Around
12.00 noon, the Staffel comes flying back. One machine after another
flattens out and lands. Suddenly, a realization goes through the adjutant
like a bolt from above and he stares out at the field.
Richthofen
is not with them !
Somewhat
apprehensive, from his elevated seat he calls down to Leutnants Wenzl
and Karjus, who have climbed out of their machines and now come running.
'
Where is Richthofen?'
Leutnant Wenzl says hurriedly, '1 have a bad feeling. We were right
near the Front, and over'the lines came seven Sopwiths with red noses,
the " Anti-Richthofen people". The dogfight started; they had us outnumbered
and we didn't really get a chance to shoot. The Rittmeister was flying
witin view and he now came flying over with his flight. But then seven
or eights new lords came wheeling dow from overhead. There a huge
dogfight; everything was in a confusion. We all gradually work ourselves
a little lower, and in the eastwind, we all drifted further and further
to the other side of the lines. We broke off the fight and helped
each other back across the lines. I have a bad feeling. As I flew
back, I saw II small machine standing east of Corbie that hadn't been
there before. I think it was a red machine!'
The
men stare at him for a second, then Hauptmann Reinhard, the most senior
officer of the Geschwader, immediately orders Leutnant Wenzl, Leutnant
Karjus and Leutnant Wolfram von Richthofen ( a cousin of the commander
) to go up and reconnoiter the area around Corbie for the red machine.
The three machines race over the field and go aloft. They disappear
overhead on their search. Leutnant Wenzl rushes stubbornly in the
direction of Corbie, his teeth clenched. He goes down to 200 to 300
meters, and attempts to get close to the machine to establish its
identity. Instead of one machine, he now sees two standing on that
spot. From this distance, he cannot determine anything for sure; to
do that, he would have to go over the lines. In a hail of machine-gun
and anti-aircraft fire, he attempts it, but already English single-seaters
are breathing down his neck. With all hell breaking loose, he gets
through, nevertheless, and comes closer to the mysterious machines
there on the ground. Then bullets chatter furiously into his machine.
Three Sopwiths come sweeping in behind him. There is nothing else
he can do; they are forcing him ever lower, as it is. There is now
one hell of a chase. The English overtake him as he reaches his own
lines, and now he risks it all: at an altitude of twenty meters, he
sweeps over the German captive balloon standing there and then along
the ground towards home.
So
he brings back no new information.
In
the meantime, the news that the Rittmeister has not returned has spread
to the last man. The men stand around, somber. No one says anything.
Leutnant Richard Wenzl had no sooner taken off than the adjutant dragged
all of the air defense officers to the telephone. None of them can
report anything. Now all of the sector's divisional headquarters are
alerted. In frantic haste, over and over again, the same sentences
are uttered: 'Jasta 11 has returned from a combat mission. The Rittmeister
is missing. The men of Jasta 11 report that the Rittmeister went down.
Has a red triplna made an emergency landingin your sector ? Have you
observed a red triplane landing on this side or on the other side
of the lines ?
And
in the headquarters of the artillery and the infantry, all the phone
clerks raise their voices and ask : 'Red triplane ? ...Red triplane
? ... Red triplane ? ' The couriers and the messengers stumble hurriedly
through the communication trenches, passing it on with shouts and
notes: ' Red triplane ? ... Red triplane ? ... Red triplane ? ' In
the forwardmost trenches, all the telescopes, trench periscopes, and
field glasses -all the eyes of the infantry scour the terrain : Red
triplane ? ... Red triplane ? ... Red triplane ? God help us, every
minute counts. If he has made an emergency landing somewhere, he must
be helped immediately.
Finally,
after what seems like an eternity, the General Staff officer of the
First Division reports the following : ' The artillery observation
post of Field Artillery Regiment No.16, Oberleutnant Fabian, observed
the fight perfectly from Hamel-East. Oberleutnant Fabian saw a red
triplane land smoothly on Hill 102, north of Vaux-sur-Somme. Immediately
after the landing, the English infantry came running up and pulled
the machine behind the hill.
At
first, the dismay in Cappy is enormous, but then everyone breathes
a sigh of relief. The commander made an emergency landing. That means
he's alive.
Oberleutnant
Fabian's report is immediately sent to the Commanding General of the
Air Service. The Geschwader adjutant requests Hauptmann Reinhard's
permission to go to the observation post of Field Artillery Regiment
No.16. Just maybe. .. with the trained eyes of an airman ... the adjutant
stares through the telescope for a long, long time. He searches the
terrain thoroughly, practically centimeter by centimeter. He keeps
the lens focused on Hill 102 for a long, long time, and puts some
short, quick questions to Oberleutnant Fabian, in vain. At 2.00 p.m.
, the adjutant returns to the airfield, his eyes burning from the
observation. Several infantry officers have passed on reports, but
they contain nothing beyond what Oberleutnant Fabian has already reported.
With
that, the time in which they could have aided the Rittmeister , somehow,
some way, is just about gone. From now on, they can only hope he was
forced to land on the other side of the lines, wounded at worst, unwounded
at best. It wouldn't be the first time he'd made an emergency landing.
He even managed to land smoothly when he was wounded. In the telephone
exchange of the Geschwader, inquiries are pouring in from all sides.
At Army headquarters, an extraordinary step is suddenly decided upon.
The General allows an inquiry to be radioed to the enemy, in clear
language : ' Rittmeister von Richthofen landed your side of the lines.
Request information as to his fate.
