The Lafayette Escadrille: A Photo History of the First American Fighter Squadron

by Ruffin, Steven

  The field just east of Grugies, where Hoskier and Dressy crashed, as it appeared recently. The point of impact was near the center of the photograph. The rise in the distance was called Hill 62. (Steven A. Ruffin)

  Herman and Harriet Hoskier outside of the cemetery in Ham, following the burial of their son, Ronald. They are talking with William Thaw (partially hidden), as Capitaine Thénault (just to the left of Thaw) looks on. Below, we see the same scene nearly a century later. (Washington and Lee University Archives; Steven A. Ruffin)

  After the war, this monument, honoring the memory of Ronald Hoskier and Jean Dressy, was placed at the crash site, just outside of Grugies. However, the owner of the land grew tired of plowing around it and threw it down a dry well. The townspeople of Grugies eventually retrieved it and placed it in their cemetery, where it can be seen today. Its inscription translates to, “Here on the afternoon of April 23, 1917, after a hard fight against three enemy aircraft, Sergent Ronald Wood Hoskier, aged 21, American volunteer pilot of the Lafayette Escadrille, fell with his gunner, French Adjudant [sic] Jean Dressy, aged 28.” (Steven A. Ruffin)

  This brass etching, honoring Ronald Hoskier, hangs inside the American Cathedral in Paris. (Steven A. Ruffin)

  A view from the rear of Lieutenant de Laage’s funeral procession marching through the town square of Ham. The statue of Général Foy still overlooks the scene today. (Washington and Lee University Archives; Marc Roussel)

  A front view of the funeral procession through Ham for Lieutenant de Laage. (Washington and Lee University Archives)

  The same street in Ham, as photographed in 2014. (Steven A. Ruffin)

  One of the most famous of all the Lafayette Escadrille fighters, Spad VII S.1777, at Chaudun, with Didier Masson at the controls. Records indicate that 10 different pilots flew this much-photographed airplane a total of 89 patrols during its exceptionally long operational period of June 28 to December 19, 1917. However, only Raoul Lufbery engaged in combat in it—nine times, during the course of which, he downed two of his last three enemy aircraft. The airplane’s fabric was clear-doped and varnished to give it the typical light yellow appearance, while the swastika emblem—later made infamous by the Nazis—was, in 1917, nothing more than a good-luck symbol. (Washington and Lee University Archives)

  On July 4, 1917, Capitaine Thénault granted his pilots 48-hour leave to celebrate American Independence Day in Paris. While there, some of them gathered to pose for a photograph on one of the historic cannons near the north front of the Hôtel des Invalides. From left to right, Robert Rockwell, Chouteau Johnson, Dudley Hill, Edgar J. Bouligny, Didier Masson, William Thaw, Raoul Lufbery, Robert Soubiran, and Paul Rockwell. Bouligny had been among the first Americans to join the Foreign Legion in August 1914 and was the first American wounded in the service of France. At the time this picture was taken, he had only recently transferred to the Aéronautique Militaire. (Washington and Lee University Archives)

  The same scene outside the Hôtel des Invalides, as it appeared in 2014. (Steven A. Ruffin)

  Another spontaneous July 4, 1917, gathering of Americans in Paris occurred at Place des États-Unis, near the statue of Lafayette and Washington. Most of the men pictured here—including Andrew Walbron, standing at center—were Legionnaires. The three fliers were Frederick Zinn (standing far left) and Raoul Lufbery and Willis Haviland (sitting on either side of Paul Rockwell). (Washington and Lee University Archives)

  Raoul Lufbery roughhousing with his beloved “Whiskey-man.” Luf had a special relationship with Whiskey, probably because he spent more time with the gentle lion cub than anyone else in the squadron. On June 12, 1917, Lufbery became a “double ace” when he downed his tenth German airplane. The other pilots liked and admired the enigmatic ace, but none could say they really knew him. (Washington and Lee University Archives)

  A striking artistic rendering of Raoul Lufbery in flying helmet, by famed French World War I pilot and aviation artist Henri Farré. (National Archives)

  The aerodrome at Senard, as it appeared during World War I, and the same scene today. Only a solitary bird flies through the airspace once occupied by the Spads of the Lafayette Escadrille. Both photographs were taken looking south-southwest from D151, which leads into the town from the east. (Steven A. Ruffin)

