Chapter VII: Part 7
Some years before the Spanish-American War, Germany began to show an unfair spirit toward the United States. Much ill-feeling existed between the two countries in their commercial relationships. There grew up among the aristocracy of Germany, especially among the landowners, an extremely hostile attitude toward the government in Washington. This hostility was first publicly shown by a remark reported to have been made by the Emperor at mess with a company of officers, to the effect that "it would not be too bad if America should very soon require Europe to teach her the proper place for her." This remark was afterward officially denied, with the addition that the Emperor's feeling for the United States was not hostile.
When, however, Prince Henry of Prussia, brother of the German Emperor, arrived on a government mission in Hongkong, it is said he gave a banquet to representatives from all the fleets in port. Commodore Dewey of the American fleet was present. After the dinner, Prince Henry called for the usual national toasts. There is a custom in the navy of calling upon the representatives of the different nations in a certain regulated and well-understood order. But when the time came to call for the toast to the United States, the Prince passed it by; he did this several times. Commodore Dewey, realizing that this was intentional on the part of Prince Henry, left the banquet. The next morning a messenger from the German prince brought the explanation that the act had been committed wholly by mistake, and was not meant as a discourtesy to the United States or her commander. Dewey thanked the messenger for his courteous manner in delivering his Admiral's word, but sent back the statement that such an incident called for a personal apology from the Prince. Very soon Prince Henry called in person and apologized, saying that the name of the United States had not been written in its proper order on the list which he followed in giving the toasts.
When war had been declared between the United States and Spain, and Commodore Dewey had received orders to "seek the Spanish fleet and destroy it," he set sail from Hongkong for Manila. Germany, according to announcements from Spain, was determined to prevent the bombardment of the city, because of German interests and German subjects there. After capturing the Spanish fortress which guarded Manila, it was necessary for Dewey to maintain a strict blockade against the city, lest Spanish reënforcements should arrive. No American troops or ships could reach him in less than six weeks.
In Manila Bay were warships of Great Britain, Russia, France, Japan, and Austria. These nations were content to send only one or two vessels, while from Germany there were five and sometimes seven. One of them, the _Deutschland_, was commanded by Prince Henry, and was heavily armed. In fact, in numbers and guns, the Germans were stronger than the Americans with their six small vessels.
There was one regulation common to all blockade codes, one which was always followed by the officers on every ship. It was that no foreign boats should move about the bay after sunset, without the permission of the blockade commander.
But the Germans sent launches out at night and in many ways violated the rules. When Dewey protested, they only sent them off later at night. They even gave the Spaniards many supplies. Then Dewey had to turn the searchlights on them and keep their vessels covered, to prevent any boat leaving at night without his knowledge.
This is particularly offensive to any naval commander, and the German Admiral, Von Diederichs, objected. The American commander was courteous but firm, and said that the United States, and not Germany, was holding the blockade.
Still the Germans persisted in moving their vessels so mysteriously that an American ship was sent to meet every incoming vessel to demand its nationality, its last port, and its destination. To the German flag lieutenant, who brought a strong protest against this order, Dewey said: "Tell Admiral von Diederichs that there are some acts that mean war, and his fleet is dangerously near those acts. If he wants war, he may have it here, now, or at the time that best suits him."
Von Diederichs answered that his actions were not intended to violate the rules, but he then went to the British commander, Captain Chichester, and asked whether he intended to follow such strict orders. The English captain suspected the German and answered, "Admiral Dewey and I have a perfect understanding in the matter." Then he added, "He has asked us to do just what he has asked of you, and we have been directed to follow his orders to the letter."
The English commander then sent a dispatch to Admiral Dewey, saying that his orders were just, his regulations fair, and that if the American commander felt unable to enforce them alone, he could depend upon the British fleet to assist him. It is understood that the British officer afterward informed Von Diederichs of what he had done, and the Germans strictly obeyed the rules and gave no further trouble.
Not many years ago, in 1911 in fact, while the United States was doing her best by Germany, the German government tried to injure and deceive her.
At that time Germany was also plotting against France, to make war upon her and to seize the whole country. Perhaps Germany knew that America would not allow such horrible crimes to succeed, and so sooner or later she would find herself at war with the United States.
Therefore Germany must think ahead, and plan some means of making the United States keep her ideas of justice to herself and let Germany do as she chose. German officials consulted together and said, "Mexico is a little country at the very southern tip of the United States, conveniently near the new waterway at Panama. We could do some damage there, with Mexico's help, and as a reward, Mexico might get back some of the states just over the border--New Mexico, Texas, and Arizona--which formerly belonged to her.
"Then Japan is across the sea from Mexico and the gold coast of the United States. Japan needs more land for her millions of people. She might as well take California and some of the islands near Panama. All this would keep America busy so that she could not hinder us from doing our will in France."
