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squadron-goals · 1 year ago

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Ein Heldenleben (A Hero's Life) is an expanded version of Manfred von Richthofen's memoir Der Rote Kampfflieger (The Red Baron). In addition to the autobiography, it includes letters from Manfred to his family (like the 1933 edition) and some chapters that were not included in the book, as well as other comments and anecdotes from people who were close to him. It also includes accounts by his brother Lothar von Richthofen.

Overview:

Visit to the Great Headquarters

My Engagement

A flight in an observation balloon

A day at Staffel 11 (by Lothar von Richthofen)

At Jagdgeschwader Richthofen (by a Dutch reporter)

Richthofen as leader and comrade (by Leutnant Friedrich Wilhelm Lübbert, Jasta 11)

In memory of Richthofen (by v. B.)

An encounter (by Emil August Glogau)

The mother about the boy Manfred

Letter by Leutnant Hans Joachim Wolff to Leutnant Lothar Freiherr von Richthofen

How Richthofen shot down his seventy fifth victory (by Leutnant Lampel)

Richthofen (by Erich von Salzmann): Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

At court for the second time

Letters of Erwin Böhme: Before the war, Erwin Böhme worked as an engineer in East Africa. When the war started he was already 37 years old. This did not stop him and he became a successful fighter pilot, being personally selected by Boelcke to join his fighter squadron. In 1916 he met the daughter of a former business colleague and they fell in love. The following letters are those Böhme wrote to his later fiancée Annamarie during the war days. [Translated are the parts of the letters where Böhme describes his life as a fighter pilot.]

Landres, 24 June 1916

Kowel, 7 July 1916

Kowel, 3 August 1916

Kowel, 15 August 1916

Bertincourt, 11 September 1916

Bertincourt, 21 September 1916

Somme, 4 October 1916

Somme, 18 October 1916

Lagnicourt, 31 October 1916

Lagnicourt, 12 November 1916

Jagdstaffel Boelcke, 12 December 1916

Partenkirchen, 28 January 1917

Jagdstaffel Boelcke, 8 April 1917

Valenciennes, 25 April 1917

Valenciennes, 9 May 1917

Valenciennes, 3 July 1917

Jagdstaffel 29, 16 July 1917

Jagdstaffel 29, 7 August 1917

Jagdstaffel 29, 17 August 1917

18 August 1917

Jagdstaffel Boelcke, 21 September 1917

“With the aces”, 20 October 1917

Rumbeke, 31 October 1917

Back with the aces again, 31 October 1917

4 November 1917, Sunday morning

Jagdstaffel Boelcke, 14 November 1917

Bavikhove, 16 November 1917

Bavikhove, 19 November 1917

27 November 1917

The End

Rudolf Berthold – a man who never let himself be dissuaded from his convictions. A man who, despite the worst injuries always returned to the front as quickly as possible. A man for whom the war was not over, even if it was over for his country. A summary of Bertholds life can be found in the pinned post over @subtile-jagden The following are translated diary entries as well as some of his letters.

Before mobilization It is getting serious! First challenges Emergency landing Important reconnaissance flights during the advance The most beautiful day of my life! Finally a pilot! Buddecke, the dear comrade! Feldfliegerabteilung 23 End of 1915 Single seater fighter unit Vaux and the first victories An unfortunate day for Berthold Back to the unit Jasta 4, the Pour le mérite and a new challenge Beginning of 1917 Finally off to Flanders End of 1918: Ceasefire and revolution 1919 / 1920: Uncertainties, Soldier´s Councils and the Last Fight

Ernst Jünger was a passionate diarist. During his time in the First World War, he filled 14 diaries. Based on these entries, he wrote his popular book Storms of Steel. The diary entries provide additional information, funny stories and reveal his true feelings during this turbulent time.

First experiences Officer Candidate and Relocation First Cannonade First wound Back at the front Days at the front and stories from old friends Quéant Friendly contact with the enemy New year, same situtation A love affair Officer training course Back in the trenches and dangerous patrols Mine warfare and gas attacks An English prisoner and a funeral Summer 1916 Battle of the Somme Part 1 A short break from fighting and another injuriy Wartime conditions Another injury

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tintenspion · 2 years ago

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Manfred von Richthofens secret fiancées

by @tintenspion, February 2023

Manfred von Richthofen was never officially engaged, nor said himself that he wants to be engaged or has a girlfriend. On the contrary, he claimed that he didn’t have time for women and could imagine staying a bachelor for the rest of his life. (1) However, over the years, there have been quite some theories about a girl that he was secretly engaged with. In this write-up I am presenting the most popular candidates for Manfred von Richthofens secret fiancées.

Disclaimer: This whole article will sound pretty petty, because most of the sources are "my cousins dogs neighbors grandma told me", so take it as a source of entertainment rather than a serious historical discussion. I am usually not the type of person to call people liars, but in this case specifically, someone had to be lying here, unless MvR actually had 5 different fiancées, so I will look at all of the accounts very critically. If people mentioned in this article (who are still alive) feel misrepresented, feel free to DM me and talk this out in a civil manner.

Disclaimer 2: I will mention the Richthofen families claims in this post. Don't contact them. Leave them alone.

Prussian nobility in the military

Manfred Albrecht Freiherr von Richthofen was nobility. Most of the women in the following list are commoners, making an official and family-approved engagement or marriage highly unlikely. He was friends with commoners (some of his squadron mates), but a love-relationship to random commoner girls is a level of familiarity that I dont think he would have entertained. It is heavily implied that an engagement, or even a courtship would not have been approved by his family, nor would it have been approved by the military.

Prussian officers were also not allowed to get married without the approval of their commanding general. (2) This makes a marriage, at least legally, impossible. The promises by him to the girls to get married after the war are therefore also highly questionable.

For the ones of you who are looking for a historical answer, consider the case closed at this point. For the ones who live for the drama of it all, have fun reading the rest of the article.

Richthofens Side of the Story

Approaching the theories from Manfred von Richthofens side, the results are rather disenchanting.

