Lords of the Sky: Fighter Pilots and Air Combat, From the Red Baron to the F-16 (6 page)

Jasta 2 had four officers, sixty-four men, and no aircraft initially. Five days later the first planes arrived: a single Albatros D-I and two Fokker D-IIIs. For the first few weeks in September Boelcke used his own victories as case studies and taught his men to be fighter pilots. Without radio communications, signals were vital, so they worked out a simple system using hands or wings. Boelcke briefed his pilots on prearranged rejoin points all along the front, so that if they became separated they might find each other again. He conducted organized flight briefings and insisted upon the postflight analytical debriefings that survive to this day.

The machine gun was thoroughly studied and understood. Individual rounds were examined, and pilots did their own loading to ensure quality and reduce jams. They broke apart the plane’s engine, learned its components, and became proficient at field repairs in case they were forced down with mechanical issues. His “cubs,” as he called them, also analyzed their opponents, scrupulously committing to memory rates of climb, armament, endurance, and maneuverability. Strong points and weaknesses of both sides were carefully studied so basic plans of attack could be discussed. An example reads:

Vickers single seater. Very agile, somewhat slower than the Albatros, generally loses fight in steep turns. Generally armed with only one machine gun. Defenseless in the rear, where the pilot’s view is obstructed. Best attacked from behind; can also be very effectively attacked from behind and below by means of a zoom.

On September 2, Boelcke forced down a British DH-2 fighter near Thiepval and used the plane as a training aid. The pilot, Captain Robert Wilson of 32 Squadron, was courteously given lunch, coffee, and a tour of the aerodrome before being sent off to prison camp.

Having practiced formation flying, gunnery, and teamwork, Jasta 2 was deemed ready for combat on September 17, 1916. At 1:00 p.m. that Sunday, they got airborne in their new Albatros D-I fighters and bounced eight British BE-2 bombers with six FE-2 escorts bound for the railway station at Marcoing. The Germans shot down four of the fighters and two bombers with no losses. Boelcke’s pilots learned his lessons well and would end the year with eighty-five confirmed kills.
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As always in flying units, the cost was high. Starting with twelve pilots in September, by the end of October Jagdstaffel 2 had lost two pilots to complete physical collapse, another was badly wounded, and six were dead—including Oswald Boelcke.

On Saturday morning, October 28, he’d departed from Lagnicourt for the first of five sorties.
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About 4:30 that afternoon Jasta 2 received a call from a unit at the front asking for air support. Boelcke was exhausted but took off nonetheless and headed west with von Richthofen, Erwin Böhme, and three other pilots.

Finding two de Havilland Scouts over Flers, the Germans attacked. In the ensuing
kurvenkampf
, or dogfight, six more German fighters appeared in the swirling melee. Böhme and his leader were chasing one of the Scouts when the other Englishman, closely pursued by von Richthofen, sliced across in front of them. In Böhme’s words: “How am I to describe my sensations from the moment when Boelcke suddenly loomed up a few meters away on my right! He put his machine down and I pulled mine up, but we touched as we passed, and we both fell earthwards.”

Böhme’s undercarriage apparently only lightly grazed the other aircraft’s upper wing, but it was enough. Boelcke went into a long glide down through the clouds, his damaged right wing pulling him over. Scorning a helmet and rarely strapping himself in tightly, Oswald Boelcke crashed near an artillery battery and died on impact.

Princes and generals attended his funeral on October 31 in the great Cambrai cathedral. On foot, holding a cushion displaying Boelcke’s decorations, walked Manfred von Richthofen. Six immense black horses pulled the carriage and its shining coffin while fighter pilots circled slowly overhead. After the ceremony, Boelcke’s body began the long journey home and was finally laid to rest on November 2 at St. John’s Church in Dessau. With royalty and family in attendance, pilots again arced above the town until the coffin emerged. They then cut their engines and glided silently down over the graveyard in tribute to the man they’d admired above all others.