  Major Raoul Lufbery smiling as he poses with a Nieuport 28 fighter on April 18, 1918. Lufbery left the Lafayette Escadrille with 16 confirmed victories on January 5, 1918, to accept a commission with the US Air Service. After several weeks of flying a desk, he eventually made his way back into combat with the 94th Aero Squadron. (US Air Force)

  Artifacts from Raoul Lufbery’s last flight of May 19, 1918, as displayed at the National Museum of the US Air Force. In the top photo: a cushion of some sort that fell with Luf from his Nieuport 28; the plane’s ammunition door cover; part of his plane’s wooden structure; and a piece of melted aluminum cowl taken from his plane after it crashed and burned. (Steven A. Ruffin)

  The picket fence on which Raoul Lufbery fell after he exited his Nieuport 28 fighter on May 19, 1918. Lufbery fell just behind the building seen here at the left of the color photo. He died on, or very soon after, impact. It will never be known, conclusively, why he fell from his Nieuport 28 fighter. The Moselle River lies straight ahead, just behind the nearest line of trees. The view here is toward the southwest. (Washington and Lee University Archives; Steven A. Ruffin)

  It was behind the house on the far right in the photograph above—41 Rue de Toul, Maron—that Raoul Lufbery fell. Soon afterward, the small marker seen on the right was placed, in honor of the great ace. The bronze plaque on the marker was later moved to a war memorial at the town center, in front of the church, where it is today. Lufbery’s Nieuport continued on after he exited it, and crashed on the distant hillside.

  The same view in 2014. (US Air Force;Steven A. Ruffin)

  Raoul Lufbery’s body lying in repose with an honor guard at the Red Cross Evacuation Hospital at Toul, May 20, 1918. (US Air Force)

  The bronze plaque previously displayed at 41 Rue de Toul was moved to the war monument at the town center of Maron. It was in need of polishing when this photo was taken. (Steven A. Ruffin)

  Jerry Hewitt’s life continued to decline after leaving the Lafayette Escadrille. Even with a law degree, he was unable to avoid serving prison time for a long list of white collar offenses. He died alone and penniless in a cheap Washington, DC, hotel room, with no one to claim his body. It was only through the efforts of a group of concerned citizens that the way was finally cleared for his burial at Arlington National Cemetery. His marker is located in Section 18, Grave 5652. (Washington and Lee University Archives; Steve Miller)

  Chris Ford flew for the US Air Service 103rd and 213th Aero Squadrons after leaving the Lafayette Escadrille. He was credited with three official victories before being brought down by ground fire on October 15, 1918, and taken prisoner. In the 1919 photo on the right, taken shortly after he returned to the United States, he is wearing the insignia of a major. Below, we see the identity card Captain Christopher Ford carried while serving with the US Air Service in France. (US Air Force)

  Major William Thaw, US Air Service. At the time this photograph was taken, he was the commander of the 3rd Pursuit Group. (US Air Force)

  4 Down for Thaw depicts a December 3, 1917, dogfight in which Lt. William Thaw claimed a German Rumpler C two-seat observation plane. It was Thaw’s fourth claim of the war—made on his second of four patrols he flew that day. He was flying one of the squadron’s new Spad XIIIs. These bigger, heavier, and more powerful fighters, equipped with two machine guns, had begun arriving at Chaudun in early October, 1917, replacing the seven Spads that were destroyed in the bombing raid at Senard. (Russell Smith)

  A Henri Farré depiction of Thaw. (US Air Force)

  Edwin C. Parsons and an unidentified officer lighting the flame of France’s Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, as Georges Thénault looks on. This photograph was taken on July 4, 1928, the same
day the Lafayette Escadrille Memorial was dedicated at Marnes-la-Coquette. (Washington and Lee University Archives)

  The same scene in 2014, far more striking in full color. As evident here, the flame still burns. This sacred monument is located in the heart of Paris at the base of the Arc de Triomphe. (Steven A. Ruffin)

  The dedication of the Lafayette Escadrille Memorial at Marnes-la-Coquette, France, on July 4, 1928. (Washington and Lee University Archives)

  The same view of the Memorial in 2014. Though in need of extensive renovation, it retains its original splendor. (Steven A. Ruffin)

  The walls of the monument are literally covered with names, places, and symbolic references to the young Americans who flew and fought for France in World War I. (Steven A. Ruffin)

  Even today, the sight, as one approaches the front of the monument, is nothing less than spectacular. (Steven A. Ruffin)

