PARIS in wartime is well enough known to millions of my
fellow countrymen, but the scene that presented itself to my astonished eyes as
I alighted at the Gare de l'Est on the morning of June 6th, 1918, merits a
description. That date, it will be remembered, marked probably the lowest ebb
in the spirits of the Parisian populace.
The Germans were along the Marne and but thirty miles from
the capital. Château-Thierry was in their hands. The villagers in that
vicinity who had braved four years of adjacent warfare were now swept away from
their homes. Thousands of these poor refugees were arriving in Paris on the
morning I entered it.
Used as I was to the various horrors of war, there was a
terror in the countenances of these homeless people that made a new impression
upon me. Old women, young women, all clothed in wretched garments and
dishevelled head-gear wandered blindly through the streets adjoining the
stations, with swarms of crying children clinging to their skirts. Pathetic as
this scene was, it had its comic features in the extraordinary articles that
these fleeing peasants had chosen to carry with them.
Umbrellas seemed to be the most precious thing that they had
tried to save. A little bundle, probably containing a loaf of bread and a few
articles of clothing was carried by each woman. The children were loaded down
with such strange treasures as axes, parrot cages, wooden buckets and farm
implements. The few old men who accompanied them hobbled along empty-handed,
with the utmost patience and abandon. Evidently the whole care of the migration
was left to the energetic women of France.
They had, all been walking for many miles; this was very
evident. Their clothing was dusty, worn and crumpled. Their faces were pinched
and wretched and an indescribable look of misery and suffering filled every
face. The pathos of this scene will never leave my memory.
And here I desire to express my appreciation of the
magnificent work of the American Red Cross and American Y. M. C. A.
organizations. In that one case of the Château-Thierry refugees these
American societies repaid their American subscribers for the sacrifices they
made to support them. Indeed, without the help of this American agency I can
easily imagine that the French capital, overwhelmed and crushed under the
burden and horror of these calamities would long since have abandoned all hope,
and riots and disorders would have prostrated the authorities in control of the
Thousands of refugees swarmed throughout a more or less
demoralized Paris. They had no money, no food, no idea of where they wanted to
go. The spirit was gone from their bodies. Only the call of hunger served to
remind them that they still must live.
Preparations were immediately made to care for this new
demand upon the American charitable organizations. It was a very critical
period of the war. Every available soldier was at the front and these must have
the undivided attention of the supply officers, the commissary department and
government authorities. Refugees were of no consequence towards winning the
war. They deserved pity but could not be permitted to divert the attention of
the defenders of a nation.
How dangerous this subtle menace might have been will never
be known, for the American Red Cross threw itself into the situation and cared
for this increasing army of unfed in Paris. Had they been neglected a day or
two longer such riots might have been started in Paris as would have
demoralized the whole system of the French organization.
The secret of their success was undoubtedly due to the
elasticity and absence of red tape in their organization. But whatever it may
have been, the fact that the American Red Cross did successfully feed and
clothe these bedraggled thousands was in itself a marvel and made me appreciate
how valuable an asset our Red Cross Society was and is in war time.
At the aerodromes and at other military camps all along the
front I had abundant opportunities to appreciate this unofficial, or rather
unmilitary, aid that was given to the soldiers by these organizations. At our
group aerodrome the Red Cross later established a small club-room for the
pilots and officers. Here hot chocolate and toast was served in the afternoon
and a cheery fire always was found to tempt us out of the mud and rain for a
few minutes of recreation. Card tables and writing tables were there; and a
piano and phonograph, together with all the old magazines that were sent over
by American readers, whiled away many a " dud " afternoon which must have
otherwise been spent in more or less solitary confinement within a dripping
The Y. M. C. A. authorities provided in a similar way for
the enlisted men. Candy, tobacco and toilet articles were provided at these
places at a lower figure than they would have cost at home. Most of these
things were absolutely unattainable at the stores in France.
After a good night's sleep far away from the customary roar
of artillery, I woke up to find the sun shining in my Paris window and a fine
day well progressed. After breakfast I took a stroll along the Champs
Elysées under the Arc de Triomphe and through the beautiful walks of the
Bois de Boulogne. It was easy to read upon the faces of the people one met the
deadly fear that gripped them. Thousands had already fled from Paris. The
authorities were even that morning considering again moving the seat of the
government to more distant Bordeaux. The capture of Paris before the American
aid could arrive was a possibility that worried every Parisian.
