good shot. We stood before a riddle. We were not the only ones to be
puzzled. Many are nowadays in the same position in which we were then.
After all the flying business must really be thoroughly understood.
_In the Champagne Battle_
OUR pleasant days at Ostend were soon past, for the Champagne battle
began and we flew to the front in order to take part in it in our large
battle-plane. Soon we discovered that our packing-case[7] was a
capacious aeroplane but that it could never be turned into a good
battle-plane.
I flew once with Osteroth who had a smaller flier than the apple-barge.
About three miles behind the front we encountered a Farman Two-seater.
He allowed us to approach him and for the first time in my life I saw an
aerial opponent from quite close by. Osteroth flew with great skill side
by side with the enemy so that I could easily fire at him. Our opponent
probably did not notice us, for only when I had trouble with my gun did
he begin to shoot at us. When I had exhausted my supply of one hundred
bullets I thought I could not trust my eyes when I suddenly noticed that
my opponent was going down in curious spirals. I followed him with my
eyes and tapped Osteroth's head to draw his attention. Our opponent fell
and fell and dropped at last into a large crater. There he was, his
machine standing on its head, the tail pointing towards the sky.
According to the map he had fallen three miles behind the front. We had
therefore brought him down on enemy ground.[8] Otherwise I should have
one more victory to my credit. I was very proud of my success. After
all, the chief thing is to bring a fellow down. It does not matter at
all whether one is credited for it or not.
_How I Met Boelcke_
FRIEND Zeumer got a Fokker Monoplane. Therefore I had to sail through
the world alone. The Champagne battle was raging. The French flying men
were coming to the fore. We were to be combined in a battle squadron and
took train on the first of October, 1915.
In the dining car, at the table next to me, was sitting a young and
insignificant-looking lieutenant. There was no reason to take any note
of him except for the fact that he was the only man who had succeeded
in shooting down a hostile flying man not once but four times. His name
had been mentioned in the dispatches. I thought a great deal of him
because of his experience. Although I had taken the greatest trouble, I
had not brought an enemy down up to that time. At least I had not been
credited with a success.
I would have liked so much to find out how Lieutenant Boelcke managed
his business. So I asked him: "Tell me, how do you manage it?" He seemed
very amused and laughed, although I had asked him quite seriously. Then
he replied: "Well it is quite simple. I fly close to my man, aim well
and then of course he falls down." I shook my head and told him that I
did the same thing but my opponents unfortunately did not come down. The
difference between him and me was that he flew a Fokker and I a large
battle-plane.
I took great trouble to get more closely acquainted with that nice
modest fellow whom I badly wanted to teach me his business. We often
played cards together, went for walks and I asked him questions. At last
I formed a resolution that I also would learn to fly a Fokker. Perhaps
then my chances would improve.
My whole aim and ambition became now concentrated upon learning how to
manipulate the sticks myself. Hitherto I had been nothing but an
observer. Happily I soon found an opportunity to learn piloting on an
old machine in the Champagne. I threw myself into the work with body and
soul and after twenty-five training flights I stood before the
examination in flying alone.
FOOTNOTES:
[3] The Grossflugzeug, or "G" class of German aeroplane, later given up
as a flying machine owing to its slow speed and clumsiness in manoeuvre
and used in its later developments for night-bombing only.
[4] This apparently refers to an auto-lock arrangement on the rudder-bar
to save the pilot from having the rudder against the engine all the
time.
[5] A literal translation of the German slang, analogous more or less to
the British term box-kite.
[6] From this disposition of the air-screws, and from the date of the
occurrence, one assumes that this was one of the very earliest
twin-engined Gothas, of the type which the R. F. C. nicknamed
"Wong-wong," because of the curious noise made by the engines or
air-screws when they ran out of step.
[7] Still another example of slang, indicative of the clumsiness of the
Grossflugzeug in the air.
[8] It was also the British custom to ignore--as part of the score--all
machines brought down in enemy territory. Later it became permissible to
count such victims if their destruction was verified by independent
witnesses.
V
_My First Solo-Flight. (10th October, 1915)_
THERE are some moments in one's life which tickle one's nerves
particularly and the first solo-flight is among them.
