told by the smoking houses and barracks. They had not done badly. The
exit of the station had obviously been blocked by a lucky hit. The
engine was still steaming. The engine driver had probably dived into a
shelter. On the other side of the station an engine was just coming out.
Of course I felt tempted to hit it. We flew towards the engine and
dropped a bomb a few hundred yards in front of it. We had the desired
result. The engine stopped. We turned and continued throwing bomb after
bomb on the station, carefully taking aim through our aiming telescope.
We had plenty of time for nobody interfered with us. It is true that an
enemy aerodrome was in the neighborhood but there was no trace of
hostile pilots. A few anti-aircraft guns were busy, but they shot not in
our direction but in another one. We reserved a bomb hoping to make
particularly good use of it on our way home.
Suddenly we noticed an enemy flying machine starting from its hangar.
The question was whether it would attack us. I did not believe in an
attack. It was more likely that the flying man was seeking security in
the air, for when bombing machines are about, the air is the safest
place.
We went home by roundabout ways and looked for camps. It was
particularly amusing to pepper the gentlemen down below with machine
guns. Half savage tribes from Asia are even more startled when fired at
from above than are cultured Englishmen. It is particularly interesting
to shoot at hostile cavalry. An aerial attack upsets them completely.
Suddenly the lot of them rush away in all directions of the compass. I
should not like to be the Commander of a Squadron of Cossacks which has
been fired at with machine guns from aeroplanes.[17]
By and by we could recognize the German lines. We had to dispose of our
last bomb and we resolved to make a present of it to a Russian
observation balloon, to the only observation balloon they possessed. We
could quite comfortably descend to within a few hundred yards of the
ground in order to attack it. At first the Russians began to haul it in
very rapidly. When the bomb had been dropped the hauling stopped. I did
not believe that I had hit it. I rather imagined that the Russians had
left their chief in the air and had run away. At last we reached our
front and our trenches and were surprised to find when we got home that
we had been shot at from below. At least one of the planes had a hole in
it.
Another time and in the same neighborhood we were ordered to meet an
attack of the Russians who intended to cross the river Stokhod. We came
to the danger spot laden with bombs and carrying a large number of
cartridges for our machine guns. On arrival at the Stokhod, we were
surprised to see that hostile cavalry was already crossing. They were
passing over a single bridge. Immediately it was clear to us that one
might do a tremendous lot of harm to the enemy by hitting the bridge.
Dense masses of men were crossing. We went as low as possible and could
clearly see the hostile cavalry crossing by way of the bridge with great
rapidity. The first bomb fell near the bridge. The second and third
followed immediately. They created a tremendous disorder. The bridge had
not been hit. Nevertheless traffic across it had completely ceased. Men
and animals were rushing away in all directions. We had thrown only
three bombs but the success had been excellent. Besides, a whole
squadron of aeroplanes was following us. Lastly, we could do other
things. My observer fired energetically into the crowd down below with
his machine gun and we enjoyed it tremendously. Of course, I cannot say
what real success we had. The Russians have not told us. Still I
imagined that I alone had caused the Russian attack to fail. Perhaps
the official account of the Russian War Office will give me details
after the war.
_At Last!_
THE August sun was almost unbearably hot on the sandy flying ground at
Kovel. While we were chatting among ourselves one of my comrades said:
"To-day the great Boelcke arrives on a visit to us, or rather to his
brother!" In the evening the great man came to hand. He was vastly
admired by all and he told us many interesting things about his journey
to Turkey. He was just returning from Turkey and was on the way to
Headquarters. He imagined that he would go to the Somme to continue his
work. He was to organize a fighting squadron. He was empowered to select
from the flying corps those men who seemed to him particularly qualified
for his purpose.
I did not dare to ask him to be taken on. I did not feel bored by the
fighting in Russia. On the contrary, we made extensive and interesting
flights. We bombed the Russians at their stations. Still, the idea of
fighting again on the Western Front attracted me. There is nothing
finer for a young cavalry officer than the chase of the air.