The allegations that he had a secret fiancée or even was secretly married come from two different incidences: An interview with Floyd Gibbons in which Kunigunde von Richthofen, published in The Red Knight of Germany (1928), claims that there was one girl that Manfred wanted to marry after the war, but she didn’t specify who. (3) Also, apparently there was a photograph of Manfred with a woman found amongst his possessions when he was shot down on April 21st 1918. (4)

However, those claims are a little shaky at best. Interestingly, Kunigunde von Richthofen never brought the alleged girl up again after that interview. Not in her War Diary ("Mein Kriegstagebuch") that was published in 1937, nor in her unpublished 1960 diary. (5) (German historian Joachim Castan was the only historian after Floyd Gibbons who ever got access to the Richthofen family archives. He read Kunigunde von Richthofens 1960 diary, and while he doesn’t explicitly state that Kunigunde didn’t bring the „secret fiancée“ up, he does dismiss all of the allegations by saying that they are highly speculative, heavily implying that she in fact did not mention her.) This opens the possibility that either Kunigunde herself or Floyd Gibbons lied about the interview. (I want to quickly point out that someone once said the Kunigunde von Richthofen told him that Hermann Göring sabotaged MvRs plane on April 21st 1918. Thats obviously not true, so consider "Kunigunde told me" a tiny red flag to begin with.)

In a letter that Floyd Gibbons wrote in October 1926, he writes: "...Romance is lacking in the story. Richthofen had no love affair." (6) However he seems to have changed his mind only a month later, when he sends another letter to his editor. Gibbons November 1926 letter states: "Richthofen did have a romance, contrary to my previous reports but the lady is unknown to me and I have only been able to deal with her through a third party. She undoubtedly has many of his letters and these would supply the missing human qualities to the man, but she and her family insist on remaining unknown." (7) I do not know what could have caused this change of heart. Apparently he had contact to a woman that was supposedly engaged to him via a third party. I am taking these infos from an article by OTF and I will bring this article up again, because I think it deliberatly tries to point the evidence towards two women and away from another.

The photo that was allegedly in his wallet was also never found. the only descriptions of it are the following:

"[...]The wallet contained several thousand marks and a wedding photograph of Baron von Richthofen and his bride taken only a few weeks previously. The picture was a black and white photograph. Richthofen was in uniform, and the girl was in street dress wearing a large hat.[...]" - Roderick Ross in The Day the Red Baron Died (1970), Dale Titler, p. 196

"[...] From the few documents found in his wallet [...], he had been married approximately only six weeks before he was killed...." - Who killed the Red Baron (1969), PJ Carisella, p.155 (first edition)

"He stated that in the photo von Richthofen and his bride were shown outside, standing side by side with a large house in the background. Richthofen did not have a cane, nor was his head bandaged. He also stated that he had a hazy memory that the note identified the photo as being 'Manfred and his bride (his wifes christian name) shortly after their marriage.'" - Roderick Ross in an interview with Jay Hayzlett for The Girl He Left Behind (1997)

It is also worth noting that Richthofen was at the front six weeks before his death. This is confirmed by both Ernst Udet and Karl Bodenschatz in their respectable books. From what we know, there was no time for him to get married or engaged. He is also listed as unmarried on his death certificate. (Below: “ledig” = unmarried) Is the story made up or did the soldiers misread the date? We don’t know. As far as OTF is concerned, the image was destroyed in the 1950s.

Most people who knew MvR personally stated that he had no secret affair. This includes former comrades as well as his brother Karl Bolko.

"Good friends of Richthofens, like Leutnant Hans Georg von der Osten [...], insist that the rumors were nonsense. Richthofen treated all women with profoud respect, but was indifferent to them romantically and never had a sweetheart." - A True History of the Red Baron (1969), William E. Burrows, p.163

"There were no such series of letters I know of. [A/N: referring to a series of letters from an affair] He recieved much mail and possibly they were mistaken for the letters he recieved from his mother." -Karl Bodenschatz, 1950s, in The Day The Red Baron Died (1970), p. 196-197

"There were no women in Manfreds life." - Karl Bolko Frhr. von Richthofen 1950s, in The Day The Red Baron Died (1970), p. 196-197

The Women in Manfreds Life

I'm going through this chronologically mostly. The listing of the women has nothing to do with my opinion on the claims validity.

Margaret Perkins Hayne

Hayne was an attorney from California. Close relatives and claimed that she got engaged to MvR before the war started. While she personally denies an engagement, she does claim they were close friends. She allegedly met him when travelling to Berlin after completing her studies. Haynes friends claim that he alsways had a photo of them together with him, and while that does line up with the dubious photo allegedly found in his belongings, it makes no sense for that photo to be described as a wedding photo.

Her story has a few errors, which leads me to believe that the girls engagement to MvR was probably revealed to her and her friends in a dream. She claims to have known his brothers and sisters, even though MvR only had one sister. She also says she met the whole family in Berlin, even though the family lived in Schweidnitz, which even by todays train standards (ignoring the border) would be an at least 4 hour train ride.

Provided below is the aricle "Aces Death is Blow to Local Maid" that I believe was published in 1918.

Käte Oltersdorf

She is, by far, the most popular woman when it comes to the love interest question. The movie „The Red Baron” from 2008 actually makes the relationship between MvR and Oltersdorf its central theme.

Käte Oltersdorf (Sometimes written Otersdorf or by her married name Wienstroth) was MvR's nurse when he was shot in the head. The fact that there are two pictures of them together makes this relationship the most reconsiderable one out of all the listed women. The photo that shows only him and her together is the only existing picture that shows him alone with a woman, so it makes sense that people assume that this picture is the one MvR had with him in his wallet. However this image does not match with the description of the wallet photo.

The only first hand account of those two interacting comes from Karl Bodenschatz in his book „Jagd in Flanderns Himmel“:

"The nurse is also coming with us and she couldnt care less that the Rittmeister is frowning. Showing up at the Aerodrome with a nurse is not to his taste. But he is biting on granite. The nurse explains grimly that if the Rittmeister is up to such nonsense with his unhealed head, then she will be there." Jagd in Flanderns Himmel (1935), Karl Bodenschatz, p. 32

Original:

"[...] Denn auch die Schwester kommt mit und sie macht sich wenig daraus, dass der Rittmeister das Gesicht verzieht. Mit einer Krankenschwester im Fliegerlager aufzutauchen ist keineswegs nach seinem Geschmack. Aber er beißt auf Granit. Die Schwester erklärt grimmig, wenn der Herr Rittmeister schon einen solchen Unfug unternehme mit seinem unausgeheilten Kopfe, dann werde sie dabei sein."