One fine evening my teacher, Zeumer, told me: "Now go and fly by
yourself." I must say I felt like replying "I am afraid." But this is a
word which should never be used by a man who defends his country.
Therefore, whether I liked it or not, I had to make the best of it and
get into my machine.
Zeumer explained to me once more every movement in theory. I scarcely
listened to his explanations for I was firmly convinced that I should
forget half of what he was telling me.
I started the machine. The aeroplane went at the prescribed speed and I
could not help noticing that I was actually flying. After all I did not
feel timorous but rather elated. I did not care for anything. I should
not have been frightened no matter what happened. With contempt of death
I made a large curve to the left, stopped the machine near a tree,
exactly where I had been ordered to, and looked forward to see what
would happen. Now came the most difficult thing, the landing. I
remembered exactly what movements I had to make. I acted mechanically
and the machine moved quite differently from what I had expected. I lost
my balance, made some wrong movements, stood on my head and I succeeded
in converting my aeroplane into a battered school 'bus. I was very sad,
looked at the damage which I had done to the machine, which after all
was not very great, and had to suffer from other people's jokes.
Two days later I went with passion at the flying and suddenly I could
handle the apparatus.
A fortnight later I had to take my first examination. Herr von T---- was
my examiner. I described the figure eight several times, exactly as I
had been told to do, landed several times with success, in accordance
with orders received and felt very proud of my achievements. However, to
my great surprise I was told that I had not passed. There was nothing to
be done but to try once more to pass the initial examination.
_My Training Time at Döberitz_
IN order to pass my examinations I had to go to Berlin. I made use of
the opportunity to go to Berlin as observer in a giant plane.[9] I was
ordered to go by aeroplane to Döberitz near Berlin on the fifteenth of
November, 1915. In the beginning I took a great interest in the
giant-plane. But funnily enough the gigantic machine made it clear to me
that only the smallest aeroplane would be of any use for me in battle. A
big aerial barge is too clumsy for fighting. Agility is needed and,
after all, fighting is my business.
The difference between a large battle-plane and a giant-plane is that a
giant-plane is considerably larger than a large battle-plane and that it
is more suitable for use as a bomb-carrier than as a fighter.
I went through my examinations in Döberitz together with a dear fellow,
First Lieutenant von Lyncker. We got on very well with one another, had
the same inclinations and the same ideas as to our future activity. Our
aim was to fly Fokkers and to be included in a battle squadron on the
Western front. A year later we succeeded in working together for a short
time. A deadly bullet hit my dear friend when bringing down his third
aeroplane.
We passed many merry hours in Döberitz. One of the things which we had
to do was to land in strange quarters. I used the opportunity to combine
the necessary with the agreeable. My favorable landing place outside of
our aerodrome was the Buchow Estate where I was well known. I was there
invited to shoot wild pigs. The matter could be combined only with
difficulty with the service, for on fine evenings I wished both to fly
and to shoot pigs. So I arranged for a place of landing in the
neighborhood of Buchow whence I could easily reach my friends.
I took with me a second pilot, who served as an observer, and sent him
back in the evening. During the night I shot pigs and on the next
morning was fetched by my pilot.
If I had not been fetched with the aeroplane I should have been in a
hole for I should have had to march on foot a distance of about six
miles. So I required a man who would fetch me in any weather. It is not
easy to find a man who will fetch you under any circumstances.
Once, when I had passed the night trying to shoot pigs, a tremendous
snowfall set in. One could not see fifty yards ahead. My pilot was to
fetch me at eight sharp. I hoped that for once he would not come. But
suddenly I heard a humming noise--one could not see a thing--and five
minutes later my beloved bird was squatting before me on the ground.
Unfortunately some of his bones had got bent.
_I Become a Pilot_
ON Christmas Day, 1915, I passed my third examination. In connection
with it I flew to Schwerin, where the Fokker works are situated, and had
a look at them. As observer I took with me my mechanic, and from
Schwerin I flew with him to Breslau, from Breslau to Schweidnitz, from
thence to Luben and then returned to Berlin. During my tour I landed in
lots of different places in between, visiting relatives and friends.