The next morning Boelcke was to leave us. Quite early somebody knocked
at my door and before me stood the great man with the _Ordre pour le
Mérite_. I knew him, as I have previously mentioned, but still I had
never imagined that he came to look me up in order to ask me to become
his pupil. I almost fell upon his neck when he inquired whether I cared
to go with him to the Somme.
Three days later I sat in the railway train and traveled through the
whole of Germany straight away to the new field of my activity. At last
my greatest wish was fulfilled. From now onwards began the finest time
of my life.
At that time I did not dare to hope that I should be as successful as I
have been. When I left my quarters in the East a good friend of mine
called out after me: "See that you do not come back without the _Ordre
pour le Mérite_."
FOOTNOTES:
[13] This is the first reference to the regular "Traveling Circus" idea,
in which the whole squadron works as a self-contained unit, with a
special train to move its material, stores, spares, and mechanics, from
place to place, and also provides living accommodations for the pilots.
[14] The German C-type machines are the two-seater reconnaissance types.
The D-type are the single-seater fighters or "chaser" machines. The
G-type are the big three-seater bombers.
[15] It is interesting to find a German joking about food scarcity in
1916, exactly as people in England joke about it in 1918. One is able
thus to form some idea of the comparative states of the two countries,
and to judge how Germany would have fared if the British blockage had
been rigidly enforced at the beginning of the war.
[16] It was 150 horsepower in 1916. By the beginning of 1918 all modern
German C-type machines had 260 h.p., and by April, 1918, German biplanes
with 500 h.p. in one engine were beginning to appear. In consequence the
extreme height (or "ceiling") of a C-type machine had risen from 12,000
feet to 20,000 feet.
[17] Attacks on troops on roads by low-flying aeroplanes were not
regularly organized acts of war in those days, though such attacks had
been made by R. N. A. S. pilots in Belgium in 1914. It is curious that
despite the observed effects of the R. N. A. S. attacks, and the
experiences of such men as von Richthofen, neither the British nor the
German aeronautical authorities ever took the trouble to devote
attention to this new method of war. The racial similarity of the two
belligerents is marked in this as in other matters.
VIII
_My First English Victim. (17th September, 1915)_[18]
WE were all at the Butts trying our machine guns. On the previous day we
had received our new aeroplanes and the next morning Boelcke was to fly
with us. We were all beginners. None of us had had a success so far.
Consequently everything that Boelcke told us was to us gospel truth.
Every day, during the last few days, he had, as he said, shot one or two
Englishmen for breakfast.
The next morning, the seventeenth of September, was a gloriously fine
day. It was therefore only to be expected that the English would be very
active. Before we started Boelcke repeated to us his instructions and
for the first time we flew as a squadron commanded by the great man whom
we followed blindly.
We had just arrived at the Front when we recognized a hostile flying
squadron that was proceeding in the direction of Cambrai. Boelcke was of
course the first to see it, for he saw a great deal more than ordinary
mortals. Soon we understood the position and everyone of us strove to
follow Boelcke closely. It was clear to all of us that we should pass
our first examination under the eyes of our beloved leader.
Slowly we approached the hostile squadron. It could not escape us. We
had intercepted it, for we were between the Front and our opponents. If
they wished to go back they had to pass us. We counted the hostile
machines. They were seven in number. We were only five. All the
Englishmen flew large bomb-carrying two-seaters. In a few seconds the
dance would begin.
Boelcke had come very near the first English machine but he did not yet
shoot. I followed. Close to me were my comrades. The Englishman nearest
to me was traveling in a large boat painted with dark colors. I did not
reflect very long but took my aim and shot. He also fired and so did I,
and both of us missed our aim. A struggle began and the great point for
me was to get to the rear of the fellow because I could only shoot
forward with my gun. He was differently placed for his machine gun was
movable. It could fire in all directions.
Apparently he was no beginner, for he knew exactly that his last hour
had arrived at the moment when I got at the back of him. At that time I
had not yet the conviction "He must fall!" which I have now on such
occasions, but on the contrary, I was curious to see whether he would
fall. There is a great difference between the two feelings. When one has
shot down one's first, second or third opponent, then one begins to find
out how the trick is done.
