From the Beginning of the War to the First Victory
Halberstadt, August 1, 1914
Where I will be sent from here, I cannot say as yet. My old mobilization orders commanded me to report to a reconnoitering squadron in the first line, as commander. But these have been countermanded, and I do not know anything about my destination. I expect to get telegraphic orders to-day or to-morrow.
Darmstadt, August 3, 1914
Arrived here safe and sound after a slight detour via Cologne. I am very glad that I can spend to-day and to-morrow with B. and my other old friends. Then they go, and only poor I must stay with the Reserve. I think that we will get our turn, too, in two weeks.
Trier, August 29, 1914
Arrived here safely. Myself drove a 30 horsepower Opel via Koblenz. Wonderful auto ride!
I managed to get time to pass my third examination in Darmstadt before I left.
F., September 3, 1914
Started last night with a non-commissioned officer at six o’clock and landed here safely at seven. It was a very pretty flight.
Ch., September 4, 1914
Have been here with the division for two days. As I had no observer along, Wilhelm has commandeered me. Of course, I like to fly best with Wilhelm, since he has the best judgment and practical experience. As he already knows the country fairly well, he doesn’t need a map at all to set his course. We flew over the enemy’s positions for about an hour and a half at a height of two thousand eight hundred meters, till Wilhelm had spotted everything. Then we made a quick return. He had found the position of all the enemy’s artillery. As a result of his reports, the first shots fired struck home.
When I reached the aviation field the next afternoon two of the planes had already left; Wilhelm also. For me there were written orders to locate the enemy at certain points. At my machine I found the non-commissioned officer who had come with me from Trier; he said he was to go up with me. This seemed odd to me, because I really should have been flying with Wilhelm. I got in and went off with him, since I knew the country from my first flight. We had quite a distance to fly and were under way two and a half hours. I flew over the designated roads that ran through past the Argonne Forest, and with a red pencil marked on the map wherever I saw anything. Above T., at a height of two thousand five hundred meters, we were under heavy fire. I was rather uncomfortable. To the right, below us, we saw little clouds pop up; then a few to the right and left of us. This was the smoke of the bursting artillery shells. Now, I think nothing about such things. They never hit as long as you fly over 2,500 meters high, as we do.
At 7:10 I landed safely here at our camp. And what was the thanks I got for having sailed around over the enemy’s lines for over two and a half hours? I got a “call down.” I had hardly shut off my engine when Wilhelm came racing over to me. “Where were you? What have you been doing? Are you crazy? You are not to fly without my permission! You’re not to go up unless I am along.” And more of the same stuff. Only after I had given my word to do as he asked, would he let me alone.
Wednesday evening we had a fine surprise: two of our “missing” returned. They had been forced to land behind the enemy’s line because their motor had stopped. They were hardly down when the “Pisangs” (French peasants) came running toward them from every direction. They managed to get into a nearby woods by beating a hasty retreat. Behind them they heard the yelling of the men and women. The woods was surrounded, and they had to hide till night fell. Then they escaped into the Argonne Forest, under cover of darkness although fired on a number of times. Here they spent five days, avoiding French troops. As they had only berries and roots to eat, and could only travel at night, they were almost ready to surrender. But on the morning of the seventh day they heard someone say, in German, “Get on the job, you fool.” Those were sweet words to them, for it was a scouting party of German Dragoons. Thus, they got back to us.
M., September 10, 1914
Yesterday I went along to the light artillery positions, and from there had a good view of the battlefield. There really was nothing to see. There were no large bodies of soldiers, only here and there a rider or a civilian. The only thing you could see was the smoke from bursting shells and the burning villages all about. But if there was nothing to see, there certainly was plenty to hear—the dull noise of the light artillery, the sharp crash of the field pieces and the crackling of small arms. On the way we passed an encampment of reserves. It was a scene exactly like one during the annual manœuvers; some were cooking, some strolling about, but most of them loafed around on their backs, not paying any attention to the battle at all.
At 5:30 we went up. Now I had a chance to see from the air the same scene I had just beheld from the ground. There was still heavy firing; as far as the eye could see villages were burning. At 7:30 we were down again.
B., September 16, 1914
Last night three of us tried to take some observations, but all had to come back, as the clouds were too heavy. This morning it was my turn to go up, but it was raining. We have to have the fires going to keep our quarters warm. Next to me a log-fire is burning merrily. My back is baked to a crisp. When my one side gets too hot, I have to turn to give the other a chance to roast. Later some of the telegraphers are coming over and we are going to play “Schafskopf” (a German card game). C’est la guerre!