A press correspondent in Berlin, as early as February, 1911, sent the following word by cablegram:
The story was told here last night that Japan and Mexico have
come to an understanding with each other against America, and
that the United States, therefore, is secretly favoring the
Mexican revolutionists led by Madero. To-day the report is
published in several newspapers, even in the most trustworthy of
them. The report says: "Since America obtained the Panama Canal,
she has had an increasing interest in robbing Mexico and the
Central American states of their independence."
According to the story, the present trouble has arisen because
of Mexico's refusal to allow the United States to use Magdalena
Bay as a coaling station. There must be some reason for
publishing the story so widely. It is made much of by the jingo
press, which warns the Central and the South American states to
beware of ambitious political plans of the United States.
As this word was sent in time of peace, it was not censored, and while it did not at that time appear to be of great importance, it really meant that Germany was taking advantage of the civil war in Mexico to stir up antagonism between that country and the United States.
In American and German newspapers, stories were also printed hinting at bad feelings between the United States and the Japanese government, though no one seemed to know from whom the stories came. It was said that, before long, an American fleet would be forcing its way into Japanese waters, or the Japanese fleet would form in battle line somewhere along the coast of California.
In that same year, stories were publicly printed in American papers, intended to spread the belief that Japan and Mexico were especially friendly to Germany, and that they were interested in plotting together against the United States. These stories were so mysterious and mischievous that explanations from the different governments became necessary.
During the last week of February, 1917, there came into the hands of the State Department in America, a note from Alfred Zimmermann, German Minister of Foreign Affairs, to the German Minister in Mexico City. The American government had already urged the German government to cease submarine warfare, as it was not at all a fair method of fighting, but was, instead, entirely barbarous and contrary to international law. Germany, however, determined to wage unrestricted submarine warfare against England and her allies. Twelve days before the plan was finally announced, this note was sent to the German Minister in Mexico:
BERLIN, Jan. 19, 1917.
On the 1st of February we intend to begin submarine warfare
unrestricted. In spite of this, it is our intention to endeavor
to keep neutral with the United States of America.
If this attempt is not successful, we propose an alliance on the
following basis with Mexico:
That we shall make war together and together make peace. We
shall give general financial support, and it is understood that
Mexico is to reconquer the lost territory in New Mexico, Texas,
and Arizona. The details are left to you for settlement.
You are instructed to inform the President of Mexico of the
above in the greatest confidence, as soon as it is certain that
there will be an outbreak of war with the United States, and
suggest that the President of Mexico, on his own initiative,
should communicate with Japan suggesting adherence at once to
this plan; at the same time offer to mediate between Germany and
Japan.
Please call to the attention of the President of Mexico that the
employment of ruthless submarine warfare now promises to compel
England to make peace in a few months.
ZIMMERMANN.
When all this became known to the American people, at first it was almost impossible for them to believe that Germany had been plotting against the United States, and for so long. Only the word of the President of the United States, saying that clear and sufficient evidence to prove it beyond dispute was in the hands of the government, could persuade them that Germany had been for years acting the "cheat" and the "sneak."
The first step taken by the American government was to ask Mexico and Japan to explain the many stories that had been circulated, and to tell whether they had agreed with Germany to war against the United States.
The people in this country waited anxiously to hear from Japan, for it would be denying the truth to say that the stories had not aroused suspicion. Japan answered just as the United States would have answered in her place, an answer that left no room for doubt. Not only did the Japanese Foreign Minister deny that Japan had been asked by Mexico or Germany to join against the United States, but he added more than is absolutely necessary in diplomatic circles; he added that even if such a proposal had come, it would have been rejected at once.
This is exactly such an answer as the United States would have given to any friendly country. The answer did more to bind the friendship between the two countries than many years of official visits and formal expressions of goodwill could possibly have done. The Japanese people were glad that such an answer had been sent by their government. In fact, the Japanese Ambassador in this country, in speaking of the matter said, "We cannot condemn the plot too strongly. Our Foreign Minister and Premier have expressed the feeling of the Japanese Government and the Japanese people. And it is not alone the government; but the people are back of the government in denouncing the intrigue. In one way it is unfortunate, because we do not feel flattered at the thought of being approached for such an object; but the incident, on the other hand, is certain to have the good effect of putting us in a true light before the world, and of binding our friendship with America. We have a treaty alliance with Great Britain, and owe allegiance to the Allied cause. In Japan we place above everything else our national honor, which involves faithfulness to our treaties."
Germany never supposed that she would be the means by which Japan and the United States, instead of being thrust further apart, would be drawn closer together. Germany dreamed a different sort of dream. Judging other nations by herself, she did not expect England to come to the aid of Belgium and France, and now she had made another mistake. She had set both Japan and Mexico down as the natural foes of the United States, waiting only for a favorable opportunity to strike.
