Squadron would often return to the fray.[35]
_We Are Visited By My Father_
MY father had announced that he would visit his two sons on the
twenty-ninth of April. My father is commander of a little town in the
vicinity of Lille. Therefore he does not live very far away from us. I
have occasionally seen him on my flights.
He intended to arrive by train at nine o'clock. At half past nine he
came to our aerodrome. We just happened to have returned from an
expedition. My brother was the first to climb out of his machine, and he
greeted the old gentleman with the words: "Good day, Father. I have just
shot down an Englishman." Immediately after, I also climbed out of my
machine and greeted him "Good day, Father, I have just shot down an
Englishman." The old gentleman felt very happy and he was delighted.
That was obvious. He is not one of those fathers who are afraid for
their sons. I think he would like best to get into a machine himself and
help us shoot. We breakfasted with him and then we went flying again.
In the meantime, an aerial fight took place above our aerodrome. My
father looked on and was greatly interested. We did not take a hand in
the fight for we were standing on the ground and looked on ourselves.
An English squadron had broken through and was being attacked above our
aerodrome by some of our own reconnoitering aeroplanes. Suddenly one of
the machines started turning over and over. Then it recovered itself and
came gliding down normally. We saw, with regret this time, that it was a
German machine.
The Englishman flew on. The German aeroplane had apparently been
damaged. It was quite correctly handled. It came down and tried to land
on our flying ground. The room was rather narrow for the large machine.
Besides, the ground was unfamiliar to the pilot. Hence, the landing was
not quite smooth. We ran towards the aeroplane and discovered with
regret that one of the occupants of the machine, the machine gunner, had
been killed. The spectacle was new to my father. It made him serious.
The day promised to be a favorable one for us. The weather was
wonderfully clear. The anti-aircraft guns were constantly audible.
Obviously, there was much aircraft about.
Towards mid-day we flew once more. This time, I was again lucky and shot
down my second Englishman of the day. The Governor recovered his good
spirits.
After the mid-day dinner I slept a little. I was again quite fresh.
Wolff had fought the enemy in the meantime with his group of machines
and had himself bagged an enemy. Schäfer also had eaten one. In the
afternoon my brother and I accompanied by Schäfer, Festner and
Allmenröder flew twice more.
The first afternoon flight was a failure. The second was all the better.
Soon after we had come to the front a hostile squadron met us.
Unfortunately they occupied a higher altitude so we could not do
anything. We tried to climb to their level but did not succeed. We had
to let them go.[36]
We flew along the front. My brother was next to me, in front of the
others. Suddenly I noticed two hostile artillery fliers approaching our
front in the most impertinent and provocative manner. I waved to my
brother and he understood my meaning. We flew side by side increasing
our speed. Each of us felt certain that he was superior to the enemy. It
was a great thing that we could absolutely rely on one another and that
was the principal thing. One has to know one's flying partner.
My brother was the first to approach his enemy. He attacked the first
and I took care of the second. At the last moment I quickly looked round
in order to feel sure that there was no third aeroplane about. We were
alone and could see eye to eye. Soon I had got on the favorable side of
my opponent. A short spell of quick firing and the enemy machine went to
pieces. I never had a more rapid success.
While I was still looking where my enemy's fragments were falling, I
noticed my brother. He was scarcely five hundred yards away from me and
was still fighting his opponent.
I had time to study the struggle and must say that I myself could not
have done any better than he did. He had rushed his man and both were
turning around one another. Suddenly, the enemy machine reared. That is
a certain indication of a hit. Probably the pilot was shot in the head.
The machine fell and the planes of the enemy apparatus went to pieces.
They fell quite close to my victim. I flew towards my brother and we
congratulated one another by waving. We were highly satisfied with our
performance and flew off. It is a splendid thing when one can fly
together with one's brother and do so well.
In the meantime, the other fellows of the squadron had drawn near and
were watching the spectacle of the fight of the two brothers. Of course
they could not help us, for only one man can shoot down an opponent. If
one airman has tackled his enemy the others cannot assist. They can only
look on and protect his back. Otherwise, he might be attacked in the
rear.
