Chapter VIII: Messages of Condolence and Appreciation 71

ILLUSTRATIONS

NORMAN PRINCE _Frontispiece_

AS MASTER (_PRO TEM._) OF THE PAU DRAGHOUNDS 6

WITH HIS FAVORITE PLANE 10

PORTRAIT AS EXHIBITED AT ALLIED FAIRS 18

WITH HIS SUPERIOR OFFICER LIEUTENANT DE LAAGE DE MŒUX 26

APPLICATION TO RIDE A BREGUET DE CHASSE 30

MEMORANDUM OF THE BRINGING-DOWN OF HIS FIRST GERMAN MACHINE 38

COVER OF A FRENCH PERIODICAL 46

NORMAN PRINCE, FREDERICK HENRY PRINCE, JR., AND FREDERICK
HENRY PRINCE 50

CONCOURS HIPPIQUE 54

CAMP NORMAN PRINCE 62

FREDERICK HENRY PRINCE, JR., WITH HIS NIEUPORT 66

DECORATIONS 72

NORMAN PRINCE

I

MEMOIR

It is fitting that the record of a young life of high aspiration, of fine achievement, and, finally, of supreme self-sacrifice on a world’s battlefield, should be permanently preserved, not only for the satisfaction of those near relatives and friends who deeply mourn its tragic and untimely end, but for the sense of pride and rapture of soul which the contemplation of such a record everywhere inspires. Grievous as it is to see a young and happy life cut off at the threshold of a promising career, there is compensation as well as consolation for such a fate when the fine fervor of youth, thoroughly imbued with a loyal and patriotic spirit, has won for its possessor the well-deserved plaudit of living and dying a hero. Such was the fate and such the reward of the subject of this memoir.

NORMAN PRINCE was the younger of the two sons of Frederick Henry and Abigail (Norman) Prince. He was a grandson of Frederick O. Prince, an eminent citizen of Massachusetts and a Mayor of Boston, and of George H. Norman, a distinguished citizen of Newport, Rhode Island. He was born August 31, 1887, at Pride’s Crossing, Massachusetts, receiving his early education under private tutors in this country and in Europe and completing his preparation for college at Groton, where he passed five happy and helpful years. He was graduated, with honors, at Harvard College in the class of 1908, taking the academic course in three years and receiving a _cum laude_ with his degree of Bachelor of Arts. Entering the Harvard Law School immediately after his college graduation, he received the degree of Bachelor of Laws three years later. He was admitted to the bar and subsequently began the practice of law in Chicago, coincidentally devoting much of his time and attention to the study and practice of aviation at a time when flying was popularly regarded as a mere sport rather than a practical utility in this country. This was a diversion from his more serious work at the start, but foreseeing the ultimate possibilities of aeronautics for practical purposes, and becoming an enthusiast in its scientific development, he neglected the practice of his intended profession, and being enabled to provide the necessary funds for experimenting with various types of flying machines, he tested their comparative advantages for aerial navigation. He possessed an exceptionally quick intelligence and applied himself with zeal and diligence to subjects that interested him.

From his early boyhood Norman had been passionately fond of manly outdoor sports, more particularly those connected with equestrianism. He loved hunting, polo, and kindred activities, and he thus developed qualities of sportsmanship that proved useful to him in his later experience in aviation. His courage and enthusiasm enabled him to undertake aerial flights that appalled less intrepid amateur navigators, but which were a joy and an inspiration to him from the beginning. Among his associates in amateur sports he had the reputation of being absolutely fearless. “I never knew a pluckier fellow,” said one of his schoolmates, recalling the days of their earlier companionship.

At the outbreak of hostilities in Europe his love of the strenuous life, combined with his intensely patriotic instincts and his deep sympathy with the cause of the Entente Nations,—more particularly for France,—prompted him to go abroad and offer his services in their behalf. He adopted this course ardently and spontaneously, feeling that he was thus performing a duty that he owed to the cause of Liberty and Righteousness throughout the world.

One of the finest chapters in the history of contemporary life is that which records the loyalty and patriotic fervor of so many young Americans, who at the beginning of the World War, before their own country had abandoned its attitude of neutrality, volunteered for military service on the side of the Allies, in the fighting ranks of the foreign legions, especially in the aviation service, which called for efficiency and courage in individual combat that recalled the heroism and devotion of the ancient days of chivalry. The inspiring example of these early American volunteers may be said to have given the first impulse to the popular uprising which ultimately led to our country’s active participation in the war.