As of 2008, there seemed to be no actual evidence that MvR and Oltersdorfs relationship was anything else than professional.

A breakthrough?

In 2020, when the alleged family of Käte Oltersdorf, who now live in Texas, came forward and provided a private researcher with some information, claiming evidence that MvR and Oltersdorf were indeed in a secret relationship.

“Actually, she told my grandmother that they were going to be married after the war. Kate was bitterly disappointed by his death for the rest of her life. Certainly the Baron’s mother was warm and friendly with Kate for years after his death, which was shown by a letter she wrote Kate saying that she didn’t believe that Manfred was killed in a dogfight but as a result of anti-aircraft fire. Kate spoke more of Manfred than she ever did about the mysterious Mr. Wienstroth” - Andrea R. in an interview with Johan R. Ryheul (2020)

This evidence includes: a letter from Kunigunde von Richthofen to Käte Oltersdorf, the copy of a book with the dedication „Für meine liebe Käte, Richthofen“ from Manfred, oral exchanges between Oltersdorf and her daughter that she said that Manfred and her were secretly engaged. I do see several issues with those claims. First of all, all the written evidence (the letter and the book) were claimed to be lost when moving houses in 2017, even though I could not entirely figure out from the article if the lost Texas book was the one that had the dedcation in it. But this also bears the question to why the family didn’t come forward until 2020, especially when there was entire movie made about Oltersdorf and MvR in 2008.

Link to the article on German Nurses of the Great War

Absolutely worth mentioning is, that the Richthofen family themselves rigorously denied a relationship between MvR and Oltersdorf when the movie came out to theaters, however I do not know if they have written evidence to back this up.

I am questioning the Richthofens as much as I would question any other familys claims. All men are created equal. But I do want to refer back to Joachim Castans assertion that MvR did in fact not have a girlfriend, as he, along with Richthofen family members, had the most insight on unpublished material than any other person.

I also believe I’ve read that the Richthofen family denied correspondence with the owner of the website, but my source sadly is that you have to trust me...

Lea Schwarz

During his research, PJ Carisella was approached by Kurt Richter, who claimed that his grandmother, Lea Schwarz, was MvRs secret girlfriend. (8) 17 year old Lea "Poldi" Schwarz was a wine seller from Vienna who supposedly met MvR on his leave in May 1917 at a party in a hunting lodge. This was allegedly revealed by her to her daughter in 1955.

They apparently met on several occasions after that. In July 1917, when he was recovering from his headshot, Richter claims she snuck inside of the hospital. They also allegedly met in September 1917 and for the last time in January 1918. The grandson also claimed that there were letters between the two, but none of them survived. Lea and Manfred are also said to having bought a porcellain dog, which they named Moritz, after Manfreds own dog.

Aside from the fact that she is a commoner, and wine seller at that, there aren't really any holes in the story, as all of the meetings do line up with Richthofens leaves. However to me, the entire story seems a little too convenient, especially considering that Kurt Richter is the only source, and he isn't even a primary source. The authors of the afforementioned article on OTF also point out several flaws in Richters story. MvRs secret trip to Vienna is quite unlikely, and Lea visiting Manfred in the field hospital without someone noticing is almost impossible. (9)

"Marriage was never discussed" between them, which on the other hand completely makes sense considering the difference in social status between the two.

There were rumors of a young woman showing up at the Richthofen estate in the 1920's, according to OTF, so, if Richters claims are true, this might have been Lea. It might also as well be another false rumor, as there are many.

Adele von Wallenberg-Pachaly

Im going to say it first, but there is no source for this. The OTF article provides me with 0 sources. They just throw these claims out there, while misplacing some foot notes to create the illusion that this is backed up by anything other an an unnamed relative of Adele. (10) The article also seems to deliberatly try to point the evidence away from Oltersdorf. They do not mention Gibbons change of heart in his November 1926 letter until the very end of the article when they talk about Wallenberg, while they use Gibbons October 1926 letter to discredit the Oltersdorf theory in the beginning of the article.

However, lets look at the explanation they provide for the Wallenberg theory.

What makes these claims a little more believable than the three beforehand is that, while the women beforehand were commoners, Wallenberg was a noblewoman. OTF presents the engagement between MvR and Adele as a planned arranged engagement. The article states that the connection between the Wallenberg-Pachaly and the Richthofen family came from the fact that Albrecht von Richthofen, Manfreds father, and Carl von Wallenberg (*14.11.1844 †6.11.1929), Adeles father, were in the same regiment. From then on, a formal engagement between Adele and the eldest Richthofen son was allegedly highly encouraged.

Interestingly, I could not confirm this. There is no Carl von Wallenberg-Pachaly listed in the officers list for this regiment at the same time as Albrecht von Richthofen. (11) Carl von Wallenberg-Pachaly seems to have been a the owner of a sugar factory instead. (12) While it is technically possible that they did serve in the same regiment for a short time, and that Carl did not become an active officer, their considerable age difference makes this unlikely.

Now, the article seems to speculate a lot about a possible romance between the two, and deliberately refer to Wallenberg as MvRs fiancee. She was said to have been at the funeral in 1925. Then again, their only source for the whole story seems to be an unnamed relative of Adele.

Worth mentioning again is that, from the Richthofen families side, it was multiple times denied that MvR was engaged, or that there was something planned. Prussian offiers usually didnt get married until 30 years of age, making an engagement at age 20 highly unlikely.

Below: Adele von Wallenberg-Pachaly at the age of 73. Notably if her year of birth is correct, this photo has to be from the year 1966.

Margret Voss

Im only mentioning her because of the buckwild derrittmeister.org website, whos host claimed to be MvRs reincarnation. This person wrote several "memories" about MvR being in a relationship with Margret Voss, a cousin of Werner Voss. I have seen those two being referenced as a possible couple more often on the internet, but I personally dont think those allegations hold any solid ground, as this whole thing seems to stem from the fact that there is a photo where these two talk.

Conclusion:

I do believe that some, if not all, of those stories were made up for clout. There is just no way that he could have kept a series of love letters a secret from Karl Bodenschatz, the guy who went through his mail. However you can never be 100% certain. Therefore I will leave the interpretation up to the reader. Pick your favorite, write your fanfic, I will not judge you, because in the end...

Special thanks to...

