
Some of our own crack fighters prefer 50 feet, if they can get into
their favorite positions. Anyhow he shows the unwisdom of opening fire
at 1,000 yards, as some inexperienced and excited machine-gunners are
rather apt to do.
Von Richthofen's chaser squadron--or Jagdstaffel, as the Germans call
these formations--was the first to be known as a "circus." The famous
Boelcke squadron, although a fairly mobile body, the members of which
co-operated closely on occasion, never developed formation fighting to
the extent that von Richthofen did.
His men, although, as the book shows, they went out periodically on
lone-hand ventures, generally flew in a body, numbering anywhere from
half a dozen to fifteen or so. Their leader chose to paint his little
Albatros a brilliant pillar-box red. The others painted their machines
according to their fancy. Some had yellow noses, blue bodies and green
wings. Some were pale blue underneath and black on top. Some were
painted in streaks, some with spots. In fact, they rang the changes on
the whole of the paint-box.
They flew wonderfully, being all picked men, and in a fight they
performed in a manner which would have seemed impossible to the most
expert aerial acrobats.
Also, the squadron was moved from place to place as a self-contained
unit, so that it appeared wherever the fighting was thickest, or
wherever British or French reconnaissance machines were busiest. It
would be operating at Verdun one week. The next week it would be north
of Arras. A few days later it would be down on the Somme. But as a rule
it specialized on the British front. Wherever it pitched its tents it
did its regular squadron performance, and followed it later in the day
with lone-hand raids, or "strafing" flight by two or three machines at
a time.
When one considers the harlequin coloring of the machines, their
acrobatic flying and their "two shows a day" performances from their
one-week pitches, it follows logically that the humorists of the R.F.C.
simply had to call the squadron "von Richthofen's Traveling Circus."
Since then the word has acquired a meaning of its own among flying men.
It connotes practically any special formation organized for the purpose
of hunting enemy aviators, and consisting of picked men under a
specially skilful leader. It need not necessarily be more mobile than
any other squadron, and it need not indulge in freak colorings, though
in the nature of its work, its flying must be acrobatic. The British
"circuses" are in these days superior to the German circuses, because
our machines are now at least as good as those of the Germans, and so
our men, who have always been of higher average quality than the German
aviators, have a fair chance of proving their worth.
Of those of von Richthofen's circus mentioned in the book, Schäfer was
the first to be killed. Before the war he lived in London, to learn
English, working in an office in the city, when so inclined, but mostly
spending his time on the river, or in sport. Those who knew him say that
he was a pleasant lad and a good sportsman.
Voss was the next to go, after what has been described by those who were
in it as one of the most gallant fights of the war. On a Fokker triplane
with a French le Rhone engine--evidently an experimental machine built
for quick manoeuvring--he fought single-handed a patrol of six of our
people, when he could have broken off the fight and have got away by
abandoning an inferior companion. He was a brave man and a most
brilliant pilot. His flying and shooting in his last fight are said to
have been marvelously clever. None admire his bravery more than those
who fought him.
Others of the "circus" have fallen since then, and the present
"Richthofen Jagdstaffel" is probably constituted very differently from
that band of high-spirited desperadoes which was evolved from the
original Boelcke squadron, and helped to build up the fame of von
Richthofen. There is none of the old R.F.C. who would not cheerfully
kill what is left of the "circus," and there is probably none who would
not gladly shake hands with the survivors after peace is declared. They
are worthy enemies and brave men.
This little book gives one a useful insight into the enemy's methods,
and more than a little respect for at any rate some of those whom we are
at present endeavoring to kill.
C. G. GREY,
EDITOR, _The Aeroplane_.
I
_My Family._
THE members of my family--that of Richthofen--have taken no very great
part in wars until now. The Richthofens have always lived in the
country; indeed, there has scarcely been one of them without a landed
estate, and the few who did not live in the country have, as a rule,
entered the State service. My grandfather and all my ancestors before
him had estates about Breslau and Striegau. Only in the generation of my
grandfather it happened that the first Richthofen, his cousin, became a
General.