The answer from Mexico was not so satisfactory as that from Japan. Villa, the famous Mexican bandit chief, when he conferred on the border with Major-General Scott as to the firing at Naco, it is said, had whispered to the American General a story of Japanese conspiracy in Mexico City. He claimed that the captain of a Japanese vessel in a Mexican port had spoken of the natural ties of friendship that should exist between Mexico and Japan, and had also spoken of the United States as the natural enemy to both countries. Villa had boasted loudly that, if war came between Japan and the United States, Mexico would be found fighting for her American neighbor. But later, when the United States recognized Carranza as ruler of Mexico and turned against Villa, the bandit chief hastened to seek aid against his "neighbor," from Tokio. Needless to say, he failed.
General Huerta's effort to start a new revolution in Mexico, after he returned to the United States from Spain, has been traced directly to the Germans. He, too, looked hopefully for aid from Japan, but was disappointed.
Before the United States had recognized the Carranza government, the Carranza officials displayed great affection for the Japanese Minister who had been sent to their country, and for Japan. But the government at Tokio knew that the display was merely made for American eyes, and carefully avoided any warm response. Thus has Zimmermann's scheme come to be called his "back-stairs policy" and "the plot that failed."
Thanks to the discovery of the Zimmermann plot, Japan and the United States understand each other better, and are growing more and more friendly. Mexico is keeping her troubles to herself and has all she can do in straightening out her own affairs. The boys and girls in America will hope, if baseball and football will teach the Mexicans to play fair, that these games and others like them will become as popular there as they are in the United States.
* * * * *
A man is a father, a brother, a German, a Roman, an American; but beneath all these relations, he is a man. The end of his human destiny is not to be the best German, or the best Roman, or the best father, but the best man he can be....
Though darkness sometimes shadows our national sky, though confusion comes from error, and success breeds corruption, yet will the storm pass in God's good time; and in clearer sky and purer atmosphere, our national life grow stronger and nobler, sanctified more and more, consecrated to God and liberty by the martyrs who fall in the strife for the just and true.
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS.
WHY WE FIGHT GERMANY
Because of Belgium, invaded, outraged, enslaved, impoverished Belgium. We cannot forget Liége, Louvain, and Cardinal Mercier. Translated into terms of American history, these names stand for Bunker Hill, Lexington, and Patrick Henry.
Because of France, invaded, desecrated France, a million of whose heroic sons have died to save the land of Lafayette. Glorious, golden France, the preserver of the arts, the land of noble spirit, the first land to follow our lead into republican liberty.
Because of England, from whom came the laws, traditions, standards of life, and inherent love of liberty which we call Anglo-Saxon civilization. We defeated her once upon the land and once upon the sea. But Australia, New Zealand, Africa, and Canada are free because of what we did. And they are with us in the fight for the freedom of the seas.
Because of Russia--new Russia. She must not be overwhelmed now. Not now, surely, when she is just born into freedom. Her peasants must have their chance; they must go to school to Washington, to Jefferson, and to Lincoln, until they know their way about in this new, strange world of government by the popular will.
Because of other peoples, with their rising hope that the world may be freed from government by the soldier.
We are fighting Germany because she sought to terrorize us and then to fool us. We could not believe that Germany would do what she said she would do upon the seas.
We still hear the piteous cries of children coming up out of the sea where the _Lusitania_ went down. And Germany has never asked the forgiveness of the world.
We saw the _Sussex_ sunk, crowded with the sons and daughters of neutral nations.
We saw ship after ship sent to the bottom--ships of mercy bound out of America for the Belgian starving, ships carrying the Red Cross and laden with the wounded of all nations, ships carrying food and clothing to friendly, harmless, terrorized peoples, ships flying the Stars and Stripes--sent to the bottom hundreds of miles from shore, manned by American seamen, murdered against all law, without warning.
We believed Germany's promise that she would respect the neutral flag and the rights of neutrals, and we held our anger and outrage in check. But now we see that she was holding us off with fair promises until she could build her huge fleet of submarines. For when spring came, she blew her promise into the air, just as at the beginning she had torn up that "scrap of paper." Then we saw clearly that there was but one law for Germany, her will to rule.
We are fighting Germany because in this war feudalism is making its last stand against on-coming democracy. We see it now. This is a war against an old spirit, an ancient, outworn spirit. It is a war against feudalism--the right of the castle on the hill to rule the village below. It is a war for democracy--the right of all to be their own masters. Let Germany be feudal if she will. But she must not spread her system over a world that has outgrown it.
We fight with the world for an honest world in which nations keep their word, for a world in which nations do not live by swagger or by threat, for a world in which men think of the ways in which they can conquer the common cruelties of nature instead of inventing more horrible cruelties to inflict upon the spirit and body of man, for a world in which the ambition of the philosophy of a few shall not make miserable all mankind, for a world in which the man is held more precious than the machine, the system, or the State.
SECRETARY FRANKLIN K. LANE, June 4, 1917.
GENERAL PERSHING
In April, 1917, a small group of men in civilian dress climbed up the side of the ocean liner, the _Baltic_, just outside of New York harbor. Each one carried a suitcase or a hand-bag, which was his only baggage. They had come down the harbor through the fog and mist on a tugboat. These men were officers in the United States army, and among them were General Pershing and his staff--"Black Jack Pershing," as his men affectionately called him.