My Englishman twisted and turned, going criss-cross. I did not think for
a moment that the hostile squadron contained other Englishmen who
conceivably might come to the aid of their comrade. I was animated by a
single thought: "The man in front of me must come down, whatever
happens." At last a favorable moment arrived. My opponent had apparently
lost sight of me. Instead of twisting and turning he flew straight
along. In a fraction of a second I was at his back with my excellent
machine. I give a short series of shots with my machine gun. I had gone
so close that I was afraid I might dash into the Englishman. Suddenly, I
nearly yelled with joy for the propeller of the enemy machine had
stopped turning. I had shot his engine to pieces; the enemy was
compelled to land, for it was impossible for him to reach his own lines.
The English machine was curiously swinging to and fro. Probably
something had happened to the pilot. The observer was no longer visible.
His machine gun was apparently deserted. Obviously I had hit the
observer and he had fallen from his seat.
The Englishman landed close to the flying ground of one of our
squadrons. I was so excited that I landed also and my eagerness was so
great that I nearly smashed up my machine. The English flying machine
and my own stood close together. I rushed to the English machine and saw
that a lot of soldiers were running towards my enemy. When I arrived I
discovered that my assumption had been correct. I had shot the engine to
pieces and both the pilot and observer were severely wounded. The
observer died at once and the pilot while being transported to the
nearest dressing station. I honored the fallen enemy by placing a stone
on his beautiful grave.
When I came home Boelcke and my other comrades were already at
breakfast. They were surprised that I had not turned up. I reported
proudly that I had shot down an Englishman. All were full of joy for I
was not the only victor. As usual, Boelcke had shot down an opponent for
breakfast and every one of the other men also had downed an enemy for
the first time.
I would mention that since that time no English squadron ventured as far
as Cambrai as long as Boelcke's squadron was there.[19]
_The Battle of the Somme_
DURING my whole life I have not found a happier hunting ground than in
the course of the Somme Battle. In the morning, as soon as I had got up,
the first Englishmen arrived, and the last did not disappear until long
after sunset. Boelcke once said that this was the El Dorado of the
flying men.
There was a time when, within two months, Boelcke's bag of machines
increased from twenty to forty. We beginners had not at that time the
experience of our master and we were quite satisfied when we did not get
a hiding. It was an exciting period. Every time we went up we had a
fight. Frequently we fought really big battles in the air. There were
sometimes from forty to sixty English machines, but unfortunately the
Germans were often in the minority. With them quality was more important
than quantity.
Still the Englishman is a smart fellow. That we must allow. Sometimes
the English came down to a very low altitude and visited Boelcke in his
quarters, upon which they threw their bombs. They absolutely challenged
us to battle and never refused fighting.
We had a delightful time with our chasing squadron. The spirit of our
leader animated all his pupils. We trusted him blindly. There was no
possibility that one of us would be left behind. Such a thought was
incomprehensible to us. Animated by that spirit we gaily diminished the
number of our enemies.
On the day when Boelcke fell the squadron had brought down forty
opponents. By now the number has been increased by more than a hundred.
Boelcke's spirit lives still among his capable successors.
_Boelcke's Death. (28th October, 1916)_
ONE day we were flying, once more guided by Boelcke against the enemy.
We always had a wonderful feeling of security when he was with us. After
all he was the one and only. The weather was very gusty and there were
many clouds. There were no aeroplanes about except fighting ones.
From a long distance we saw two impertinent Englishmen in the air who
actually seemed to enjoy the terrible weather. We were six and they were
two. If they had been twenty and if Boelcke had given us the signal to
attack we should not have been at all surprised.
The struggle began in the usual way. Boelcke tackled the one and I the
other. I had to let go because one of the German machines got in my way.
I looked around and noticed Boelcke settling his victim about two
hundred yards away from me.