My mother belongs to the family Von Schickfuss und Neudorf. Their
character resembles that of the Richthofen people. There were a few
soldiers in that family. All the rest were agrarians. The brother of my
great-grandfather Schickfuss fell in 1806. During the Revolution of 1848
one of the finest castles of a Schickfuss was burnt down. The Schickfuss
have, as a rule, only become Captains of the Reserve.
In the family Schickfuss and in the family Falckenhausen--my
grandmother's maiden name was Falckenhausen--there were two principal
hobbies: horse riding and game shooting. My mother's brother, Alexander
Schickfuss, has done a great deal of game shooting in Africa, Ceylon,
Norway and Hungary.
My father is practically the first member of our branch of the family to
become a professional soldier. At an early age he entered the Corps of
Cadets and later joined the 12th Regiment of Uhlans. He was the most
conscientious soldier imaginable. He began to suffer from difficulty of
hearing and had to resign. He got ear trouble because he saved one of
his men from drowning and though he was wet through and through he
insisted upon continuing his duties as if nothing had happened, wet as
he was, without taking notice of the rigor of the weather. The present
generation of the Richthofens contains, of course, many more soldiers.
In war every able-bodied Richthofen is, of course, on active service. In
the very beginning of the present war I lost six cousins, and all were
in the cavalry.
I was named after my uncle Manfred, who in peace time, was adjutant to
His Majesty and Commander of the Corps of the Guards. During the war he
has been Commander of a Corps of Cavalry.
My father was in the 1st Regiment of Cuirassiers in Breslau when I was
born on the 2nd of May, 1892. We then lived at Kleinburg. I received
tuition privately until my ninth year. Then I went for a year to school
in Schweidnitz and then I became Cadet in Wahlstatt. The people of
Schweidnitz considered me as one of themselves. Having been prepared for
a military career as a Cadet, I entered the 1st Regiment of Uhlans.
My own adventures and experiences will be found in this book.
My brother, Lothar, is the other flying-man Richthofen. He wears the
_Ordre pour le Mérite_. My youngest brother is still in the Corps of
Cadets and he is waiting anxiously until he is old enough to go on
active service. My sister, like all the ladies of our family, is
occupied in nursing the wounded.
_My Life as a Cadet_
AS a little boy of eleven I entered the Cadet Corps. I was not
particularly eager to become a Cadet, but my father wished it. So my
wishes were not consulted.
I found it difficult to bear the strict discipline and to keep order. I
did not care very much for the instruction I received. I never was good
at learning things. I did just enough work to pass. In my opinion it
would have been wrong to do more than was just sufficient, so I worked
as little as possible. The consequence was that my teachers did not
think overmuch of me. On the other hand, I was very fond of sport.
Particularly I liked gymnastics, football, and other outdoor amusements.
I could do all kinds of tricks on the horizontal bar. For this I
received various prizes from the Commander.
I had a tremendous liking for all risky foolery. For instance, one fine
day, with my friend Frankenberg, I climbed the famous steeple of
Wahlstatt by means of the lightning conductor and tied my handkerchief
to the top. I remember exactly how difficult it was to negotiate the
gutters. Ten years later, when I visited my little brother at Wahlstatt,
I saw my handkerchief still tied up high in the air.
My friend Frankenberg was the first victim of the war as far as I know.
I liked very much better the Institution of Lichterfelde. I did not feel
so isolated from the world and began to live a little more like a human
being.
My happiest reminiscences of Lichterfelde are those of the great sports
when my opponent was Prince Frederick Charles. The Prince gained many
first prizes against me both in running and football, as I had not
trained my body as perfectly as he had done.
_I Enter the Army. (Easter, 1911)_
OF course, I was very impatient to get into the Army. Immediately after
passing my examination I came forward and was placed in the 1st Regiment
of Uhlans, "Emperor Alexander III." I had selected that regiment. It was
garrisoned in my beloved Silesia and I had some acquaintances and
relations there, who advised me to join it.
I had a colossal liking for the service with my regiment. It is the
finest thing for a young soldier to be a cavalry man.
I can say only little about the time which I passed at the War Academy.
My experience there reminds me too much of the Corps of Cadets and
consequently my reminiscences are not over agreeable.
I remember that once one of my teachers bought a very fat mare, an
amiable animal, whose only fault was that she was rather old. She was
supposed to be fifteen years old. She had rather stout legs, but she
jumped splendidly. I rode her frequently, and her name was Biffy.