They were given no farewell at the dock, in fact their going was kept a profound secret; for should the Germans learn upon what liner the chief officers of the American army that was soon to gather in France, took passage, all their submarines would neglect everything else in attempting to sink this one vessel.
The officers reached England in safety, and made preparations for the great American armies that were soon to follow them. General Pershing was appointed commander of these armies. He had just come from service in Mexico, where he had led American troops in search of the outlaw, Villa.
General Pershing is a West Point graduate; but he narrowly escaped following another career, for he gained his appointment to West Point by only one point over his nearest competitor. He has made fighting his life work. We are all beginning to see that in the world as it is made up at present, some men must prepare for fighting and make fighting their life work. Universal peace must come through war, and many are hoping that it will come as a result of the World War. William Jennings Bryan and Henry Ford are among the world's leading advocates of universal peace. When the United States declared war, Bryan said, "The quickest road to peace is through the war to victory"; and Henry Ford turned over to the government his great automobile factories and gave his own services on one of the war boards, to make the war more quickly successful.
An interesting story is told us in the _Dallas News_ of Pershing's school days at normal school, before he went to West Point. It shows that he never shunned a fight, if the rights of others needed to be defended.
An incident of the boyhood days of General John J. Pershing,
illustrating how the principle for which the American general is
leading this nation's armies against the hordes of
autocracy--the square deal for every one--has always
predominated in the American leader, was related yesterday by
Dr. James L. Holloway of Dallas, who went to school with
Pershing in Kirksville, Missouri, many years ago, and who
during that period was an intimate friend of the General.
"When I arrived at Kirksville to attend the Normal School there,
I was a green country boy," Dr. Holloway said, "and carried my
belongings in a very frail trunk. The baggageman who was on the
station platform was handling my trunk roughly, and when I
remonstrated with him in my timid way, he merely pitched the
trunk off the baggage wagon and laughed at me. When the trunk
fell on the ground it broke open and scattered my things around
on the platform. I indignantly told him that I would report the
matter to the headquarters of the railroad in St. Louis, and
again he laughed at me.
"I wrote the head of the baggage department, as I said I would,
and later learned that the offending baggageman had been
severely censured. Meanwhile I had struck up a strong
acquaintance with Jack Pershing, who was a big, husky boy from a
Missouri country town. I will always remember his broad
forehead, his determined-looking jaw, and his steel gray eyes.
He was a favorite among the boys at the Normal School, not so
much on account of his mental brilliancy but because of his
personal stamina.
"Two weeks after my encounter with the baggageman, Pershing and
I walked down to the railroad station. It was on Sunday and the
baggage office was closed. Pershing left me for a moment, and as
I walked around a corner of the station I met the baggageman,
who approached threateningly. 'You're the fellow who reported me
to headquarters,' he said, bullying me. I admitted that I had.
'Well,' said the baggageman, 'I'm going to lick you good for
it.' With these words he started toward me. At this juncture
Pershing's big frame rounded the corner of the station.
"'What's the trouble, Holloway?' he asked. I told him the
baggageman was threatening me with violence. 'He is, is he?'
said Pershing. 'Well, we'll clean his plowshare for him right
now.'
"I shall never forget this expression. The baggageman, seeing
that he was no match for Pershing--let alone the two of us--left
the scene of action. We didn't even have a chance to lay our
hands on him.
"Six months after this occurred, Pershing was appointed to West
Point. I have never seen him since."
For several years after his graduation from West Point, no promotion came to Pershing; but he was not idle nor soured by disappointment. He continued to study, especially military tactics. He became so well versed in this branch that he was sent to West Point to teach it.
When the Spanish-American War broke out, Pershing asked for a command, and was appointed first lieutenant with a troop of colored cavalry, and sent to Cuba. At the battle of El Caney he led his troops with such bravery and success that he was at once promoted and made a captain "for gallantry in action."
Then he went to the Philippines with General Chaffee. He performed much valuable service there. Perhaps the single deed by which his work there is best known is the lesson he taught the Sultan of Mindanao. The Sultan was a Mohammedan, and ruled over many thousand Malays. To kill a Christian was thought to be a good deed by the Sultan, and he was always glad of an opportunity to show his goodness. For three hundred years, he and his predecessors had escaped punishment by the Spaniards, who owned and ruled the islands.
The Sultan's chief village and stronghold could be reached only by passing through the dense and dangerous tropical jungles; and when it was reached, it was found to be surrounded by a wall of earth and bamboo, forty feet thick, and outside the wall by a moat fifty feet wide. It does not seem so strange that the Spaniards had done nothing.
But Pershing cut a path through the jungles and reached the Sultan's village, and informed him that there must be no more murders of Christians. The Sultan was very pleasant, in fact he laughed at the young American captain.
Soon word came to American headquarters that the Sultan had caused the death of another Christian missionary. In forty-eight hours most of the earth and bamboo wall was in the moat, and the Sultan's village was destroyed. In less than two years, Pershing established law and order in all of western Mindanao.