I tried to fancy the exulting German officers walking down
these same beautiful avenues, driving their motor cars through these splendid
woods and occupying such of these magnificent palaces as happened to tempt
their cupidity. Then I thought of the " Spirit of the Marne " which had so
strengthened the French people in those cruel days of 1914. Studying the set
faces of these passers-by I could discover that the same indomitable spirit
still held them. Their faces held something of the same expression that was
pictured on that famous French Liberty Loan postera Poilu standing with
fixed bayonet defending his native land. Underneath the poster was written that
immortal phrase, " Ils ne Passeront Pas! "
After a few days in Paris I returned to my aerodrome by way
of Army headquarters, then situated in Chaumont just south of Toul. Good news
awaited me at my mess. I learned that General Foulois had been out to see us,
and after hearing the repeated stories of the narrow escapes we had had with
the fragile Nieuports, he had promised to secure Spad aeroplanes for our whole
squadron. They were to be driven with the 220 horsepower Hispano-Suiza motor
and would serve to equip us second to none of the squadrons in France.
Furthermore, confirmations had been secured for my fifth
victory and several cablegrams from America were handed me, congratulating me
on becoming the second American Ace. The news had reached the States before it
had found me in Paris!
We had had another victory too. Jimmy Meissner, Alan Winslow
and Thorn Taylor had encountered a ;Hanover two-seater on June 13th, and after
a ten minute combat had the satisfaction of seeing the enemy go down in flames
and crash just north of Thiaucourt. The boys were very much elated over the
additional news of our contemplated removal to a busier sector of the front.
Hunting had become very poor along our old sector. The enemy machines were
infrequently met and almost no fighting machines of the Germans were now
opposing us. An occasional observing machine came our way and he usually fled
long before we had an opportunity for an attack.
We had been for two months on this sector and had received
all the preliminary practice fighting that we desired. All the boys were
restless and were anxious to get to the thick of the battle down on the Marne
where the " Big Push " was now taking place. Fresh from the rumors of Paris, I
naturally inflamed their appetite for the contest by picturing to them the
state of affairs as I had seen it in the capital. We all felt that we could
intercept the Hun invasion and save Paris, if we but had the chance.
At this period we began to notice that the German air
tactics seemed to pin all hopes for success upon formation flying. Larger and
still larger numbers of enemy aeroplanes clung together when they ventured into
hostile skies. From flights of three to five machines in one formation, their
offensive patrols now included whole squadrons of twenty or more machines in
Certain advantages undoubtedly accrue to such formations.
Mere numbers serve to scare away the more cautious air-fighters, and even the
most daring find themselves confronted with such a bewildering and formidable
number of antagonists that to attack one must necessarily include defending
oneself against several. The Germans were limited in the territory they covered
by thus combining their aeroplane strength, but while directing their attack
upon one especial sector, such as the Château-Thierry sector, they could
operate very successfully with these large formations, and were able to sweep
away all opposition from their paths.
Squadron 94 therefore began sedulously to practice flying in
similar large formations. Day after day we called together all our available
machines and took the sky together, met at a designated altitude and forming a
compact group we circled about, executed the various maneuvers that must attend
an offensive or defensive movement, and strove always to keep all our
aeroplanes in such a position that no single one could ever be cut out and
subjected to an attack by an enemy formation. This was a valuable lesson to all
of us, and later on we accumulated quite a respectable number of victories by
reason of our familiarity with this method of squadron formation flying.
Especially valuable is this formation flying to the inexperienced pilot. One
illustration will serve to demonstrate my meaning.
On the evening of June 18th, 1918, a few days after I had
returned to the command of my First Flight in Squadron 94, we were notified by
the British bombing squadrons that they were undertaking a raid upon the
railroad yards of Thionville that evening at seven thirty o'clock. Thionville,
or Diderhofen as it is called by the Germans, lies west of Metz and is the
favorite gateway to the front from the German interior in the direction of
Coblenz and Cologne. Huge supplies were kept there and several squadrons of
enemy machines were always on the alert to repel these bombing raids upon their
Calling the boys together, I asked for volunteers to go with
me on this protective mission for the British. Six pilots stepped forward and
we immediately prepared our plans.
Lieutenant Hamilton Coolidge had just joined our group and
had not yet made his first trip over the lines. He asked permission to
accompany us, and thinking this would be a good opportunity to keep an eye upon
him, I consented to his going. We were to meet the bombing machines over
Thionville at seven-thirty sharp, and at an altitude of 16,000 feet. We
arranged to get above our field and circle about at 2,000 feet until all were
ready, then form our positions and fly over in close formation.
As we were getting off the field I noticed that Squadron 95
was likewise sending up a number of machines. Later I learned that they too had
heard of this bombing expedition of the British and were going over to see it
safely home. Unfortunately they had picked upon the same altitude and the same
place for their rendezvous that I had selected.
