Red Baron: The Life and Death of an Ace
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Red Baron: The Life and Death of an Ace
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Overview
This is the memoir of the undisputed top gun of World War I’s aerial war, Captain Manfred von Richthofen, who shot down 80 Allied aircraft. Originally published in German in late 1917 as Der Rote Kampfflieger (The Red Air Fighter), it was a runaway bestseller. The English language edition followed in 1918 without any official deal with the German publishers as it was argued that Richthofen’s accounts of combat against the Allied air force aircraft provided valuable intellilgence to use against the enemy.
Originally a cavalryman, Manfred transferred to the Imperial German Army Air Service in May 1915 and quickly distinguished himself as a fighter pilot. During 1917 he became leader of Jagdgeschwader 1. It was better known as the “Flying Circus” because of its aircraft’s bright colors and because the squadron moved like a traveling circus, from place to place as a self-contained unit so that it appeared wherever the fighting was the thickest. It would be operating at Verdun one week only to be north of Arras the next. A few days later, it would be down on the Somme.
Richthofen was a brilliant tactician, although his modus operandi was as simple as it was deadly. Typically, he would dive from above to attack with the advantage of the sun behind him (the victim would not see him coming, blinded by glare), with other pilots of his flying circus covering his rear and flanks. By 1918, he was regarded as a national hero in Germany and held the country’s highest honor, the “Blue Max.” Richthofen was well-known in the Allied countries and a respected advisor of military aviators.
Newly illustrated with twenty-one contemporary images.
Includes many of the Red Baron’s eighty combat reports, contemporary interviews with a selection of his surviving victims, and an extra chapter on the death in combat of von Richthofen.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780715333815 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | David & Charles |
| Publication date: | 05/25/2021 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 320 |
| Sales rank: | 345,126 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
FIRST BLOOD
From the beginning of my career as a pilot I had only one ambition and that was to fly a single-seat fighter-plane.
Manfred von Richthofen would do anything to achieve his goal and ignored other pilots who scoffed at his idea of having a forward-firing machine gun rigged to the top wing of his Albatros two-seat biplane. Without it, the aeroplane was defended only by the observer, sitting in the back seat, armed with a swivel-mounted machine gun. 'People laughed at the gun arrangement because it looked very primitive,' he wrote later, 'but soon I had the opportunity to put it to practical use'. He wanted to be more than an aerial 'chauffeur' for his observer and, with his own machine gun, Richthofen could be aggressive in aerial combat, more like a fighter pilot. The prospect excited him as he headed down the grass runway and took off for a morning offensive patrol on 26 April 1916, to keep French aeroplanes from attacking German rear areas. His new Albatros Ctype two-seater, which was sleek looking and very sturdy, with a wood-covered fuselage, climbed steadily as he steered it westward toward Verdun, where one of the war's most horrific artillery and ground battles had been raging for months. Approaching the battle zone, Richthofen and his observer test-fired their guns to assure they were ready to fight.
As they crossed the front lines, a French Nieuport fighter came into view. Earlier encounters with Nieuports, which were armed with machine guns attached to the top wings specifically to fire over the propeller arc, inspired Richthofen to have his plane rigged the same way, right down to the firing cable linking the gun to the pilot. Taut with anticipation of the air battle to come, he stayed calm enough to observe that, like himself, the Nieuport pilot was:
... apparently also a beginner, because he acted foolishly fearful. I flew towards him, whereupon he flew away. Evidently his gun had jammed. It seemed that I would not be able to engage him. Then, I thought: "What would happen if I fired at him?" I flew after him and, for the first time and from an ever-closing distance, I pressed the machine gun firing button. A short series of well-aimed shots and the Nieuport reared up and rolled over. At first my observer and I thought it was one of the many tricks the Frenchmen go in for. But this "trick" did not stop; he went lower and lower. Then my observer tapped my helmet and yelled: "Congratulations! He is going down!" In fact, he fell in a forest behind Fort Douaumont and disappeared among the trees. It was clear to me that I had shot him down. But on the other side of the lines! I flew home and reported nothing more than "an aerial combat, one Nieuport shot down." A day later I read of my deed in an Army Report. I was very proud of it, but this Nieuport is not counted among the number of enemy planes that I brought down.