About a year later, when I joined the regiment, my Captain, von Tr----,
who was very fond of sport, told me that he had bought a funny little
mare, a fat beast, who jumped very nicely. We all were very interested
to make the acquaintance of the fat jumping horse who bore the strange
name Biffy. I had quite forgotten the old mare of my teacher at the War
Academy. One fine morning, the animal arrived and I was astonished to
find that the ancient Biffy was now standing as an eight-year-old in the
Captain's stable. In the meantime, she had changed her master
repeatedly, and had much risen in value. My teacher had bought her for
$375., as a fifteen-year-old, and von Tr---- had bought her a year
later, as an eight-year-old, for $850. She won no more prizes for
jumping, in spite of her renewed youth, but she changed her master once
more and was killed in action in the beginning of the war.
_I Become an Officer. (Autumn, 1912)_
AT last I was given the epaulettes. It was a glorious feeling, the
finest I have ever experienced when people called me Lieutenant.
My father bought me a beautiful mare called Santuzza. It was a marvelous
animal, as hard as nails. She kept her place in the procession like a
lamb. In course of time I discovered that she possessed a great talent
for jumping and I made up my mind to train her. She jumped incredible
heights.
In this enterprise I got much sympathy and co-operation from my comrade
von Wedel, who won many a prize with his charger, Fandango.
We two trained our horses for a jumping competition and a steeplechase
in Breslau. Fandango did gloriously. Santuzza also did well by taking a
great deal of trouble. I hoped to achieve something with her. On the day
before she was to be put on the train I wished once more to jump all the
obstacles in our training ground. In doing so we slipped. Santuzza hurt
her shoulder and I broke my collar-bone.
I expected that my dear fat mare, Santuzza, would also be a quick runner
and was extremely surprised when she was beaten by Wedel's thoroughbred.
Another time I had the good fortune to ride a very fine horse at a
Sports Meeting at Breslau. My horse did extremely well and I had hopes
of succeeding. After a run of about half the course I approached the
last obstacle. At a long distance I saw that the obstacle in front was
bound to be something extraordinary because a great crowd was watching
near it. I said to myself: "Keep your spirits up. You are sure to get
into trouble." I approached the obstacle, going full speed. The people
about waved to me and shouted that I should not go so fast, but I
neither heard nor saw. My horse jumped over and on the other side there
was a steep slope with the river Weistritz in front. Before I could say
_knife_ the horse, having jumped, fell with a gigantic leap into the
river and horse and rider disappeared. Of course, I was thrown over the
head of the animal. Felix got out of the river on the one side and I on
the other. When I came back, the weighing people were surprised that I
had put on ten pounds instead of losing two pounds as usual. Happily no
one noticed that I was wet through and through.
I had also a very good charger. The unfortunate beast had learned to do
everything--running, steeplechasing, jumping, army service. There was
nothing that the poor beast had not learned. Its name was Blume and I
had some pleasant successes with him. The last prize I got riding that
horse was when I rode for the Kaiser Prize in 1913. I was the only one
who got over the whole course without a single slip. In doing so I had
an experience which cannot easily be repeated. In galloping over a piece
of heath land, I suddenly stood on my head. The horse had stepped into a
rabbit hole and in my fall I broke my collar-bone. Notwithstanding the
breakage, I rode another forty miles without making a mistake and
arrived keeping good time.
II
_The Outbreak of War_
ALL the papers contained nothing but fantastic stories about the war.
However, for several months we had been accustomed to war talk. We had
so often packed our service trunks that the whole thing had become
tedious. No one believed any longer that there would be war. We, who
were close to the frontier, who were "the eyes of the Army," to use the
words of my Commander, believed least that there would be war.
On the day before military preparations began we were sitting with the
people of the detached squadron at a distance of ten kilometres from the
frontier, in the officers' club. We were eating oysters, drinking
champagne and gambling a little. We were very merry. No one thought of
war.
It is true that, some days before, Wedel's mother had startled us a
little. She had arrived from Pomerania in order to see her son before
the beginning of the war. As she found us in the pleasantest mood and as
she ascertained that we did not think of war, she felt morally compelled
to invite us to a very decent luncheon.
