[2] This seems to be a translator's mistake for kilometres, which would
mean a little over 40 miles--in itself a sufficiently fine performance.
III
_Boredom Before Verdun_
I AM a restless spirit. Consequently my activity in front of Verdun can
only be described as boresome. At the beginning I was in the trenches at
a spot where nothing happened. Then I became a dispatch-bearer and hoped
to have some adventures. But there I was mistaken. The fighting men
immediately degraded me and considered me a Base-hog. I was not really
at the Base but I was not allowed to advance further than within 1500
yards behind the front trenches. There, below the ground, I had a
bomb-proof, heated habitation. Now and then I had to go to the front
trenches. That meant great physical exertion, for one had to trudge
uphill and downhill, criss-cross, through an unending number of
trenches and mire-holes until at last one arrived at a place where men
were firing. After having paid a short visit to the fighting men, my
position seemed to me a very stupid one.
At that time the digging business was beginning. It had not yet become
clear to us what it means to dig approaches and endless trenches. Of
course, we knew the names of the various ditches and holes through the
lessons which we had received at the War Academy. However, the digging
was considered to be the business of the military engineers. Other
troops were supposed not to take a hand in it. Here, near Combres,
everyone was digging industriously. Every soldier had a spade and a pick
and took all imaginable trouble in order to get as deeply into the
ground as possible. It was very strange that in many places the French
were only five yards ahead of us. One could hear them speak and see them
smoke cigarettes and now and then they threw us a piece of paper. We
conversed with them, but nevertheless, we tried to annoy them in every
possible way, especially with hand grenades.
Five hundreds yards in front of us and five hundred yards behind the
trenches the dense forest of the Côte Lorraine had been cut down by the
vast number of shells and bullets which were fired unceasingly. It
seemed unbelievable that in front men could live. Nevertheless, the men
in the front trenches were not in as bad a position as the men at the
Base.
After a morning visit to the front trenches, which usually took place at
the earliest hours of the day, the more tedious business began. I had to
attend to the telephone.
On days when I was off duty I indulged in my favorite pastime, game
shooting. The forest of La Chaussee gave me ample opportunities. When
going for a ride I had noticed that there were wild pigs about and I
tried to find out where I could shoot them at night. Beautiful nights,
with a full moon and snow, came to my aid. With the assistance of my
servant I built a shelter seat in a tree, at a spot where the pigs
passed, and waited there at night. Thus I passed many a night sitting on
the branch of a tree and on the next morning found that I had become an
icicle. However, I got my reward. There was a sow which was particularly
interesting. Every night she swam across the lake, broke into a potato
field, always at the same spot, and then she swam back again. Of course
I very much wished to improve my acquaintance with the animal. So I took
a seat on the other shore of the lake. In accordance with our previous
arrangement, Auntie Pig appeared at midnight for her supper. I shot her
while she was still swimming and she would have been drowned had I not
succeeded at the last moment in seizing her by the leg.
At another time, I was riding with my servant along a narrow path.
Suddenly I saw several wild pigs crossing it. Immediately I jumped from
the horse, grasped my servant's carbine and rushed several hundred yards
ahead. At the end of the procession came a mighty boar. I had never yet
seen such a beast and was surprised at its gigantic size. Now it
ornaments my room and reminds me of my encounter.
In this manner I passed several months when, one fine day, our division
became busy. We intended a small attack. I was delighted, for now at
last I should be able to do something as a connecting link! But there
came another disappointment! I was given quite a different job and now I
had enough of it. I sent a letter to my Commanding General and evil
tongues report that I told him: "My dear Excellency! I have not gone to
war in order to collect cheese and eggs, but for another purpose." At
first, the people above wanted to snarl at me. But then they fulfilled
my wish. Thus I joined the Flying Service at the end of May, 1915. My
greatest wish was fulfilled.
IV
_In the Air_
THE next morning at seven o'clock I was to fly for the first time as an
observer!--I was naturally very excited, for I had no idea what it would
be like. Everyone whom I had asked about his feelings told me a
different tale. The night before, I went to bed earlier than usual in
order to be thoroughly refreshed the next morning. We drove over to the
flying ground, and I got into a flying machine for the first time. The
draught from the propeller was a beastly nuisance. I found it quite
impossible to make myself understood by the pilot. Everything was
carried away by the wind. If I took up a piece of paper it disappeared.