It was the usual thing. Boelcke would shoot down his opponent and I had
to look on. Close to Boelcke flew a good friend of his. It was an
interesting struggle. Both men were shooting. It was probable that the
Englishman would fall at any moment. Suddenly I noticed an unnatural
movement of the two German flying machines. Immediately I thought:
Collision. I had not yet seen a collision in the air. I had imagined
that it would look quite different. In reality, what happened was not a
collision. The two machines merely touched one another. However, if two
machines go at the tremendous pace of flying machines, the slightest
contact has the effect of a violent concussion.
Boelcke drew away from his victim and descended in large curves. He did
not seem to be falling, but when I saw him descending below me I noticed
that part of his planes had broken off. I could not see what happened
afterwards, but in the clouds he lost an entire plane. Now his machine
was no longer steerable. It fell accompanied all the time by Boelcke's
faithful friend.
When we reached home we found the report "Boelcke is dead!" had already
arrived. We could scarcely realize it.
The greatest pain was, of course, felt by the man who had the misfortune
to be involved in the accident.
It is a strange thing that everybody who met Boelcke imagined that he
alone was his true friend. I have made the acquaintance of about forty
men, each of whom imagined that he alone was Boelcke's intimate. Each
imagined that he had the monopoly of Boelcke's affections. Men whose
names were unknown to Boelcke believed that he was particularly fond of
them. This is a curious phenomenon which I have never noticed in anyone
else. Boelcke had not a personal enemy. He was equally polite to
everybody, making no differences.
The only one who was perhaps more intimate with him than the others was
the very man who had the misfortune to be in the accident which caused
his death.
Nothing happens without God's will. That is the only consolation which
any of us can put to our souls during this war.
_My Eighth Victim_
IN Boelcke's time eight was quite a respectable number. Those who hear
nowadays of the colossal bags made by certain aviators must feel
convinced that it has become easier to shoot down a machine. I can
assure those who hold that opinion that the flying business is becoming
more difficult from month to month and even from week to week. Of
course, with the increasing number of aeroplanes one gains increased
opportunities for shooting down one's enemies, but at the same time, the
possibility of being shot down one's self increases. The armament of our
enemies is steadily improving and their number is increasing.[20] When
Immelmann shot down his first victim he had the good fortune to find an
opponent who carried not even a machine gun. Such little innocents one
finds nowadays only at the training ground for beginners.
On the ninth of November, 1916, I flew towards the enemy with my little
comrade Immelmann,[21] who then was eighteen years old. We both were in
Boelcke's squadron of chasing aeroplanes. We had previously met one
another and had got on very well. Comradeship is a most important thing.
We went to work. I had already bagged seven enemies and Immelmann five.
At that time this was quite a lot.
Soon after our arrival at the front we saw a squadron of bombing
aeroplanes. They were coming along with impertinent assurance. They
arrived in enormous numbers as was usual during the Somme Battle. I
think there were about forty or fifty machines approaching. I cannot
give the exact number. They had selected an object for their bombs not
far from our aerodrome. I reached them when they had almost attained
their objective. I approached the last machine. My first few shots
incapacitated the hostile machine gunner. Possibly they had tickled the
pilot, too. At any rate he resolved to land with his bombs. I fired a
few more shots to accelerate his progress downwards. He fell close to
our flying ground at Lagnicourt.
While I was fighting my opponent, Immelmann had tackled another
Englishman and had brought him down in the same locality. Both of us
flew quickly home in order to have a look at the machines we had downed.
We jumped into a motor car, drove in the direction where our victims lay
and had to run along a distance through the fields. It was very hot,
therefore I unbuttoned all my garments even the collar and the shirt. I
took off my jacket, left my cap in the car but took with me a big stick.
My boots were miry up to the knees. I looked like a tramp. I arrived in
the vicinity of my victim. In the meantime, a lot of people had of
course gathered around.
At one spot there was a group of officers. I approached them, greeted
them, and asked the first one whom I met whether he could tell me
anything about the aspect of the aerial battle. It is always
interesting to find out how a fight in the air looks to the people down
below. I was told that the English machines had thrown bombs and that
the aeroplane that had come down was still carrying its bombs.