He was also in command of the troops sent to the Border and into Mexico after the outlaw, Villa. The soldiers with him there always recall his constant advice, "Shoulders back, chin up, and do your best."
General Pershing is a man who has never feared obstacles, and has never hesitated to give the time and labor necessary to overcome them. That there is no easy path to greatness and success, but that both will come to him who prepares himself, who works, who sticks at it, who is brave and sacrificing--this is the lesson of General Pershing's life and work.
Shortly after General Pershing reached France, the French people celebrated the birthday of Lafayette; and General Pershing visited the tomb of the great French patriot, to place there a wreath in token of America's gratitude. A large number of French people were gathered there, and every one supposed General Pershing would make a speech--that is, every one except General Pershing. When he was called upon, he was dumfounded, but at last he said, "Well, Lafayette, we are here." That was all.
Could he have said more if he had talked an hour? He said, "Lafayette, your people now need us. We have not forgotten. Here we are, and behind us are all the resources of the wealthiest and most enterprising nation in the world, billions of dollars and millions of men. We are only the first to arrive to pay the debt we have owed to you for one hundred and forty years, but here we are at last."
It is said that men and women wept aloud as the full significance of the words and all they meant for France became clear to them.
THE MELTING POT
America has been called the "crucible" or the "melting pot" of nations, because many peoples of many races and many countries come together here, and in the heat of life and struggle are molded into Americans. President Wilson said, in a speech at Cincinnati in 1916, "America is not made out of a single stock. Here we have a great melting pot."
As soon as we entered the war against Germany, the question arose in the minds of most people as to how the large number of Germans in the United States would act. Germany had taught them that even though they became naturalized and took the oath of allegiance as American citizens, such action was not binding, but was like "a scrap of paper" to be destroyed and forgotten whenever necessity demanded, and that "once a German" meant "always a German." It seems now that Germany actually expected the Germans, who had left their native land to seek opportunity, freedom, and citizenship under the Stars and Stripes, to fight against their new and adopted home; but events have proved that most German-Americans have higher ideals of right. A leading German-American has written a book entitled "Right before Peace"; its title carries the thought that has guided most of his fellow-countrymen and their children in the United States during the World War.
A few months after the United States had declared that a state of war existed with Germany, many leading men of this country of foreign birth and parentage, signed, with others, a declaration drawn up by Theodore Roosevelt. This declaration, somewhat abbreviated but not altered in thought, is as follows. It makes very clear what America should mean to her adopted children.
We Americans are the children of the crucible. We have boasted
that out of the crucible, the melting pot of life, in this free
land, all the men and all the women who have come here from all
the nations come forth as Americans, and as nothing else, like
all other Americans, equal to them, and holding no allegiance to
any other land or nation. We hold it then to be our duty, as it
is of every American, always to stand together for the honor and
interest of America, even if such a stand brings us into
conflict with our fatherland. If an American does not so act, he
is false to the teachings and the lives of Washington and
Lincoln; he has no right in our country, and he should be sent
out of it; for he has shown that the crucible has failed to do
its work. The crucible must melt all who are cast into it, and
it must turn them out in one American mold, the mold shaped one
hundred and forty years ago by the men who, under Washington,
founded this as a free nation, separate from all others. Even at
that time, these true Americans were of different races; Paul
Revere and Charles Carroll, Marion, Herkimer, Sullivan,
Schuyler, and Muhlenberg were equals in service and respect
with Lighthorse Harry Lee and Israel Putnam. Most of them,
however, were of English blood, but they did not hesitate to
fight Great Britain when she was in the wrong. They stood for
liberty and for the eternal rule of right and justice, and they
stood as Americans and as nothing else.
So must all Americans of whatever race act to-day; otherwise
they are traitors to America. This applies, especially to-day,
to all Americans of German blood who, in any manner, support
Germany against the United States and her Allies.
Many pacifists have during the last three years proved
themselves the evil enemies of their country. They now seek an
inconclusive peace. In so doing they show themselves to be the
spiritual heirs of the Tories, who, in the name of peace,
opposed Washington, and of the Copperheads, who, in the name of
peace, opposed Lincoln. We look upon them as traitors to the
Republic and to the great cause of justice and humanity. This
war is a war for the vital interests of America. When we fight
for America abroad, we save our children from fighting for
America at home beside their own ruined hearthstones. To accept
any peace, except one based on the complete overthrow of Germany
as she is under the ideals of Prussia and the Hohenzollerns, we
believe would be an act of baseness and cowardice, and a
betrayal of this country and of mankind.
The test of an American to-day is service against Germany. We
should put forth as speedily as possible every particle of our
vast, lazy strength to win the triumph over Germany. The
government should at once deal with the greatest severity with
traitors at home.
We must have but one flag. We must also have but one language.
This must be the language of the Declaration of Independence, of
Washington's Farewell Address, and of Lincoln's Gettysburg
Speech.