My safety helmet slid off. My muffler dropped off. My jacket was not
sufficiently buttoned. In short, I felt very uncomfortable. Before I
knew what was happening, the pilot went ahead at full speed and the
machine started rolling. We went faster and faster. I clutched the sides
of the car. Suddenly, the shaking was over, the machine was in the air
and the earth dropped away from under me.
I had been told the name of the place to which we were to fly. I was to
direct my pilot. At first we flew right ahead, then my pilot turned to
the right, then to the left, but I had lost all sense of direction above
our own aerodrome. I had not the slightest notion where I was! I began
very cautiously to look over the side at the country. The men looked
ridiculously small. The houses seemed to come out of a child's toy box.
Everything seemed pretty. Cologne was in the background. The cathedral
looked like a little toy. It was a glorious feeling to be so high above
the earth, to be master of the air. I didn't care a bit where I was and
I felt extremely sad when my pilot thought it was time to go down
again.
I should have liked best to start immediately on another flight. I have
never had any trouble in the air such as vertigo. The celebrated
American swings are to me disgusting. One does not feel secure in them,
but in a flying machine one possesses a feeling of complete security.
One sits in an aeroplane as in an easy chair. Vertigo is impossible. No
man exists who has been turned giddy by flying. At the same time, flying
affects one's nerves. When one races full speed through the air, and
particularly when one goes down again, when the aeroplane suddenly dips,
when the engine stops running, and when the tremendous noise is followed
by an equally tremendous silence, then I would frantically clutch the
sides and think that I was sure to fall to the ground. However,
everything happened in such a matter-of-fact and natural way, and the
landing, when we again touched terra firma was so simple, that I could
not have such a feeling as fear. I was full of enthusiasm and should
have liked to remain in an aeroplane all day long. I counted the hours
to the time when we should start out again.
_As an Observer with Mackensen_
ON the 10th of June, 1915 I came to Grossenhain. Thence I was to be sent
to the front. I was anxious to go forward as quickly as possible. I
feared that I might come too late, that the world-war might be over. I
should have had to spend three months to become a pilot. By the time the
three months had gone by, peace might have been concluded. Therefore, it
never occurred to me to become a pilot. I imagined that, owing to my
training as a cavalryman, I might do well as an observer. I was very
happy when, after a fortnight's flying experience, I was sent out,
especially as I was sent to the only spot where there was still a chance
of a war of movement. I was sent to Russia.
Mackensen was advancing gloriously. He had broken through the Russian
position at Gorlice and I joined his army when we were taking Rawa
Ruska. I spent a day at the aviation base and then I was sent to the
celebrated 69th Squadron. Being quite a beginner I felt very foolish. My
pilot was a big gun, First Lieutenant Zeumer. He is now a cripple. Of
the other men of the Section, I am the only survivor.
Now came my most beautiful time. Life in the Flying Corps is very much
like life in the cavalry. Every day, morning and afternoon, I had to fly
and to reconnoiter, and I have brought back valuable information many a
time.
_With Holck in Russia. (Summer, 1915)_
DURING June, July and August, 1915, I remained with the Flying Squadron
which participated in Mackensen's advance from Gorlice to Brest-Litovsk.
I had joined it as quite a juvenile observer and had not the slightest
idea of anything.
As a cavalryman my business had consisted in reconnoitering. So the
Aeroplane Service as an observer was in my line and it amused me vastly
to take part in the gigantic reconnoitering flights which we undertook
nearly every day.
For an observer it is important to find a pilot with a strong character.
One fine day we were told, "Count Holck will join us." Immediately I
thought, "That is the man I want."
Holck made his appearance, not as one would imagine, in a 60 h. p.