There
is no answer.
The
airfield at Cappy carries on, silent, listening, depressed. In the
afternoon, the east wind picks up and become cooler. This damned east
wind ! It drives anything that can longer resist to the west,
towards France. Anyone who will be driven west. Maybe this damned
east wind pushed the red triplane westward. Without it, perhaps it
would have ben possible for him. ..These are idle daydreams.
Towards
evening, there is no other alternative but to notify Richthofen's
father who is now the local commandant in Courtrai. Oberleutnant Bodenschatz
climbs into an observation plane and takes the shortest route, over
Douai and Lille. He calls Major Richthofen from the Courtrai airfield
and asks if he might visit him immediately.
In the beautiful Courtrai town hall, the old gentleman, standing straight,
comes through the dim room to meet the adjutant.
' I have the feeling that something has happened to Manfred,' he says
quietly.
The
Oberleutnant stands like a rock, seeking the Major's eyes. ' Herr
Major, I must inform you that the Herr Rittmeister has not returned
from a flight, as of yet. All of our inquiries, however, have given
us hope that he is alive. ,
The
two men look at each other in silence. That he is alive ? The old
officer knows better. And as if lost in deep thought, he says slowly,
' Then he has fulfilled his highest duty. '
As they take their leave, the old gentleman walks back into the twilight
of his room. To the adjutant it feels as if it were a walk into utter
gloom. The adjutant arrives back in Cappy that same evening. He hears
the subdued conversation in the officers' mess. During the night,
he sees the enlisted men standing on the landing field staring into
the starry sky, as if someone they had been awaiting for so long would
suddenly come gliding gently down and explain everything as a splendid
joke.
There
are still a couple of things for the adjutant to do. A telegram is
sent to Schweidnitz, to his mother and brother : 'Manfred did not
return from a flight and, according to reports received, probably
landed uninjured on the other side of the lines.'
Hauptmann
Reinhard wanders incessantly back and forth and winces when the adjutant
throws himself into a chair, dog-tired, then suddenly stands up and
fetches the iron box from the safe. He opens the box and from it he
takes the grey, official envelope sealed with the official seal of
the Geschwader. It has now come to this. One other time, he'd thought
it had come to this, that time at Le Cateau. He opens the envelope.
A
small piece of paper, no longer quite clean, lies inside. The adjutant
skims it, hands it to the Hauptmann. There, in Richthofen's own hand,
written in pencil, is one sentence :
10
March 1918
Should
I not return, Oberleutnant Reinhard ( Jasta 6 ) is to assume command
of the Geschwader .
Freiherr
von Richthofen,
Rittmeister
That
is his entire will and bequest. It concerns only and solely his Geschwader.
It is the will of a true soldier. There is nothing in it concerning
his personal life. There is nothing in it about his personal concerns,
nothing that might, perchance, need putting in order. No tender, backward
glance to his mother, father, brothers. There is nothing in his private
life that needs to be put in order. He had no private life. His life
belonged to the Fatherland, without condition, reservation, or consideration.
His life belonged to the Geschwader. Free and unburdened, he took
off for each flight. He had seen to it that his Geschwader would be
in the right hands, if he met his fate. For him, there was no need
to worry further .
Oberleutnant
Reinhard ( who has since become a Hauptmann ) and Oberleutnant Bodenschatz
cannot imagine, however, that this modest piece of paper should now
be valid. It is simply not possible that Manfred von Richthofen should
have fallen to that same inexorable law of war to which all men who
went to war eventually fell. There are exceptions, they think again
and again. And he was, indeed, an exception. Anyone so pampered, so
honored, so protected by the God of War simply cannot be forsaken
by this same God of War from one hour to the next, to be betrayed
and sold.
Somewhere,
he must still be alive.
This
hope, cherished by not only Jagdgeschwader I but the entire German
Army, finds new sustenance in a strange enemy radio message that was
picked up, but then suddenly interrupted. They could just make out
:
...famous
German fighter pilot, Rittmeister von Richthofen, was shot down
near Corbie and after landing, was. ..by Australian troops. ..
Here
the radio message broke off.
They
stood confronted by a mystery and they gradually became rather suspicious.
Why did the enemy keep silent ? Why
did they not immediately announce to the whole world that they had
succeeded in striking such a great blow, when in other cases they
had been by no means shy ?
Orders
were given to thoroughly interrogat each and every captured Englishman.
But the English airmen taken into German captivity knew only that
the Rittmeister was dead. Others stated that a german pilot whose
name was kept secret had been taken to the field hospital at Amiens,
severly wounded. Under such circumstances, any hope they may have
had dwindled.
Rumors
and speculations cropped up and these rumors were sometimes bitter.
A few of them even said that Richthofen had been killed by Australian
soldiers.
Finally,
on the evening of 23 April, soldiers find an English message cylinder
with streamers attached, in the vicinity of the airfield. It contains
the announcement by the Royal Flying Corps that Rittmeister von Richthofen
had been fatally wounded in air combat and had been buried with full
military honors. On the same day, a Reuters news report containing
the same information is released. Now, there was no longer any doubt.
It was now certain that he was no longer among the living, but had
entered that huge, silent kingdom of front-line soldiers who had given
their lives for the Fatherland.
But
how had it happened ?
Oberleutnant
Fabian's report did not prove to be totally correct. The Baron had
already been fatally hit in the air, and his machine, therefore, heavily
damaged upon landing, Later photographs have proven this conclusively.