Of us who sign, some are Protestants, some are Catholics, some
are Jews. Most of us were born in this country of parents born
in various countries of the Old World--in Germany, France,
England, Ireland, Italy, the Slavonic and the Scandinavian
lands; some of us were born abroad; some of us are of
Revolutionary stock. All of us are Americans, and nothing but
Americans.
THE AMERICAN'S CREED[8]
I believe in the United States of America as a government of the people, by the people, for the people, whose just powers are derived from the consent of the governed; a democracy in a republic; a sovereign Nation of many sovereign States; a perfect Union, one and inseparable, established upon those principles of freedom, equality, justice, and humanity for which American patriots sacrificed their lives and fortunes.
I therefore believe it is my duty to my country to love it; to support its Constitution; to obey its laws; to respect its flag; and to defend it against all enemies.
FOOTNOTES:
[8] COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY E.J. WYATT, BALTIMORE.
BIRDMEN
Although I am an American, I am still in the French aviation corps, in which I enlisted when the war broke out. I am too old for service under the Stars and Stripes, but not too old to risk my life under the French flag for the freedom of the world.
I was trained in a French aviation school. Flyers were needed immediately; and so I did not go through "a ground school," or any teaching like that given for eight weeks in the American ground schools. I was sent directly to the flying field and given a machine at once. I did not, as they do at American flying fields, go up first with an instructor who might be tempted to "scare me to death" by "looping the loop" or doing "tail spins." I took my own machine at the very start and, after being given the simplest directions, away I went in it; but I did not break any records for altitude.
It was a small monoplane with a 20-horse-power motor, and its wings had been clipped; so all it could do was to roll along the ground. It was, however, some time before I could guide it in a straight line. I was discouraged at first, but felt better when I learned that it was very difficult even for an experienced flyer.
Such machines are called "penguins" and have a trick of turning suddenly in a short half circle and smashing the end of a wing against the ground. The queer antics of beginners in them furnish fun for every one on the flying fields.
After I had mastered this machine, I was given one with a motor of greater horse power, and in this I could fly along the ground at nearly sixty miles an hour; but I could not rise into the air, for the wings were clipped and did not have sufficient sustaining power to hold the machine in the air.
Then at last I was given a plane with full-sized wings; but, as its motor generated only about 25-horse power, I could get only from three to six feet above the ground, and went skimming along now on the ground and now a few feet in the air.
In these machines, we learned only how to manage the tail of the machine. As we skimmed along the ground, we tipped the tail at an angle slightly above a straight line. In a few moments we were off the ground, and the roar of the motor sounded softer and smoother. It seemed as if we were very far from the earth, and that something might break and dash us to our death--in reality, we had not risen six feet. To get back to earth, we must push the lever that lowers the tail--but this must be done very slightly and very carefully. A little push too much, and the machine will suddenly dive into the ground.
After my experience with the first two machines, I found it easy to handle this one, and was soon given one that would take me up about fifty feet and give me a chance to learn the "feel of the air." All my flying was still in straight lines, or as nearly straight as I could make it. We were not yet allowed to try to turn.
In the next machine I could rise two or three hundred feet and began to learn to turn, although most of the flying was still in straight lines.
I was beginning to make good landings, which is the hardest part of the game. We have to let the ship down on two wheels and let the tail skid at a speed of thirty-five miles an hour and not break the landing gear.
The machines often bound three or four times when landing and that is hard on the landing gear. My last landing was so soft that I was not sure when I touched the ground. To take off is quite easy. The ship is controlled by an upright stick which is between one's knees and just right for the left hand. The rudder is controlled by the feet, and the throttle is on the right side. To take off, we get up a speed of about forty-six miles per hour and raise the tail up until the ship is level, and then when she starts to rise, lift the nose just a little and climb slowly.
On turns, the ship has to be banked, tipped up with the inside wing low, and turned with the rudder. It is quite a hard thing to do when it is rough, as just about the time we bank, we get a puff of wind which will hit one wing and she will roll and rock so that we have to get her straightened out. It is a fight all the time until you get about 3000 feet up, when the air gets steady.
To land, we slow the engine down to idling speed and come down in a steep glide until five or six feet from the ground, then level off and glide along until she begins to settle, then jerk the tail down until she stops. We always have to take off and come down against the wind.
I was obliged to follow the directions of my instructor, much against my own wishes. It seemed to me that I could now do anything in the air and that there was not the slightest danger. This too early feeling of mastery is the cause of many beginners' being injured or killed, by trying "stunts" too difficult for them.
I did not spend much time in flying at first, after I had learned how to handle the airplane. It is not difficult to stay in the air and to fly, but it is difficult to land safely without breaking the machine. So I was kept practicing landing.
To secure my license I was required to fly 50 miles in a straight line to a named place, and then back; then to fly 200 miles in a triangle, passing through two named places; and last of all to stay one hour in the air at an altitude higher than 7000 feet.