Oswald Boelcke died a warrior’s death, in the middle of a fight and undefeated. His impact on fighter aviation was enormous, yet more often it is his famous pupil, the future Red Baron, who is remembered today. Had he lived longer, Boelcke certainly would have killed more Allied airmen—it was his profession and his duty. This, in addition to his skill and leadership, is at the heart of Boelcke’s spirit. He certainly didn’t love war and he personally disliked killing. It was not a sport to him, as it was with others, nor was it a game. It was something he had to do, so he did it well. Boelcke’s British enemies recognized this and dropped a wreath behind the German lines with a simple but poignant, message: “To the memory of Captain Boelcke, our brave and chivalrous opponent. From the English Royal Flying Corps.” French, Italian, and British airmen also sent messages and wreaths from various prisoner-of-war camps. But the most fitting tribute came from a man who would come to embody many of the traits of a successful fighter pilot. Ruthless, a born leader, and a true killer, Manfred von Richthofen had this to say of his teacher: “I am only a fighting airman, but Boelcke was a hero.”

“
STANDING ORDER OF
the Day: Attack Everything.”

On June 30, 1916, Maj. Lanoe George Hawker posted this notice for his pilots in No. 24 Squadron, RFC.

Called the “British Boelcke,” Hawker had joined the RFC from the Royal Engineers and began the war as a pilot. He’d been part of the initial deployment in October 1914, flying across the Channel with No. 6 Squadron. On April 18, 1915, Hawker took his BE-2c and single-handedly attacked the Zeppelin base at Gontrode with a bag full of hand grenades and three melinite bombs.
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To defeat the German anti-aircraft gunners, Hawker actually spiraled down around the tethered Zeppelin, throwing hand grenades at it finally. He blew a hole in the skin and the blimp waffled to the ground. Through the ensuing hail of ground fire, Hawker then destroyed a new hangar with his last melinite bomb. Managing to escape and land back at Abeele Aerodrome, he found thirty-eight holes in the aircraft. Largely as a result of his spectacular lone attack, the Zeppelins—the bogeymen of the early air war, attacking targets in England, killing civilians, and generally scaring the hell out of people—were removed from Gontrode.

Hawker’s feat earned him the Distinguished Service Order and the beginning of a fearsome reputation.
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Like Boelcke, he was a superb flyer, but also a thinker and an innovator. By the summer of 1915, about the time Fokker was testing his interrupter gear, Hawker had fixed a Lewis gun to the top wing of his Bristol Scout. This eventually led to his perfection of a double drum magazine arrangement that permitted a pilot to fire ninety-seven rounds before reloading. He fine-tuned the existing gunsight design and invented a new ammo belt, based on disposable links, that nearly eliminated jamming. Hawker also set up a forward intelligence system with field telephones at strategic points along the front lines to alert him to incoming enemy aircraft.

On July 25, Hawker took off to hunt in the skies above Flanders. A new weapon, the flamethrower, had been used with devastating effect by German infantry to breach the lines along the Menin Road, about two miles east of Ypres. Ground fighting was heavy, so reconnaissance patrols were everywhere. Late in the afternoon, Lanoe Hawker attacked a two-seat Aviatik over Passchendaele so fiercely that the German dove into the ground. At dusk, he found an Albatros C and sent it spinning into the Houthulst Forest, behind the British lines. With the light fading over cheering British troops, Hawker put a thirty-round burst into the belly of another Albatros C and sent it down in flames over the front lines at Hooge.

He would go on shooting down planes until called back to England for a rest, to receive a promotion to major, and to be awarded Great Britain’s highest decoration for bravery—the Victoria Cross. Major Hawker also took command of the newly formed 24 Squadron, equipped with DH-2 single-seat fighters.

Combat had taught him priceless lessons. As Boelcke was doing, Hawker formalized these lifesaving jewels and passed them along to his pilots. A full five months of formation flying, gunnery, navigation, and squadron-level tactics went into 24 Squadron’s preparations before the new commanding officer was satisfied. Hawker returned to France in February 1916 and immediately went to work killing Germans, despite the limitations of the DH-2.

Bug-like in appearance, this was a “pusher” aircraft with the propeller
behind
the pilot. Without workable interrupter gear, this at least solved the problem of a clear field of view for firing, but that was about all it did. Faster than the Albatros and Eindecker planes, the DH-2 was also extremely maneuverable. However, the 100-horsepower French Gnome engines were often rebuilt pieces of secondhand junk that fell apart in flight. With a pusher engine there was nothing shielding the pilot from the icy air so Hawker also invented hip-high, fleece-lined “lug” boots in an attempt to stay warm enough to work the rudder bar. Nicknamed the “Spinning Incinerator,” the DH-2 was hardly an ideal solution, but it was the best available single-seat aircraft for the moment.