Mercedes or in a first-class sleeping car. He came on foot. After
traveling by railway for days and days he had arrived in the vicinity of
Jaroslav. Here he got out of the train for there was once more an
unending stoppage. He told his servant to travel on with the luggage
while he would go on foot. He marched along and after an hour's walking
looked back, but the train did not follow him. So he walked and walked
and walked without being overtaken by the train until, after a
thirty-mile walk, he arrived in Rawa Ruska, his objective. Twenty-four
hours later his orderly appeared with the luggage. His thirty-mile walk
proved no difficulty to that sportsman. His body was so well trained
that he did not feel the tramp he had undertaken.
Count Holck was not only a sportsman on land. Flying also was to him a
sport which gave him the greatest pleasure. He was a pilot of rare
talent and particularity, and that is, after all, the principal thing. He
towered head and shoulders above the enemy.
We went on many a beautiful reconnoitering flight--I do not know how
far--into Russia. Although Holck was so young I had never a feeling of
insecurity with him. On the contrary he was always a support to me in
critical moments. When I looked around and saw his determined face I had
always twice as much courage as I had had before.
My last flight with him nearly led to trouble. We had not had definite
orders to fly. The glorious thing in the flying service is that one
feels that one is a perfectly free man and one's own master as soon as
one is up in the air.
[Illustration: THE FAMOUS RICHTHOFEN "CIRCUS"]
We had to change our flying base and we were not quite certain in which
meadow we were to land. In order not to expose our machine to too much
risk in landing we flew in the direction of Brest-Litovsk. The Russians
were retiring everywhere. The whole countryside was burning. It was a
terribly beautiful picture. We intended to ascertain the direction of
the enemy columns, and in doing so flew over the burning town of
Wicznice. A gigantic smoke cloud, which went up to about 6,000 feet,
prevented us continuing our flight because we flew at an altitude of
only 4,500 feet in order to see better. For a moment Holck reflected. I
asked him what he intended to do and advised him to fly around the smoke
cloud which would have involved a round-about way of five minutes. Holck
did not intend to do this. On the contrary. The greater the danger was
the more the thing attracted him. Therefore straight through! I enjoyed
it, too, to be together with such a daring fellow. Our venturesomeness
nearly cost us dear. As soon as the tail-end of the machine had
disappeared in the smoke the aeroplane began to reel. I could not see a
thing for the smoke made my eyes water. The air was much warmer and
beneath me I saw nothing but a huge sea of fire. Suddenly the machine
lost its balance and fell, turning round and round. I managed to grasp a
stay and hung on to it. Otherwise I should have been thrown out of the
machine. The first thing I did was to look at Holck and immediately I
regained my courage for his face showed an iron confidence. The only
thought which I had was: "It is stupid, after all, to die so
unnecessarily a hero's death."
Later on, I asked Holck what had been his thoughts at the moment. He
told me he had never experienced so unpleasant a feeling.
We fell down to an altitude of 1500 feet above the burning town. Either
through the skill of my pilot or by a Higher Will, perhaps by both, we
suddenly dropped out of the smoke cloud. Our good Albatros found itself
again and once more flew straight ahead as if nothing had happened.
We had now had enough of it and instead of going to a new base intended
to return to our old quarter as quickly as possible. After all, we were
still above the Russians and only at an altitude of 1500 feet. Five
minutes later I heard Holck, behind me, exclaiming: "The motor is giving
out."
I must add that Holck had not as much knowledge of motors as he had of
horseflesh and I had not the slightest idea of mechanics. The only thing
which I knew was that we should have to land among the Russians if the
motor went on strike. So one peril had followed the other.
I convinced myself that the Russians beneath us were still marching with
energy. I could see them quite clearly from our low altitude. Besides it
was not necessary to look, for the Russians shot at us with machine-guns
with the utmost diligence. The firing sounded like chestnuts roasting
near a fire.
Presently the motor stopped running altogether, for it had been hit. So
we went lower and lower. We just managed to glide over a forest and
landed at last in an abandoned artillery position which, the evening
before, had still been occupied by Russians, as I had reported.
I told Holck my impressions. We jumped out of our box and tried to rush
into the forest nearby, where we might have defended ourselves. I had
with me a pistol and six cartridges. Holck had nothing.