Having passed many of the earlier years of his youth in France, Norman saw and appreciated his opportunity to testify to the sincerity of his love for what he affectionately called his “second country.” He took passage abroad in December, 1914, four months after the outbreak of the war, arriving in Paris early in the following January, when he promptly offered his services to the Government as a volunteer in the French army to serve until the end of the war—“_jusqu’ au bout_,” as he emphatically put it when he took the oath of allegiance. He began his preliminary training in the military aviation school at Pau, and on receiving his certificate of proficiency, he served for a short time in the aerial defense of Paris and was then sent to the Western battle-front, where, as is told in the subsequent pages of this memoir, he distinguished himself by his skill and bravery in many air raids against the enemy, winning at once the confidence and admiration of his commanders and comrades.

At the beginning of his active service in France Norman conceived the idea of bringing the American aviators, together with some of those of the foreign legions, into a single squadron, not only that the Americans might thus be associated in closer comradeship, but also that their achievements might become more distinctive and thus redound to the glory of their native country as well as to that of the Allies. This laudable purpose, which was inspired wholly by Norman’s initiative, was realized by the organization of the American aviators into a body which was at first known as the _Escadrille Américaine_ and which subsequently became the famous Lafayette Flying Squadron. Originally carrying the Tri-color, this Squadron was permitted to carry the Stars and Stripes after the entrance of the United States into the war. It thus became the proud distinction of this Squadron that it was accorded the honor of carrying the first American flag that appeared on any of the battlefields of the World War. These aviators soon became famous for their skill and daring in their aerial raids over the German lines, and they were repeatedly cited in army orders, individually and collectively, for their fine courage and unflagging spirit of self-sacrifice. In one of these official orders General Pétain, Commander-in-Chief of the French Armies on the Western front at the time, took occasion to say that this American Squadron had aroused the profound admiration of the commanders under whose direction it had fought, as well as of all the French aerial squadrons fighting beside it and aspiring to rival it in valor and achievement. It was for his fine individual conduct on this famous battle-front that Norman won successively the Croix de Guerre, the Médaille Militaire, and the Croix de la Légion d’Honneur. Coincidentally, he successively achieved the ranks of sergeant, adjutant, and lieutenant. He had up to this time engaged in 122 aerial engagements with the enemy ’planes and was officially credited with five Boches brought down in battle, not to mention four others not officially recorded. Few of his comrades had rendered more active service. He was as ambitious as he was intrepid and resourceful.

On the morning of Thursday, October 12, Norman and other members of his Squadron were assigned to convoy a French bombarding fleet in an aerial raid on Oberndorf, a German arms and munition center located in the Vosges near the plains of Alsace. While circling over the town, they came in close contact with a formidable array of German aircraft, and a terrific encounter ensued in which shot, shell-fire, and skillful manœuvering disabled many of the machines on both sides. It was at the conclusion of this battle in the air that Norman’s Nieuport machine struck an aerial cable while he was endeavoring to make a landing in the dark within the French lines near Luxeuil. In this collision his machine was overturned and wrecked and he was thrown violently to the ground. On being rescued by his comrades, it was found that both his legs were broken and, as was subsequently found, he had sustained a fracture of the skull. He was carried to the neighboring hospital at Gerardmer, where for a time he manifested the undaunted courage that he had always shown under adverse conditions, cheerfully requesting the attending surgeons who were setting the bones of his broken legs to be careful not to make one shorter than the other! The skull fracture was not discovered until later, and it was as a result of this latter injury that Norman died from cerebral hemorrhage on the following Sunday morning, October 15. His comrades gathered around his bedside when he became finally unconscious, in the vain hope of detecting symptoms of renewed vitality, but he passed away peacefully as in a sleep. Those of his near relatives who had been summoned from Paris arrived at his bedside too late to find him alive.

The dead hero was given all the honors of a military funeral, which was held in the Luxeuil aviation field, where the body rested on a caisson draped with the American and French flags. The services, which were conducted by a French regimental chaplain, were attended by a large representation of the Allied military divisions, including French and English officers of high rank, as well as a full representation of the American Escadrille and pilots from the neighboring aviation camps. During the funeral, instead of the customary firing of cannon as a salutation to the dead, a squadron of aeroplanes circled in midair over the field in honor of the departed aviator, showering down myriads of flowers. The body was borne to a neighboring chapel, there to rest until the end of the war, in accordance with the military regulations governing the temporary disposition of the remains of those dying at the battle-fronts.

