The »old man« comes to visit us
Event ID: 202
Categories:
29 April 1917
Source ID: 4
‘The ‘old man’ is coming to visit us The ‘old man’ had arranged to visit his two sons on 29 April. My father is the local commander of a small town near Lille, so not very far away from us. I can often see him from above. He wanted to come by train at nine o’clock. At half past nine he is on our pitch. We’ve just come home from a fighter flight, and my brother gets out of his box first and greets the old man: ‘Good afternoon, Dad, I’ve just shot down an Englishman.’ Then I get out of my plane: ‘Good afternoon, Dad, I’ve just shot down an Englishman.’ The old man was happy, he really enjoyed it, you could tell. He’s not one of those fathers who worry about their sons, but would prefer to sit in a plane and shoot them down himself – at least that’s what I think. We first had breakfast with him, then we flew again. In the meantime, there was a dogfight over our own airport, which my father watched with great interest. We weren’t involved, though, because we stood below and watched for ourselves. It was an English squadron that had broken through and was being attacked over our [148]airport by some of our reconnaissance planes. Suddenly one of the planes flipped over, recovered and came down in a normal glide, and we realised with regret that this time it was a German. The English fly on. The German aircraft appears to have been shot, but comes down under normal control and tries to land on our airfield. The field is a bit small for the big thing. It was also unfamiliar terrain for the pilot. So the landing was not entirely smooth. We crashed and realised with regret that one of the occupants, the machine gunner, had fallen. This sight was something new to my father and obviously made him very serious. The day promised to be a good one for us. Wonderfully clear weather. You could hear the defence guns all the time, so there was constant air traffic. We flew again around midday. This time I was lucky again and shot down my second Englishman of the day. The old man’s mood was back. After the table, a short nap and we were back on top of things. Wolff and his group had been at the enemy during this time and had taken one down himself. Schäfer had also taken care of one. In the afternoon my brother and I set off twice more with Schäfer, [149]Festner and Allmenröder. The first flight was a disaster, the second flight was all the better. We hadn’t been at the front for long when an enemy squadron came towards us. Unfortunately, they were higher than us. So there’s nothing we can do. We try to reach their altitude, but we don’t succeed. We had to skip them and fly along the front line, my brother close beside me, the others ahead. Then I see two enemy artillery planes approaching our front line in a very brazen manner. A quick wave from my brother and we had come to an understanding. We fly side by side, increasing our speed. Everyone felt so safe, superior to the enemy for once. But above all, we could rely on each other. Because that’s the main thing. You have to know who you’re flying with. So my brother approached the opponents first, picked out the first one flying closest to him and I took the second. Now I have a quick look round to make sure there isn’t a third one nearby, but we’re alone. Eye to eye. I’ve soon wrested the most favourable side from my opponent, a short line of fire, and the enemy aircraft bursts apart. I had never seen a fight so fast. [150]While I’m still watching where my opponent’s wreckage is falling, I look around for my brother. He was barely five hundred metres away from me, still fighting with his opponent. I had time to take a good look at this picture, and I have to say that I couldn’t have done it better myself. He too had already taken his opponent by surprise, and both were spinning around each other. Then suddenly the enemy aeroplane rears up – a sure sign of being hit, surely the leader had been shot in the head or something – the aeroplane crashes, and the wings of the enemy apparatus fold apart. The debris falls close to my victim. I fly up to my brother and congratulate him, i.e. we wave to each other. We were satisfied and flew on. It’s nice to be able to fly together with your brother like that. In the meantime, the others had also approached and watched the spectacle that the two brothers were offering them, because you can’t help, one can only shoot down, and if one is busy with the opponent, the others can only watch and cover his back so that he doesn’t get hit from behind by a third. [151]We fly on, going to a higher altitude, because some of the anti-Richthofen club have gathered at the top. Once again we were easy to spot, the sun from the west illuminated the aircraft and made them shimmer in their beautiful red colour from afar. We formed a close group, because everyone knew that we were dealing with brothers who were in the same line of work as ourselves. Unfortunately, they are higher again, so we have to wait for their attack. The famous triplanes and Spads, brand new machines, but it’s not the box that counts, it’s who’s in it; the brothers were lousy and had no guts. We offered them a fight, both here and over there. But they didn’t want to take it. Why do they boast about their squadron, which is set to shoot me down, if their hearts fall into their trousers afterwards? At last one of them plucked up courage and pushed down on our last one. Of course the fight is accepted, even though it’s unfavourable for us, because the one who’s on top has the advantage. But if the customers don’t give you any more, you just have to take them as they come. So everything turns round. The Englishman realises this and leaves immediately. But now the start has been made. Another Englishman [152]tries the same thing. He has chosen me as his opponent, and I immediately greet him with a volley from both machine guns. He did not seem to appreciate this. He tried to evade me by nosediving. That was his undoing. Because that brought him under me. Now I stayed above him. Anything below me, possibly alone and on our territory, can be considered lost, especially if it’s a single-seater, i.e. a fighter that can’t shoot out the back. The enemy had a very good aircraft and was very fast. But he was not going to succeed in reaching his lines. I started shooting at him over Lens. I was still far too far. But it was a trick of mine, I was unsettling him. He crawled onto the glue and made turns. I took advantage of this and got a little closer. I quickly tried the same manoeuvre again and for the third time. Each time my friend fell for it. That’s how I’d gently shot my way towards him. Now I am very close. Now I take clear aim, wait a moment, at most fifty metres away from him, and press both machine gun buttons. First a soft hiss, the sure sign that the petrol tank has been hit, then a bright flame, and my lord disappears into the depths. [This was the fourth one that day. My brother had two. We had apparently invited the old gentleman to join us. The joy was immense. In the evening I had invited a few more gentlemen, including my good friend Wedel, who also happened to be in the neighbourhood. The whole thing was a successful, pre-arranged affair. The two brothers had shot down six Englishmen in one day. That’s a whole air force together. I think the English didn’t like us.’
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