XVI
Somewhere in France,
November 13, 1917.
Dear Father:
Campbell was in the Lafayette Escadrille and they are a member of the same group as Spa 84, so I have asked them about him. He was on a patrol with another chap, they attacked some Boches and when it was over the other chap was alone. Campbell was brought down in German territory and so reported missing. I believe that the chap he was with has seen and talked to Campbell’s father or some close relative since. Another chap named Bulkley was brought down in similar circumstances about the first of September. Ten days ago, word was received from the American Embassy that he had communicated with them, a prisoner in Germany. There are many similar cases, where men brought down with crippled machines or wounded escape destruction by a miracle. The only sure thing is when a machine goes down in flames or is seen to lose a wing or two.
For instance, there are two officers in the group who are in the best of health and daily working. Several months ago, they were on patrol together, collided in the air. One cut the tail rigging completely off the other and they separated, one without a tail and the other with various parts of a tail mixed among the cables and struts of one side of his machine. They both landed in France, one on his wheels followed by a capotage or somersault turnover, the other quite completely upside down. Then a term in the hospital and back they are again. Kenneth Marr, an American, had the commands of both his tail controls cut in a combat, the rudder and elevator, leaving him nothing but the aileron—the lateral balance control and the motor. He landed with only a skinned nose for casualties and got a decoration for it.
Another chap in an attack on captive balloons, drachens, dove for something like 10,000 feet vertically and with full motor on, thereby gaining considerable speed as you can imagine. He came right on top of the balloon, shot and to keep from hitting it, yanked as roughly as he could, flattening out his dive in the merest fraction of a second. Imagine the strain on the machine! When he got home, all the wires had several inches sag in them; the metal connections of the cables in the struts and wood of the wings had bit into the wood enough to give the sag.
Machines are built to stand immense pressure on the under side of the wings. In some acrobatic manoeuvres I was trying the other day, I made mistakes and caused the machine to stall and then fall in such a way that the full weight was supported by the upper surface—by the wires which in most machines are supposed merely to support the weight of the wings when the machine is on the ground. Yes, the Spad is a well built machine, the nearest thing to perfection in point of strength, speed and climbing power I’ve seen yet. Of course it’s heavy and that’s why they put 150-230 HP in them. The other school, that of a light machine with a light motor—depending for its success on lack of weight rather than excess of power, may supplant the heavier machine in time—I can’t tell. So, as anyone who knows has said right along, there is a long way to go in the development of the J N or even the little tri-plane, before American built planes get to the front. Of the bombing game, I don’t know anything at all.
Yesterday there was a revue here in honor of Guynemer, and decorations for the pilots of the group who had won them. Three Americans received the Croix de Guerre—members of the Lafayette Escadrille. Lufberry, the American ace, carried the American flag presented to the escadrille by Mrs. McAdoo and the employees of the Treasury Department—besides the two aviation emblems of France. He was called to receive his decoration “for having in the course of one day held seven combats, descended one German plane in flames, and forced five others to land behind their lines” (which means that he is officially credited with one, his thirteenth, and that the other five though probably brought down, do not count for him because there were not the necessary witnesses required by the French regulation). Being the bearer of the flag, he was a very worried man to know what to do with the flag when he should go up to get his medal, till one of the fellows in 124 (the Lafayette) came to his rescue.
For a military revue it was decidedly amusing. Aviators are not very military. The chief of one of the escadrilles was commissioned to command the mechanics who are plain soldiers with rifles and steel helmets for the occasion. He is a bit of a clown and amused the entire gathering, kidding with the officers. The pilots of each of the five escadrilles were in more or less formation, most of them with hands in their pockets for it was chilly, and presenting a mixture of uniforms unparalleled in its heterogeneity. Every branch of the service represented and endless personal ideas in dress. Because of the occasion, repos has been granted to the entire group for the afternoon, another group taking over our patrols. So that after the revue, everyone had the afternoon to waste—a sunny day which is quite unusual this month. Within a half hour, every machine that was in working order was in the air—forming into groups and then off for the lines, just looking for trouble—a voluntary patrol they call it. Which opened my eyes a bit to the spirit in the French service after three years of war.
Word from Paris that those Americans in the French service who have demanded their release to join the U. S. A. have obtained that release—which probably means that all we wait for now ... is the commissions.
This afternoon I took another trip with one of the old pilots to look over the sector. We stayed over France and didn’t get into trouble although there were lots of Boches around. Hope to get really started soon.... An amusing one this morning: two pilots from the group were on patrol and attacked a single German about two kilometres behind the German lines. They completely outmanoeuvred him, he got cold feet and started for the French lines, giving himself up. The funniest part about it is that the machine gun of one of the attackers was jammed and he couldn’t possibly have hurt the Boche—just had the nerve to stay and throw a bluff. They came back to camp just before dark this evening, one of them flying the German machine and the other guarding him in a Spad. The machine is an Albatross monoplane (biplane)—finished in silver with big black crosses on the wings and tail—a really beautiful thing. It flew around camp for several minutes before landing. It is the second machine that has been scared down since I’ve been out here.