Lords of the Sky: Fighter Pilots and Air Combat, From the Red Baron to the F-16 (17 page)

The original Nieuports supplied to the Americans in March were not armed. Luckily for Lt. Douglas Campbell and Lt. Alan Winslow, both of the 94th Aero Squadron, the guns had been installed by the middle of April. On the morning of the fourteenth, Campbell shot down a Pfalz D-IIIa, the first kill by a USAS pilot, and Winslow followed a minute later by bringing down an Albatros.
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Both Germans were from Jasta 64, attached to the Fifth Army and operating out of Mars-la-Tour, west of Metz in the Lorraine region.

In its brief combat history, the 1st Pursuit Group would fight in 1,413 engagements, creating nineteen aces in the process, while claiming more than 150 enemy aircraft and 50 balloons. Transitioning to the SPAD XIII, they would be joined by the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Pursuit Groups and increasingly devote themselves to close air support as the air war diminished.

The SPAD was tough and rugged but difficult to fly for inexperienced pilots. Its V-8 Hispano-Suiza engine produced a top speed of 138 mph and the twin, synchronized Vickers guns gave it a powerful punch. But it was particularly hard to land given its poor slow-speed flight characteristics, and was much more difficult to master than its Fokker adversary. By summertime SPADs were rolling off the production line, and eventually more than eight thousand would be fielded. By comparison, only three thousand or so Fokker D-VIIs would find their way into frontline units.

The three main spring offensives (Michael, Georgette, and Blücher-Yorck) cost the Germans more than 350,000 men. Due to the tactical reorganization concentrating their elite troops, most of these casualties were the best remaining soldiers in the German army. Infrastructure was tattered, hundreds of bridges were knocked out, and more than three hundred locomotives were destroyed.

Also, as Ludendorff had predicted, by June there were 600,000 fresh American fighting men in France, with more arriving all the time. In its combat debut, the U.S. 1st Infantry Division had recaptured the village of Cantigny. The Germans would lash out with two more ill-planned and ineffective offensives (Gneisenau and Marne-Reims) that would leave them exhausted by the end of June.

At home nearly 700,000 Germans were dead from malnutrition, and scientists had developed ersatz foods to offset the severe shortages. “Meat” made from mushrooms and barley, dandelion root “coffee,” and paper clothes were commonplace. Fuel and soap shortages left ordinary people cold, dirty, and susceptible to disease. Spanish influenza was particularly virulent and left whole units incapable of combat.
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Soldiers deserted in record numbers, raiding military supply depots on their way home.

As the Allies began counterattacking in July, they found a surprised, often sick, and frequently demoralized enemy. On July 18, five U.S. divisions and three French armies caught the Germans off guard and reached the Marne River in two days. In less than two weeks they would advance 30 miles and take more than 20,000 prisoners.

But they didn’t have it all their way.

Now a major, James McCudden had lobbied to return to the fighting, and he finally prevailed. On his way to command 60 Squadron, he was ferrying SE-5 C1126 and stopped in Kent to visit his sister. On July 9 he took off for France. Well aware of the fast-shifting ground battle, he decided to stop at Auxile-Château to get directions. Directly after takeoff, McCudden lost his engine and, breaking his own rule, tried to turn back for the field. The plane stalled at low altitude and spun in. He was tossed from the aircraft, sustaining a severe skull fracture, and died two hours later without regaining consciousness. Tragically, he was just five miles short of his intended airfield. James McCudden, with fifty-seven credited kills, had been awarded the Victoria Cross, the DSO with bar, and the Military Cross with bar, among others. He was just twenty-three years old.

July found Mick Mannock also back in France and commanding 85 Squadron. Always high-strung, he’d now become somewhat preoccupied with the prospect of his own death and carried a revolver with him, vowing to shoot himself if he ever started to burn. Never a tidy man, he’d also become obsessed with neatness and was carefully shaved and dressed for each flight. However, his fears didn’t keep him from the cockpit. He was a superb instructor and combat leader, and in his brief time as commander Mannock created a cohesive squadron that fought as a team. One of his pilots would later write of him, “He wasn’t interested in just killing them himself. He wanted a lot of them killed, and he trained us how to do it.”