When we had reached the wood we stopped and I saw with my glasses that a
soldier was running towards our aeroplane. I was horrified to see that
he wore not a spiked helmet but a cap. So I felt sure that it was a
Russian. When the man came nearer Holck shouted with joy, for he was a
Grenadier of the Prussian Guards.
Our troops had once more stormed the position at the break of day and
had broken through into the enemy batteries.
On that occasion Holck lost his little favorite, his doggie. He took the
little animal with him in every flight. The dog would lie always quietly
on Holck's fur in the fusilage. He was still with us when we were in the
forest. Soon after, when we had talked with the Guardsman, German troops
passed us. They were the staffs of the Guards and Prince Eitel Friedrich
with his Adjutants and his Orderly Officers. The Prince supplied us
with horses so that we two cavalrymen were sitting once more on
oat-driven motors. Unfortunately doggie was lost while we were riding.
Probably he followed other troops by mistake.
Later in the evening we arrived in our old flying base on a cart. The
machine was smashed.
_Russia--Ostend (From the Two-Seater
to the Twin-Engined Fighter)_
THE German enterprise in Russia came gradually to a stop and suddenly I
was transferred to a large battle-plane at Ostend on the twenty-first of
August, 1915. There I met an old acquaintance, friend Zeumer. Besides I
was attracted by the tempting name "Large Battle-plane."[3]
I had a very good time during this part of my service. I saw little of
the war but my experiences were invaluable to me, for I passed my
apprenticeship as a battle-flier. We flew a great deal, we had rarely a
fight in the air and we had no successes. We had seized a hotel on the
Ostend shore, and there we bathed every afternoon. Unfortunately the
only frequenters of the watering-place were soldiers. Wrapped up in our
many-colored bathing gowns we sat on the terraces of Ostend and drank
our coffee in the afternoon.
One fine day we were sitting as usual on the shore drinking coffee.
Suddenly we heard bugles. We were told that an English squadron was
approaching. Of course we did not allow ourselves to be alarmed and to
be disturbed, but continued drinking our coffee. Suddenly somebody
called out: "There they are!" Indeed we could see on the horizon, though
not very distinctly, some smoking chimneys and later on could make out
ships. Immediately we fetched our telescopes and observed them. There
was indeed quite an imposing number of vessels. It was not quite clear
to us what they intended to do, but soon we were to know better. We
went up to the roof whence we could see more. Suddenly we heard a
whistling in the air; then there came a big bang and a shell hit that
part of the beach where a little before we had been bathing. I have
never rushed as rapidly into the hero's cellar as I did at that moment.
The English squadron shot perhaps three or four times at us and then it
began bombarding the harbor and railway station. Of course they hit
nothing but they gave a terrible fright to the Belgians. One shell fell
right in the beautiful Palace Hotel on the shore. That was the only
damage that was done. Happily they destroyed only English capital, for
it belonged to Englishmen.
In the evening we flew again with energy. On one of our flights we had
gone very far across the sea with our battle-plane. It had two motors
and we were experimenting with a new steering gear which, we were told,
would enable us to fly in a straight line with only a single motor
working.[4] When we were fairly far out I saw beneath us, not on the
water but below the surface, a ship. It is a funny thing. If the sea is
quiet, one can look down from above to the bottom of the sea. Of course
it is not possible where the sea is twenty-five miles deep but one can
see clearly through several hundred yards of water. I had not made a
mistake in believing that the ship was traveling not on the surface but
below the surface. Yet it seemed at first that it was traveling above
water. I drew Zeumer's attention to my discovery and we went lower in
order to see more clearly. I am too little of a naval expert to say what
it was but it was clear to me that it was bound to be a submarine. But
of what nationality? That is a difficult question which in my opinion
can be solved only by a naval expert, and not always by him. One can
scarcely distinguish colors under water and there is no flag. Besides a
submarine does not carry such things. We had with us a couple of bombs
and I debated with myself whether I should throw them or not. The
submarine had not seen us for it was partly submerged. We might have
flown above it without danger and we might have waited until they found
it necessary to come to the surface for air. Then we could have dropped
our eggs. Herein lies, no doubt, a very critical point for our sister
arm.