Being a trained observer, I did not find it difficult to find my way.
In March, 1916, I joined the Second Battle Squadron before Verdun and
learned air-fighting as a pilot. I learned how to handle a fighting
aeroplane. I flew then a two-seater.
In the official communiqué of the twenty-sixth of April, 1916, I am
referred to for the first time, although my name is not mentioned. Only
my deeds appear in it. I had had built into my machine a machine gun,
which I had arranged very much in the way in which it is done in the
Nieuport machines.[10] I was very proud of my idea. People laughed at
the way I had fitted it up because the whole thing looked very
primitive. Of course I swore by my new arrangement and very soon I had
an opportunity of ascertaining its practical value.
I encountered a hostile Nieuport machine which was apparently guided by
a man who also was a beginner, for he acted extremely foolishly. When I
flew towards him he ran away. Apparently he had trouble with his gun. I
had no idea of fighting him but thought: "What will happen if I now
start shooting?" I flew after him, approached him as closely as possible
and then began firing a short series of well-aimed shots with my machine
gun. The Nieuport reared up in the air and turned over and over.
At first both my observer and I believed that this was one of the
numerous tricks which French fliers habitually indulge in. However, his
tricks did not cease. Turning over and over, the machine went lower and
lower. At last my observer patted me on the head and called out to me:
"I congratulate you. He is falling." As a matter of fact he fell into a
forest behind Fort Douaumont and disappeared among the trees. It became
clear to me that I had shot him down, but on the other side of the
Front. I flew home and reported merely: "I had an aerial fight and have
shot down a Nieuport." The next day I read of my action in the official
communiqué. Of course I was very proud of my success, but that Nieuport
does not figure among the fifty-two aeroplanes which I have brought
down.[11]
The communiqué of the 26th of April stated: "Two hostile flying machines
have been shot down by aerial fighting above Fleury, south and west of
Douaumont."
_Holck's Death. (30th of April, 1916)_
AS a young pilot I once flew over Fort Douaumont at a moment when it was
exposed to a violent drum-fire. I noticed that a German Fokker was
attacking three Caudron machines. It was my misfortune that a strong
west wind was blowing. That was not favorable to me. The Fokker was
driven over the town of Verdun in the course of the fight. I drew the
attention of my observer to the struggle. He thought that the German
fighting man must be a very smart fellow. We wondered whether it could
be Boelcke and intended to inquire when we came down. Suddenly, I saw to
my horror that the German machine, which previously had attacked, had
fallen back upon the defensive. The strength of the French fighting men
had been increased to at least ten and their combined assaults forced
the German machine to go lower and lower.
I could not fly to the German's aid. I was too far away from the battle.
Besides, my heavy machine could not overcome the strong wind against
me. The Fokker fought with despair. His opponents had rushed him down to
an altitude of only about eighteen hundred feet. Suddenly, he was once
more attacked by his opponents and he disappeared, plunging into a small
cloud. I breathed more easily, for in my opinion the cloud had saved
him.
When I arrived at the aerodrome, I reported what I had seen and was told
that the Fokker man was Count Holck, my old comrade in the Eastern
Theater of war.
Count Holck had dropped straight down, shot through the head. His death
deeply affected me for he was my model. I tried to imitate his energy
and he was a man among men also as a character.
FOOTNOTES:
[9] Possibly a very early example of the Riesenflugzeug type, which is
the next biggest thing to the Grossflugzeug type, which includes the
Gothas, A. E. G.'s, Friedrichshafens, and other of the twin-engined
types.
[10] It is not clear whether this refers to a gun pointing upwards, as
guns at that time were commonly fitted on the upper plane of the
Nieuport, or whether the gun fired through the air-screw. Probably the
latter fitting is meant. Later on one reads that he was then flying an
Albatros, so it may have been a top gun.
[11] Note.--This book was written after Captain von Richthofen had
brought down fifty-two aeroplanes. At the time of his death he was
officially credited with eighty victories.