From June to October 1916, 24 Squadron destroyed eighty German aircraft. In all likelihood, Hawker accounted for more than twenty of these, although his confirmed total stands at nine. The RFC attitude toward counting personal victories was fundamentally different from that of the Germans or even fellow allies. The British high command believed that singling out fighter pilots was unfair to bomber and reconnaissance crews, who flew equally dangerous missions. In fact, it wasn’t until the latter part of 1915 that records were officially compiled, and even then the totals weren’t published.
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Everyone else, Americans included, believed it unfair
not
to recognize such exploits. This was no reflection on the courage and skill of other types of pilots, just an illustration of the difference. Other air forces also concluded that such a status might encourage greater efforts by fighter pilots, and since war is about killing, then special recognition seemed warranted.

But there was a practical side to the British thinking as well. Due to the essentially defensive nature of German strategy and the prevailing westerly winds, most of the air combat occurred over the German lines. It was often difficult for the Allies to verify kill claims, as many aircraft that appeared doomed were recovered and flown again. The end result was a rather informal tally that was much less stringent than the German system.

But the damage done to the German flying corps was real. Their previous control of the air was disappearing and the blow to morale, both for soldiers and pilots, was severe. This was the situation that led to the formation of the
Jagdstaffeln
and the ascendency of both Boelcke and Hawker.

On a cold twenty-third of November, 1916, Major Hawker was prowling alone over the Western Front when he saw five Albatros fighters near Bapaume. Without hesitation, he attacked, concentrating on the leader. For over thirty minutes Hawker and his opponent fought a twisting, looping, gut-wrenching dogfight. The Albatros was more powerful and armed with twin Spandau guns, while the British DH-2 was lighter and more maneuverable.

At around 2,000 feet, the two aircraft continued turning into each other in what would later be called a “one-circle” fight. Round and round they went, each trying to outturn the other and get into firing position. Often close enough to see each other, the British pilot even waved once, undoubtedly surprised that he couldn’t gain an advantage. Neither could his opponent.

Keenly aware that the winds had pushed the fight deeper over the German lines, Hawker was also running out of fuel. Passing the Albatros, he pulled into the vertical, attempting to use altitude for a tighter turn and get behind the German. Coming down out of the loop, he fired off a long burst from his Lewis gun and dove for the ground.

The pilot of the Albatros wasn’t rattled, nor did he break off the attack. With ten victories behind him, Manfred von Richthofen was confident, dangerous, and he clearly realized that he was fighting no ordinary pilot. The Baron wasn’t the gifted flyer that Hawker was, but his calm, cold nature and superb marksmanship made him an extremely lethal fighter pilot. The superior performance of the Albatros also helped as he followed the DH-2 around and down, his faster machine rapidly closing the gap. Just above the trees, a bare 100 feet behind, the German cleared a gun jam and fired a double burst with the last of his nine hundred rounds of ammunition.

Whether or not the Englishman was killed outright or grazed and knocked unconscious, his plane went down. Bouncing end over end across shell holes, the shattered debris finally came to rest in the muddy filth of no-man’s-land. Major Lanoe George Hawker, VC, DSO, was buried south of Ligny, off the Flers Road, by a squad of German grenadiers.

Upon learning whom he had killed, von Richthofen said, “My eleventh Britisher was Major Hawker, twenty-six years old and the commander of an English squadron. According to prisoners’ accounts, he was the English Boelcke. He gave me the hardest fight I have experienced so far.”

THE FALL OF
1916 changed World War I.

If we need a date to mark the end of one era and the beginning of the next, this will suffice. Nearly a million men were lost during the Somme Offensive for a total eastward gain of about a mile. Even then, the Germans were able to hold their secondary defenses, and the armies once again were pulped together in a stinking morass of rotting corpses, rats, and mud. On December 12, the British Army Council officially approved an unprecedented expansion of the Royal Flying Corps. More than two hundred squadrons were to be added, including fighter units equipped with the new Sopwith Pup. Additionally, four Royal Naval Air Service (RNAS) squadrons were created.