Killing two birds with one stone (Flying with Escadrille Americaine) – 24 May 1916
Golden sunbeams on the horizon greeted us as our Bébés lifted from the dew dampened airstrip. My airplane dipped down to the right slightly, but soon recovered. The little engine struggled to lift the small plane ever higher.
I glanced down seeing the aerodromes buildings and assorted Nieuports shrink in size. The ground crew and pilots who had seen us off had by now disappeared.
As our altitude increased it became much cooler, even bitter cold; I adjusted my goggles. The sky was for the most part clear with a cloud front retreating the southeast. A few puffy clouds drifted lazily behind the well-defined front.
My plane rocked a bit. I looked to my flight leader, Sergeant Rockwell, who pointed upward. He apparently felt we’d have a smoother flight higher up. I followed his lead. The hum of my plane’s engine grew louder as it strained to lift us higher in the thinning air.
There was a distinct, and loud, ‘cough’ to my right. I looked to see what might be wrong. The engine of Rockwell’s airplane coughed a couple more times. He shook his head and then turned to me, waving his hand in a great circle over his head and pointing. He was returning to base and I was to follow.
I shook my head and signaled that I wanted to continue on alone. In return he shrugged and nodded agreement. I watched as he turned toward home, his plane’s engine continuing its distinct, loud ‘cough,’ dropping altitude as he did so.
Perhaps twenty minutes pass before movement to the right caught my eye. There were two distinct dots coming from the German side. I guided my little Bébé up into the clouds hoping that the Germans hadn’t spotted me.
I found myself gripping the stick a little harder and tried to calm myself. It would be one on two, but duty dictated that I engage the enemy. I needed an advantage and hoped that perhaps I somehow surprise them with a dive out of the clouds. But how was I to time my attack? If I dropped down on them too soon I might very well put myself in their cross-hairs!
I looked down; the cloud formation below was quite dense, no way was I going to see them through that! To my left the billowy clouds that had been following the front had grown thicker and to my amazement I sped the distinct shadow of an airplane growing both bigger then smaller as it progresses along the undulating surface.
I reversed course, checked for the glow of the sun, checked the shadow, and checked the sun’s location yet again. The shadow grew into two for a moment, and then became one once more. I knew where they were as far as being ahead of me, but I hadn’t a good idea as to whether they were to my right, or left, or straight ahead. But, I had to make a move.
Down through the clouds I dove finding myself in a white void, blind to everything that might be about. When I came out I was nearly on top of a two-seater! It was an Albatros I think. The observer was bent over the side of the plane focusing on a box and didn’t see my approach. To the right and a little ahead of the Albatros was a monoplane. I fired!
I was close enough to see my bullets ripping through the aircraft below me. At the last second I veered left to avoid a mid-air collision.
There was a moment of frenzied confusion as the Albatros and the monoplane took evasive action with the former veering right and the latter dropping down and left to avoid collision. Once things settled out I found myself behind the monoplane, which I now recognized as an Eindecker.
He dove away from me in an attempt to shake me, but I would have none of it! Diving after I closed on him, spraying his airplane with bullets. He flipped upside-down with flames erupting from the fuselage; then spiraled earthward.
Quickly, I scanned the sky for the Albatros surprised to find it still flying in our territory. As I closed I noted it teetering left to right as if the pilot were having trouble keeping it under control. The back seat appeared to be empty; I must have dispatched the observer on my initial attack.
Having position on the enemy, and still a good distance away, I felt comfortable reloading. I pulled the lever on my Lewis gun; mindful of how fast it would come down I took precaution to avoid being hit in the head! Spinning off the nearly empty drum I quickly replaced with it a fresh one and, after muscling the machinegun back into place, closed on the Albatros.
Once close enough I opened fire, the bullets from my Lewis hit the upper wing and forward fuselage, but the pilot took no action to evade. It hit me then that the pilot must be wounded and incapable of aggressive action. Mercy dictated I spare him so I held my fire. As he was generally heading for my aerodrome I simply followed to ensure this wasn’t a deception on his part.
The airplane did however start to descend. A dark streak grew along the fuselage’s side, tracing a path pass the pilot toward the box near the vacant observer’s post; my short burst must have been the finishing touch.
The descent, at first, was gradual, though there were times when the Albatros rose or dropped sharply, then became steeper. At about a hundred feet from the ground the Albatros leveled out. There was a good sized field for him to land in; his descent continued, but not fast enough.
There was nothing I could do save watch. His plane bounced once, twice on the grassy field before plowing into a fence and coming to a stop, tail up, just beyond the raised road on the other side. A trail of debris marked the path to the airplane’s final resting spot.
I circled the wreck thinking I should land and pull the crew from the airplane before it caught fire, but trees crowded one side on the road making a landing there impossible. From where I flew the field looked smooth enough to land on, but there could be unseen holes anywhere that might upset my craft. Still, the fallen foes undoubtedly needed aid; it wouldn't be chivalrous to abandon them. I decided to risk a landing.
Touching down in the very field the Albatros had overshot I taxied close to the road. Leaving the engine idling I dismounted. The pilot was still in his cockpit. I pulled the poor soul from the wreckage and laid him on the road nearby. When I returned to fetch the observer I found his seat vacant and guessed he had fallen out some distance back. As I turned to return to the fallen pilot I spied a man standing a fair distance off. Pulling my revolver I approached him. His face and hair where caked with blood; whether from a bullet creasing his head or from the crash I knew not. That he was the stricken plane’s observer I had no doubt.
“This way,” I ordered.
The German didn’t respond well so I gave him a shove toward the road. He staggered forward a bit and then collapsed.
“Get up!”
He attempted to do so and I helped him to his feet. This time I was gentler in directing him toward the road. I had him sit next to the pilot; whom was still unconscious.
The three of us waited there until a truckload of French soldiers arrived. Pointing to myself I declared, “Escadrille Americaine,” adding, “Mon prisoners,” while pointing at the crew of the Albatros. I’m sure I butchered the French, but the soldiers understood well enough. After turning the prisoners over to them I remounted my Bébé.
Arriving home to the aerodrome I was greeted with congratulations as well as confirmation of my twin victory…
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