...the Feldgrau Forum, as they helped me in my search for Carl von Wallenberg-Pachaly

...meettheredbaron.com

…frontflieger.de

…the Discord Server

Sources:

(1) RICHTHOFEN, Manfred von: Ein Heldenleben (1920), p. 154

(2) D.V.E. Nr. 3.- Kompendium über Militärrecht, Militärstrafgesetzbuch Teil II, §150; Also in: Bürgerliches Gesetzbuch (koeblergerhard.de)

(3) GIBBONS, Floyd: The Red Knight of Germany (1927), p.67

(4) CARISELLA, PJ; RYAN, James W.: Who Killed The Red Baron? (1969)

(5) CASTAN, Joachim: Der Rote Baron: Die ganze Geschichte des Manfred von Richthofen (2008) , p. 207

(6) HAYZLETT, Jan; FISCHER, Susanne: The Girl He Left Behind (1997) for Over The Front *I am only some guy, so I can not afford to go to London and personally look into Gibbons notes, therefore I have to trust OTF that they indeed quoted him correctly and didn't leave information out. If I ever find the time to contact the archive or go to London personally, there will be an update on this article.

(7) ibid

(8) CARISELLA, PJ: Who Killed The Red Baron (1979), p. 214f

(9) HAYZLETT, Jan; FISCHER, Susanne: The Girl He Left Behind (1997) for Over The Front

(10) ibid

(11) CRAMON, A. von: Geschichte des Leib-Kürassier-Regiments Großer Kurfürst (schlesisches) Nr. 1 (1893) p. 200-240

(12) Albert Gieseler -- Carl v. Wallenberg-Pachaly (albert-gieseler.de)

#manfred von richthofen #ww1 #i hate this whole topic so much lmao #ww1 aviation #over the front #otf #the red baron 2008 #red baron

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torentialtribute · 5 years ago

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The incredible story of Lauda’s racing return days after fiery crash

On September 11, 1976, Niki Lauda raced at the Italian Grand Prix having been involved in a hideous fiery crash just 40 days earlier.

Lauda was permanently scarred by the smash at the Nurburgring, but his remarkable fighting spirit saw him return to Formula One, and later become world champion twice more.

The Daily Mail's Ian Wooldridge was at Monza to watch Lauda's return to the track. Following the great Austrian's death at the age of 70, here is how our writer described the extraordinary events …

Three time Formula One world champion Niki Lauda has died at the age of 70

Original publication date: September 11, 1976

Headline: COURAGE OR MERE MADNESS – Ian Wooldridge watching the incredible man back from the dead at Monza

The rain was smashing vertically into the Monza circuit as the third car out in practice threw up a fantasy of solid water, slewed sideways, spun twice and hit the fence.

Watching unblinkingly from the Ferrari pits not 100 yards distant was Niki Lauda. We expect him, as a world motor racing champion, to remain emotionally unmoved by a minor spill, but there was another reason for his gaunt, unblinking stare. He has virtually no eyelids. They were scorched off 40 days ago.

So was much of his left ear, the top layers of skin on his upper face and all the skin around the right wrist left unprotected by fireproof covering when his last car exploded in a sheet of flame on the sadistic German track at Nurburgring.

They got him out in 43 seconds. Had they been 20, even 15, seconds slower we would be requested to stand here tomorrow afternoon in the letter traditional tribute to a dead motor sports hero.

Instead, if his Formula One engine can match his nerveless ambition, we shall witness him gearing down from around 190 mph on the Monza straights to something like 85 on the most treacherous bends. He will once again be astride what amounts to an incendiary bomb, and changing gear between 1,300 and 1,500 times with a right hand which could easily have been amputated as recently as the same day that the Olympic Games ended in Montreal.

In September 1976, Niki Lauda raced at the Italian Grand Prix after suffering a hideous crash

Is it courage, or madness? Is it bravery, or obsession? Is it one man, aged 27, so unwilling to concede an earthly title that he is prepared to wager life against death when most men would be hiding their desperate injuries in a darkened room in a clinic? And, if so, what's the psychologist's definition for that?

Perhaps our own James Hunt, the driver closest to wresting the world title from Lauda, comes nearest with the explanation. "Niki," he said, not permitting the close camaraderie or the Grand Prix circuit to cloud reality, "is a single-minded chap. If he found you lying on the ground, he would sooner walk over than round you '.

This is the man who will drive the Italian Grand Prix in a flame red Ferrari emitting a sound like a tearing calico. Someone once called him the Red Baron, equating him in outlook with Baron Manfred von Richthofen the First World War ace who refused to camouflage his starlet fighter, so that his mortal combat opponents should always know who they were up against.

The allusion was very perceptive. Lauda, proud, abrupt, formal and scrupulously polite, strikes you as more Prussian than Austrian. Just to the point where he fixes your eyes with his, challenging you to allow your gaze to roam about the terrible facial geography left by first-degree burns and, at the moment, first-operation plastic surgery.

40 days earlier, Lauda had engulfed in a fireball following a smash at the Nurburgring

Lauda was left with permanent scars to his face, but determinedly returned to racing

God willing, Dr. Rudolf Zellner, Germany's leading cosmetic surgeon, will rebuild the featu res about which, at the moment, he has only had time either to lay pink, shiny skin removed from Lauda's left thigh or cover with a skull cap specially constructed to avoid pressure on what remains of the left ear.

Lauda's attitude to his disfigurement is to ignore it. It is his friends in the close knit Ferrari team who are left to protect him from his own apparent indifference.

He flew into Milan by private plane on Thursday, checked into a hotel with good food but no glamor 25 miles from the city and, presumably, expected some peace. In fact, his temporary face stared back at him from the front page of the many Italian newspapers scattered around the bars and restaurants, and his dinner was transformed into a grotesque public peep show.

Word of his presence had spread and they came, in twos and then tens, to gaze for minutes on one man back from the dead. At 9pm, declaring himself utterly relaxed but in a condition for which the modern parlance is extremely uptight, Niki Lauda went to bed.

Lauda raced in the pouring rain at Monza, qualifying fifth and finishing the race in fourth

The Austrian went on to win two further world championship titles following his crash "class =" blkBorder img-share "/>

The Austrian went on to win two further world championship titles following his crash

Yesterday it rained so hard across the Plain of Lombardy that Monza practice was suspen ded. It was still pouring when proceedings resumed three hours later, and Lauda lay in his car, pulled the oxygen feed in his helmet, steered left out of the pits, sad gingerly round one lap, and then rammed the accelerator to the floor.

