Kiffin Rockwell (center) with Dennis Dowd and Charles Trinkard, serving with the 2ème Régiment étranger in the Aisne trenches near Craonnelle, France, December 1914. All three eventually transferred from the Foreign Legion to the Aéronautique Militaire (French Air Service), and all three died flying for France. (Washington and Lee University Archives)
These men could not have had even the slightest notion of the horrendous situation into which they were entering. Most claimed previous military experience to increase the likelihood that the Legion would accept them—one even proudly stating that he had served in the Salvation Army—but in fact, most were not veterans. Even had they been, they could not have fully appreciated that modern warfare, as it had evolved by 1914, bore little resemblance to that of the Civil War, or any other war ever waged. It was far less personal and more deadly, and it was almost completely devoid of glory or honor. Scores of them would pay for their idealism and quest for adventure with their lives. Kiffin Rockwell was one of these. After several months of fighting with the Legion, a serious wound provided him a way out of the mud and allowed him to enter into aviation. He was destined to become the second member of the newly formed all-American squadron to die in combat. After he had arrived in France, he related in a letter to his mother a sentiment shared by many of fellow volunteers: “If I die, I want you to know that I have died as every man ought to die, fighting for what is right. I do not feel that I am fighting for France alone, but for the cause of all humanity, the greatest of all causes.”
A somewhat safer avenue for young Americans to see the war firsthand—in terms of both legality and of maintaining life and limb—was to volunteer as an ambulance driver. The war was generating unprecedented numbers of casualties, which in turn, created a great need for ambulances to transport them. Independent civilian ambulance companies, such as the American Field Service and the Norton-Harjes Ambulance Corps, soon formed to help fulfill this need. These companies naturally required competent drivers—semi-skilled manpower that any nation at war could ill afford. Consequently, hundreds of Americans, young and old—including the likes of Ernest Hemingway, Archibald Macleish, and nearly half of the men who would eventually fill the roster of the Lafayette Escadrille—volunteered to serve as drivers in nearly all of the countries in which the war zone extended. Thus many young Americans—particularly those who could afford to pay their own way to Europe and support themselves while there—gained a front row seat to the war, sitting behind the wheel of a Ford, Fiat, or Peugeot field ambulance.
Future Lafayette Escadrille founding member James Rogers McConnell, of Carthage, North Carolina, stands next to his ambulance. Like many other American aviators in World War I, he began his wartime service as an ambulance driver. He served with section S.S.U.2 of the American Field Service for ten months and saw considerable frontline action before transferring to the French Air Service. (US Air Force)
Warfare Takes to the Skies
Thus, between the young Americans fighting with the Legion and those manning the ambulances, there was a ready pool of talent available to flow into yet another branch of the French military complex: the Aéronautique Militaire, or French Air Service.
Early in the war, there was little demand for new pilots, simply because military aviation at that time barely existed. There were as yet very few airplanes operating at the front, and since military aviation activities had not yet evolved into aerial combat, the attrition rate for the few pilots that were flying missions was relatively low. It did not take long, however, for both of these factors to change dramatically.
The usefulness of aviation became apparent soon after the outbreak of hostilities. The flimsy, unreliable toy that most military leaders of the day considered the airplane to be, proved its value beyond all expectations. In the wake of horse-mounted scouts falling before withering machine gun fire like weeds to a sickle, military pilots quickly established themselves on both sides of the lines as the new eyes of the army. In the first weeks of the war, Allied pilots flying reconnaissance aircraft discovered key movements and weaknesses in the German forces that helped prevent a major Allied defeat—and possibly an early loss of the war. Because of this, along with the newly recognized value of reconnaissance aircraft for artillery spotting, the number of frontline reconnaissance aircraft rapidly increased from a mere handful to dozens of squadrons.
The earliest military aircraft were unarmed, a situation that the realities of warfare quickly changed. Army commanders from both sides took serious exception to being spied upon from above. This prompted them to ask designers to develop fast, maneuverable, and well-armed “scouts”—or “avions de chasse,” as the French called them—to attack enemy reconnaissance aircraft and defend their own observation planes from enemy attackers. Thus, was born the concept of the fighter plane. From then on, opposing pilots in nimble machine gun-carrying aircraft would begin meeting, almost daily, all along the front in aerial combat. The skies above the Western Front had now become an aerial battlefield as deadly as the one raging below.
As a result of the new lethal nature of military aviation, the air services of all the warring armies soon became plagued by the constant drain of pilots lost in combat. Before the war ended, France alone would train a total of nearly 17,000 pilots, and the American expatriates serving in the Foreign Legion and ambulance service formed a tempting pool from which to draw new recruits. They were, by and large, young and healthy, educated—and most importantly—willing and readily available.