We flew on and went to a higher altitude, for there was apparently a
meeting somewhere in the air for the members of the Anti-Richthofen
Club. They could recognize us from far away. In the powerful sunlight,
the beautiful red color of our machines could be seen at a long
distance.
We closed our ranks for we knew that our English friends pursued the
same business as we. Unfortunately, they were again too high. So we had
to wait for their attack. The celebrated triplanes and Spads were
perfectly new machines. However, the quality of the box matters little.
Success depends upon the man who sits in it. The English airmen played a
cautious game but would not bite. We offered to fight them, either on
one side of the front or on the other. But they said: No, thank you.
What is the good of bringing out a squadron against us and then turning
tail?[37]
At last, one of the men plucked up courage and dropped down upon our
rear machine. Naturally battle was accepted although our position was
unfavorable. If you wish to do business you must, after all, adapt
yourself to the desires of your customers. Therefore we all turned
round. The Englishman noticed what was going on and got away. The battle
had begun.
Another Englishman tried a similar trick on me and I greeted him at once
with quick fire from my two machine guns. He tried to escape me by
dropping down. That was fatal to him. When he got beneath me I remained
on top of him. Everything in the air that is beneath me, especially if
it is a one-seater, a chaser, is lost, for it cannot shoot to the rear.
My opponent had a very good and very fast machine. However, he did not
succeed in reaching the English lines. I began to fire at him when we
were above Lens. I started shooting when I was much too far away. That
was merely a trick of mine. I did not mean so much to hit him as to
frighten him, and I succeeded in catching him. He began flying curves
and this enabled me to draw near. I tried the same manoeuver a second
and a third time. Everytime my foolish friend started making his curves
I gradually edged quite close to him.
I approached him almost to touching distance. I aimed very carefully. I
waited a moment and when I was at most at a distance of fifty yards from
him I started with both the machine guns at the same time. I heard a
slight hissing noise, a certain sign that the benzine tanks had been
hit. Then I saw a bright flame and my lord disappeared below.
This was the fourth victim of the day. My brother had bagged two.
Apparently, we had invited our father to a treat. His joy was
wonderful.
I had invited several gentlemen for the evening. Among these was my dear
Wedel who happened to be in the neighborhood. We had a great treat. The
two brothers had bagged six Englishmen in a single day. That is a whole
flying squadron.[38]
I believe the English cease to feel any sympathy for us.[39]
_I Fly Home_
I HAD shot down fifty aeroplanes. That was a good number but I would
have preferred fifty-two. So I went up one day and had another two,
although it was against orders.
As a matter of fact I had been allowed to bag only forty-one. Anyone
will be able to guess why the number was fixed at forty-one. Just for
that reason I wanted to avoid that figure. I am not out for breaking
records. Besides, generally speaking, we of the Flying Corps do not
think of records at all. We merely think of our duty. Boelcke might have
shot down a hundred aeroplanes but for his accident, and many others of
our dear dead comrades might have vastly increased their bag but for
their sudden death. Still, it is some fun to have downed half a hundred
aeroplanes. After all, I had succeeded in obtaining permission to bring
down fifty machines before going on leave.
I hope that I may live to celebrate a second lot of fifty.
In the evening of that particular day the telephone bell was ringing.
Headquarters wished to speak to me. It seemed to me the height of fun to
be connected with the holy of holies.
Over the wire they gave me the cheerful news that His Majesty had
expressed the wish to make my personal acquaintance and had fixed the
date for me. I had to make an appearance on the second of May. The
notification reached me on the thirtieth of April at nine o'clock in the
evening. I should not have been able to fulfil the wish of our
All-Highest War-Lord by taking the train. I therefore thought I would
travel by air, especially as that mode of locomotion is far pleasanter.
I started the next morning, not in my single-seater "le petit rouge" but
in a big fat double-seater.
I took a seat at the rear, not at the sticks. The man who had to do the
flying was Lieut. Krefft, one of the officers of my squadron. He was
just going on furlough to recover his strength, so that it suited him
admirably to act as my pilot. He reached home more quickly traveling by
air and he preferred the trip by aeroplane.