Now the French schools require only a 30-mile flight with three successful landings, before sending the flyer to the finishing school, where he learns to do all the "stunts" that a fighter must be able to do in order to succeed. I learned the tail wing slip, the tail spin and dive, the _vrille_, to loop the loop, and many other fancy flying tricks. They have saved my life more than once.
I was interested in reading the other day James Norman Hall's funny description of how he learned at last to master the penguin. He felt triumphant, but he says, "But no one had seen my splendid sortie. Now that I had arrived, no one paid the least attention to me. All eyes were turned upward, and following them with my own, I saw an airplane outlined against a heaped-up pile of snow-white cloud. It was moving at tremendous speed, when suddenly it darted straight upward, wavered for a second or two, turned slowly on one wing, and fell, nose-down, turning round and round as it fell, like a scrap of paper. It was the _vrille_, the prettiest piece of aërial acrobatics that one could wish to see. It was a wonderful, an incredible sight.
"Some one was counting the turns of the _vrille_. Six, seven, eight; then the airman came out of it on an even keel, and, nosing down to gather speed, looped twice in quick succession. Afterward he did the _retournement_, turning completely over in the air and going back in the opposite direction; then spiraled down and passed over our heads at about fifty meters, landing at the opposite side of the field so beautifully that it was impossible to know when the machine touched the ground."
There is nothing in all the experiences of life like what one feels in flying through the air, especially at a great height and with no other machines in sight. There is a loneliness, unlike any other kind of loneliness; there is a feeling of smallness and weakness; a sense of the immensity of things and of the presence and nearness of God. It is surprising that in doing that in which man has shown his greatest power over the forces of Nature, he feels most his littleness and how easily he could be destroyed by the very forces he has conquered.
Lieutenant Roberts, an American flying in France, described not long ago an experience that came just after his first flight. He was up in the air, higher than anybody had ever been before, when the machine suddenly broke into little pieces, which, as he was tumbling down through the air, he vainly tried to catch. Just as he hit the ground and broke every bone in his body, he woke up on the floor beside his bunk.
The Englishmen are the most daring of all the flyers, take the most risks, and do the most dangerous "stunts." Not so much is heard of them because their exploits and their scores are not announced by the British army. Bishop, who has just been ordered from the flying field to safer work, is said to have brought down nearly eighty German planes, and on the day he learned of his recall, went up and brought down two.
The Americans are daredevils, too. I took one of them one night as a "guest," when I went over Metz on a bombing expedition. One of the bombs stuck. He thought it might cause us trouble when we landed, possibly explode and kill us, so he crawled out over the fusilage and released it. He certainly earned his passage.
With several other Americans we formed what we called the American Escadrille; but as the United States was neutral at that time, we were obliged to change the name to the Lafayette Escadrille.
Since joining the squadron, I have used all sorts of machines, and there are many of them, from the heavy bombing machine to the swift little swallow-like scouts.
My first important work was reconnoissance, in which I carried an observer. I managed the machine, and he did the reconnoitering. We went out twice a day and flew over into German territory, sometimes as far in as fifty miles, observing all that was going on, the movements of troops and supplies, and the building of railroads and defensive works. We also took photographs of the country over which we flew.
Reconnoissance is dangerous work, and is constantly growing more so, as anti-aircraft guns are improved. These guns are mounted on a revolving table, upon which is a mirror in which the airplane shows as soon as it comes within range of the gun. With an instrument designed for the purpose, the crew get the flyer's altitude; and with another, the rate at which he is traveling. They aim the gun for the proper altitude, make the correct allowance for the time it will take the shell to reach him, and as they have an effective range of over 30,000 feet, there is reason to worry. Yet by zig-zagging and other devices, the aviators are rarely brought down by anti-aircraft guns. The small scout machines with a wing spread of not more than thirty feet are not visible to the naked eye when at an altitude of over 10,000 feet, and are therefore safe from these guns at this height.
But reconnoissance, to be effective, must be done at a much lower altitude, and sometimes the machine must remain under fire for a considerable period of time. Poiret, the French aviator, fighting with the Russians, with a captain of the General Staff for an observer, was under rifle and shell fire for about twenty minutes. His machine was up about 4000 feet. Ten bullets and two pieces of shell hit his airplane, but he never lost control. The captain was shot through the heel, the bullet coming out of his calf; but he continued taking notes. They returned in safety to their lines.
I also did some work in directing artillery fire. For this my machine was equipped with a wireless apparatus for sending. No method has yet been devised whereby an airplane in flight can receive wireless messages. In directing the fire of the big guns, the aviator seeks to get directly over the object that is under fire, and to signal or send wireless messages in regard to where the shells land. After the aviator is in position, the third shot usually reaches the target.
I am not yet one of the great aces, and will not, therefore, tell you about any of my air battles. I hope some day you may read of them and that I may come to have the honor of being named with Lufbery, Guynemer, Nungesser, Fonk, Bishop, Ball, Genét, Chapman, McConnell, Prince, Putnam, and other heroes of the air.