Many of these idealistic young men were ripe for the picking. After months of fighting in the trenches or transporting horribly maimed men in their ambulances, they had become disillusioned with war as they experienced it. Even the idealistic Kiffin Rockwell had reached his limit. He still believed in the cause but was ready to support it in a different way. As he wrote to his brother, Paul, who had already reverted back to civilian life:
If you can get me into a French regiment, get busy, for I want to get out of the Legion. This regiment is no good; the officers are no good. It is just luck I am not dead, owing to their damned ignorance and neglect…. There is no romance or anything to the infantry. It is not a question of bravery, it is a question of being a good day laborer.
American volunteers in the 3rd Marching Regiment, Foreign Legion, while on leave in Paris, July 4, 1915. Standing at center is Victor Chapman, who would later become the first Escadrille Américaine pilot to die in combat. To his immediate left is Eugene Bullard, who survived the war after becoming history’s first African-American combat pilot. Sitting in the front row, center, is Edmond Genet, also destined to die while flying with the Lafayette Escadrille. To Genet’s left is yet another future member of the famed all-American squadron, William Dugan. (Washington and Lee University Archives)
What they had experienced firsthand was dehumanization at its worst: mechanized murder. Absent in this current war of attrition were the heroic charges and the gallantry that their grandfathers had experienced. Any opportunity for individual bravery and glory was eliminated by swaths of deadly machine gun fire or atomized in indiscriminate artillery barrages. After months of filth, vermin, death, and back-breaking physical exertion, many of these men were actively seeking an honorable way out. The prospect of transferring to aviation provided that, and more. Here, finally, was the opportunity to fight a “clean” war, complete with the individual heroism and the glory they had traveled to France to experience.
An American Squadron
The desire by certain young Americans to fly for France began from the first days of the war. Many of these men—a few of whom were already accomplished pilots—traveled to France for the sole purpose of joining the air service. Some joined the Foreign Legion or the ambulance service only as a way to get into aviation. Although the first of these who succeeded were assigned to French combat squadrons after completing flight training, a plan was in the works to create a single squadron composed almost entirely of Americans.
Within weeks
after the war started in August 1914, two young men from wealthy American families independently expressed an interest in forming an all-American unit. William Thaw and Norman Prince, without even knowing one another, came to France already as trained pilots. Both served first as pilots in French squadrons, and both were destined to become founding members of the all-American unit that came to be known as the Lafayette Escadrille. They were not the only ones. By mid-1915, there were several future members of the still nonexistent American squadron who were flying for the French. For all of them, it had been a very hard sell just to get accepted into the French Air Service, let alone convincing the French government to sanction the formation of an all-American squadron. For that to occur, some high-level political support would be necessary.
Up until this point, the French had been less than enthusiastic about a squadron composed of Americans. There simply had been little demand for American aviators, since there were far more French aviation volunteers than were needed. And besides, the French wartime government was exceedingly paranoid about foreigners being in any position where they might wreak havoc. There were spies everywhere—even where there were no spies. Finally, there was a general feeling among top-level French officials that creating an all-American flying squadron might violate a provision of the 1907 Hague Convention, which prohibited recruiting combatants from a neutral country. This, they feared, could negatively affect France’s standing in the eyes of the still very neutral American public. The United States was a powerful potential ally they did not want to upset.
By mid-1915, however, all of this had changed. The war, which had not gone particularly well for the French, now promised to be a long one. Already, the casualty rate was astronomically high, and so France was no longer in any position to refuse help. Also, by this time, a handful of American citizens had set an important precedent by managing to enter French aviation via the Foreign Legion. These American pilots—which included several future Lafayette Escadrille members—had more than proven their loyalty and had accounted for themselves well in aerial combat.
Finally, the neutrality issue that had previously concerned the French so much had also more or less resolved itself—with the aid of some behind-the-scenes political maneuvering. Edmund L. Gros, a well-connected San Francisco physician, who had for many years lived and practiced medicine in Paris, was also interested in getting young Americans into French aviation. After learning of Thaw’s and Prince’s desire to form an all-American flying unit, he teamed with a powerful French ally, an undersecretary of the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs named Jarousse de Sillac, to form an organization that became known as the Franco-American Flying Corps Committee. Under this banner, they lobbied the chief of French military aeronautics to form an all-American squadron in the French Air Service. Consequently, on August 21, 1915, an order was issued to bring all the Americans currently flying for France into a single squadron.
Gros and de Sillac were also lobbying another individual whose help they needed. Their Franco-American Flying Corps Committee required money for operating expenses, so they went to where the money was. Wealthy American industrialist William K. Vanderbilt, who at the time lived in France and was enthusiastic about Americans flying for France, agreed to fund the effort. Because of his influence, other investors eventually also volunteered their financial support. These funds would be used not only for committee administrative and travel expenses but also to supplement the pay of the American aviators who would earn the equivalent of only about 20 cents a day from the French army. The committee would pay each American aviator a generous monthly expense allowance of 100 francs (about $20), which was later doubled to 200 francs. In addition it would award a hefty bonus of 1,000 francs ($200) for each enemy aircraft shot down and from 250 to 1,500 francs ($50-$300) for each medal or citation awarded.
