skip to Main Content

A Drop of Blood for the Fatherland

Event ID: 110

Categories: 

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

23 August 1915

51.2245376462922, 2.896344620920157
Royal Palace Hotel
Oostende

Source ID: 4

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

‘A drop of blood for the fatherland (Ostend) I was never actually wounded. I always took my head away at the decisive moment and pulled in my stomach. I was often amazed that they didn’t shoot me. Once a shot went through both my fur boots, another time through my scarf, another time on my arm through my fur and leather jacket, but it never touched me. Then one fine day we flew off in our fighter plane to give the British a bit of a treat with bombs, reached the target and the first bomb fell. It is of course very interesting to see how successful this bomb is. You always want to see at least the impact. However, my large fighter aircraft, which was quite suitable for towing bombs, had the stupid characteristic that it was difficult to see the impact of the dropped bomb, because the aircraft moved over the target after the drop and completely covered it with its wings. This always annoyed me because it was so little fun. When there’s a bang below and you can see the lovely grey-white cloud of the explosion [60] and it’s also close to the target, it’s a lot of fun. So I waved my good Zeumer in and actually wanted him to go aside with the carrying deck. I forgot that the infamous thing, my Äppelkahn, had two propellers turning to the right and left of my observer’s seat. I showed him the approximate impact of the bomb – and bang! I got one on the fingers. A little taken aback at first, I then realised that my little finger had been damaged. Zeumer hadn’t noticed anything. I was sick of throwing bombs, I quickly got rid of the last of my things and we made our way home. My love for large fighter planes, which was a bit weak anyway, had suffered badly from this bombing. I had to squat for eight days and was not allowed to fly. Now it’s just a blemish, but at least I can say with pride: ‘I have a war wound too.’’

This Post Has 0 Comments

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Back To Top