Fighting the Flying Circus

by Captain Eddie V. Rickenbacker

  The German Fokkers were to the west of him. The second balloon was to the east. With characteristic foolhardiness Luke determined to withdraw by way of the other balloon and take one burst at it before the Huns reached him. He accordingly continued straight on east, thus permitting the pursuing formation of Fokkers to cut him off at the south.

  With his first dive Luke shot down the second balloon. It burst into towering flames, which were seen for miles around. Again he passed through a living stream of missiles fired at him from the ground, and escaped unhurt!

  As he began his flight toward home he discovered that he was completely cut off by the six Fokkers. He must shoot his way through singlehanded. To make it worse, three more Fokkers were coming upon him from the north. And then Luke saw his pal, Wehner.

  Wehner had all this time been patrolling the line to the north of Luke's balloons. He had seen the six Fokkers, but had supposed that Luke would keep ahead of them and abandon his attempt at the second enemy balloon. He therefore fired his signal light, which was observed by our balloon observers but not by Luke, and immediately set off to patrol a parallel course between the enemy planes and Luke's road home. When he saw Luke dart off to the second balloon, Wehner believed that Luke had not seen his signal and was unaware of the second flight of Fokkers coming directly upon him. He quickly sheered off and went forward to meet them.

  What Luke saw was the airplane of his devoted pal receiving a direct fire from all three of the approaching Fokker pilots. The next instant it rolled over in the air and slowly began to fall. Even as it hesitated in its flight, a burst of flames issued from the Spad's tank. Wehner was shot down in flames while trying to save his comrade! It was a deliberate sacrifice of himself for his friend!

  Consumed with fury, Luke, instead of seeking safety in flight, turned back and hurled himself at the three Fokkers. He was at a distinct disadvantage, for they had the superiority both in altitude and position, not to mention numbers. But regardless of what the chances were, Luke climbed upward at them, firing as he advanced.

  Picking out the pilot on the left, Luke kept doggedly on his track firing at him until he saw him burst into flame. The other two machines in the meantime had tagged on Luke's tail and their tracer bullets were flashing by his head. But as soon as he saw the end of his first enemy he made a quick rerwersement on number two and, firing as he came about, he shot down the second enemy machine with the first burst. The third headed for Germany and Luke had to let him go.

  10. Another “Spad”—the mascot of 94 Squadron—with the author.

  11. The men behind the ace: the author with his ground crew.

  12. American ace Major Raoul Lufbery, with the French Lafayette Escadrille.

  13. A top French ace, Lieutenant Charles Nungesser.

  14. Captain Eddie Rickenbacker in 1919.

  15. Automobile-powered airplane with flowers, used in 1919 homecoming reception for the author in Los Angeles.

  16. The author and Marshal Foch reviewing the first parade of'the Ameri-ican Legion at the Kansas City Convention, 1920.

  17. The author with President Herbert Hoover at the presentation in 1930 of Captain Rickenbacker's Congressional Medal of Honor, Boiling Field, Washington.

  All this fighting had consumed less time than it takes to tell it. The two Fokkers had fallen in flames within ten seconds of each other. With rage still in his heart Luke looked about him to discover where the six enemy machines had gone. They had apparently been satisfied to leave him with their three comrades, for they were now disappearing toward the east. And just ahead of them Luke discerned fleecy white clouds of Archie smoke breaking north of Verdun. This indicated that our batteries were firing at enemy airplanes in that sector.

  As he approached Verdun, Luke found that five French Spads were hurrying up to attack an L.V.G. machine of the Huns, the same target at which our Archie had been firing. The six Fokkers had seen them coming and had gone to intercept them. Like a rocket Luke set his own Spad down at the L.V.G. It was a two-seater machine and was evidently taking photographs at a low altitude.

  Our Archie ceased firing as Luke drew near. He hurled himself down at the German observer, firing both guns as he dove. The enemy machine fell into a spin and crashed a few hundred yards from our old Verdun aerodrome. In less than twenty minutes Lieutenant Luke had shot down two balloons, two fighting Fokkers and one enemy photographing machine—a feat that is almost unequaled in the history of this war!

  Luke's first question when he arrived at our field was, “Has Wehner come back?”

  He knew the answer before he asked the question, but he was hoping against hope that he might find himself mistaken. But Joe had been killed. The joy of Luke over his marvelous victories vanished instantly. He was told that with these five victories he had a total of eleven, thus passing me and making him the American Ace of Aces. But this fact did not interest Frank. He said he would like to go up to the front in a car and see if anything had been heard from Wehner.

  The following morning Major Hartney, commanding officer of our Group, took Luke and myself up to Verdun to make inquiries. Shortly after lunch the officer in charge of confirmations came to us and told Lieutenant Luke that not only had his five victories of yesterday been officially confirmed, but that three old victories had likewise been that morning confirmed, making Luke's total fourteen instead of eleven. And these fourteen victories had been gained by Frank Luke in eight days! The history of war aviation, I believe, has not a similar record. Not even the famous Guynemer, Fonck, Ball, Bishop, or the noted German Ace of Aces, Baron von Richt-hofen, ever won fourteen victories in a single fortnight at the front. Any aircraft, whether balloon or airplane, counts as one victory, and only one, with all the services.