  Even after eight-plus decades of wear and exposure, this mosaic located on the floor of the monument is still striking. The planners of the memorial seemed confused as to whom the monument was intended to honor. Its very name and its images, like the one pictured here, implied that it specifically commemorated the Lafayette Escadrille. However, the identities of those lying in the crypt and of those whose names are carved into the sides of the monument demonstrated that it was actually meant to honor all the Americans who had flown for France. This mixed message caused some misunderstanding and resentment among the surviving pilots. (Steven A. Ruffin)

  A confusing aspect of the Lafayette Escadrille Memorial lies in the contents of its crypt. In spite of the names inscribed on the 68 sarcophaguses, only 49 are actually occupied. For example, all four of those pictured here are empty. Victor Chapman’s body was never positively identified, so it lies elsewhere; Dennis Dowd is buried in an unmarked grave in the cemetery of Saint Germain-en-Laye; Kiffin Rockwell’s remains are in Luxeuil; and Norman Prince’s body rests in the United States. (Steve Miller)

  Norman Prince’s sarcophagus at the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C. After the war, his body was moved from Luxeuil to the American Cathedral in Paris. However, in April 1929 Prince’s father refused to allow his son’s body to join those of his fallen comrades in the crypt of the newly built Lafayette Escadrille Memorial, despite the wishes of the surviving members. (Steve Miller)

  A memorial tablet commemorating the formation of the Lafayette Escadrille was presented to the city of Luxeuil-les-Bains and displayed at the Hôtel de Ville on June 19, 1932. (Washington and Lee University Archives)

  The original plaque was later replaced by these stone tablets, seen here in 2014. (Steven A. Ruffin)

  Another impressive monument in France to the Americans who fought under her colors during World War I is this memorial to the American volunteers. Located in Paris at Place des États-Unis, it was dedicated on July 4, 1923. The soldier standing at the top was patterned after American Legionnaire Alan Seeger, who was killed on July 4, 1916. Inscribed on the back of the monument are the names of Americans who died for France in World War I. (Steven A. Ruffin)

  French and American citizens pay homage to all the men of the Lafayette Flying Corps during a Memorial Day ceremony on May 23, 2009, as a missing-man formation of US Air Force F-16 Fighting Falcons flies overhead. The Lafayette Escadrille Memorial has remained an important symbol of Franco-American cooperation and friendship. (US Air Force, Master Sergeant Scott Wagers)

  A US Air Force color guard presents the flags of the United States and France during a Memorial Day ceremony on May 26, 2012, at the Lafayette Escadrille Memorial. (US Air Force, Tech. Sergeant Markus M. Maier)

  An important part of the Lafayette Escadrille’s legacy is the squadron of the same name perpetuated by the French Air Force ever since its American pilots transferred to the US Air Service on February 18, 1918. Pictured here is a World War II-era Curtiss P-40 Warhawk belonging to the French Lafayette Escadrille. The squadron’s chaplain stands in front of the airplane, greeting two US Army Air Forces officers. Note the Sioux Indianhead painted on the fuselage. (Library of Congress)

  This French Mirage 2000N, bearing the iconic Sioux Indianhead insignia, is a direct descendant of the Lafayette Escadrille. Today, Escadron de chasse 2/4 La Fayette, is based at Base aérienne 125 Istres-Le-Tubé, France. Researcher and author Alain Vezin has traced the lineage of the squadron in his Escadron de chasse La Fayette, 1916–2011: Du Nieuport au Mirage 2000N. (Alain Vezin)

  Raoul Lufbery beside a Spad VII, looking every bit the highly decorated ace that he was. With 10 confirmed kills as of June 12, 1917, there seemed to be no stopping him. (Library of Congress)

  Clearly, Raoul Lufbery’s success was a phenomenon that only a tiny fraction of even the most outstanding pilots in World War I were able to achieve, and as time passed, he was getting more deadly. He was also becoming more famous. Like most of the aces of World War I, his visage routinely appeared in newspapers and magazines, along with accounts of his latest successes. Newsmen hounded him and beautiful women shamelessly threw themselves at him wherever he went, hoping to be seen with the great American ace. Parents named their babies, and chefs their newest culinary creation, after him, and he drove a sleek sports car that the Hispano-Suizo company provided him for free. It was extremely difficult to become a World War I ace, but for those few who succeeded, it paid handsome benefits.