A memorial service, held on the following Sunday in the American Church in Paris, was described by those present as one of the most impressive ever witnessed in that sanctuary. The American colony came in full numbers to testify their admiration and appreciation of their fellow-countryman’s valor and sacrifice. The President of the French Republic, the heads of the executive and legislative branches of the Government, the Army and Navy and the Diplomatic Corps were represented by their most distinguished members, and the emblems of mourning contributed to a scene that was as beautiful as it was significant and memorable.

This is but the bare outline of the biography of a rare spirit whose loyalty to his ideals and the high chivalry of whose devotion to the cause of Liberty, Civilization, and Humanity have made his name one to be remembered and his memory cherished with those of his patriotic comrades and fellow-countrymen who fell for the same cause “in the sunny morn and flower of their young years.”

It deserves to be noted here that in all of Norman’s spoken or written messages, telling of his experiences in France, there is nowhere to be found a note of doubt or discouragement or a word denoting any lack of confidence in the ultimate triumph of the cause for which he was fighting. The Allies might meet repeated reverses, and tremendous sacrifices of blood and treasure might have to be made, before a decisive victory could be achieved, but he never doubted the final outcome of the war. His faith in this respect was as firm and unflinching as were his courage and natural optimism in all human affairs. His sense of consecration was unceasingly vibrant. He deeply regretted that his own country was not yet actively enlisted on the side of the Allies and that he was not permitted from the beginning to represent his Government as well as his country in the fighting lines, but this disappointment did not diminish his enthusiasm as an American volunteer soldier giving his services for a cause that he believed to be that of his country and of the world. In one of his letters he wrote enthusiastically:

“Everything goes well. Before the end of this war we shall have
aeroplanes with at least 800 or 1000 horsepower flying from
Soissons to Petrograd, setting fire to the four corners of
Berlin.”

The death of his comrade Victor Chapman touched him deeply. “Poor Victor!” he wrote. “He was killed while fighting a German aeroplane that was attacking Lufberry and me. A sad but glorious death, facing the enemy in a great cause and to save a friend!”

Norman Prince’s heroic sacrifice is finely described in the ode written in memory of the American volunteers fighting for France, by Alan Seeger, the young American soldier-poet, who finally gave his own life for the cause of the Allies on the battlefield of Belloy-en-Santerre;

“Yet sought they neither recompense nor praise,
Nor to be mentioned in another breath
Than their blue-coated comrades, whose great days
It was their pride to share—aye, share even to the death!
Nay, rather, France, to you they rendered thanks
(Seeing that they came for honor, not for gain),
Who opening to them your glorious ranks
Gave them that grand occasion to excel—
That chance to live the life most free from stain
And that rare privilege of dying well.”

II

HIS OWN STORY

Some of Norman’s experiences in the French aviation service were of an exceptionally thrilling character, showing the peculiar perils of aerial warfare. At the time of his last home visit on a short furlough, he was invited to relate some of these at the Tavern Club in Boston. His story, as modestly and frankly told by him on that occasion, is best given in his own words:

“I sailed for Europe in the latter part of the year 1914 in
order to do what I could to help the cause which I believed,
and still believe, to be that of my own country, as well as
that of the Allied Nations.

“Reaching France I offered my services to that Government as
an aviator. They were promptly accepted and I contracted an
engagement to serve France until she had achieved victory.
Seven other Americans enlisted with me at the same time as
aviators, and we proceeded from our dépôt, where we were
clothed, to the flying school at Pau in the south of France in
the Pyrenees, where conditions for flying are exceptionally
good, there being hardly any wind in that region. The school
at Pau at the time was the largest flying school in the world.
While we were there about three hundred young men were in
training, and at last accounts, there were over five hundred
pupils practicing in aviation, using at least two hundred
modern machines. We remained there a month. As a rule it
takes about forty-eight days to turn out a military aviator,
qualified and fitted to obtain the civil and military licenses
required. In order to obtain the latter it is necessary to
make a successful flight of about four hundred miles across
country. I had already acquired a fair knowledge of the science
of aviation at home and had made numerous flights in different
machines, so that the training at Pau came comparatively
easy to me, but it was necessary for me to become thoroughly
acquainted with all the rules governing the French military
aviation service, as well as to make myself familiar with the
French machines in order to meet the full requirements of the
training. When we were through this school we received our
_brevets militaires_ and we had ridden every kind of air craft
used in the French Army.