Lieutenant R.A.J. Warneford, who won the Victoria Cross for destroying a giant Zeppelin, is one of the greatest of these; at least, he performed a feat never accomplished before and never since.
At three o'clock one morning in June, 1915, he discovered a Zeppelin returning from bombing towns along the east coast of England. The Huns shot Captain Fryatt because, as they said, he was a non-combatant and tried to defend himself. The rule that non-combatants should not attack military forces was made with the understanding that military forces would not war on non-combatants. But law, or justice, or agreements never are allowed by the Huns to stand in their way. This Zeppelin was returning from a raid in which twenty-four were killed and sixty seriously injured, nearly all women and children, and all non-combatants.
Lieutenant Warneford well knew of the dastardly deeds of the Zeppelins, and he immediately gave chase, firing as he approached. The Zeppelin returned his shots. He mounted as rapidly as possible so as to get the great gas-bag below him, until he reached over 6000 feet and the Zeppelin was about 150 feet directly below him. Both were moving very rapidly, and to hit was exceedingly difficult, but he dropped six bombs, one after the other. One of them hit the Zeppelin squarely, exploded the gas-bag, and set it afire its entire length. The explosion turned Lieutenant Warneford's airplane upside down, and although he soon righted it, he was obliged to land. He was over territory occupied by the Germans and he landed behind the German lines, but he succeeded in rising again before being captured, and returned to his hangar in safety, to tell his marvelous story. The Zeppelin and its crew were completely destroyed. A few days later Lieutenant Warneford was killed.
One of the greatest air duels, between airplanes, was during the Battle of Vimy Ridge. At that time Immelman was as great a German ace as were Boelke and Richthofen later, and Ball was the greatest of the English.
One morning Ball learned that Immelman was stationed with the Germans on the opposite line, and carried him a challenge which read:
CAPTAIN IMMELMAN: I challenge you to a man-to-man fight to take
place this afternoon at two o'clock. I will meet you over the
German lines. Have your anti-aircraft guns withhold their fire
while we decide which is the better man. The British guns will
be silent.
BALL.
Ball dropped this from his airplane behind the German lines, and soon afterward Immelman dropped his answer behind the British lines:
CAPTAIN BALL:
Your challenge is accepted. The German guns will not interfere.
I will meet you promptly at two.
IMMELMAN.
A few minutes before two, the guns ceased firing, and all on both sides fixed their eyes in the air to witness a contest between two knights that would make the contests of the days of chivalry seem tame.
In an air battle, the machine that is higher up is thought to have the advantage. Both Ball and Immelman went up very high, but Ball was below and seemed uncertain what to do. The British were afraid that he had lost his nerve and courage when he found himself below, for he made no effort to get above his opponent, but was flying now this way and now that, as if "rattled."
Immelman did not delay, but went into a nose dive directly towards the machine below, which he would be able to rake with his machine gun as he approached; but just at the proper moment, Ball suddenly looped the loop and was directly above the German, and in position to fire. As the shower of bullets struck Immelman and his machine, it burst into flames and dropped like a blazing comet.
Ball returned to his hangar, got a wreath of flowers, and went into the air again to drop them upon the spot where Immelman had fallen dead.
Four days later Ball was killed in a fight with four German planes, but not until he had brought down three of them.
But the fighting planes do not get all the thrills in the air. A young English aviator and his observer who were directing artillery fire in September, 1918, showed as great devotion and courage as any ace and lived through as exciting an adventure as ever befell a fighting plane.
They were flying over No Man's Land to get the proper range for a battery which was to destroy a bridge of great value to the Huns. Their engine had been running badly and back-firing. They would have returned home had their work been of less importance.
Suddenly the pilot smelled burning wood, and looking down, saw the framework near his feet blackened and smoldering. It had caught fire from the backfire of the engine and the exhaust, but was not yet in a decided blaze. He turned off the gas and opened the throttle. Then he made a steep, swift dive, and the powerful rush of the air put the fire out.
Then he hesitated, trying to decide whether to "play safe" and go home or whether to continue their work until the battery had secured the exact range. He knew that in a very short time and with a little more observation, their work would be completely successful. So he turned to the observer and asked him what he thought. The observer leaned over and examined the damage near the pilot's feet. It did not look very bad; so he shouted, "Let's carry on."
Up they went again and in a short time had shells from the battery falling all about the bridge, which was soon destroyed. Their work was done, and well done. In the excitement they had forgotten the bad engine until they heard it give one last sputter and stop.
Then they perceived the woodwork was on fire again and really blazing this time. To dive now would only fan the flames about the pilot's feet, but they must get to the ground, and get there quickly, too.
The pilot put the machine into a side slip toward the British line. This fanned the flames away from his feet. The observer squirted the fire extinguisher on the burning wood near the pilot's feet, and thus enabled him to keep control of the rudder bar.
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Lest We Forget: World War StoriesChapter VII: Part 7
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