The French authorities laid out these rules: American aviators would have to enter the French Aéronautique Militaire through the Foreign Legion, train in French flying schools and be governed by French regulations. Furthermore, the squadron itself, though manned by American pilots, would be commanded by French officers. The most important provision paved the way for nearly unlimited numbers of future volunteers: it guaranteed that anyone who failed to qualify as an aviator would be under no further obligation to serve in the French army. Thus, the path was finally clear for the formation of an American flying unit in France. It would take several more months for it to become reality, but on April 20, 1916, Escadrille N.124—commonly known as the Escadrille Américaine—became officially operational.
Dr. Edmund L. Gros began World War I as a prominent American physician practicing at the American Ambulance Hospital, located on the outskirts of Paris at Neuilly-sur-Seine. He was instrumental in establishing the American Ambulance Corps, later called the American Field Service, and in helping to pave the way—politically and financially—for the establishment of the all-American unit that became known as the Lafayette Escadrille. (US Air Force)
* * *
Thus began what was to be the adventure of a lifetime for the 38 American pilots who would, over the next 22 months, legitimately claim membership in the famed squadron that ultimately became known as the Lafayette Escadrille. For several of these men, that adventure would also prove be their last—for it would also be a deadly one.
CHAPTER 2
THE ESCADRILLE AMÉRICAINE IS BORN
“I only ask that you fly well, that you fight hard, and that you act as a man.”
The newly designated Escadrille N.124—the “N” signifying that it was equipped with Nieuport fighters—first formed at a large sprawling flying field on the outskirts of Luxeuil-les-Bains. Located on the far eastern side of France in the foothills of the Vosges mountains, Luxeuil was—and is—a beautiful resort town founded by the Romans, and known for its thermal baths. In April 1916, Luxeuil was comfortably situated more than 30 miles behind the frontlines in the relatively stable Vosges sector, making it an ideal location for the new squadron to cut its teeth. Here, starting in the latter half of April 1916, its initial group of pilots, mechanics, and other support personnel, along with the airplanes, vehicles, tools, spare parts, and other equipment necessary to operate a combat squadron, began to assemble. Here too, the newly assigned American airmen would fly their first missions and begin learning the serious business of aerial combat.
The Capitaine and his Lieutenant
The Lafayette Escadrille would, from its inception until it became a part of the US Air Service in February 1918, be under the command of two French officers: a captain and his lieutenant. This was one condition on which the French Air Service insisted, and it was probably a wise one. The intricacies of commanding a squadron in a French-speaking air service required a level of experience, judgment, and linguistic finesse that no American pilot possessed.
Capitaine Georges Thénault was the highly capable French officer assigned to command Escadrille N.124. Born on October 2, 1887, the 28-year-old career army officer was one of the most experienced aviators in the French Air Service. He applied for the position at the urging of William Thaw, who had previously served under him as a pilot in Escadrille C.42. Thaw, who was to become one of the founding American members of the squadron, heartily endorsed Thénault, whom he admired and respected as a commander. Thénault would prove to be the squadron’s only CO during its 22 months of existence, and despite some occasional grumbling on the part of the Americans, he would also prove to be the right man for the job. A natural leader, he was respected for the way he maintained the fine balance between strict military discipline and a cordial atmosphere.
Capitaine Georges Thénault (left) confers with Lieutenant Alfred de Laage de Meux. Thénault was the first and only commander of the squadron that became known as the Lafayette Escadrille. After attending the French military academy at St. Cyr, he served in the elite mountain infantry unit, the Chasseurs Alpins, before transferring to aviation. De Laage was Thénault’s hand-picked second-in-command. An
aggressive leader in the air and a good comrade on the ground, he was universally admired and respected. The two French officers made an effective team in leading their squadron of neophyte American pilots into battle. (Willis B. Haviland Collection)
Lieutenant Alfred de Laage de Meux was Thénault’s pick as his second-in-command. Born on September 24, 1891, he came from an old French aristocratic military family. He entered hostilities as a cavalryman in the 14th Regiment of the Dragoons, but transferred to aviation after being wounded on August 31, 1914. He served first as a gunner, but in his spare time, somehow taught himself to fly. He received his pilot’s wings on March 22, 1915, thus becoming one of the few aviators of the war to receive his “brevet militaire”—the French military pilot rating—without ever attending a flying school. Lieutenant de Laage was to become the most respected man in the squadron, beloved by all who knew him. A natural flyer and leader, his aggressive combat style, offset by his compassion and congenial personality, set the standard that the pilots serving under him strived to meet. As he told each new pilot reporting to the squadron:
The Lafayette Escadrille: A Photo History of the First American Fighter Squadron Page 3