He drove two laps extremely fast, stepped out of the Ferrari and announced to a large audience that he was totally fit and not returning to the track a moment too soon. To an Ealing ratepayer with a mortgage and three kids, and a mild ambition to minimally see 50 if at all possible, it confirmed that such people, if not actually dangerous, are certainly different.

Lauda's obsession with speed started ten years ago when, at 17, he informed his wealthy grandmother that he had crashed a friend's car and would be great trouble if he didn't replace it. This was not strictly true, but it put him on wheels and set him on the course that brings him to Monza this weekend through the very portals of the next world.

Once the doctors pronounced him capable of driving, there was no one to stop him. Marlene, Lauda's wife of four months had no chance.

The Daily Mail's Ian Wooldridge was at Lauda's return to the track

"She doesn't drive the car," Lauda said. 'I do. And we're both fine. " There is no room for argument. "I don't live like other people," Lauda said. 'While I can walk and drive, why lie in a clinic? This is my world.

'I remember nothing about the crash at Nurburgring except the impact. I knew nothing for four days after that, but what I did know when I recovered consciousness was that I had to get better every day, and never slip back. "

Niki Lauda crashed at 180 mph, and just one of the consequences is that for at least the next year he will spend more time under an anesthetic than he will behind the steering wheel of a Grand Prix car.

Several of his closest friends did not share his luck. The fatality statistics of his sport are such that there are others with whom he will not share old age. More than 100,000 Italians will occupy precariously safe positions around this track tomorrow to see him ride again, and what is in their minds me almost as much, as now, as what is passing through his.

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esprit-de-corps-magazine · 6 years ago

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Air power and the battle for Vimy Ridge

By Major Bill March

The engagement, part of the larger Battle of Arras (April 9 to May 16, 1917), took place from Easter Monday on April 9 to April 12 and resulted in the decisive defeat of the German defenders. The first time that all four divisions of the Canadian Corps had fought together, Vimy Ridge has become a potent symbol of Canadian nationalism, albeit at the cost of over 10,000 casualties (3,598 killed and 7,004 wounded).

The savagery of the fighting and the bravery of the combatants on the ground were matched by the war in the air. For the men of the Royal Flying Corps (RFC) and Royal Naval Air Service (RNAS) – and there were many Canadians among them – this was the start of “Bloody April”.

As was (and is) often the case, the air battle began long before the first soldier went over the top. The most potent weapon during the First World War was artillery and it came to rely heavily upon aerial observation and photographs. In the months leading up to the attack on Vimy Ridge, corps squadrons – those air units tasked to provide direct reconnaissance support to a specific army or corps (the Canadian Corps was part of the British First Army) – were in the air whenever the weather permitted, photographing and re-photographing German positions.

Locating enemy artillery batteries was of primary importance so they could be neutralized on the day of the attack. At Vimy Ridge, the bulk of the work fell to the RFC’s 16 Squadron, flying B.E.2s, a two-seater biplane. It is estimated that by early March aerial photographs had been taken of all of the German defensive positions and that 180 of 212 hostile batteries had been located and their coordinates plotted on Allied maps.1 During the actual battle, corps aircraft would fly in support of the “shoots” meant to destroy or neutralize hostile batteries by providing near-real time corrections and photographing the results (what we now call battle damage assessment).

Needless to say, the Germans strove strenuously to deny the Allies the use of this aerial “high-ground” in much the same way as the RFC and RNAS attempted to “blind” the German Air Service. Scout or fighter aircraft flew both offensive and defensive patrols. Offensive patrols were designed to either destroy or discourage the enemy’s reconnaissance aircraft (and balloons) from doing their job, while defensive patrols were to protect friendly corps machines. The information being brought back was so important for the preparation of the upcoming offensive that each RFC reconnaissance aircraft was often assigned two scouts to act as close escorts. They flew in conjunction with defensive patrols of four to seven aircraft seeking to intercept the Germans before they could molest the corps aircraft.

If a target to be photographed was deemed important enough, the RFC would do whatever it took to get the image – one mission over the span of two days in late March 1917 resulted in the loss of aircraft and 14 airmen killed or missing; the required information was never obtained.2

During the lead-up to Vimy Ridge, the RFC was going through a period of massive expansion that led to a shortage of squadrons at the front. To help alleviate this deficiency, four RNAS squadrons, Numbers 1, 8 and 10, operating Sopwith triplanes, and No. 3, equipped with Sopwith Pups, were temporarily placed at the disposal of the RFC. All of these squadrons, especially No. 3, which was commanded by Canadian Redford Henry “Red” Mulock of Winnipeg, Manitoba, acquitted themselves well.

RFC aircraft were, for the most part, outclassed by German fighting machines. Where there was relative technical parity, squadrons equipped with either the Nieuport 17 or Sopwith Pup were capable of meeting the Germans on somewhat equal terms. The outcome of a fight often rested with the skill of the aircrew and survival was dictated by where the fight took place and the prevailing wind.

The continued growth, combined with losses at the front, meant many aircrew operating in the skies above the Canadian Corps had minimal training and were often unfamiliar with the aircraft they were flying. As well, the need to support the troops on the ground meant that they often found themselves over enemy territory so that if their machine was damaged in combat, or suffered from not infrequent mechanical difficulty, they ran the risk of not making it back to friendly lines and becoming prisoners of war.

To a great extent this unfortunate outcome was worsened by the prevailing winds that blew from west to east, making it that much more difficult for a flier in trouble to make it to friendly lines. But although were many inexperienced pilots within the German Air Service, there were also experienced “killers” such as Manfred von Richthofen – the “Red Baron” – who took a deadly toll of the Allied airmen during the Battle of Arras.

The expansion of the RFC, and to a lesser extent the RNAS, increased the demand for personnel. Although there were a number of Canadians serving in both flying services, most had come via direct recruitment in North America or through voluntary secondment from the Canadian Expeditionary Force. In an effort to tap into a perceived pool of eager young Canadians, the RFC established a large training organization in Canada in January 1917. In the months following the Battle of Arras, Through the RFC Canada, thousands of Canadians would take to the skies over Europe via the RFCA Canada. But during “Bloody April”, the Allies had to rely on available airmen, regardless of their level of training and experience.