The downed Nieuport was not confirmed as an aerial victory because it fell within enemy lines and there were no independent witnesses, only the two German airmen. But Richthofen's pride compelled him to dash off a note to his mother: 'Look at the Army Report of 26 April! My machine gun is responsible for one of the two aeroplanes brought down.' His achievement was reported – obliquely – in the popular press: 'Two enemy aeroplanes were shot down in aerial combat over Fleury, one south of Douaumont, and one west of it.' The family knew that their Manfred had achieved the first success in his self-appointed mission to become an aerial warrior.
An avid hunter, Richthofen would have prized a souvenir of his first air combat triumph, which was not possible due to the location of the Nieuport's crash site. Over nine decades later, modern research can only suggest that he may have accounted for the Nieuport 11 fighter that appeared on that day's French casualty list; its pilot, Maréchal des Logis [Sergeant-Major] Jean Casale of Escadrille N.23, was reported as wounded. All of Richthofen's subsequent victims were British airmen, who were often on the offensive and driven by circumstances to venture over German territory, which made it easier to confirm those victories.
In the spring of 1916, however, Richthofen still flew with Kampfstaffel 8 [Combat Squadron 8] of Kampfgeschwader der Obersten Heeresleitung Nr 2 [Combat Wing of the Supreme High Command 2], based outside Metz. The city was only 50 kilometres (31 miles) within the Lorraine province that France had been forced to cede to Germany after the War of 1870 and, since then, the French Government had heavily fortified Verdun and the surrounding hills to offset the German stronghold. Richthofen was glad that the fierce pace of the Battle of Verdun required more activity for Kasta 8's two-seat aircraft, which usually provided visual and photographic reconnaissance, and bombing missions. New orders called for 'barrier flights', using two-seaters to stop enemy aircraft from flying over German ground positions. Erwin Böhme, a pilot in neighbouring Kasta 10, who later became a good friend and squadron-mate of Richthofen's, described the situation in a letter to his fiancée:
Now we have been entrusted with a new mission, which is more to my liking than those awful bomb-flinging, "barrier flights" against Verdun. I must explain the word to you. Often our infantry and artillery have had to grit their teeth that French flyers have been unhindered in bothering them from above and directing enemy artillery fire against them. Now that is prevented by our aircraft flying back and forth over the Front and hindering enemy aircraft.
Richthofen's hopes of becoming a fighter pilot were raised after he completed pilot training and was assigned to Kasta 8. That unit's commanding officer was an experienced pre-war flyer, Hauptmann [Captain] Victor Carganico, but its sister squadron, Kasta 10, was led by Hauptmann Wilhelm Boelcke, brother of Germany's second-highest-scoring fighter pilot of the time, Oberleutnant [First Lieutenant] Oswald Boelcke. Indeed, the famous air fighter had arrived at Kampfgeschwader 2's airfield outside Metz to visit his brother only a few days before Richthofen's encounter with the Nieuport. If fate were kind enough to arrange for the two men to meet, Richthofen could talk to him about air combat on a first-hand basis. With luck, he might persuade Boelcke to request him for his unit, the Kampfeinsitzer Kommando [Single-Seat Fighter Detachment] at nearby Sivry, as a replacement for the ace's wingman, who had been killed in a training accident on Good Friday, 21 April. Boelcke and his friendly rival, Germany's highest-scoring fighter pilot, Oberleutnant Max Immelmann, were the first airmen to be decorated with the Orden Pour le Mérite, Prussia's highest combat bravery award for officers, which commanded respect throughout the German Empire. Boelcke and Immelmann were considered to be the best pilots in the German Fliegertruppe [Flying Service] and Manfred von Richthofen, then a Leutnant [Second Lieutenant], aspired to join this air warrior élite.
But Boelcke flew back to Sivry and Richthofen understood he had to prove himself as a member of Kasta 8 before he could move on to what he regarded as a higher calling. Boelcke's name and deeds continuously reminded him of the opportunities for air combat success that awaited pilots lucky enough to be assigned to single-seat fighter units. Richthofen read the Army daily reports which noted on 28 April that Boelcke shot down his 14th enemy aeroplane and, on 1 May, his 15th victim fell.
