The Battle of the Somme
During my whole life, I have not
found a happier hunting ground than in the course of the Somme Battle. In the
morning, as soon as I had got up, the first Englishmen arrived, and the last
did not disappear until long after sunset. Boelcke once said that this was the
El Dorado of the flying men.
There was a time when, within two
months, Boelcke's bag of machines increased from twenty to forty. At that time,
we beginners had not had the experience of our master and we were quite
satisfied when we did not get a hiding [sic]. It was an exciting period! Every
time we went up, we had a fight. Frequently, we fought really big battles in
the air. There were sometimes from forty to sixty English machines, and
unfortunately, the Germans were often in the minority. With us, quality was
more important than quantity.
Still, the Englishman is a smart
fellow. That we must allow. Sometimes the English came down to a very low
altitude and visited Boelcke in his quarters, upon which they threw their
bombs. They absolutely challenged us to battle and never refused fighting.
We had a delightful time with our
chasing squadron. The spirit of our leader animated all his pupils. We trusted
him blindly. There was no possibility that one of us would be left behind. Such
a thought was incomprehensible to us. Animated by that spirit, we gaily
diminished the number of our enemies.
On the day when Boelcke fell, the
squadron had brought down forty opponents. By now, the number has been
increased by more than a hundred, and Boelcke's spirit lives still among his
capable successors.
Boelcke’s Death (October 18, 1916)
One
day we were flying, and once more being guided by Boelcke against the enemy. We
always had a wonderful feeling of security when he was with us. After all, he
was the one and only. The weather was very gusty and there were many clouds.
There were no aeroplanes about except fighting ones.
From a long distance, we saw two
impertinent Englishmen in the air that actually seemed to enjoy the terrible
weather. We were six and they were two. If they had been twenty and if Boelcke
had given us the signal to attack, we would not have been at all surprised.
The struggle began in the usual way.
Boelcke tackled the one and I the other. I had to let go because one of the
German machines got in my way. I looked around and noticed Boelcke settling his
victim about two hundred yards away from me.
It was the usual thing. Boelcke
would shoot down his opponent and I had to look on. Close to Boelcke flew
a good friend of his. It was an interesting struggle. Both men were shooting.
It was probable that the Englishman would fall at any moment. Suddenly, I
noticed an unnatural movement of the two German flying machines. Immediately I
thought, “Collision.” I had not yet seen a collision in the air. I
had imagined that it would look quite different. In reality, what happened was
not a collision. The two machines merely touched one another. However, if two
machines go at the tremendous pace of flying machines, the slightest contact
has the effect of a violent concussion.
Boelcke drew away from his victim
and descended in large curves. He did not seem to be falling, but when I saw
him descending below me, I noticed that part of his planes had broken off. I
could not see what happened afterward, but in the clouds he lost an entire
plane. Now his machine was no longer steerable. It fell accompanied all the
time by Boelcke's faithful friend.
When we reached home, we found the
report "Boelcke is dead!" had already arrived. We could scarcely
realize it.
The greatest pain was, of course,
felt by the man who had the misfortune to be involved in the accident.
It is a strange thing that everybody
who met Boelcke imagined that he alone was his true friend. I have made the
acquaintance of about forty men, each of whom imagined that he alone was
Boelcke's intimate. Each imagined that he had the monopoly of Boelcke's
affections. Men whose names were unknown to Boelcke believed that he was
particularly fond of them. This is a curious phenomenon which I have never
noticed in anyone else. Boelcke had not a personal enemy. He was equally polite
to everybody, making no difference.
The only one who was perhaps more
intimate with him than the others was the very man who had the misfortune to be
in the accident which caused his death.
Nothing happens without God's will.
That is the only consolation which any of us can put to our souls during
this war.
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