With this in mind it should come as no surprise that in the four days between the start of the RFC’s air campaign on April 4, and the Canadian Corps’ assault on Vimy Ridge on the 9th, that

…seventy-five British aeroplanes fell in action with a loss in personnel of 105 (nineteen killed, thirteen wounded, and seventy-three missing). In addition, there was an abnormally high number of flying accidents in which, in the same period, fifty-six aeroplanes were wrecked and struck off the strength of the squadrons.3

Casualties resulting from accidents were not reported as “combat” losses. To put this into a modern context, a Canadian fighter squadron has approximately 12 aircraft on strength which means that in a four-day period the equivalent of almost 11 modern squadrons were lost. And then the ground battle began…

The officers and men of the Canadian Corps had prepared diligently for the attack. Maps indicating objectives and potential enemy strongpoints had been updated to the very last minute, using the latest aerial photographs obtained at such a high price. Royal Canadian Artillery gunners had practiced with RFC observers to work out procedures and wireless (radio) protocols to engage German batteries and silence them quickly and effectively.

Assaulting bodies of infantry, in addition to their already substantial burden of equipment, carried extra flares and signal panels with which to highlight their positions to friendly aircraft above. This was extremely important. Contact flights, where aircraft were sent to locate the positions of friendly troops, were vital both to provide an accurate picture of what was happening to higher headquarters and to prevent occurrences of “friendly fire”.

But then the “gods of chance” intervened. Although there had been perfect flying weather on April 8, by the time the whistles blew to signal the attack early the following morning, low clouds and a mix of rain and snow showers had restricted aerial activity…on both sides.

Except for brief periods, the lousy weather continued for almost the entire period of the assault on Vimy Ridge. While this made it difficult for 16 Squadron to carry out counter-battery work, it made the need for contact patrols even more important. Flying low over weather-obscured bodies of troops was always dangerous; in the height of battle soldiers on the ground often assumed that low-flying aircraft were hostile and therefore to be shot at. But when aircrew deliberately called attention to themselves with blaring klaxons, they were often met with a fusillade of ground fire rather than a positional flare from friendly troops. The divisional and battalion diaries of the Canadian Corps contain numerous entries noting the presence of, and reports from, these contact flights.

And while the air war may have been relatively quiet at Vimy Ridge, it continued unabated over the Arras battlefield. During this period, Lieutenant Billy Bishop became an Ace while flying a Nieuport 17 with 60 Squadron, RFC (he claimed his fifth victory on April 8, 1917). By the end of the month he would claim total of 17 enemy aircraft destroyed or forced down.

Three more pilots lost today. All good men. Oh how I hate the Huns. They had done in some many of my best friends. I’ll make them pay, I swear.4 William Avery “Billy” Bishop April 7, 1917

Other Canadian airmen were equally effective, including Lloyd Samuel Breadner of Carleton Place, Ontario, who would become Chief of the Air Staff of the Royal Canadian Air Force, and Joseph Fall of Cobble Hill, British Columbia, with No. 3 (Naval) Squadron of the RNAS. Both scored triple victories during an engagement on April 11, 1918.

Others paid the ultimate price during ferocious air battles. In Bishop’s squadron alone, Canadians C.S. Hall (address unknown) and J.A. Milot of Joliette, Quebec, were killed on the April 7 and 8 respectively. The trials of 60 Squadron continued as it lost 10 of its complement of 18 aircraft from April 14 to 16 (J. Elliott from Winnipeg, Manitoba, was wounded during this period). By the end of “Bloody April”, the British had lost 285 aircraft and 211 aircrew were killed or missing, with another 108 taken prisoner. The number of Canadian aircrew casualties during this period has never been tabulated. The Germans lost 66 aircraft due to combat or flying accident. Richthofen and his squadron accounted for more than a third (89) of British losses.5

From a Canadian air power perspective, the battle for Vimy Ridge could be characterized as the first Canadian “joint” engagement. Encompassing a much larger area than the Vimy Ridge battlefield, the air campaign began long before the initial assault on April 9. Although primarily a land battle, the contributions of the RFC and RNAS were crucial – if not for the ultimate victory than at the very least for reducing the number of casualties to the Canadian Corps.

Aerial reconnaissance enabled advance planning and rehearsal prior to the attack on April 9 and, although limited by weather, made important contributions to the conduct of the engagement – primarily in the realm of command and control. At the same time offensive aerial patrols kept the Germans from enjoying the same advantages. Vimy Ridge is a prime example of the effectiveness of joint operations when air and land power cooperate to achieve a common goal.

As we commemorate Vimy Ridge, it behooves the men and women of the Canadian Armed Forces to remember that lesson as well.

1 S.F. Wise, Canadian Airmen and the First World War, Volume 1, The Official History of the Royal Canadian Air Force (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1980), 401.

2 H.A. Jones, The War in the Air, Volume 3, Being the Story of the part Played in the Great War by the Royal Air Force (London: Imperial War Museum, nd, reprint of original published in 1931), 322-4.

3 Ibid., 334-5.

4 Quoted in William Arthur Bishop, Billy Bishop: The Courage of the Early Morning (Markham, Ontario: Thomas Allan Publishers, 2011), 76

5 “The Battle of Arras and ‘Bloody April’ 1917, accessed April 2, 2015, www.wwiaviation.com/Bloody_April-1917.html.

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tintenspion · 2 years ago

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No, you're NOT a real Red Baron fan.

I am so sick of all these people that think they're Manfred von Richthofen fans. No, you're not. Most of you are not even close to being Richthofen fans. I see these people saying "I've watched some youtube videos and documentaries about him!" THAT'S NOTHING, most of us have read multiple primary source books about him. I see people who only watch the 2008 movie and claim to be Richthofen fans. HAHAHAHAHAHA FUNNY come talk to me when you can cross reference every single Richthofen biography, then we'll be friends.

Sincerely, all of the ACTUAL Richthofen fans.

#manfred von richthofen #copypasta

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esprit-de-corps-magazine · 7 years ago

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BILLY AND ME: Growing Up In A Not-So-Ordinary Family

(Volume 24-03)

By Diana Bishop

Believe me, there would have had to be a very good reason for me to go rummaging through my father’s underwear drawer — if you ever saw the sorry state of my father’s underwear, it would speak for itself. Believe it or not, though, that drawer was, for many years, where my family kept my grandfather’s impressive breastplate of First World War medals, now considered some of the most valuable on the planet. In a sense, the underwear drawer is where my relationship with my famous grandfather truly began.