The Kampfgeschwaders were the 'rapid reaction force' of their day, provided with their own trains to move men, aircraft and equipment to various sectors as needed. Thus, a few days later, Richthofen and his comrades headed north-west to Mont. The new airfield there was closer to Verdun, the ancient fortress city straddling the Meuse River as it flowed southward. Once settled in, Richthofen was dispatched back to Metz to attend to minor administrative chores. It was an easy enough behind-the-lines flight, only about 35 kilometres (22 miles), with the observer replaced by a 100-kilogram (220lb) ballast sack secured in the rear compartment to balance the aircraft. The return flight the following day, however, turned out to be a nerve-wracking yet instructional experience with the forces of nature let loose by bad weather.
Richthofen later wrote:
As I pulled my machine out of the hangar the first signs of an approaching thunderstorm became apparent. The wind blew up the sand and a pitch-black wall arose from the north. Old, experienced pilots urged me not to fly. But I had already promised to return, and I would have appeared timid if I had not come back due to a stupid thunderstorm. Therefore, I increased power ... [and] right at the outset it began to rain. I had to take off my goggles in order to see anything. The trouble was that I had to go over the Moselle Mountains, straight through the valleys where the thunderstorm was raging. I thought to myself: "You will be lucky to get through," and got closer and closer to the black clouds that reached down to the earth. I flew as low as possible. I had to "jump" over houses and trees in some cases. I no longer knew where I was. The storm seized my machine like a piece of paper and tossed it around. My heart sank lower. I could not land among the hills. I had to press on.
All around me it was black. Beneath me, the trees bent under the storm. Suddenly a wooded height appeared before me. I had to go over it and my good Albatros got me through. I could only fly straight ahead ... like riding a steeplechase over trees, villages, church spires and chimneys that, at most, I cleared by five metres (about 16 feet), in order to see anything through the black thunderclouds. Lightning flashed all around me ... I believed that death would come at any moment, and surely the storm would throw me into a village or a forest. Had the engine quit, I would have been done for.
Then all at once I saw a light place in front of me. The thunderstorm had already passed there; if I could reach this point, I would be saved. Gathering all my energy, as only a reckless man can, I steered toward the light.
Suddenly, as if wrenched out, I was free of the thunderclouds. I flew through streaming rain, but otherwise I was out of danger. Despite the ... rain, I landed at my home field, where everyone waited anxiously for me. A report had come from Metz as soon as I departed that I had disappeared on the way out.
Richthofen was little chastened by the experience, as he later noted with his usual daring spirit:
In retrospect, everything was beautiful ... there were some beautiful moments that I would not have wanted to miss ...
Despite lack of recognition and dangerous thunderstorms, Richthofen surely felt linked to one of the war's most important operations. One connection was to the leader of the German 5th Army that stood opposite Verdun, 33-year-old Crown Prince Wilhelm of Prussia, the heir to the dynasty of Frederick the Great, who had elevated the Richthofen family to the aristocracy. Another was Richthofen's oath of allegiance to the House of Hohenzollern, the Kaiser's family, rather than the state, as he was a product of the Royal Prussian Cadet Corps. Further, this fierce battle to inflict French casualties that would 'bleed them white' was proposed by German General Staff Chief Erich von Falkenhayn, whose son 'Fritze' was a flying comrade of Richthofen's during an earlier squadron assignment. Finally, even the maps were inspirational, identifying Crown Prince Wilhelm's battlefront as the 'Kriemhilde Line' in honour of the Teutonic heroine who avenged the death of the mythical hero Siegfried. Richthofen firmly believed that Germany was under attack by enemies on its eastern and western borders, and he felt bound by a deep sense of honour and the weight of history to fight them to the death.
He hungered to be part of this epic battle, but understood that he could not fulfil his personal goals by continuing to fly Kasta 8's bulky reconnaissance and bombing aircraft. The unit also had one Fokker E.III single-seat monoplane fighter and a pilot designated to fly it when the larger planes required a fighter escort. Richthofen planned to become Kasta 8's second fighter pilot, as he later wrote:
After annoying my commanding officer for a long time, I finally received permission to go up in a Fokker ... [and at first] it felt strange to be completely alone in a small aeroplane. I shared the Fokker with my friend Leutnant der Reserve [Second Lieutenant, Reserves] Hans Reimann ... I flew it in the morning and he in the afternoon. Each of us was afraid the other would smash the crate to pieces. On the second day we flew against the enemy. I encountered no Frenchman in the morning [and] in the afternoon it was [Reimann's] turn. He did not return [and] there was no news of him. Nothing.
