Near Verdun there was not much to do in the air. Scouting had been almost dropped. One day, when there was a little more to do than usual, I had gone up twice in the morning and was loafing around on the field. I suddenly heard machine-gun firing in the air and saw a Nieuport attacking one of our biplanes. The German landed and told me, all out of breath:
“The devil is loose on the front. Six Americans are up. I could plainly see the American flag on the fuselage. They were quite bold; came all the way across the front.”
I didn’t imagine things were quite so bad, and decided to go up and give the Americans a welcome. They were probably expecting it; politeness demanded it. I really met them above the Meuse. They were flying back and forth quite gaily, close together. I flew toward them, and greeted the first one with my machine gun. He seemed to be quite a beginner; at any rate, I had no trouble in getting to within 100 meters of him, and had him well under fire. As he was up in the clouds and flew in a straight course, I was justified in expecting to bring him to earth soon. But luck was not with me. I had just gotten my machine back from the factory, and after firing a few shots my gun jammed. In vain I tried to remedy the trouble. While still bothering with my gun the other “five Americans” were on me. As I could not fire, I preferred to retreat, and the whole swarm were after me. I tried to speed up my departure by tilting my machine to the left and letting it drop. A few hundred meters, and I righted it. But they still followed. I repeated the manœuver and flew home, little pleased but unharmed. I only saw that the Americans were again flying where I had found them.[A] This angered me and I immediately got into my second machine and went off again. I was hardly 1,500 meters high when with a loud crash my motor broke apart, and I had to land in a meadow at C.
We made another pretty flight this day. The district around B. and west of Verdun was to be photographed by a scout division. Captain V. was to go over with the squadron, and asked me to go with two other Fokkers to protect them. I went with them, and as I kept close to them, I was right at hand when two French battleplanes attacked. The first one did not approach very close, but the second attacked the biplane which carried Captain V. As he was just then engaged in looking through his binoculars, he did not see the machine approach. The pilot, also, did not notice it till the last moment. Then he made such a sharp turn that Captain V. almost fell out. I came to their aid; the Frenchman started to run. I could hardly aim at him at all, he flew in such sharp curves and zigzags. At 1,800 meters’ elevation, I fired a few parting shots and left him. I was sure he would not do us any more harm. As one of the wires to a spark-plug had broken, my engine was not running right, so I turned and went home. The squadron had all the time in the world to take photographs, and was quite satisfied with results. The machine I had attacked was first reported as having fallen, but later this was denied.
Now came the extremely sad news of Immelmann’s death. One evening we received word he had fallen. I first thought it was one of the usual rumors, but, to my deep sorrow, it was later confirmed by staff officers. They said his body was being taken to Dresden. I, therefore, immediately asked for leave to fly to D.
It was very impressive. Immelmann lay in the courtyard of a hospital, on a wonderful bier. Everywhere there were pedestals with torches burning on them.
Immelmann lost his life through a foolish accident. Everything the papers write about a battle in the air is nonsense. A part of his propeller broke off and, due to the jerk, the wire braces of the fuselage snapped. The fuselage then broke off. Aside from the great personal loss we have suffered, I feel the moral effect of his death on the enemy is not to be underrated.
I made good use of my chance to again attack the English at D. I liked it so well, I kept postponing my return to S. One evening I flew a Halberstadt biplane; this was the first appearance of these machines at the front. As it is somewhat similar to an English B.-E., I succeeded in completely fooling an Englishman. I got to within fifty meters of him and fired a number of shots at him. But as I was flying quite rapidly, and was not as familiar with the new machine as with the Fokker, I did not succeed in hitting him right away. I passed beneath him, and he turned and started to descend. I followed him, but my cartridge belt jammed and I could not fire. I turned away, and before I had repaired the damage he was gone.
The next day I had two more opportunities to attack Englishmen. The first time, it was a squadron of six Vickers’ machines. I started as they were over L., and the other Fokkers from D. went with me. As I had the fastest machine, I was first to reach the enemy. I picked out one and shot at him, with good results; his motor (behind the pilot) puffed out a great quantity of yellow smoke. I thought he would fall any moment, but he escaped by gliding behind his own line. According to the report of our infantry, he was seen to land two kilometers behind the front. I could not finish him entirely, because my left gun had run out of ammunition, and the right one had jammed. In the meantime, the other Fokkers had reached the English. I saw one 160-horsepower machine (Mulzer, pilot,) attack an Englishman in fine style, but as the Englishman soon received aid, I had to come to Mulzer’s rescue. So I drove the one away from Mulzer; my enemy did not know I was unable to fire at him. Mulzer saw and recognized me, and again attacked briskly. To my regret, he had only the same success I had had a while before, and as Mulzer turned to go home, I did likewise. In the afternoon, I again had a chance at an Englishman, but he escaped in the clouds.
Meanwhile, the Crown Prince had telephoned once, and our staff officer several times, for me to return. I had at first said I would wait for better weather, so they finally told me to take the train back if it was poor weather. So I saw it was no use, and the next morning I flew back to S. Here I found a telegram for me: “Captain Bölcke is to report at once to the Commander-in-Chief of the Aerial Division. He is to be at the disposal of the Commander-in-Chief of the Army.” My joy was great, for I expected to be sent to the Second Army, where the English offensive was just beginning. In the afternoon I reported to the Crown Prince, and there I began to have doubts, for he left me in the dark as to my future. On the next day I reported to the Chief of the Aerial Division at C., and here all my expectations were proven unfounded. For the present, I was not to fly, but was to rest at C. for my “nerves.” You can imagine my rage. I was to stay at a watering-place in C. and gaze into the sky. If I had any wish I just needed to express it, only I was not to fly. You can imagine my rage. When I saw that I could do nothing against this decision, I resolved that rather than stay at C. I would go on leave of absence, and at this opportunity see the other fronts. After I telephoned Wilhelm (who was glad rather than sorry for me), my orders were changed to read: “Captain Bölcke is to leave for Turkey and other countries at the request of ——.”