When we had fooled around the apparition beneath us for quite a while I
suddenly noticed that the water was gradually disappearing from our
cooling apparatus. I did not like that and I drew my colleague's
attention to the fact. He pulled a long face and hastened to get home.
However, we were approximately twelve miles from the shore and they had
to be flown over. The motor began running more slowly and I was quietly
preparing myself for a sudden cold immersion. But lo! and behold! we got
through! Our giant apple-barge[5] barged along with a single motor and
the new steering apparatus and we reached the shore and managed to land
in the harbor without any special difficulty.
It is a good thing to be lucky. Had we not tried the new steering
apparatus on that day there would not have been any hope for us. We
should certainly have been drowned.
_A Drop of Blood for the Fatherland_
I HAVE never been really wounded. At the critical moment I have probably
bent my head or pulled in my chest. Often I have been surprised that
they did not hit me. Once a bullet went through both my furlined boots.
Another time a bullet went through my muffler. Another time one went
along my arm through the fur and the leather jacket; but I have never
been touched.
One fine day we started with our large battle-plane in order to delight
the English with our bombs. We reached our object. The first bomb fell.
It is very interesting to ascertain the effect of a bomb. At least one
always likes to see it exploding. Unfortunately my large battle-plane,
which was well qualified for carrying bombs, had a stupid peculiarity
which prevented me from seeing the effect of a bomb-throw, for
immediately after the throw the machine came between my eye and the
object and covered it completely with its planes. This always made me
wild because one does not like to be deprived of one's amusement. If you
hear a bang down below and see the delightful grayish-whitish cloud of
the explosion in the neighborhood of the object aimed at, you are always
very pleased. Therefore I waved to friend Zeumer that he should bend a
little to the side. While waving to him I forgot that the infamous
object on which I was traveling, my apple-barge, had two propellers
which turned to the right and left of my observer-seat.[6] I meant to
show him where approximately the bomb had hit and bang! my finger was
caught! I was somewhat surprised when I discovered that my little
finger had been damaged. Zeumer did not notice anything.
Having been hit on the hand I did not care to throw any more bombs. I
quickly got rid of the lot and we hurried home. My love for the large
battle-plane, which after all had not been very great, suffered
seriously in consequence of my experience. I had to sit quiet for seven
days and was debarred from flying. Only my beauty was slightly damaged,
but after all, I can say with pride that I also have been wounded in the
war.
_My First Fight in the
Air. (1st Sept., 1915)_
ZEUMER and I were very anxious to have a fight in the air. Of course we
flew our large battle-plane. The title of our barge alone gave us so
much courage that we thought it impossible for any opponent to escape
us.
We flew every day from five to six hours without ever seeing an
Englishman. I became quite discouraged, but one fine morning we again
went out to hunt. Suddenly I discovered a Farman aeroplane which was
reconnoitering without taking notice of us. My heart beat furiously when
Zeumer flew towards it. I was curious to see what was going to happen. I
had never witnessed a fight in the air and had about as vague an idea of
it as it was possible to have.
Before I knew what was happening both the Englishman and I rushed by one
another. I had fired four shots at most while the Englishman was
suddenly in our rear firing into us like anything. I must say I never
had any sense of danger because I had no idea how the final result of
such a fight would come about. We turned and turned around one another
until at last, to our great surprise the Englishman turned away from us
and flew off. I was greatly disappointed and so was my pilot.
Both of us were in very bad spirits when we reached home. He reproached
me for having shot badly and I reproached him for not having enabled me
to shoot well. In short our aeroplanic relations, which previously had
been faultless, suffered severely.
We looked at our machine and discovered that it had received quite a
respectable number of hits.
On the same day we went on the chase for a second time but again we had
no success. I felt very sad. I had imagined that things would be very
different in a battle squadron. I had always believed that one shot
would cause the enemy to fall, but soon I became convinced that a flying
machine can stand a great deal of punishment. Finally I felt assured
that I should never bring down a hostile aeroplane, however much
shooting I did.