B., October 12, 1914
This evening I received the Iron Cross.
B., October 25, 1914
For weeks the weather has been so foggy that we began to consider ourselves as good as retired. But three days ago it began to become bearable again. We took good advantage of it. We were in our machines early in the morning and “worked” till 5:30 at night. I made five flights to-day. First, Wilhelm, as the observer, did some scout work, and later did some range-finding for the artillery. We had agreed that we were to fly above the enemy’s positions and then the artillery was to fire. Then it was Wilhelm’s duty, as observer, to see where the shells struck and signal to our artillery, with colored lights, if the shots fell short, beyond, to right or left, of the mark. This we do until our gunners find the range. On the 22d, as a result of this, we destroyed one of the enemy’s batteries. The next day we wiped out three in three and a half hours. This sort of flying is very trying to observer and pilot alike, as both have to be paying constant attention to business.
Yesterday Wilhelm was at headquarters, and returned with the Iron Cross of the First Class. He has covered a total distance of 6,500 kilometers over the enemy’s soil, while I have covered 3,400.
October 27, 1914
Wilhelm has discovered nine of the enemy’s batteries south of M. and southeast of Rheims, among them being one right next to the cathedral!
November 5, 1914
As the weather is very poor for flights in mid-day, we do most of our flying right after sunrise, about 7:30. Things began to liven up at different points to-day. Our friend, the enemy, had to be taken down a peg, again. Shortly after 7:30 we started. Everything went well, so that we were back in an hour. Then we payed another visit to our artillery. We now fly for four of our batteries, and they only fire when we give them the range. Whenever they have a target, it is destroyed at the first opportunity. So we made two more flights to-day, therefore, a total of three, and put four enemy batteries out of action. We are doing things wholesale now.
November 10, 1914
Wilhelm has now flown a distance of 9,400, I 7,300, kilometers over enemy soil.
Letter of November 15, 1914
Mother doesn’t need to be afraid that continual flying will affect our nerves. The very opposite is more probable. We get most impatient if we are kept idle a few days because of poor weather. We stand around looking out of the window to see if it isn’t clearing up. Nerves can be the excuse for almost anything, I guess.
B., November 30, 1914
I did not get the Fokker as yet. I was to get it at R., Thursday. Too bad. To fly for the artillery, which is our main work just now, the Fokker is very excellent, because of its speed, stability and ease of control. A new machine has been ordered for me at the factory, but I cannot say if I am going to get it, and when.
P., December 9, 1914
Bad weather. No important work. Now, we ought to be in the East, where there is something doing.
Yesterday I was in R. and got my Fokker, which had arrived in the meantime. It is a small monoplane, with a French rotary engine in front; it is about half as large as a Taube. This is the last modern machine which I have learned to fly; now I can fly all the types we make in Germany. The Fokker was my big Christmas present. I now have two machines: the large biplane for long flights and the small Fokker for range finding. This ’plane flies wonderfully and is very easy to handle. Now my two children are resting together in a tent, the little one in a hollow, with its tail under the plane of the big one.
P., January 21, 1915
Since Christmas we have made the following flights: December 24th, an hour and a half; December 25th, one hour; December 30th, one hour; January 6th, one hour; January 12th, four hours; January 18th, two hours. It was poor weather, so we could not do more than this. There isn’t much use in flying now, anyhow, as long as we do not want to advance. We are facing each other here for months, and each side knows the other’s position exactly. Changes of position, flanking movements, and bringing up of strong reserves, as in open warfare, is a thing of the past when we stick to the trenches, so there is nothing to report. There would be some sense in flying to find the range, but as we do not want to advance at present our artillery does very little firing. It is sufficient at this stage that an airplane takes a peep over the line once in a while, to see if everything is still as they left it.
P., January 27, 1915
This morning our Captain gave K. and me the Iron Cross of the First Class.
P., April 25, 1915
To-morrow I leave here; I have been transferred to the —— Flying Squadron, which is just being established. To-morrow I go to Berlin to report at the inspection of aviators.
P., May 16, 1915
Safely back in P. The trip was made in comparatively quick time.
P., May 17, 1915
We had to leave here this afternoon, after we had hardly arrived. I am very glad. New scenery and something doing.