  In my estimation there has never during the four years of war been an aviator at the front who possessed the confidence, ability and courage that Frank Luke had shown during that remarkable two weeks.

  In order to do this boy honor and show him that every officer in the Group appreciated his wonderful work, he was given a complimentary dinner that night by the squadrons. Many interesting speeches were made. When it came Luke's turn to respond he got up laughing, said he was having a bully time—and sat down! Major Hartney came over to him and presented him with a seven days' leave in Paris—which at that time was about the highest gift at the disposal of commanding officers at the front.

  Among all the American entertainers who came over to the front to help cheer up the fighting men, none except our own Elsie Janis, who is an honorary member of our squadron, were quite so highly appreciated by our fellows as the Margaret Mayo' YMCA troupe, which gave us an entertainment just a night or two after this. The players included such well-known talent as Elizabeth Brice, Lois Meredith, Bill Morrisey, Tommy Gray, and Mr. Walker—all of New York. After a hurried preparation, we cleaned up one of the hangars, prepared a stage and made a dressing room by hanging a curtain over a truck and trailer. After a merry dinner in 94's mess hall everybody crowded into the “theater,” and the way the boys laughed and shouted there, during the performance, must have sounded hysterical to the actors; but to my mind this hysteria was only an outlet for the pent-up emotion and an indication of the tension and strain under which we had so long been living. At any rate it was the best show I have ever see at the front, barring always the one evening Miss Janis appeared on our aerodrome for an entertainment.

  The night of September 24, Major Marr returned from Paris and announced that he had received orders to return to America. Shortly afterward Major Hartney handed me an order promoting me to the command of the 94 Squadron!

  My pride and pleasure at receiving this great honor I cannot put into words. I had been with 94 since its first day at the front. I was a member of this, the very first organization to go over the lines. I had seen my old friends disappear and be replaced by other pilots whom I had learned to admire and respect. And many of these had in turn disappeared!

  Now but three members of the or
iginal organization were left-Reed Chambers, Thorn Taylor, and myself. And I had been given the honor of leading this distinguished squadron! It had had Lufbery, Jimmy Hall, and Dave Peterson as members. And it led all the rest in number of victories over the Huns.

  But did it? I walked over to the Operations Office and took a look at the records. I had a suspicion that Frank Luke's wonderful run of the past few days had put 27 Squadron ahead of us.

  My suspicions were quite correct. The sober fact was that this presumptuous young 27 had suddenly taken a spurt, thanks to their brilliant Luke, and now led the Hat-in-the-Ring Squadron by six victories! I hurried over to 94 quarters and convened all my pilots.

  The half hour we had together that evening fixed a resolve in all of 94's members. No other American squadron at the front would ever again be permitted to approach our margin of supremacy. From that hour every man in 94 Squadron, I believe, felt that the honor of his squadron was at stake. At all events, within a week my pilots had overtaken 27's lead and never again did any American squadron even threaten to top our lead.

  After a talk that night with the pilots, I went over and called the mechanics to a caucus. We had half an hour's talk together and I outlined to them just what our pilots proposed to do with their help. And they were told that it was only by their wholesouled help that their squadron's success would be possible. How these boys responded to our appeal was well proved in the weeks that followed. Rarely indeed was a dud engine found in 94 Squadron henceforward. Never did a squadron of pilots receive more faithful attendance from their helpers in the hangar than was given us by these enthusiastic air mechanics of the Hat-in-the-Ring Squadron. I honestly believe that they felt the disgrace of being second more keenly than did we pilots.

  Finally, I had a long and serious conference with myself that night. After I had gone to bed I lay awake for several hours, thinking over the situation. I was compelled to believe that I had been chosen squadron commander because, first, I had been more successful than the other pilots in bringing down enemy airplanes; and second, because I had the ability to make a good leader over other pilots. That last presumption caused me infinite thought. Just how and where could I do the best by my followers?

  I suppose every squadron leader has this same problem, and I cannot help but believe that on his decision as to how he shall lead his pilots depends in a great measure the extent of his success—and his popularity.

  To my mind there was but one procedure. I should never ask any pilot under me to go on a mission that I myself would not undertake. I would lead them by example as well as precept. I would accompany the new pilots and watch their errors and help them to feel more confidence by sharing their dangers. Above all, I would work harder than ever I did as mere pilot. There was no question about that. My days of loafing were over!

  To avoid the red-tape business at the aerodrome—the making out of reports, ordering materials and seeing that they came in on time, looking after details of the mess, the hangars and the comfort of the enlisted men—all this work must be put under competent men, if I expected to stay in the air and lead patrols. Accordingly I gave this important matter my attention early next morning. And the success of my appointments was such that from that day on I never spent more than thirty minutes a day upon the ground business connected with 94's operations.