  More Tragedy on the Aerodrome

  On the same day that Luf was blasting his 10th enemy plane out of the sky, “Pop” Hinkle left the squadron to report to the hospital with pneumonia. He had, in spite of his advanced age, flown with the squadron for more than three months and established a solid flying and fighting record.

  Three days later, on June 15, 1917, the men of the Lafayette Escadrille were witness to another tragic crash occurring out on the field before their eyes. Herman “Lincoln” Chatkoff, an American who had been employed washing automobiles in Paris before the war, had served in the Foreign Legion before entering into aviation. After completing training, he was assigned to a French Caudron squadron, Escadrille C.11, based near SPA.124. On this day, he had flown over to Chaudun with a passenger, a young American ambulance driver named Benjamin Woodworth, to visit his comrades in the Lafayette Escadrille.

  During lunch, Chatkoff was the butt of a fair amount of good-natured ribbing about the slow, clumsy “truck” that he flew. Feeling slightly insulted, he decided to show the hotshot Lafayette fighter jocks what he could do. He took off in his big, twin-engine Caudron and proceeded to attempt a series of low-level aerobatics over the field—maneuvers this lumbering observation and bombing machine was never designed to do. The men on the ground watched in horror as the inevitable occurred: the big plane stalled and plunged into the ground, from an altitude of 200 feet. Woodworth was killed instantly, his skull crushed and body cut in half. Chatkoff was barely alive but horribly injured with multiple fractures of the skull and legs and massive internal injuries. He would eventually survive but never fly or live a normal life again. The effect this inane performance had on the men watching below was sobering. Ted Parsons admitted that it, “cured forever my desire to indulge in low-level aerobatics.” Raoul Lufbery had no sympathy for Chatkoff or his ill-conceived actions and considered what he had done to poor Woodworth little less than murder. Only the carefree Courtney Campbell seemed unaffected by the incident, as he would dramatically demonstrate only three weeks later.

  Herman Chatkoff’s tragic June 15, 1917, crash at Chaudun. This American pilot, assigned to Escadrille C.11, was trying to impress his Lafayette Escadrille friends in his lumbering Caudron bombing/observation airplane when he stalled and crashed out on the field, as they watched. His passenger, a young American ambulance driver, was killed instantly. Chatkoff barely escaped the same fate to become, instead, a lifelong invalid. The US Congress later passed a special law under the World War Veterans’ Act of 1924 to provide hospitalization benefits and compensation to Chatkoff. (Washington and Lee University Archives)

  Meanwhile
, more personnel changes were occurring within the squadron. At about the same time that Chatkoff was pulling off his fatal stunt, John Drexel departed, with very little fanfare, for greener fields. His influential father had arranged for him a commission in the US Air Service. He flew his last patrol with the Lafayette Escadrille on June 14, 1917, and left the squadron the next day.

  At about the same time, an old friend returned. The popular and highly competent Didier Masson finally escaped his onerous training duties and joined back up with his comrades at the Lafayette Escadrille. With him, came three new replacements.

  34. CAPORAL JAMES NORMAN HALL was born on April 22, 1887, in Colfax, Iowa, to Arthur and Ella Hall. Though one of the last men to join the Lafayette Escadrille, he was destined to become one of its most popular and distinguished members. Of all the inimitable individuals in this highly unique squadron, Hall stands out. Growing up in the Midwestern town of Colfax, Iowa, he graduated from Grinnell College in 1910, before entering into a series of endeavors that found him, in 1914, in England. The aspiring writer was bicycling through the British countryside when World War I erupted and changed the course of his life, along with millions of others. On August 18, he joined the British Army, claiming Canadian citizenship, as a private in the Royal Fusiliers, with whom he served for more than a year—much of it fighting in France. He returned to the United States in late 1915 and began writing of his experiences. These efforts culminated in the publication of his first book, Kitchener’s Mob. With his reputation as an author firmly established, he accepted an assignment from the Atlantic Monthly to travel to France and write a series of articles about the newly formed American flying unit operating there. After meeting with members of the squadron, Paul Rockwell, and Dr. Edmund Gros, Rockwell told him, “Good heavens, man, you don’t want to write about them, you want to fly with them.” Hall took Rockwell’s advice and entered into aviation on October 11, 1916. After completing training, he joined the Lafayette Escadrille at Chaudun on June 16, 1917. Starting almost immediately, his next year and a half would bring thrills, adventures, and life-and-death experiences that even a creative writer like himself could never have imagined.