Late in the evening the infantry reported an air fight between a Nieuport and a German Fokker, in the course of which the German had apparently landed on La Mort Homme [Dead Man's Hill, west of Verdun]. It could only be Reimann, as all the other flyers had returned. We were feeling sorry for our brave comrade, when all of a sudden, in the middle of the night, came a telephone report that a German flying officer had suddenly appeared at the forward trenches of Dead Man's Hill. It turned out to be Reimann. His engine had been shot to pieces ... and he had to make an emergency landing. He could not reach our lines and landed between the enemy and us. Quickly, he set fire to the machine and then hid in a bomb crater several hundred metres away. During the night he managed to sneak over to our trenches. Thus ended our first Fokker joint venture.
Several weeks later, another Fokker monoplane arrived at Kasta 8 and, as Richthofen was a career officer and two years older than Reservist Reimann, he claimed the new aircraft. All went well, Richthofen noted, until:
It was perhaps my third flight in the small, fast machine. The engine quit on take-off. I had to land and went right into a hayfield. In a flash, the once proud, beautiful machine was an unrecognizable mass. It is a miracle nothing happened to me.
Not to be denied his destiny, Richthofen pestered Carganico for a replacement. His superior later recalled:
At the time he came to my Staffel as a twoseater pilot, he was already urging that I send him for two or three days to ... the head of the Air Park in Montmédy ... for single-seat fighter instruction. After his return, I placed my own single-seater at his disposal as, due to engine failure and through no fault of his own, he had had to "set down" his own aircraft.
Richthofen marked his 24th birthday with several air fights – all without success – and a visit to an old friend from his first squadron assignment almost a year earlier. The following day, 3 May 1916, he wrote to his mother:
Most sincere thanks for your kind wishes on my birthday, which I spent here very pleasantly. In the morning, I had three very nerve-wracking aerial combats, and in the evening I sat with [Ober leutnant Georg] Zeumer ... until one o'clock in the morning, enjoying a May wine under a blossoming apple tree. I feel very happy in my new occupation as a combat pilot; I believe that no posting in the war could be as challenging as this one. I fly a Fokker ... the type of aeroplane with which Boelcke and Immelmann have had their enormous successes ...
With time to gain experience and luck to stay alive, Richthofen would go on to outshine Boelcke, Immelmann and all other Pour le Mérite aviators.
CHAPTER 2THE GLORY OF ITS NAME
Visitors to St. Nikolai's Church in eastern Berlin rarely recognize the epitaph in one wall honouring Paulus Praetorius (1521-1565). He was the progenitor of the Richthofens, a family of many accomplished members in German society, but which since World War I has become best known for its link to Manfred Freiherr von Richthofen, arguably the most famous German aviator in history. A look at his family tree shows that Manfred's relentless drive to succeed was foreshadowed in roots that go back to the German province of Brandenburg in the 16th century.
The Richthofen family originated with Paulus Praetorius, who, in his 44-year lifespan, became a man of wealth and influence in Brandenburg. He was Councillor to the Elector of Brandenburg, Privy Councillor to the Archbishops of Magdeburg and Halberstadt, and hereditary feudal lord and supreme legal authority in several dominions. He was the son and grandson of mayors of Bernau, a Brandenburg town that once was larger than Berlin, and he became an educated man and renowned judge. Old engravings of him bear this tribute in Latin: 'Vir prudens et orator gravissimus' [an intelligent man and a distinguished speaker].
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Red Baron"
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Copyright © 2008 David & Charles Limited.
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Table of Contents
Introduction,
Foreword by the current Manfred Freiherr von Richthofen,
1 First Blood,
2 The Glory of its Name,
3 The Sky Arena,
4 Winds of Change,
5 Flying with Boelcke,
6 Preparing for Command,
7 The Red Baron Arises,
8 Bloody April 1917,
9 Deutschland,
10 Gathering of Eagles,
11 Triplane Triumph,
12 The Price of Glory,
13 Bloody April 1918,
14 Ein Deutsches Requiem,
Bibliography,