D., May 22, 1915
I had hoped to have plenty to do here, but the weather cancelled our plans. We had plenty of time to establish ourselves, assemble our machines and tune them up with a few flights.
The city is entirely unharmed and the greater part of the inhabitants are still here. The city gives an impression similar to Zerbst—a modern section with cottages and an old section with older houses: the city hall, remains of the old city wall, and so-forth. The inhabitants are prosperous. All the stores, hotels, coffee-houses and cafés are open. Every day two of my friends (Immelmann and Lieutenant P.) and I go to one of these coffee-houses.
D., May 25, 1915
By chance, I witnessed a great military spectacle. As I did not have to fly in the afternoon, I went to the artillery observer’s post with our Captain. About four o’clock we reached V.; from here we had another half hour’s walk ahead of us. From a distance we could see there was heavy firing going on. The Major, in the company’s bomb-proof, told us that the artillery would hardly have time now to avail themselves of airplanes to find the range for them. The French were just at the time trying to get revenge for an attack we made the day before, and the artillery was very busy. From there we went to the observer’s post and were very lucky. Our batteries were just firing at the enemy’s, our airplanes finding the range for them. Suddenly the non-commissioned officer at the double-periscope yelled over to us that the French were bringing up reinforcements through the communicating trenches. The Lieutenant of Artillery ran over to the field artillery and showed them the beautiful target. Soon after that a few of our shrapnel burst over these positions. Bang! And the enemy was gone. Suddenly a ball of red fire appeared in the first French trench. This meant—shells fall ahead of trenches; place shots further back. Just then, over a front of one and a half kilometers, a whole brigade of Frenchmen rose from the trenches, shoulder to shoulder, a thing I had never seen before. We have to admire them for their courage. In front, the officers about four or five steps in the lead; behind them, in a dense line, the men, partly negroes, whom we could recognize by their baggy trousers. The whole line moved on a run. For the first four hundred meters (in all they had seven hundred meters to cover) we let them come without firing. Then we let them have our first shrapnel. As the artillery knew the exact range, the first shots were effective. Then came the heavier shells. We now opened a murderous fire; it was so loud that we could not hear each other at two paces. Again and again our shells struck the dense masses and tore huge gaps in them, but, in spite of this, the attack continued. The gaps were always quickly closed. Now our infantry took a hand. Our men stood up in the trenches, exposed from the hips up, and fired like madmen. After three or four minutes the attack slackened in spots; that is, parts of the line advanced, others could not. After a quarter of an hour the French on our left wing, which I could see, reached our trenches, shot and stabbed from above, and finally jumped in. Now we could plainly see the hand-to-hand combat: heads bobbing back and forth, guns clubbed (they seemed to be only trying to hit, not kill), glistening bayonets, and a general commotion. On the right wing, things progressed slower, almost at a standstill. In the middle a group jumped forward now and then, and into them the artillery fired with telling effect. We could see men running wildly about, they could not escape our artillery fire. The whole slope was strewn with bodies. After about a quarter of an hour the Frenchmen started to retreat. First one, then two, then three, came out of our trenches, looked all around, and started for their own trenches. In the meantime more troops came up from the rear. But after the first few started to run more came out of the trenches, until finally all were out and retreating. Our men also got out to be able to fire at the retreating enemy to better advantage. Again and again the French officers tried to close up their ranks, rally their men, and lead them anew to the attack.
But in vain, for more and more sought safety in flight. Many dropped—I think more than in the advance. In the center, the French had advanced to within fifty meters of us, and could get no closer. As the retreat started on the left, some in the center also lost heart, and fled like frightened chickens. But almost all were killed. I saw six running away when a shell exploded near them. The smoke disappeared; there were only four left. A second shell, and only one was left. He was probably hit by the infantry. The following proves how completely we repelled their attack: Four Frenchmen rose, waved their arms and ran toward our trench. Two of them carried a severely wounded comrade. Suddenly they dropped their burden and ran faster toward us. Probably their comrades had fired on them. Hardly were these four in our trenches when fifty more of them got up, waved their caps and ran toward us. But the Frenchmen didn’t like this, and in a second four well-placed shells burst between them and us; probably they were afraid that there would be a general surrender on the part of their men. The retreat was now general. At 6:15 the main battle was over. Afterward we could see here and there a few Frenchmen running or crawling to their trench.
I was very glad I had the opportunity to see this. From above, we aviators don’t see such things.