Before digging through the armoire, all I knew about Billy Bishop was what my parents had told me because, sadly, my Grandpa Billy had died when he was just 62. I had been three years old at the time, too young to have any memory of him.

My father tried to appease me with statements like “You were the only baby that your grandfather ever held in his arms.” This only caused me to jump to a number of unsettling conclusions: That my grandfather was not fond of babies. That he had never held my father as a baby. Or that my parents were just saying this to make up for the fact that I would never know him. I hoped that the latter was true.

“When Billy came over for lunch, he would often take a nap afterwards in the guest bedroom and wanted you to sleep in your crib next to him,” my mother added.

Dad said Billy had a special name for me: “the Boobit.”

Why the Boobit, you may ask. Well, it just sounded cute, and my family was always giving people silly names.

The way everyone talked about Billy, though, it was clear he was a god in our family, so I figured that even if I couldn’t see him, Grandpa Billy was always around — like a ghost hiding in the house.

The idea of ghosts seemed normal to me as a child. I would walk into a room or wake up in the middle of the night and feel something filling the space around me. Where the air usually felt light, I could stretch my hands out and feel a fullness or density, which I assumed was something or someone passing by from the invisible world. I was sensitive like that, and it didn’t scare me. In fact, I found it comforting to think there was so much going on that we couldn’t see. It seemed rational to me that even if I could not actually see my grandfather, he was there and always would be — an otherworldly presence to remind me who I am and where I came from.

This phenomenon really came into focus when I was 10 years old and in grade five. I remember putting on a pretty dress one day (probably pink because that was my favourite colour). I had wanted to make sure I looked my absolute best that morning.

My father always dashed off to work early, well before I left for school, so I waited for him to leave; then, while my mother was busy cleaning up the dishes downstairs, I snuck back upstairs into Dad’s den. I had been planning this for a while and was virtually buzzing with anticipation as I opened Dad’s armoire and that underwear drawer I had visited so many times without his knowledge.

My right hand rummaged through the mishmash of socks, undershirts, and briefs until I finally felt the breastplate, which I carefully pulled out, holding it flat, and placed in a brown paper bag. I was careful to wrap the paper around the breastplate, and then I tucked the package securely under my arm.

My school was only two blocks away — a good thing under the circumstances. I felt as if I had stolen the family jewels and that, at any moment, someone might come chasing after me. My father had given my brother and me strict orders never to touch this precious item except when he was around, an order which, being kids, we ignored, sneaking our friends up to look at them every chance we got. I don’t remember my father ever saying I couldn’t take them to school, but it was too late at that point to consider the consequences.

Once I got to school, I put the paper bag on top of my desk and kept my hands firmly over it. I couldn’t wait for my name to be called. I knew my classmates would never guess the remarkable treasure that I had brought to show them.

Fame is a funny thing. If you have it in your family, it can rub off on you. You can feel a little bit famous even if you’ve done nothing to earn it. I certainly did that day.

When I was a child, it didn’t seem all that surprising to me that my grandfather’s impressive breastplate of war medals — 15 in all — were kept in my father’s underwear drawer. It never occurred to me to ask my dad why he kept them hidden away. I surmise that, at the time, he thought it was as safe a place as any. Little did he know …

My class already knew something of Billy Bishop, the war hero, as his name had come up in one of our history lessons in the months before. The teacher had asked us to open our books to a particular page, and there, in the top left-hand corner, was a close-up of a dashing pilot in the cockpit of his plane.

The right side of my grandfather’s face was turned slightly toward the camera, a crinkle at the corner of his eye, just as I would have in the corner of my eyes when I got a little older. The photo was in black and white, but from the brightness and intensity in those eyes, you knew they were a brilliant blue.

Under the picture was the caption — World War I Flying Ace, Billy Bishop! It felt as if my heart leapt out of my chest. I turned to my closest classmate and whispered loudly, “That’s Billy Bishop, my grandfather. MY grandfather!”

The teacher had pointed out the picture to the class and mentioned that I was his granddaughter. It was so unexpected that I just beamed. That’s when I decided that I wouldn’t keep my grandfather’s medals hidden the way my father did, and had taken the risk of sneaking them out of their hiding place and carting them off to school as the highlight of my history project.

When I stood before my class and pulled out my unique show and tell, my classmates did not disappoint, especially the boys. Their eyes opened wide as I laid out Billy Bishop’s legacy — a tapestry of different medals — some shiny, some dull, some silver, gold, and bronze. Each one was attached to a colourful ribbon and arranged one slightly over top of the next in a long, neat row.

I had painstakingly memorized them so that I could confidently name some of them: the Distinguished Service Order; the Military Cross; the Distinguished Flying Cross; the Croix de Guerre; the Legion of Honour; and the most coveted of all, the Victoria Cross, the highest military decoration awarded for valour in the face of the enemy. That one was first on the breastplate, standing out in its elegant simplicity — a dark bronze cross crafted from metal harvested from guns from the Crimean War, hanging from a richly ribbed maroon ribbon.

Emboldened by my powerful prop, I began to tell my class about my Grandfather Billy. I had reread my history book the night before to make sure that I got everything right, but having listened to my family talk about him so often, I knew all the salient points anyway.

“My grandfather got these for his courage and because he shot down 72 planes in the First World War,” I began. “My grandfather was awarded the top medal for bravery.” I pointed out the VC on the breastplate. I took a breath and carried on. “It isn’t as shiny as the others, but it is very special. Very few people in the war ever got one.”

Ploughing on, I said, “The King of England presented it to my grandfather for attacking a German aerodrome and shooting down a bunch of enemy planes. Nobody had ever done that before!”

Once I had finished, my classmates were eager to see the war medals up close. I couldn’t have been more thrilled to have them stand around me as they traced their fingertips over each of them, as I had done so many times, savouring every indentation as if trying to feel Billy’s presence.

When the questions started, I was ready.

“Who was Billy’s archrival?”

“The Red Baron!” I exclaimed enthusiastically, as I knew my class had probably heard about the German ace — I was hoping nobody would ask me to pronounce his real name, Manfred Von Richthofen, though. “He was the top-scoring pilot of World War One, who shot down 80 planes.”

“Did your grandfather ever fight the Red Baron?” another of my classmates asked.