We were extremely gay and noisy when suddenly the door opened. It
disclosed Count Kospoth, the Administrator of Ols. He looked like a
ghost.
We greeted our old friend with a loud Hoorah! He explained to us the
reason of his arrival. He had come personally to the frontier in order
to convince himself whether the rumors of an impending world-war were
true. He assumed, quite correctly, that the best information could be
obtained at the frontier. He was not a little surprised when he saw our
peaceful assembly. We learned from him that all the bridges in Silesia
were being patrolled by the military and that steps were being taken to
fortify various positions.
We convinced him quickly that the possibility of war was absolutely nil
and continued our festivity.
On the next day we were ordered to take the field.
_We Cross the Frontier_
TO us cavalry men on the frontier the word "war" had nothing unfamiliar.
Everyone of us knew to the smallest detail what to do and what to leave
undone. At the same time, nobody had a very clear idea, what the first
thing would be. Every soldier was delighted to be able to show his
capacity and his personal value.
We young cavalry Lieutenants had the most interesting task. We were to
study the ground, to work towards the rear of the enemy, and to destroy
important objects. All these tasks require real men.
Having in my pocket my directions and having convinced myself of their
importance, through hard study during at least a year, I rode at the
head of a file of soldiers for the first time against the enemy at
twelve o'clock midnight.
A river marks the frontier and I expected to be fired upon on reaching
it. To my astonishment I could pass over the bridge without an incident.
On the next morning, without having had any adventures, we reached the
church tower of the village of Kieltze, which was well known to us
through our frontier rides.
Everything had happened without seeing anything of the enemy or rather
without being seen by him. The question now was what should I do in
order not to be noticed by the villagers? My first idea was to lock up
the "pope"[1]. We fetched him from his house, to his great surprise. I
locked him up among the bells in the church tower, took away the ladder
and left him sitting up above. I assured him that he would be executed
if the population should show any hostile inclinations. A sentinel
placed on the tower observed the neighborhood.
I had to send reports every day by dispatch-riders. Very soon my small
troop was converted entirely into dispatch-riders and dissolved, so
that I had at last, as the only one remaining, to bring in my own
report.
Up to the fifth night everything had been quiet. During that night the
sentinel came suddenly rushing to the church tower near which the horses
had been put. He called out, "The Cossacks are there!" The night was as
dark as pitch. It rained a little. No stars were visible. One couldn't
see a yard ahead.
As a precaution we had previously breached the wall around the
churchyard. Through the breach we took the horses into the open. The
darkness was so great that we were in perfect security after having
advanced fifty yards. I myself went with the sentinel, carbine in hand,
to the place where he pretended he had seen Cossacks.
Gliding along the churchyard wall I came to the street. When I got there
I experienced a queer feeling, for the street swarmed with Cossacks. I
looked over the wall, behind which the rascals had put the horses. Most
of them had lanterns, and they acted very uncautiously and were very
loud. I estimated that there were from twenty to thirty of them. One had
left his horse and gone to the Pope whom I had let off the day before.
Immediately it flashed through my brain: "Of course we are betrayed!"
Therefore, we had to be doubly careful. I could not risk a fight because
I could not dispose of more than two carbines. Therefore, I resolved to
play at robber and police.
After having rested a few hours, our visitors rode away again.
On the next day I thought it wise to change our quarters. On the seventh
day I was again back in my garrison and everyone stared at me as if I
were a ghost. The staring was not due to my unshaved face, but because
there had been a rumor that Wedel and I had fallen at Kalisch. The place
where it had occurred, the time and all the circumstances of my death
had been reported with such a wealth of detail that the report had
spread throughout Silesia. My mother had already received visits of
condolence. The only thing that had been omitted was an announcement of
my death in the newspaper.
An amusing incident happened about the same time. A veterinary surgeon
had been ordered to take ten Uhlans and to requisition horses on a farm.
The farm was situated about two miles from the road. He came back full
of excitement and reported to us:
"I was riding over a stubble field, the field where the scarecrows are,
when I suddenly saw hostile infantry at a distance. Without a moment's
hesitation I drew my sword and ordered the Uhlans to attack them with
their lances. The men were delighted and at the fastest gallop they
rushed across the field. When we came near the enemy I discovered that
the hostile infantry consisted of some deer which were grazing in a
nearby meadow. At that distance I had mistaken them for soldiers, owing
to my shortsightedness."