VI
_I Fly In a Thunderstorm_
OUR activity before Verdun was disturbed in the summer of 1916 by
frequent thunderstorms. Nothing is more disagreeable for flying men than
to have to go through a thunderstorm. In the Battle of the Somme a whole
English flying squadron came down behind our lines and became prisoners
of war because they had been surprised by a thunderstorm.[12]
I had never yet made an attempt to get through thunder clouds but I
could not suppress my desire to make the experiment. During the whole
day thunder was in the air. From my base at Mont I had flown over to
the fortress of Metz, nearby, in order to look after various things.
During my return journey I had an adventure.
I was at the aerodrome of Metz and intended to return to my own
quarters. When I pulled my machine out of the hangar the first signs of
an approaching thunderstorm became noticeable. Clouds which looked like
a gigantic pitch-black wall approached from the north. Old experienced
pilots urged me not to fly. However, I had promised to return and I
should have considered myself a coward if I had failed to come back
because of a silly thunderstorm. Therefore I meant to try.
When I started the rain began falling. I had to throw away my goggles,
otherwise I should not have seen anything. The trouble was that I had to
travel over the mountains of the Moselle where the thunderstorm was just
raging. I said to myself that probably I should be lucky and get through
and rapidly approached the black cloud which reached down to the earth.
I flew at the lowest possible altitude. I was compelled absolutely to
leap over houses and trees with my machine. Very soon I knew no longer
where I was. The gale seized my machine as if it were a piece of paper
and drove it along. My heart sank within me. I could not land among the
hills. I was compelled to go on.
I was surrounded by an inky blackness. Beneath me the trees bent down in
the gale. Suddenly I saw right in front of me a wooded height. I could
not avoid it. My Albatros managed to take it. I was able to fly only in
a straight line. Therefore I had to take every obstacle that I
encountered. My flight became a jumping competition purely and simply. I
had to jump over trees, villages, spires and steeples, for I had to keep
within a few yards of the ground, otherwise I should have seen nothing
at all. The lightning was playing around me. At that time I did not yet
know that lightning cannot touch flying machines. I felt certain of my
death for it seemed to me inevitable that the gale would throw me at
any moment into a village or a forest. Had the motor stopped working I
should have been done for.
Suddenly I saw that on the horizon the darkness had become less thick.
Over there the thunderstorm had passed. I would be saved if I were able
to get so far. Concentrating all my energy I steered towards the light.
Suddenly I got out of the thunder-cloud. The rain was still falling in
torrents. Still, I felt saved.
In pouring rain I landed at my aerodrome. Everyone was waiting for me,
for Metz had reported my start and had told them that I had been
swallowed up by a thunder cloud.
I shall never again fly through a thunderstorm unless the Fatherland
should demand this.
Now, when I look back, I realize that it was all very beautiful.
Notwithstanding the danger during my flight, I experienced glorious
moments which I would not care to have missed.
_My First Time In a Fokker_
FROM the beginning of my career as a pilot I had only a single ambition,
the ambition to fly in a single-seater battle-plane. After worrying my
commander for a long time I at last obtained permission to mount a
Fokker. The revolving motor was a novelty to me. Besides, it was a
strange feeling to be quite alone during the flight.
The Fokker belonged jointly to a friend of mine who has died long ago
and to myself. I flew in the morning and he in the afternoon. Both he
and I were afraid that the other fellow would smash the box. On the
second day we flew towards the enemy. When I flew in the morning no
Frenchman was to be seen. In the afternoon it was his turn. He started
but did not return. There was no news from him.
Late in the evening the infantry reported an aerial battle between a
Nieuport and a German Fokker, in the course of which the German machine
had apparently landed at the Mort Homme. Evidently the occupant was
friend Reimann for all the other flying men had returned. We regretted
the fate of our brave comrade. Suddenly, in the middle of the night, we
heard over the telephone that a German flying officer had made an
unexpected appearance in the front trenches at the Mort Homme. It
appeared that this was Reimann. His motor had been smashed by a shot. He
had been forced to land. As he was not able to reach our own lines he
had come to the ground in No Man's Land. He had rapidly set fire to the
machine and had then quickly hidden himself in a mine crater. During the
night he had slunk into our trenches. Thus ended our joint enterprise
with a Fokker.
