Hq. First Army Corps
Official
Operations Section
Afterwards, when we were around French Headquarters we were always pointed out as “tres fort” and “tres brave” and were treated with a great deal of consideration by the French, for they considered the flight as about the greatest thing they had seen pulled off for some time, especially since the information had been accurate and had been of great assistance. In fact, they thought it was so good that they did not hesitate to decorate Brereton with the Legion of Honor and the Croix de Guerre. At that time I was only a Lieutenant so I was decorated with the Croix de Guerre and, as Brereton expressed it, as long as I was with him I was in the Region of Honor. However, I received stacks of approbation that I feared for a while would be condemnation, but those are the chances one takes in undertaking any flight which is revolutionary in the form of tactics or strategy. In fact, if we had been shot down on the mission and had been unsuccessful we would probably have been referred to, even at this late date, as the participants in “Brereton’s Famous Flight,” only there would have been a different accent of insinuation on the word “Famous” than there now is in its common acceptance.
V
TROUBLES ON THE GROUND
Here is a story dedicated to the boys who fought the war on the ground, the holders of the famous “Croix de Chair,” who were commonly known as swivel chair artists, or “Waffle Seaters.” I was engaged in this duty myself at times and I know what it means. It is the most exacting and yet least appreciated task of the war. We used to call these staff officers “Waffle Seaters” for the reason that they sat so long on cane bottomed chairs that the seats of their trousers were beginning to take on the impression of a waffle.
There were troubles in the air and troubles on the ground. One of the reasons that made it extremely difficult to get a proper understanding between the units on the ground and the Air Service was that the ground units had never had an opportunity to work with the Air Service and they, therefore, could not understand the possibilities and the limitations of aviation. Neither the airman nor the ground soldier could be brought to realize that many of the troubles encountered were common to both. This lack of understanding and coöperation gradually was eliminated as the units became more experienced in working with each other.
However, for a long time the airman could not possibly comprehend how the same faults that bothered the flyer could also bother those on the ground. The contrary is also true—many on the ground thought the airman would not be bothered by the same elements that would hinder ground work.
An incident illustrating this occurred between a couple of air officers, a Colonel who was in charge of American Balloons at the Front, and a Lieutenant, a Balloon Observer. This superior officer was a full-blooded German, born in Berlin. He spoke a German-American language that was mostly German. His name was Lieutenant Colonel John Paegelow. Paegelow was a Regular, and a regular fellow. We all liked him very much for he was very jovial and good natured. Anyway, his loyalty was unquestionable for he was about the worst Hun-Hater among us. However, he had the Prussian idea of discipline and he took it out on the balloonatics whenever he felt they needed it. At Château-Thierry the balloons were under orders to remain in ascension day and night, and the personnel of the balloon companies had become noticeably fatigued from this prolonged vigilance; the balloon observers, especially, were worn out and naturally cross and irritable. It was a rainy night and Paegelow was standing on the ground holding the telephone in communication with the balloon observer two thousand feet above. This observer had been up for fourteen consecutive hours and was about all in, and the rain had made it a desolate and disagreeable night, adding considerable more woe to the occasion.
“Colonel,” the young observer telephoned, in a very disgusted voice.