Boelcke’s death

    Event ID: 138

    Categories: 

    General Event
    Deutsch
    Der rote Kampfflieger von Rittmeister Manfred Freiherrn von Richthofen, 1917, 351.000 - 400.000, Verlag Ullstein & Co, Berlin-Wien

    28 October 1916

    50.121687235846494, 2.859478279767029
    Favreuil

    Source ID: 4

    Der rote Kampfflieger von Rittmeister Manfred Freiherrn von Richthofen, 1917, 351.000 - 400.000, Verlag Ullstein & Co, Berlin-Wien p.  96 

    “Boelcke † (28 October 1916) One day we once again flew against the enemy under the leadership of the great man. You always had such a safe feeling when he was there. There was only one Boelcke. Very stormy weather. Lots of clouds. Other planes didn’t fly at all that day, only the fighter pilot. From a distance we saw two cheeky Englishmen at the front who seemed to be enjoying the bad weather. There were six of us and two on the other side. If there had been twenty of them, Boelcke’s signal to attack would not have surprised us. The usual battle began. Boelcke had one ahead and I had the other. I have to let go because I’m interrupted by one of my own. I look round and see Boelcke processing his victim about two hundred metres next to me. The thirtieth! The thirtieth! The fortieth! The fortieth! It was the usual picture again. Boelcke shoots one and I can watch. A good friend of his is flying right next to Boelcke. It was an interesting fight. Both were firing, the Englishman was bound to fall at any moment. Suddenly [97]there was an unnatural movement in the two German aeroplanes. It flashed through my mind: collision. I had never seen a collision in the air before and had imagined something much different. It wasn’t a collision either, but more of a contact. But in the high speed of an aeroplane like this, every soft touch is a violent impact. Boelcke immediately lets go of his victim and descends to earth in a wide turn and glide. I still didn’t have the feeling of a crash, but as he glided below me I realised that part of his wing had broken off. I couldn’t see what happened next, but in the clouds he lost one wing completely. Then the aeroplane was rudderless and he crashed, always accompanied by his faithful friend. When we arrived home, the news was already there: ‘Our Boelcke is dead!’ We couldn’t believe it. Of course, the person who had to suffer the misfortune felt the most pain. It is strange that every person who got to know Boelcke imagined that he was his only true friend. I have met about forty of these only true friends of Boelcke’s, and everyone imagined that he was the only one. People whose names Boelcke [98]never knew believed that they were particularly close to him. It is a peculiar phenomenon that I have only observed with him. He never had a personal enemy. He was equally kind to everyone, to no one more, to no one less. The only person who was perhaps a little closer to him had the misfortune I have just described. Nothing happens without God’s providence. That’s a consolation that you have to tell yourself so often in this war.”

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