On the morning of the twenty-sixth, he took off with Lt. David Inglis, a new arrival, to introduce him to combat. They happened upon an LVG two-seater, and Mannock attacked. Again, like McCudden, he broke one of his cardinal rules and followed his victim down. A nearby German machine gun post opened fire, and Mannock was hit. His aircraft caught fire, as he’d foreseen. The burning SE-5 made two descending circles, then hit the ground.

Interestingly, it took the British government over a year to posthumously award Edward Mannock, with sixty-one kills, the Victoria Cross. This was a man who’d won two Military Crosses and three Distinguished Service Orders. Like McCudden, he’d risen from humble origins, and even in the thick of the Great War old prejudices died hard, it seemed.

In the span of two weeks the RAF had lost its two greatest fighter pilots. These were men who went well beyond being great flyers and deadly marksmen. They could teach as well, effectively passing on lessons only learned in combat. Both were thinkers, both developed fighting systems, and both were more interested in keeping their men alive than in running up a personal score. They would be sorely missed.

NEWLY DERIVED TACTICS
of coordinated artillery used in conjunction with tanks and aircraft had driven the Germans back. Big gains were made east of Amiens along a 15-mile section of the front. The British shattered six German divisions, driving up to seven miles deep and capturing more than four hundred guns. And while the growth of military aviation had been tied directly to the ground war in the waning days of the war, as the armies fell back, the Luftstreitkräfte was fighting its own war.

Hampered by a lack of supplies, especially fuel, and forced to relocate to remain behind the lines, German fighter pilots continued to interdict troop movements, strafe trenches, and challenge the Allies in the air. Their losses had been severe, but so were those of the French and British, and with the Fokker D-VII the Germans still had a fighter that could hold its own. They also had a hardened cadre of battle-tested veterans to lead the
Jastas
, including Lothar von Richthofen, Josef Jacobs, Ernst Udet, and Eduard von Schleich, the “Black Knight.”

Yet by late September the Germans had lost another 290,000 men, Austria-Hungary was seeking a separate peace, and Bulgaria signed its own armistice. Turkey, all but finished, had lost the Battle of Megiddo and Ludendorff collapsed with a seizure. Finally, on October 4, a request for formal negotiations was sent to Woodrow Wilson.

Smelling blood, the Allies continued pressing hard. From the Argonne to St. Quentin, Germans fell back toward the Belgian and Luxembourg borders. The decisive fighting was in the center, near Cambrai, where the First and Third Armies succeeded in punching through the Hindenburg Line during the last days of September. The French and Americans, slogging through the Meuse-Argonne, had been bogged down in a costly diversionary campaign that finally reached Sedan on Armistice Day. To the north, the British and Belgians secured the coast, and with the line breached the Germans had no choice but to fall back even further.

DURING THE CLOSING
days of October an incident occurred that could be regarded as the zenith or apex of air combat during the Great War. Technology, tactics, skill, and fighting spirit—all came together on one extraordinary morning.

Major Billy Barker had been in France with the Royal Canadian Mounted Rifles since the beginning of the war. Commissioned an officer in April 1915, he served first as an observer and then as a pilot. Transferring to fighters, Barker began his killing career during October 1917 and was an ace by the end of the year. Ordered to the Italian Front, he remained there till the following September. Known for pranks against the enemy, he once took his squadron down low into San Vito al Tagliamento to attack a headquarters building. Shooting up windows and doors, they then pulled up into a wheel over the town and dropped Cooper bombs on the roofs. Later, trying to provoke the Austrians to fight, he dropped a note over the Godega aerodrome that read:

Major Barker, DSO, MC and the Officers under his Command present their compliments to Captain Bronmoski, 41 Recon. Portobouffole, Ritter von Fiala, 51 Pursuit, Gajarine, Captain Navratil, 3rd Company, and the Pilots under their command, and request the pleasure and honour of meeting in the air. In order to save Captain Bronmoski, Ritter von Fiala and Captain Navratil and gentlemen of his party the inconvenience of searching for them, Major Barker and his Officers will bomb Godigo aerodrome at 10 a.m. daily, weather permitting, for the ensuing two weeks.

When ordered to take command of the RAF Training School at Hounslow, Barker promptly made the argument that he couldn’t very well teach young pilots about the Western Front if he wasn’t up to date himself. So he was given a Sopwith Snipe and ten days to roam about and reacquaint himself with the war in the west.