I started on the journey rather hastily. The only luggage which I took
with me was my tooth-brush. Therefore, I had to dress for the journey in
the clothes in which I was to appear at Headquarters. Now, a soldier
does not carry with him many beautiful uniforms when he goes to war and
the scarcity of nice clothes is particularly great in the case of such
a poor front hog as myself.
My brother undertook the command of the aeroplane squadron in my
absence. I took leave with a few words for I hoped soon to recommence my
work among those dear fellows.
The flight went via Namur, Liège, Aix la Chapelle and Cologne. It was
lovely for once to sail through the air without any thoughts of war. The
weather was wonderful. We had rarely had such a perfect time. Probably
the men at the front would be extremely busy.
Soon our own captive balloons were lost to sight. The thunder of the
Battle of Arras was only heard in the distance. Beneath us all was
peace. We saw steamers on the rivers and fast trains on the railways. We
easily overtook everything below. The wind was in our favor. The earth
seemed as flat as a threshing floor. The beautiful mountains of the
Meuse were not recognizable as mountains. One could not even trace them
by their shadows, for the sun was right above us. We only knew that
they were there and with a little imagination we could hide ourselves in
the cool glades of that delightful country.
It had become late. Clouds were gathering below and hid from us the
earth. We flew on, taking our direction by means of the sun and the
compass. The vicinity of Holland was disagreeable to us. We decided to
go lower in order to find out where we were. We went beneath the cloud
and discovered that we were above Namur.
We then went on to Aix la Chapelle. We left that town to our left and
about mid-day we reached Cologne. We both were in high spirits. We had
before us a long leave of absence. The weather was beautiful. We had
succeeded in all our undertakings. We had reached Cologne. We could be
certain to get to Headquarters in time, whatever might happen.
Our coming had been announced in Cologne by telegram. People were
looking out for us. On the previous day the newspapers had reported my
fifty-second aerial victory. One can imagine what kind of a reception
they had prepared for us.
Having been flying for three hours I had a slight headache. Therefore, I
thought I would take forty winks, before going to Headquarters. From
Cologne we flew along the Rhine for some distance. I knew the country
well. I had often journeyed that way by steamer, by motor car, and by
railway, and now I was traveling by aeroplane. It is difficult to say
which of these is the most pleasant form of locomotion. Of course, one
can see the details of the landscape better from the steamer. However,
the commanding view one gets from an aeroplane has also its attractions.
The Rhine is a very beautiful river, from above as well as from any
other viewpoint.
We flew rather low in order not to lose the sensation that we were
traveling among mountains, for after all the most beautiful part of the
Rhine are the tree clad hills and castles. Of course we could not make
out individual houses. It is a pity that one cannot fly slowly and
quickly. If it had been possible I would have flown quite slowly.
The beautiful views which we saw vanished only too quickly.
Nevertheless, when one flies high in the air one never has the sensation
that one is proceeding at a fast pace. If you are sitting in a motor car
or in a fast train you have the impression of tremendous speed. On the
other hand, you seem to be advancing slowly when you fly in an aeroplane
at a considerable speed. You notice the celerity of your progress only
when you have not looked out of your machine for four or five minutes
and then try to find out where you are. Then the aspect of the country
appears suddenly completely changed. The terrain which you passed over a
little while ago looks quite different under a different angle, and you
do not recognize the scenery you have passed. Herein lies the reason
that an airman can easily lose his way if he forgets for a moment to
examine the territory.
In the afternoon we arrived at Headquarters and were cordially received
by some comrades with whom I was acquainted and who worked at the
holiest of holies. I absolutely pitied those poor ink-spillers. They get
only half the fun in war.
First of all I went to the General commanding the Air Forces.
On the next morning came the great moment when I was to meet Hindenburg
and Ludendorf. I had to wait for quite a while.
I should find it difficult to describe my encounter with these Generals.
I saw Hindenburg first and then Ludendorf.