In ten minutes more I realized that there would be a
hopeless tangle of the two formations if I persisted in collecting my followers
at the prearranged rendezvous. All the machines were circling about the same
position and collisions would be inevitable if the newer pilots were permitted
to maneuver about in all this confusion. I accordingly flew about in a wide
circle, signalling to my pilots to draw away and follow me. Time was pressing
and we must get to Pont-à-Mousson by seven-thirty, even if we were not
in our best formation. Two or three of the pilots understood my signals and
followed after me. The others got into the other formation and came with it.
Some of the inexperienced pilots, including Ham Coolidge, lost both formations
and came on alone.
Arriving over the Moselle River at Pont-à-Mousson
exactly on the minute, I saw in the direction of Metz a heavy Archy fire. This
meant that allied machines were there and were attracting German fire. I flew
in to see what it was all about and found a single Salmson machine, belonging
to the American Number 91 Squadron falling in a sharp vrille. At 4,000 feet he
picked himself up and regaining control of his machine he leveled off for home.
I accompanied him back over the lines and saw him safely off for his aerodrome
and then turned my attention again to the British bombing machines. Near St.
Mihiel I found part of my formation following Lieutenant Loomis. Ham Coolidge
had attached himself to this party.
We cruised about together until dusk began to gather, and
still there was no sign of the British machines. Suddenly Loomis left me and
started for home with Coolidge in his wake. I decided one or both of them had
experienced motor trouble and watched them disappear with no misgivings. It was
indeed time we got in as the ground would be considerably darker at this hour
than one would expect to find it, with the western sun still shining in one's
eyes at 15,000 feet elevation. I dropped down over Pont-à-Mousson and
getting fairly into the twilight, turned my machine towards home.
Arriving in the vicinity of my landing field, I was suddenly
surprised to see a Nieuport flash past me going in exactly the opposite
direction. I didn't know who it could be, but it was now so dark that longer
flying would be almost suicidal. Feeling instinctively that it might be one of
the new pilots, I banked over and started in pursuit. A mile or so this side of
the lines I overtook him.
Swerving in closely ahead of the stranger, I wigwagged my
wings and circled back. To my great relief, I saw that he understood me and was
following. We soon made our way back to the Toul aerodrome and landed without
accident. Getting out of my machine I went over to ascertain the identity of my
companion. It was Hamilton Coolidge.
After a question or two Ham admitted that he had become
confused in the darkness, had lost sight of Lieutenant Loomis and for some
reason or other became convinced that he was flying in the wrong direction. He
had reversed directions and was flying straight into the enemy's lines when I
had so fortunately passed near by and had intercepted him.
Formation flying then has its uses in other ways than in
combat fighting. We had made a confused mess of our formation on this occasion
and but for a miracle it would have ended in the loss of a new pilot who later
was to become one of the strongest men in 94 Squadron.
One of the comic little incidents that are always rising
unexpectedly out of the terrors of war came from my meeting that day with the
Salmson machine from Squadron 91. I was just going to bed that night when they
called me to the telephone. A member of 91 Squadron wanted to know who was in
the Nieuport machine that had escorted him across the lines that evening from
the vicinity of Metz. I told him I thought I was the man he sought.
" Well," he said, " I am Lieutenant Hammond of the 91st, and
I want to thank you for your help."
I told him there had been very little to thank me for, since
there were no enemy aeroplanes about, but I thanked him for calling me up. Then
I asked him what had caused him to fall into a vrille.
" Those blooming Archibalds! " he informed me. " They've got
the finest little battery over that vicinity that I've ever seen. I was coming
peacefully home with all my photographs when hell suddenly busted loose below
me. Their first shell exploded just under my tail and I went up a hundred feet
tail first. Then I began to fall out of control. Evidently my control wires had
been severed, for I couldn't get her out of the spin for four or five thousand
feet. Just as I finally straightened out along came another shell and did the
same thing to me all over again.
" I fell again, this time feeling certain that I was a
goner. You came along while I was going down the second time. I managed to get
her straightened out, as you know, when you and I crossed safely over the lines
without any more hits.
" But say, Rickenbacker," he went on, " do you know what I'm
going to do ? I've got a sharpshooter's badge that I won while I was in the
Light Artillery. I've wrapped it up in a small package and tied a long streamer
on to it. I've written a note and put it in, telling those Heinies that they
are more entitled to that badge than I amand here it is. Come along and
go with me tomorrow morning and we'll drop it down on their battery ! "
I laughed and told him I would be ready for him to-morrow
morning over my field at eight o'clock. We would go over and brave the Archy
sharpshooters once more, just for the satisfaction of carrying out a foolish
But the next morning I was awakened at three o'clock by an
orderly who told me Major Atkinson wished to talk to me over the telephone.
Even as I stood by the telephone I could hear a tremendous barrage of artillery
fire from the German lines. Something big was on.
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