Lightning visit to Schweidnitz

    Event ID: 331

    Categories: 

    Relocation & trips
    Deutsch
    Die Erinnerungen der Mutter des roten Kampffliegers Kunigunde Freifrau von Richthofen. Im Verlag Ullstein - Berlin, 1937.

    14 November 1916

    50.84890767354939, 16.476310886960174
    Władysława Sikorskiego 19, 58-105 Świdnica, Polen
    Swidnica
    Schweidnitz

    Source ID: 10

    Die Erinnerungen der Mutter des roten Kampffliegers Kunigunde Freifrau von Richthofen. Im Verlag Ullstein - Berlin, 1937. p.   

    “A great, unexpected joy! Manfred arrived at the crack of dawn. He looked slim and robust. And what he had experienced! He had to talk all day. – Boelcke’s death was very close to his heart. He once again praised the man’s inner clarity and complete self-control, the friendly equanimity of his nature, which did not even remotely give rise to the thought of favouritism. (From everything I thought I sensed that Boelcke and Manfred had a lot in common by nature). Manfred said: ‘Everyone thought he was his best friend.’ And yet his inclination didn’t show the slightest inclination this way or that; he was just the axis, the centre. The only person who could have been assumed to be a little closer to Boelcke than the others was the man who had the misfortune to collide with him in mid-air. It had only been a light touching of the wings; there could be no question of fault. Manfred spoke with great warmth of this Lieutenant Böhme as a mature, valuable personality. He might be about a dozen years older than his comrades (whose age was a little over twenty); he had something behind him before he came to flying. He had already been a pioneer for Germany, building bold aerial tramways from the high mountains to the plains in East Africa long before the war. When Boelcke knocked on Manfred’s door in Rowel, he also recruited Lieutenant Böhme for the new combat unit on the Somme. Böhme was very devoted to his master; his mature and quiet manliness was highly regarded in the small circle. Now he was suffering greatly from this cruel fate, his friends feared the worst and tried to show him their comradely solidarity in every unobtrusive way. But it was Boelcke’s father, who had come to Cambrai for the transfer, who was reserved the last and deepest consolation. He visited Erwin Böhme at the airfield and spoke to him in kindness. A deep bond would be forged between the two families. Almost abruptly, Manfred then gives accounts of his own battles. It is always a duel between you and me. Manfred sees it differently; for him it is the last remnant of an old chivalry in these fights man against man. He doesn’t think much of aerobatic feats in the air. ‘It’s just something for the eye,’ he judges. He usually flies close at an altitude of 5,000 metres and only shoots at 30 metres. But you don’t need to be a marksman, he says. (He himself, however, is an excellent marksman.) He refers to Boelcke; they were out chicken hunting together a few times, Boeclke never hit anything. – And yet he always hits in the air! The heart makes the fighter pilot – I think they both agreed on that. Manfred shot the eighth one out of a squadron of 40 or 50 bombers. His own wings were often riddled with enemy hits. In the early days, these places were scrutinised closely, but now nobody pays attention to them any more. Many miracles happen in the skies. ‘The greatest is that you stood before us alive and well?’ ‘Yes, that’s it,’ he replied simply. The next day we all travelled to Trebnig, where one of my brother’s daughters was getting married. It was nice to see such blossoming happiness in such a hard time. Life goes on, it is always the stronger force. We were all happy. Manfred was very celebrated. He left again on the evening of the wedding.”

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