“All licensed aviators, as turned out, are sent to the reserve
station for aviators near Paris. In our case, after spending a
week or two there, we were found fit for more active service,
and we were suddenly sent to the front in the north of France,
arriving there in time for the May attacks near Arras and
Artois. Our perilous experiences in aerial warfare were soon
to begin. After one reconnoitering tour we were sent out to
bombard munition dépôts, railway centers, and aviation fields
in the rear of the enemy’s lines, from ten to forty kilometres
distant from our base. I have a vivid remembrance of my first
bombarding expedition. The action took place at a point not far
within the enemy’s lines. I was sent with two or three members
of my squadron to bombard a station where ammunition was being
unloaded. It takes about forty minutes for a machine heavily
loaded with bombs to get to a sufficient height to cross the
lines. The minimum height at which we crossed was about seven
thousand feet. I saw my comrades cross ahead of me and noted
they were being heavily shelled by the enemy. Accordingly, I
decided to go a little higher before crossing. When I found I
had only sufficient gasoline left to make my bombardment and
return to my base, I started over. I was soon to experience
what I may call my baptism of fire. The impression made upon
me by the terrible racket and the spectacle of shells aimed at
me and exploding near by made me shiver for a moment. Though I
was confident and unafraid, my limbs began to tremble. Still I
kept straight on my course. I would not have changed it for the
world. My legs were so wobbly from nervous excitement that I
tried to hide them from my observer, who was an old hand at the
game. I confess to a feeling of relief when I reached the point
where our bombs were to be thrown over. Having discharged this
duty I was glad to return to my starting-point with the motor
running at slow speed, and knowing that I was soon to be out of
range of the enemy’s deadly fire.

“In this bombardment my machine was made almost entirely of
steel tubing with a 140-horse-power engine, capable of carrying
a load of bombs weighing from four to seven hundred pounds. As
an arm of defense it carried a machine gun. This is the type
of machine that has made most of the long raids on the enemy.
I soon became accustomed to the duty I had to perform and to
flying with the spectacle of shells bursting all around me, at
the same time keeping on the lookout for the ’planes of the
enemy. We made seventeen bombardments during the ensuing month
of June and we got to be old hands at this kind of warfare.
It is never quite agreeable to be shelled up in the air or
elsewhere, and those who make the boast of liking it do not
tell the exact truth.

“To illustrate how well the French military aviation service
is organized and supplied with machines, let me tell you of my
experience at the front in Lorraine, where one day I had the
misfortune to break one of the wings of my machine. Instead of
stopping to have it repaired, all I had to do was to turn it
into a supply station near by where it was at once dismantled
and sent to the rear. I was then promptly supplied with a new
machine. A change of aeroplanes by an aviator in action in
France is like a cavalryman changing his horse. If there is
anything the matter with the animal, even if it is only a corn,
a new one is at once forthcoming. There is no suggestion of
parsimony or niggardliness in giving out the supplies necessary
for efficient fighting.

“On another occasion, when we were making a raid on the railway
station at Douai, which was about twenty-five kilometres within
the enemy’s lines, we started with a squadron of some twenty
machines. There happened to be that day a great many German
machines out. Somehow or other they knew we were coming. We had
four or five brisk engagements with them. Our planes had only
machine guns with which to defend themselves, while the Germans
used regular fighting machines. This aerial engagement resulted
in four of our machines coming back riddled with bullets, my
lieutenant being hit in the leg.

“I was fortunate enough that day to escape the range of the
German flying machines by going farther north and passing
through the clouds, though I was shelled from a long distance
all the way. I succeeded in dropping my bombs on a railroad
station, one of which I saw explode in a bunch of freight cars
in the railroad yard. As I was returning within our lines
the Englishmen, by mistake, opened a brisk fire on me which
necessitated my going up into the clouds again. I proceeded
due west until I ran out of gasoline and I then descended in
the dark near the headquarters of the English. It was my good
fortune to land safely and on my arrival at my post I was
brought before the English commander, who asked me to tell my
story. Mine being one of the four machines out of twenty that
had reached Douai in the raid, I was awarded a citation and
given the right to wear a War Cross—my first decoration.