Developed as a Sopwith 7F-1, the Snipe was the first fighter delivered to the newly formed Royal Air Force. It was to British aircraft design what the Fokker D-VII was to the Germans: a culmination of all the hard lessons learned from the previous years. Designed in 1917 as a replacement for the Camel, the new aircraft was powered by a 230-horsepower Bentley B.R.2 air-cooled rotary engine. The cockpit was also planned to include an electrically heated flying suit and oxygen system for higher-altitude operations. The engine, like the aircraft, represented the pinnacle of design for the time, and it was the last rotary engine to be ordered for the RAF.

The center section of the upper wing was left open and the pilot sat higher than in the Camel; both features markedly improved visibility. Twin synchronized Vickers .303 machine guns with an Aldis sight gave it a respectable punch. Heavier than the Camel, it also had a two-bay wingspan for increased strength. Combined with its maneuverability and powerful performance at higher altitudes, the Snipe was a winner.

Billy Barker could now get at German reconnaissance aircraft that were operating with near impunity above 20,000 feet. By the end of October his score was up to forty-six aircraft and nine balloons. However, the rear echelon eventually caught up with him, and he was ordered directly to return and assume command of the Hounslow school. Barker packed up, took off from Beugnatre, France, and headed northeast along the front. Passing St. Quentin at 24,000 feet, he spotted a big German two-seater over the Mormal Forest and promptly attacked. Though the gunner fought back, Barker shot the wings off and watched the shattered plane make its long, final fall.

Suddenly the Snipe lurched, Barker’s right leg went numb, and he instinctively rolled off to the left. Snapping his head around, he saw the Fokker D-VIII behind him and immediately began a vertical one-circle fight. The numbness eventually wore off, but he was unable to use his right leg. Gritting his teeth against the searing pain, Barker finally brought his guns to bear and fired a burst into the Germans’ tank, sending it spinning down in flames.

Gasping for breath, he realized that the surrounding sky was full of airplanes. His brief dogfight had landed him in the middle of an entire German circus
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and, like enraged wasps, the Fokkers and Triplanes swarmed around, shooting furiously. Flying reflexively, Barker shot down two fighters but was wounded again, this time in the left leg. As he passed out and the Snipe went into a spin, the Germans assumed he was finished.

But the cold, rushing air revived him so he booted opposite rudder, pumped the stick forward, and recovered from the spin. One of the Fokkers had followed him down, but the abrupt recovery caught the German off guard. Overshooting, he flashed in front of the Snipe, the surprised pilot twisting around in his seat. Barker pulled the nose up and squeezed off a short burst into the other cockpit. The Fokker simply rolled over and dove into the ground. But as the swarm caught up and attacked, tracers shot past him and Barker ducked, jinking back and forth to spoil their aim. Nevertheless, another bullet shattered his elbow, and he fainted again from blood loss and pain.

Coming around again only a few thousand feet up, Barker found himself in the middle of the last
Jasta
. He shot down another Fokker, then flipped the Snipe over and raced toward the British lines. Incensed, the Germans followed, so the Canadian pitched back into the fight, shooting the last of his ammunition and scattering his pursuers. Dizzy and in tremendous pain, Billy Barker managed to crash just behind the British lines. Rescued by a regiment of Highlanders, he woke up days later at Number 8 Hospital in Rouen. The entire dogfight had taken place over the startled heads of thousands of British soldiers and at least one astonished general.

Credited with five German fighters shot down plus the two-seater, Billy Barker was awarded the Victoria Cross for his actions that day. In addition to three Military Crosses, two Distinguished Service Orders, the French Croix de Guerre, and two Italian Silver Medals for Military Valor, Billy Barker became the most-decorated fighting man in the history of Canada, the British Empire, and the Commonwealth of Nations. The other two most-decorated flyers were James McCudden and Mick Mannock.

While Billy Barker was lying in a hospital room, the heaviest day of air fighting in the war took place. As their army withdrew, German fighters concentrated over the chokepoints of Namur, Charleroi, and Mons. Big de Havilland bombers were attacking roads, troops, and railways but they were easy targets, and sixty-three were lost in October alone. This last desperate fight would finally drain the Luftstreitkräfte, and even the strength and skill of individual German aces couldn’t stem the Allied tide. One Snipe squadron shot down thirty-six German aircraft in four days.