“Yes, but they were both such good fighters that neither was able to shoot the other down,” I replied. (This is what I believed to be true from our family lore. Billy had penned in his autobiography, Winged Warfare, that he had once encountered the Red Baron in a dogfight; however, some historians have questioned the encounter, and there is no corroborating record of it.)

A few years later, when kids would ask me this same question, I was able to add, “My grandfather was like Snoopy,” knowing everyone was by then familiar with Charles Shultz’s Peanuts comic strip that portrayed Snoopy the dog as a First World War pilot, adorned with goggles and a white scarf and taking on the German flying ace from atop his doghouse. Except that, I pointed out, my grandfather didn’t like to wear goggles; he insisted he could see better without them.

The last question a classmate asked me that day was “Did you know your grandfather? What was he like?”

Of course, I had to tell them that I didn’t know him, but it left so much unsaid. How could I tell them that Billy Bishop was all around me? That I considered him my own personal superhero, one of the good guys who, I believed, watched over me — not to mention dashing and handsome like a movie star (Canadian writer Pierre Berton once said that Billy Bishop had the face of Paul Newman and the body of James Cagney).

I delighted in poring over our family photographs of Billy, most of which were kept in a couple of worn albums — the old-fashioned ones with the black pages in which black-and-white pictures were held in place by those maddening little corner flaps. We had originals of the official war photos of my grandfather that are now part of the public domain — Billy posing in the cockpit of his First World War biplane, aiming his Lewis gun into the heavens. But the albums also contained Billy the toddler (or “Willie” as they called him then), dressed in a sailor’s outfit of the kind that many parents forced their kids to wear in those days; and later, the elegant man dressed in the latest tailored suit from Savile Row in London, playing polo with dignitaries and visiting Winston Churchill at 10 Downing Street. I followed Billy’s life in these pictures. They have such liveliness about them that you almost feel he might suddenly wink at you from the photo.

Billy’s legend was central to our family’s life. Stories about him were the enthralling highlight of most gatherings. So many stories, told so often as to become lore, and I cherished them.

One memorable war story in my father’s arsenal was about the bullet that grazed his father’s temple as he was up shooting at the Germans. As a souvenir of this nearly fatal shot, Billy had kept the windshield of the plane with the bullet hole in it, and Dad displayed it rather proudly in his den. (I impressed my friends by telling them that if the bullet had strayed an inch to the right, I would not be here to tell the tale.)

Frankly, I was still too young to appreciate my grandfather’s war exploits and the endless stream of battles that had made him a legend. Instead, I preferred hearing the entertaining anecdotes about a man who always went out of his way to inject a little more fun into everyone’s lives.

My dad was the family chronicler of his father’s life. He had written Billy’s biography, a bestseller entitled The Courage of the Early Morning, named for my grandfather’s trademark habit of going out to face the enemy alone at first light. While the book had primarily focused on the drama in the air, there were also the stories about Billy the family man, the bon vivant, and the prankster, and my dad would regale us with these often. The tales about Billy kept him alive for all of us.

One of my favourite yarns was about the time Billy hosted a dinner party for a large table of well-heeled guests where everything was served backwards. The dinner started with coffee, then dessert, and so on, finishing with cocktails. Even the servers came into the room backwards. I always thought it would be fun to try that myself.

My grandfather was also very fond of dogs. Dad told me Billy liked Chow Chows — those fluffy Chinese dogs that look like lions — so once, during another dinner party, he placed two of them as a centrepiece in the middle of the table.

“How did he ever get them to stay there?” I asked when I heard this story for the first time.

“He just had a way with them,” was the reply I got.

I needed no further convincing that my grandfather had been no ordinary human being when my Granny Bishop, Billy’s widow, told me why Billy never wore a watch. He couldn’t, she said, because whenever he did, within a short period of time the hands would start going backwards, speed up, and the watch would stop. Some believe it happens to people who have a strong magnetic field or electric current around them.

It was also my grandmother who described Billy to me as a flame that blazed so strongly that it sucked every bit of oxygen out of the room, and while I was never exactly sure what she meant by that, it also seemed an appropriate description of my father. When Dad was in the room, it was difficult to focus on anything or anyone else. He was constantly on, feeling a need to perform, whether it was before an audience of one or of many.

I sometimes imagined when I entered a room that Billy might have been there, and I had just missed him. Once or twice I even tried to see if I could contact his spirit. The Ouija board seemed a good way to give that a try. I gingerly placed my fingertips on the heart-shaped piece of wood used to communicate with the spirits and asked the board the obvious question.

“Is my grandfather Billy Bishop here?”

On the top of the Ouija board are two rows set in a semicircle that contain the letters of the alphabet. This allows anyone on the other side to spell out a message. But the words “yes” and “no” also appear on the top corners.

Just in case he might not have heard me the first time, I said, “Billy, it’s me, your granddaughter, Diana … the Boobit. Are you there?”

My young and impressionable self would have taken any movement toward “yes” as a clear sign of his intent to contact me. That’s when my hands started to tingle. Or maybe I just imagined it.

I waited … Nothing.

And so I made a trip back to my father’s underwear drawer to sneak another look at my grandfather’s medals, an activity that always made me feel close to him. They were heavy in my small hands. They felt powerful, important.

I did get the medals back home safe and sound the day I took them to school — back into the underwear drawer. (A few years later, believing that his father’s medals belonged to all Canadians, my father had the good sense to donate them to the Canadian War Museum in Ottawa, where they are on display. I am told they are insured for several million dollars.)

My father kept his own medals — a more modest collection, to be sure — in a desk drawer in his den. But he never talked with us, at least not when I was a child, about his own war experiences. He talked only of Billy’s achievements, which were recounted almost like fairy tales, stories about our family’s shining first knight of the air.

Thankfully, my father had been at work all day and hadn’t noticed Billy’s medals were missing. I likely would have gotten into some serious trouble if he had, but it would have been worth it.

From that day forward Billy Bishop became a big part of my identity. I would hear the kids at school whisper when I passed in the hall — “Do you know who her grandfather was? Billy Bishop, the First World War flying ace!” I saw how they looked at me afterwards. I felt special, but also as if something more would always be expected of me. I stood a little taller and straighter, hopeful that Billy hovered nearby, watching over all of us — but especially over me. I needed a superhero, someone to make me feel proud, and within whose protective aura I could feel safe.

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