“My squadron spent a month in the east and during this time I
went farther into the enemy’s territory than I had been before.
I think the longest distance was when we made the raid on two
localities over one hundred kilometres within the enemy’s lines
in Bocherie, as we called it. During this month General Joffre
came to review our four squadrons of bombarding machines. With
him came the President of France and the King of the Belgians.
These distinguished visitors witnessed the departure of a
squadron of some ninety of our machines on a bombarding raid
loaded with bombs and flying four abreast. They were highly
complimentary in their salutations to us Americans.

“During this month in Lorraine I experienced the hardest knock
I had received up to that time. One day six German machines,
fully equipped, bombarded Nancy and our aviation field. To
retaliate, my squadron was sent out to bombard their field
on the same afternoon. We started with thirty machines to a
designated rendezvous and fifty minutes later, after getting
grouped, we proceeded to our ultimate destination. I had a very
fast machine, and reached the German flying field without being
hit. When about to let go my bombs and while my observer was
aiming at the hangars of the Germans my machine was attacked
by them—one on the left and two on the right. I shouted to my
observer to drop his bombs, which he did, and we immediately
straightened out for home. While I was on the bank the Germans
opened fire on me with their machine guns which were even more
perilous than their shells. My motor stopped a few moments
afterwards. It had given out and to make matters worse a fourth
German machine came directly at us in front. My observer, who
was an excellent shot, let go at him with the result that when
last seen this German aeroplane was about four hundred feet
below and quite beyond control. The other Germans behind kept
bothering us. If they had possessed ordinary courage, they
might have got us. Flying without any motive power compelled
me to stand my machine on end to keep ahead of them. As we were
nearing the French lines these Germans left us, but immediately
batteries from another direction opened fire on us. As I was
barely moving I made an excellent target. One shell burst near
enough to put shrapnel in my machine. It is marvelous how
hard we can be hit by shrapnel and have no vital part of our
equipment injured. I knew I was now over the French lines,
which I must have crossed at a height of about four hundred
metres. I finally landed in a field covered with white crosses
marking the graves of the French and German soldiers who had
fallen the previous September at this point. This was the
battle the Kaiser himself came to witness, expecting to spend
that night in Nancy.

“Thousands fell that day, but the Kaiser did not make his
triumphal entry. Looking back on this latter experience of mine
I think myself most fortunate in having been able to return to
the French lines without a scratch. I got home safely because
the German aviators lacked either courage or skill or both.
They had me with my engine dead, four against one, and twenty
kilometres within their lines.”

Alluding to the occasion of the telling of this story, William Roscoe Thayer, who presided at the dinner, said when the tidings of Norman’s death came from France: “I shall never forget that Christmas night at the Tavern Club when Norman sat next to me and told me many details of his service and then arose and gave that wonderfully simple, impressive story. To have had such a service and to die fighting for the cause which means the defense of civilization—what nobler career could he have had? I can think of no one who more thoroughly enjoyed the life of continuous peril which he led. The honors which it brought him showed that France recognized as heroism that which he took as a matter of course.”

III

LETTERS

The following letters of Norman Prince, although chiefly of an intimate and personal character, are here published as a part of the record of his experiences in the service of France and as further testimony to his tenderly affectionate nature and his constant thoughtfulness and solicitude for those he left at home.

_Havre, Jan. le 29, 1915._

_Dear Mamma_,—I have just put foot ashore in France after a
disagreeable crossing, 2nd class. Here in Havre there are
troops and troops always passing. French troops, chiefly of the
reserve; thousands of English troops in khaki, Belgian troops
without uniform. They all say, not at all in a boastful way,
that they will be back home again by the end of the year. Will
they?

Dear Mamma, I hope you are well and that papa has not taken too
much at heart my leaving home at this time. I believe I can
find a place to do some efficient and useful work for the cause
to which I am so deeply devoted. My love to you all. I shall
write often.

Affectionately your son,

NORMAN.

* * * * *

_Esc N. 124, Secteur 24, May 15, 1915._

_Dear Governor_,—Arrived _en escadrille par la voie des airs_
to replace a disabled pilot until the _Escadrille Américaine_
is formed.

I saw the battle lines and heard for the first time the
never-ending boom of guns. This is war in dead earnest and
right at hand. Will write more fully later.

Affectionately,

NORMAN.

* * * * *