For a long time that dear gentleman had to suffer the pleasantries of
the rest of us because of his bold attack.
_To France_
WE were ordered to take the train in my garrison town. No one had any
idea in what direction we were to go.
There were many rumors but most of the talk was very wild. However, in
this present case, we had the right idea: westward.
A second-class compartment had been given to four of us. We had to take
in provisions for a long railway journey. Liquid refreshments, of
course, were not lacking. However, already on the first day we
discovered that a second-class compartment is altogether too narrow for
four war-like youths. Therefore, we resolved to distribute ourselves. I
arranged part of a luggage car and converted it into a bed-drawing room,
to my great advantage. I had light, air, and plenty of space. I procured
straw at one of the stations and put a tent cloth on top of it. In my
improvised sleeping-car I slept as well as I did in my four-poster in
Ostrowo. We traveled night and day, first through Silesia, and then
through Saxony, going westward all the time. Apparently we were going
in the direction of Metz. Even the train conductor did not know where he
was going to. At every station, even at stations where we did not stop,
there were huge crowds of men and women who bombarded us with cheers and
flowers. The German nation had been seized by a wild war enthusiasm.
That was evident. The Uhlans were particularly admired. The men in the
train who had passed through the station before us had probably reported
that we had met the enemy, and we had been at war only for a week.
Besides, my regiment had been mentioned in the first official
communiqué. The 1st Regiment of Uhlans and the 155th Regiment of
Infantry had taken Kalisch. We were therefore celebrated as heroes and
naturally felt like heroes. Wedel had found a Cossack sword which he
showed to admiring girls. He made a great impression with it. Of course
we asserted that blood was sticking to it and we invented hair-raising
tales about this peaceful sword of a police officer. We were very wild
and merry until we were disembarked from the train at Busendorf, near
Diedenhofen.
A short time before the train arrived we were held up in a long tunnel.
It is uncomfortable enough to stop in a tunnel in peace time, but to
stop suddenly in war is still more uncomfortable. Some excited,
high-spirited fellow wanted to play a joke and fired a shot. Before long
there was general firing in the tunnel. It was surprising that no one
was hurt. It has never been found out how the general shooting was
brought about.
At Busendorf we had to get out of the train. The heat was so great that
our horses almost collapsed. On the following day we marched unceasingly
northward in the direction of Luxemburg. In the meantime, I had
discovered that my brother had ridden in the same direction with a
cavalry division a week before. I discovered his spoor once more, but I
didn't see him until a year later.
Arrived in Luxemburg no one knew what were our relations with the people
of that little State. When I saw a Luxemburg prisoner, he told me that
he would complain about me to the German Emperor if I did not set him
free immediately. I thought there was reason in what he said. So I let
him go. We passed through the town of Luxemburg and through Esch and we
approached the first fortified towns of Belgium.
While advancing our infantry, and indeed, our whole division, manoeuvred
exactly as in peace time. All were extremely excited. It was a good
thing that we had to act exactly as we had done at manoeuvres, otherwise
we should certainly have done some wild things. To the right and to the
left of us, before and behind us, on every road, marched troops
belonging to different army corps. One had the feeling that everything
was in a great disorder. Suddenly, this unspeakable cuddle-muddle was
dissolved and became a most wonderfully arranged evolution.
I was entirely ignorant about the activities of our flying men, and I
got tremendously excited whenever I saw an aviator. Of course I had not
the slightest idea whether it was a German airman, or an enemy. I had at
that time not even the knowledge that the German machines were marked
with crosses and the enemy machines with circles. The consequence was
that every aeroplane we saw was fired upon. Our old pilots are still
telling of their painful feelings while being shot at by friend and
enemy with perfect impartiality.
We marched and marched, sending patrols far ahead, until we arrived at
Arlon. I had an uneasy feeling when crossing, for a second time, an
enemy frontier. Obscure reports of francs-tireurs, had already come to
my ears.
I had been ordered to work in connection with my cavalry division,
acting as a connecting link. On that day I had ridden no less than
sixty-six miles[2] with my men. Not a horse failed us. That was a
splendid achievement. At Arlon I climbed the steeple in accordance with
the tactical principles which we had been taught in peace time. Of
course, I saw nothing, for the wicked enemy was still far away.