It is a weird feeling to be in the room where the fate of the world is
decided. I was quite glad when I was again outside the holiest of holies
and when I had been commanded to lunch with His Majesty. The day was the
day of my birth and somebody had apparently told His Majesty. He
congratulated me in the first place on my success, and in the second, on
my twenty-fifth birthday. At the same time he handed me a small birthday
present.
Formerly I would never have believed it possible that on my twenty-fifth
birthday I would be sitting at the right of General Field Marshal von
Hindenburg and that I would be mentioned by him in a speech.
On the day following I was to take mid-day dinner with Her Majesty. And
so I went to Homburg. Her Majesty also gave me a birthday present and I
had the great pleasure to show her how to start an aeroplane. In the
evening I was again invited by General Field Marshal von Hindenburg. The
day following I flew to Freiburg to do some shooting. At Freiburg I made
use of the flying machine which was going to Berlin by air. In Nuremberg
I replenished my tanks with benzine. A thunderstorm was coming on. I was
in a great hurry to get to Berlin. Various more or less interesting
things awaited me there. So I flew on, the thunderstorm notwithstanding.
I enjoyed the clouds and the beastly weather. The rain fell in streams.
Sometimes it hailed. Afterwards the propeller had the most extraordinary
aspect. The hail stones had damaged it considerably. The blades looked
like saws.
Unfortunately I enjoyed the bad weather so much that I quite forgot to
look about me. When I remembered that one has to look out it was too
late. I had no longer any idea where I was. That was a nice position to
be in! I had lost my way in my own country! My people at home would
laugh when they knew it! However, there it was and couldn't be helped. I
had no idea where I was. Owing to a powerful wind I had been driven out
of my course and off my map. Guided by sun and compass I tried to get
the direction of Berlin.
Towns, villages, hills and forests were slipping away below me. I did
not recognize a thing. I tried in vain to compare the picture beneath my
map. Everything was different. I found it impossible to recognize the
country. Later on I discovered the impossibility of finding my way for I
was flying about sixty miles outside my map.
After having flown for a couple of hours my guide and I resolved to land
somewhere in the open. That is always unpleasant. One cannot tell how
the surface of the ground is in reality. If one of the wheels gets into
a hole one's box is converted into matchwood.
[Illustration: LIEUT. SCHÄFER SPEAKING WITH ANOTHER MEMBER OF THE
SQUADRON]
[Illustration: CAPTAIN RICHTHOFEN WITH HIS MASCOT DOG "MORITZ"]
We tried to read the name written upon a station, but of course that was
impossible, it was too small. So we had to land. We did it with a heavy
heart for nothing else could be done. We looked for a meadow which
appeared suitable from above and tried our luck. Close inspection
unfortunately showed that the meadow was not as pleasant as it seemed.
The fact was obviously proved by the slightly bent frame of our machine.
We had made ourselves gloriously ridiculous. We had first lost our way
and then smashed the machine. So we had to continue our journey with the
commonplace conveyance, by railway train. Slowly but surely, we reached
Berlin. We had landed in the neighborhood of Leipzig. If we had not
landed so stupidly, we would certainly have reached Berlin. But
sometimes you make a mistake whatever you do.
Some days later I arrived in Schweidnitz, my own town. Although I got
there at seven o'clock in the morning, there was a large crowd at
the station. I was very cordially received. In the afternoon various
demonstrations took place to honor me, among others, one of the local
Boy Scouts.
It became clear to me that the people at home took a vivid interest in
their fighting soldiers after all.
FOOTNOTES:
[35] One can find no trace of any deliberate attempt to organize an
anti-Richthofen Circus in the R. F. C., and therefore one assumes that
these were merely three gallant lads on new type Spads who went out
deliberately on their own account to look for trouble, and found more
than they expected.
[36] This appears to be the first admission that the newer British
machines could out-climb the famous Albatros chasers.
[37] The probability is that the British machines being high up, and
watching the sky all round, did not notice the little red machines
against the dark ground below them for some time.
[38] A whole squadron is eighteen machines, divided into three "flights"
of six machines each. The word squadron does not, apparently, translate
exactly into German.
[39] Nevertheless, some months after this, a young British pilot was
being entertained one evening by his squadron in celebration of his
having been awarded the D. S. O., and when called upon for a speech
proposed the health of von Richthofen. And the squadron duly honored the
toast.
XIII
_My Brother_
I HAD not yet passed eight days of my leave when I received the
telegram: "Lothar is wounded but not mortally." That was all. Inquiries
showed that he had been very rash. He flew against the enemy, together
with Allmenröder. Beneath him and a good distance on the other side of
the front, he saw in the air a lonely Englishman crawling about. He was
one of those hostile infantry fliers who make themselves particularly
disagreeable to our troops. We molest them a great deal. Whether they
really achieve anything in crawling along the ground is very
problematical.[40]
My brother was at an altitude of about six thousand feet, while the
Englishman was at about three thousand feet. He quietly approached the
Englishman, prepared to plunge and in a few seconds was upon him. The
Englishman thought he would avoid a duel and he disappeared likewise by
a plunge. My brother, without hesitation, plunged after. He didn't care
at all whether he was on one side of the front or the other. He was
animated by a single thought: I must down that fellow. That is, of
course, the correct way of managing things. Now and then I myself have
acted that way. However, if my brother does not have at least one
success on every flight he gets tired of the whole thing.
Only a little above the ground my brother obtained a favorable position
towards the English flier and could shoot into his shop windows. The
Englishman fell. There was nothing more to be done.
After such a struggle, especially at a low altitude, in the course of
which one has so often been twisting and turning, and circling to the
right and to the left, the average mortal has no longer the slightest
notion of his position. On that day it happened that the air was
somewhat misty. The weather was particularly unfavorable. My brother
quickly took his bearings and discovered only then that he was a long
distance behind the front. He was behind the ridge of Vimy. The top of
that hill is about three hundred feet higher than the country around. My
brother, so the observers on the ground reported, had disappeared behind
the Vimy height.
It is not a particularly pleasant feeling to fly home over enemy
country. One is shot at and cannot shoot back. It is true, however, that
a hit is rare. My brother approached the line. At a low altitude one can
hear every shot that is fired, and firing sounds then very much like the
noise made by chestnuts which are being roasted. Suddenly, he felt that
he had been hit. That was queer to him.
My brother is one of those men who cannot see their own blood. If
somebody else was bleeding it would not impress him very greatly, but
the sight of his own blood upsets him. He felt his blood running down
his right leg in a warm stream. At the same time, he noticed a pain in
his hip. Below the shooting continued. It followed that he was still
over hostile ground.
At last the firing gradually ceased. He had crossed the front. Now he
must be nimble for his strength was rapidly ebbing away. He saw a wood
and next to the wood a meadow. Straight for the meadow he flew and
mechanically, almost unconsciously, he switched off the engine. At the
same moment he lost consciousness.
My brother was in a single-seater. No one could help him. It is a
miracle that he came to the ground, for no flying machine lands or
starts automatically. There is a rumor that they have at Cologne an old
Taube which will start by itself as soon as the pilot takes his seat,
which makes the regulation curve and which lands again after exactly
five minutes.[41] Many men pretend to have seen that miraculous machine.
I have not seen it. But still I am convinced that the tale is true.
Now, my brother was not in such a miraculous automatic machine.
Nevertheless he had not hurt himself in landing. He recovered
consciousness only in hospital, and was sent to Douai.
It is a curious feeling to see one's brother fighting with an
Englishman. Once I saw that Lothar, who was lagging behind the squadron,
was being attacked by an English aviator. It would have been easy for
him to avoid battle. He need only plunge. But he would not do that. That
would not even occur to him. He does not know how to run away. Happily I
had observed what was going on and was looking for my chance.
I noticed that the Englishman went for my brother and shot at him. My
brother tried to reach the Englishman's altitude disregarding the shots.
Suddenly his machine turned a somersault and plunged perpendicularly,
turning round and round. It was not an intended plunge, but a regular
fall. That is not a nice thing to look at, especially if the falling
airman is one's own brother. Gradually I had to accustom myself to that
sight for it was one of my brother's tricks. As soon as he felt sure
that the Englishman was his superior he acted as if he had been shot.