The officer who gave me this information took my arm, went with me to
the other officers, asked my name and introduced me to them. I did not
like it, for my attire was rather disarranged. On the other hand, all
the officers looked as spic and span as on parade. I was introduced to a
personage who impressed me rather strangely. I noticed a General's
trousers, an Order at the neck, an unusually youthful face and
undefinable epaulettes. In short, the personage seemed extraordinary to
me. During our conversation I buttoned my trousers and collar and
adopted a somewhat military attitude.
I had no idea who the officer was. I took my leave and went home again.
In the evening the telephone rang and I was told that the undefinable
somebody with whom I had been talking had been His Royal Highness, the
Grand-Duke of Saxe-Coburg Gotha.
I was ordered to go to him. It was known that the English had intended
to throw bombs on his headquarters. Apparently I had helped to keep the
aggressors away from him. Therefore I was given the Saxe-Coburg Gotha
medal for bravery.
I always enjoy this adventure when I look at the medal.
_Major Hawker_
I WAS extremely proud when, one fine day, I was informed that the airman
whom I had brought down on the twenty-third of November, 1916, was the
English Immelmann.
In view of the character of our fight it was clear to me that I had been
tackling a flying champion.
One day I was blithely flying to give chase when I noticed three
Englishmen who also had apparently gone a-hunting. I noticed that they
were ogling me and as I felt much inclination to have a fight I did not
want to disappoint them.
I was flying at a lower altitude. Consequently I had to wait until one
of my English friends tried to drop on me. After a short while on the
three came sailing along and attempted to tackle me in the rear. After
firing five shots he had to stop for I had swerved in a sharp curve.
The Englishman tried to catch me up in the rear while I tried to get
behind him. So we circled round and round like madmen after one another
at an altitude of about 10,000 feet.
First we circled twenty times to the left, and then thirty times to the
right. Each tried to get behind and above the other.
Soon I discovered that I was not meeting a beginner. He had not the
slightest intention of breaking off the fight. He was traveling in a
machine which turned beautifully.[22] However, my own was better at
rising than his, and I succeeded at last in getting above and beyond my
English waltzing partner.
When we had got down to about 6,000 feet without having achieved
anything in particular, my opponent ought to have discovered that it was
time for him to take his leave. The wind was favorable to me for it
drove us more and more towards the German position. At last we were
above Bapaume, about half a mile behind the German front. The
impertinent fellow was full of cheek and when we had got down to about
3,000 feet he merrily waved to me as if he would say, "Well, how do you
do?"
The circles which we made around one another were so narrow that their
diameter was probably no more than 250 or 300 feet. I had time to take a
good look at my opponent. I looked down into his carriage and could see
every movement of his head. If he had not had his cap on I would have
noticed what kind of a face he was making.
My Englishman was a good sportsman, but by and by the thing became a
little too hot for him. He had to decide whether he would land on German
ground or whether he would fly back to the English lines. Of course he
tried the latter, after having endeavored in vain to escape me by
loopings and such like tricks. At that time his first bullets were
flying around me, for hitherto neither of us had been able to do any
shooting.
When he had come down to about three hundred feet he tried to escape by
flying in a zig-zag course during which, as is well known, it is
difficult for an observer to shoot. That was my most favorable moment. I
followed him at an altitude of from two hundred and fifty feet to one
hundred and fifty feet, firing all the time. The Englishman could not
help falling. But the jamming of my gun nearly robbed me of my success.
My opponent fell, shot through the head, one hundred and fifty feet
behind our line. His machine gun was dug out of the ground and it
ornaments the entrance of my dwelling.[23]
FOOTNOTES:
[18] This locates almost exactly the date of the formation of the first
Boelcke Circus.
[19] Cambrai at that time was a long way behind the front, and Bapaume
was a more important mark for the British squadrons. So it may not have
been worth while for squadrons to go so far afield as Cambrai. Single
machines on long reconnaissance visited Cambrai regularly.
[20] This testimony to the improvement in the aerial equipment of the
British Army is well worthy of note.
[21] This is evidently a junior Immelmann of Boelcke's squadron, and not
the famous Immelmann, who was already dead before the Boelcke squadron
came into existence.