At that time we were very harmless. For instance, I had my men outside
the town and had ridden alone on bicycle right through the town to the
church tower and ascended it. When I came down again I was surrounded by
a crowd of angry young men who made hostile eyes and who talked
threateningly in undertones. My bicycle had, of course, been punctured
and I had to go on foot for half an hour. This incident amused me. I
should have been delighted had it come to a fight. I felt absolutely
sure of myself with a pistol in my hand.
Later on I heard that several days previously, the inhabitants had
behaved very seditiously towards our cavalry, and later on towards our
hospitals. It had therefore been found necessary to place quite a number
of these gentlemen against the wall.
In the afternoon I reached the station to which I had been ordered, and
learned that close to Arlon my only cousin Richthofen had been killed
three days before. During the rest of the day I stayed with the Cavalry
Division. During the night a causeless alarm took place, and late at
night I reached my own regiment.
That was a beautiful time. We cavalry men who had already been in touch
with the enemy and had seen something of war, were envied by the men of
the other armies. For me it was the most beautiful time during the whole
of the war. I would much like to pass again through the beginning of the
war.
_I Hear the Whistling of the First
Bullets. (21-22nd August, 1914)_
I HAD been ordered to find out the strength of the enemy occupying the
large forest near Virton. I started with fifteen Uhlans and said to
myself: "To-day I shall have the first fight with the enemy." But my
task was not easy. In so big a forest there may be lots of things hidden
which one can not see.
I went to the top of a little hill. A few hundred paces in front of me
was a huge forest extending over many thousands of acres. It was a
beautiful August morning. The forest seemed so peaceful and still that I
almost forgot all my war-like ideas.
We approached the margin of the forest. As we could not discover
anything suspicious with our field glasses we had to go near and find
out whether we should be fired upon. The men in front were swallowed up
by a forest lane. I followed and at my side was one of my best Uhlans.
At the entrance to the forest was a lonely forester's cottage. We rode
past it.
The soil indicated that a short time previously considerable numbers of
hostile cavalry must have passed. I stopped my men, encouraged them by
addressing a few words to them, and felt sure that I could absolutely
rely upon everyone of my soldiers. Of course no one thought of anything
except of attacking the enemy. It lies in the instinct of every German
to rush at the enemy wherever he meets him, particularly if he meets
hostile cavalry. In my mind's eye I saw myself at the head of my little
troop sabering a hostile squadron, and was quite intoxicated with joyful
expectation. The eyes of my Uhlans sparkled. Thus we followed the spoor
at a rapid trot. After a sharp ride of an hour through the most
beautiful mountaindale the wood became thinner. We approached the exit.
I felt convinced that there we should meet the enemy. Therefore,
caution! To the right of our narrow path was a steep rocky wall many
yards high. To the left, was a narrow rivulet and at the further side a
meadow, fifty yards wide, surrounded by barbed wire. Suddenly, the trace
of horses' hooves disappeared over a bridge into the bushes. My leading
men stopped because the exit from the forest was blocked by a barricade.
Immediately I recognized that I had fallen into a trap. I saw a movement
among the bushes behind the meadow at my left and noticed dismounted
hostile cavalry. I estimated that there were fully one hundred rifles.
In that direction nothing could be done. My path right ahead was cut by
the barricade. To the right were steep rocks. To the left the barbed
wire surrounded the meadow and prevented me attacking as I had intended.
Nothing was to be done except to go back. I knew that my dear Uhlans
would be willing to do everything except to run away from the enemy.
That spoilt our fun, for a second later we heard the first shot which
was followed by very intensive rifle fire from the wood. The distance
was from fifty to one hundred yards. I had told my men that they should
join me immediately when they saw me lifting up my hand. I felt sure we
had to go back. So I lifted my arm and beckoned my men to follow.