A few days later I was given another Fokker. This time I felt under a
moral obligation to attend to its destruction myself. I was flying for
the third time. When starting, the motor suddenly stopped working. I had
to land right away in a field and in a moment the beautiful machine was
converted into a mass of scrap metal. It was a miracle that I was not
hurt.
FOOTNOTE:
[12] Probably this means a patrol of one or two flights--of four
machines each. One does not recall a whole squadron disappearing at
once, though one or two squadrons had their whole personnel renewed one
or two at a time in the course of a month or so.
VII
_Bombing In Russia_
IN June we were suddenly ordered to entrain. No one knew where we were
going, but we had an idea and we were not over much surprised when our
Commander told us that we were going to Russia. We had traveled through
the whole of Germany with our perambulating hotel which consisted of
dining and sleeping cars, and arrived at last at Kovel. There we
remained in our railway cars. There are many advantages in dwelling in a
train. One is always ready to travel on and need not change one's
quarters.[13]
In the heat of the Russian summer a sleeping car is the most horrible
instrument of martyrdom imaginable. Therefore, I agreed with some
friends of mine, Gerstenberg and Scheele, to take quarters in the
forest near by. We erected a tent and lived like gypsies. We had a
lovely time.
In Russia our battle squadron did a great deal of bomb throwing. Our
occupation consisted of annoying the Russians. We dropped our eggs on
their finest railway establishments. One day our whole squadron went out
to bomb a very important railway station. The place was called
Manjewicze and was situated about twenty miles behind the Front. That
was not very far. The Russians had planned an attack and the station was
absolutely crammed with colossal trains. Trains stood close to one
another. Miles of rails were covered with them. One could easily see
that from above. There was an object for bombing that was worth while.
One can become enthusiastic over anything. For a time I was delighted
with bomb throwing. It gave me a tremendous pleasure to bomb those
fellows from above. Frequently I took part in two expeditions on a
single day.
On the day mentioned our object was Manjewicze. Everything was ready.
The aeroplanes were ready to start. Every pilot tried his motor, for it
is a painful thing to be forced to land against one's will on the wrong
side of the Front line, especially in Russia. The Russians hated the
flyers. If they caught a flying man they would certainly kill him. That
is the only risk one ran in Russia for the Russians had no aviators, or
practically none. If a Russian flying man turned up he was sure to have
bad luck and would be shot down. The anti-aircraft guns used by Russia
were sometimes quite good, but they were too few in number. Compared
with flying in the West, flying in the East is absolutely a holiday.
The aeroplanes rolled heavily to the starting point. They carried bombs
to the very limit of their capacity. Sometimes I dragged three hundred
pounds of bombs with a normal C-machine.[14] Besides, I had with me a
very heavy observer who apparently had not suffered in any way from the
food scarcity.[15] I had also with me a couple of machine guns. I was
never able to make proper use of them in Russia. It is a pity that my
collection of trophies contains not a single Russian.
Flying with a heavy machine which is carrying a great dead weight is no
fun, especially during the mid-day summer heat in Russia. The barges
sway in a very disagreeable manner. Of course, heavily laden though they
are, they do not fall down. The 150 h. p. motors prevent it.[16] At the
same time it is no pleasant sensation to carry such a large quantity of
explosives and benzine.
At last we get into a quiet atmosphere. Now comes the enjoyment of
bombing. It is splendid to be able to fly in a straight line and to
have a definite object and definite orders. After having thrown one's
bombs one has the feeling that he has achieved something, while
frequently, after searching for an enemy to give battle to, one comes
home with a sense of failure at not having brought a hostile machine to
the ground. Then a man is apt to say to himself, "You have acted
stupidly."
It gave me a good deal of pleasure to throw bombs. After a while my
observer learned how to fly perpendicularly over the objects to be
bombed and to make use of the right moment for laying his egg with the
assistance of his aiming telescope.
The run to Manjewicze is very pleasant and I have made it repeatedly. We
passed over gigantic forests which were probably inhabited by elks and
lynxes. But the villages looked miserable. The only substantial village
in the whole neighborhood was Manjewicze. It was surrounded by
innumerable tents, and countless barracks had been run up near the
railway station. We could not make out the Red Cross.