  Full of this early enthusiasm I went up on a lone patrol the very first morning of my new responsibility, to see how much I had changed for the better or the worse.

  Within half an hour I returned to the aerodrome with two more victories to my credit—the first double-header I had so far wonl

  CHAPTER XXVII

  An Eventful “D” Day

  September 25, 1918, was my first day as Captain of 94 Squadron. Early that forenoon I started for the lines alone, flew over Verdun and Fort Douaumont, then turned east toward Etain. Almost immediately I picked up a pair of L.V.G. two-seater machines below me. They were coming out of Germany and were certainly bent upon an expedition over our lines. Five Fokker machines were above them and somewhat behind, acting as protection for the photographers until the lines were reached.

  Climbing for the sun for all I was worth, I soon had the satisfaction of realizing that I had escaped their notice and was now well in their rear. I shut down my engine, put down my nose and made a bee line for the nearest Fokker.

  I was not observed by the enemy until it was too late for him to escape. I had him exactly in my sights when I pressed both triggers for a long burst. He made a sudden attempt to pull away, but my bullets were already ripping through his fuselage and he must have been killed instantly. His machine fell away and crashed just south of Etain.

  It had been my intention to zoom upward and protect myself against the expected attack from the four remaining Fokkers as soon as I had finished the first man. But when I saw the effect of my attack upon the four dumfounded Boches I instantly changed my tactics and plunged straight on through their formation to attack the photographing L.V.G.s ahead. The Heinies were so surprised by finding a Spad in their midst and seeing one of their number suddenly drop that the remaining three banked to right and left. Their one idea was to escape and save their own skins. Though they did not actually dive for home, they cleared a space large enough for me to slip through and continue my dive on the two-seaters before they could regain their formation.

  The two-seaters had seen my attack and had already put down their heads to escape. I plunged after them, getting the rear machine in my sights as I drew nearer to him. A glance back over my shoulder snowed me that the four Fokkers had not yet re-formed their line and were even now circling about with the purpose of again solidifying their flight. I had a few seconds yet before they could begin their attack.

  The two L.V.G. machines began to draw apart. Both observers in the rear seats were firing at me, although the range was still too long for accurate shooting. I dove more steeply, passed out of the gunner's view under the nearest machine and zoomed quickly up at him from below. But the victory was not to be an easy one. The pilot suddenly kicked his tail around, giving the gunner another good shot at me. I had to postpone shooting until I had more time for my own aiming. And in the meantime the second photographing machine had stolen up behind me and I saw tracer bullets go whizzing and streaking past my face. I zoomed diagonally out of range, made a renversement and came directly back at my first target.

  Several times we repeated these maneuvers, the four Fokkers still wrangling among themselves about their formation. And all the time we were getting farther and farther back into Germany. I decided upon one bold attack and if this failed I would get back to my own lines before it was too late.

  Watching my two adversaries closely, I suddenly found an opening between them. They were flying parallel to each other and not fifty yards apart. Dropping down in a sideslip until I had one machine between me and the other I straightened out smartly, leveled my Spad and began firing. The nearest Boche passed directly through my line of fire and just as I ceased firing I had the satisfaction of seeing him burst into flames. Turning over and over as he fell the L.V.G. started a blazing path to earth just as the Fokker escort came tearing up to the rescue. I put on the gas and headed for my own lines.

  Pleased as I was over this double-header, the effect it might have upon my pilots was far more gratifying to me.

  Arriving at the aerodrome at 9:30 I immediately jumped into a motorcar, called to Lieutenant Chambers to come with me and we set off at once to get official confirmation for this double victory. We took the main road to Verdun, passed through the town and gained the hills beyond the Meuse, toward Etain. Taking the road up to Fort de Tavannes we passed over that bloody battlefield of 1916 where so many thousand German troops fell before French fire in the memorable battle for Verdun. At the very crest of the hill we were halted by a French poilu, who told us the rest of the road was in full view of the Germans and that we must go no farther.

  94 Squadron's patrol of the front lines from
Bourevilles to Watronville

  We asked him as to whether he had seen my combat overhead this morning. He replied in the affirmative and added that the officers in the adjacent fort too had witnessed the whole fight through their field glasses. We thanked him and leaving our car under his care took our way on foot to the fort.

  Two or three hundred yards of shell holes sprinkled the ground between us and the fort. We made our way through them, gained admittance to the interior and in our best pidgin French stated our errand to M. le Commandant. He immediately wrote out full particulars of the combat I had had with the L.V.G., signed it and congratulated me upon my victory with a warm shake of the hand. Having no further business at this place, we made our adieus and hastened back to our car.

  Plunging through the shallowest shell holes we had traversed about half the distance to our car, which stood boldly out on the top of the road, when a shrill whining noise made us pause and listen. The next instant a heavy explosion announced that a shell had landed about fifty yards short of us. Simultaneously with the shower of gravel and dirt which headed our way we dropped unceremoniously on our faces in the bottom of the deepest shell hole in our vicinity.

  The Huns had spotted our car and were actually trying to get its range!