Possibly, they misunderstood my gesture. The cavalrymen who were
following me believed me in danger, and they came rushing along at a
great speed to help me to get away. As we were on a narrow forest path
one can imagine the confusion which followed. The horses of the two men
ahead rushed away in a panic because the noise of every shot was
increased tenfold by the narrowness of the hollow way. The last I saw
of them was as they leaped the barricade. I never heard anything of them
again. They were no doubt made prisoners. I myself turned my horse and
gave him the spurs, probably for the first time during his life. I had
the greatest difficulty to make the Uhlans who rushed towards me
understand that they should not advance any further, that we were to
turn round and get away. My orderly rode at my side. Suddenly his horse
was hit and fell. I jumped over them and horses were rolling all around
me. In short, it was a wild disorder. The last I saw of my servant, he
was lying under his horse, apparently not wounded, but pinned down by
the weight of the animal. The enemy had beautifully surprised us. He had
probably observed us from the very beginning and had intended to trap us
and to catch us unawares as is the character of the French.
I was delighted when, two days later, I saw my servant standing before
me. He wore only one boot for he had left the other one under the body
of his horse. He told me how he had escaped. At least two squadrons of
French cuirassiers had issued from the forest in order to plunder the
fallen horses and the brave Uhlans. Not being wounded, he had jumped up,
climbed the rocks and had fallen down exhausted among the bushes. About
two hours later, when the enemy had again hidden himself, he had
continued his flight. So he had joined me after some days, but he could
tell me little about the fate of his comrades who had been left behind.
_A Ride With Loen_
THE battle of Virton was proceeding. My comrade Loen and I had once more
to ascertain what had become of the enemy. We rode after the enemy
during the whole of the day, reached him at last and were able to write
a very decent report. In the evening, the great question was: Shall we
go on riding, throughout the night in order to join our troops, or shall
we economize our strength and take a rest so that we shall be fresh the
next day? The splendid thing about cavalrymen on patrol is that they
are given complete liberty of action.
We resolved to pass the night near the enemy and to ride on the next
morning. According to our strategical notions, the enemy was retiring
and we were following him. Consequently, we could pass the night with
fair security.
Not far from the enemy there was a wonderful monastery with large
stables. So both Loen and I had quarters for ourselves and our men. Of
course, in the evening, when we entered our new domicile, the enemy was
so near that he could have shot us through the windows.
The monks were extremely amiable. They gave us as much to eat and to
drink as we cared to have and we had a very good time. The saddles were
taken off the horses and they were very happy when for the first time in
three days and three nights, a dead weight of nearly three hundred
pounds was taken from their backs. We settled down as if we were on
manoeuvres and as if we were in the house of a delightful host and
friend. At the same time, it should be observed that three days later,
we hanged several of our hosts to the lanterns because they could not
overcome their desire to take a hand in the war. But that evening they
were really extremely amiable. We got into our nightshirts, jumped into
bed, posted a sentinel, and let the Lord look after us.
In the middle of the night somebody suddenly flung open the door and
shouted: "Sir, the French are there!" I was too sleepy and too heavy to
be able to reply. Loen, who was similarly incapacitated, gave the most
intelligent answer: "How many are they?" The soldier stammered, full of
excitement, "We have shot dead two, but we cannot say how many there are
for it is pitch dark." I heard Loen reply, in a sleepy tone: "All right.
When more arrive call me again." Half a minute later both of us were
snoring again.
The sun was already high in the horizon when we woke up from a
refreshing sleep the next morning. We took an ample breakfast and then
continued our journey.
As a matter of fact, the French had passed by our castle during the
night and our sentinels had fired on them. As it was a very dark night
nothing further followed.
Soon we passed through a pretty valley. We rode over the old battlefield
of our Division and discovered, to our surprise, that it was peopled not
with German soldiers, but with French Red Cross men. Here and there were
French soldiers. They looked as surprised at seeing us as we did at
seeing them. Nobody thought of shooting. We cleared out as rapidly as
possible and gradually it dawned upon us that our troops, instead of
advancing, had retired. Fortunately, the enemy had retired at the same
time in the opposite direction. Otherwise I should now be somewhere in
captivity.
We passed through the village of Robelmont where, on the previous day,
we had seen our Infantry in occupation. We encountered one of the
inhabitants and asked him what had become of our soldiers. He looked
very happy and assured me that the Germans had departed.
Late in the afternoon I reached my regiment and was quite satisfied with
the course of events during the last twenty-four hours.
FOOTNOTES: