The same day that Prince was so nearly brought down Lufbery missed
death by a very small margin. He had taken on more gasolene and made
another sortie. When over the lines again he encountered a German with
whom he had a fighting acquaintance. That is he and the Boche, who
was an excellent pilot, had tried to kill each other on one or two
occasions before. Each was too good for the other. Lufbery manoeuvred
for position but, before he could shoot, the Teuton would evade him
by a clever turn. They kept after one another, the Boche retreating
into his lines. When they were nearing Habsheim, Lufbery glanced back
and saw French shrapnel bursting over the trenches. It meant a German
plane was over French territory and it was his duty to drive it off.
Swooping down near his adversary he waved good-bye, the enemy pilot did
likewise, and Lufbery whirred off to chase the other representative
of Kultur. He caught up with him and dove to the attack, but he was
surprised by a German he had not seen. Before he could escape three
bullets entered his motor, two passed through the fur-lined combination
he wore, another ripped open one of his woolen flying boots, his
airplane was riddled from wing tip to wing tip, and other bullets cut
the elevating plane. Had he not been an exceptional aviator he never
would have brought safely to earth so badly damaged a machine. It was
so thoroughly shot up that it was junked as being beyond repairs.
Fortunately Lufbery was over French territory or his forced descent
would have resulted in his being made prisoner.
I know of only one other airplane that was safely landed after
receiving as heavy punishment as did Lufbery's. It was a two-place
Nieuport piloted by a young Frenchman named Fontaine with whom I
trained. He and his gunner attacked a German over the Bois le Pretre
who drove rapidly far into his lines. Fontaine followed and in turn
was attacked by three other Boches. He dropped to escape, they plunged
after him forcing him lower. He looked and saw a German aviation field
under him. He was by this time only 2,000 feet above the ground.
Fontaine saw the mechanics rush out to grasp him, thinking he would
land. The attacking airplanes had stopped shooting. Fontaine pulled on
full power and headed for the lines. The German planes dropped down
on him and again opened fire. They were on his level, behind and on
his sides. Bullets whistled by him in streams. The rapid-fire gun on
Fontaine's machine had jammed and he was helpless. His gunner fell
forward on him, dead. The trenches were just ahead, but as he was
slanting downward to gain speed he had lost a good deal of height, and
was at only six hundred feet when he crossed the lines, from which he
received a ground fire. The Germans gave up the chase and Fontaine
landed with his dead gunner. His wings were so full of holes that they
barely supported the machine in the air.