PILOT OF A BATTLEPLANE
D., June 24, 1915
Yesterday the Crown Prince of Bavaria, our chief, inspected our camp. Here we have gathered samples of about everything that our knowledge of aviation has developed: Two airplane squadrons and one battleplane division. Both airplane squadrons are equipped with the usual biplanes, only we have an improvement: the wireless, by means of which we direct the fire of our artillery. The battleplane squadron is here because there is a lot to do at present on this front (the West). Among them there are some unique machines, for example: a great battleplane with two motors: for three passengers, and equipped with a bomb-dropping apparatus—it is a huge apparatus. Outside of this, there are other battleplanes with machine guns. They are a little larger than the usual run. Then there are some small Fokker monoplanes, also with machine guns. So we have everything the heart can desire. The squadron has only made one flight, but since then the French haven’t been over here. I guess something must have proved an eye-opener to them.
June 30, 1915
Rain, almost continuously, since the 22d. I am absolutely sick of this loafing.
Since June 14th, I have a battleplane of my own: a biplane, with 150-horsepower motor. The pilot sits in front; the observer behind him, operating the machine gun, which can be fired to either side and to the rear. As the French are trying to hinder our aerial observation by means of battleplanes, we now have to protect our division while it flies. When the others are doing range-finding, I go up with them, fly about in their vicinity, observe with them and protect them from attack. If a Frenchman wants to attack them, then I make a hawk-like attack on him, while those who are observing go on unhindered in their flight. I chase the Frenchman away by flying toward him and firing at him with the machine gun. It is beautiful to see them run from me; they always do this as quick as possible. In this way, I have chased away over a dozen.
The Master-Flier and His Men