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ABOVE THE FRENCH LINES
ABOVE THE FRENCH LINES
LETTERS OF STUART WALCOTT, AMERICAN AVIATOR: JULY 4, 1917, TO DECEMBER 8, 1917 PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS PRINCETON LONDON: HUMPHREY MILFORD OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS 1918 Copyright, 1918, by Princeton University Press Published April, 1918 Printed in the United States of America PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS...
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INTRODUCTION
INTRODUCTION
[From the Princeton Alumni Weekly of January 30, 1918.] It is now seven weeks since the dispatches from Paris reported that Stuart Walcott was attacked by three German airplanes and brought down behind the German lines, after he himself had brought down a German plane in his first combat on December 12, 1917, and that it was feared he had been killed; but even now, after the lapse of nearly two months, it is not definitely known whether his fall proved fatal, or whether the earnest hope of his f
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FROM PRINCETON TO FRANCE
FROM PRINCETON TO FRANCE
Stuart Walcott was a senior at Princeton in the winter of 1916-17. In view of his approaching graduation in the spring his father wrote to him that he had best begin to think about what he was to do after graduation in order that he might get on an independent basis as soon as practicable. In response under date of January 7, 1917, he wrote: “You spoke of my being independent after I graduate in the spring. If I go to Europe, as I want to, to drive an ambulance or in the aeroplane I will be doin
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I
I
Avord , July 4, 1917. Dear H——: ... My work here is going well, although slowly. Those in my class ought to get out by October if nothing goes wrong. There are some 150 Americans learning to fly now in France, besides the ones the Government may have sent over—more than a hundred at this one school, and the oddest combination I’ve ever been thrown with: chauffeurs, second-story men, ex-college athletes, racing drivers, salesmen, young bums of leisure, a colored prize fighter, ex-Foreign Légionna
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II
II
Escole d’Aviation Militaire Avord, Cher, France. Friday, July 13, 1917. You see it’s Friday, the thirteenth, my lucky day, and I’m happy because the work is going well. First, I’ll tell you about a smash I had a week or so ago. The roller or Rouleur class which I smashed in has the same machine as those that fly with a 45 P motor. Only it is throttled down, and we are supposed to keep it on the ground—just about ready to fly, but not quite getting up—a speed of about 30 m.p.h. When there is the
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III
III
July 17, 1917. The work has been going very well since last I wrote you, which was only two or three days ago. I told you about at last leaving the blessed roller; I never was so relieved in my life. The first evening in the decollé class, I was requisitioned to turn tails and the morning after there was too much wind to work. The decollé is the one where you go up two or three metres and settle down by cutting speed. The first time I had three sorties in the wind, bounced around a lot, but did
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IV
IV
August 11, 1917. Dear —— [B] : You have certainly developed into a wonderful correspondent. Honest-to-goodness, a letter you started my way about a month ago was quite the most satisfactory and amusing thing I’ve received since I’ve been over here. Based on practically no material, yet it was alive with interest, every line. There’s nothing like a finishing school education. If I thought that you could knit, I would immediately appoint you as my marraine (godmother), for it’s quite possible for
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V
V
August 25, 1917. I started for my altitude test three days ago. The requirement is one hour above 2,000 metres. I got to 1,950 metres and one cylinder refused to fire, so I was forced to come down. The next morning I tried again, got to 900 metres and the magneto ceased to function, thereby stopping all progress. I glided toward home, but didn’t have quite the height to make the piste , so had to land in a nearby field, just dodging a potato patch. A flock of curious sheep came around and carefu
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VI
VI
August 31, 1917. Dear —— [C] : Here it is almost September and I am still a dog-goned élève pilote . Verily, every time I think of how the time passes along without results, I go wild. My complaint is caused by the west wind, which has blown about twenty-five days during the month of August and seems likely to continue well on into September. The only variety is an occasional storm. For the past two weeks I’ve been waiting to start my voyages, two trips to a town forty miles away and back and tw
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VII
VII
September 1, 1917. The wild man in the Nieuport was out again this morning giving some one a joy ride. There is a long straight stretch of road in front of our piste and he came down that several times, a nasty puffy wind blowing which bothered him not at all, flying only two or three feet off the ground. In front of the piste is a telephone wire crossing the road. He came along the road 100 miles an hour until almost on top of the wire and jumped up just in time to clear it by a few feet—really
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VIII
VIII
September 4, 1917. At last the two weeks of wind and rain has ceased and now it is perfect weather—a bit of a breeze and lots of sun for the last two days. Yesterday morning there weren’t enough machines to go around so I did not work, making the eighth consecutive day I hadn’t stepped in a machine. Last evening I at last and with much rejoicing started out on my “maiden voyage” to another school about 60 kilometres away (37.5 miles). It was delightfully easy—nothing to do but climb two or three
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IX
IX
September 9, 1917. Since my last to Father, I have had some very interesting times. First, I finished my brevet with very little excitement, made all my voyages and only got lost a little bit once. Then I saw two machines on the ground in a field, made a rather dramatic spiral and steeply banked descent amidst a crowd of villagers and got away with it; then found that the machines belonged to two monitors who were bringing them from Paris and had effected a panne de château . Being asked what I
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X
X
September 14, 1917. Things for me are going all right. Have made progress on the Nieuport since last I wrote and will fly alone soon. As regards the U. S. Army, things are at a standstill until I get to Paris which will be a week or so. I hope to go to the front in a French escadrille and in an American uniform. Some say it can be done; some that it cannot. It sounds so sensible that I am afraid there must be some regulation against it....
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XI
XI
September 27, 1917. Since last I wrote a regular letter, considerable has taken place. First, I am now at Pau, having finished up Avord. Have sent postcards to Father right along to keep track of movements. After brevet was over, I did not take the customary permission of forty-eight hours, but went straight to work on Nieuport, D. C. (double command). One cannot learn a great deal riding with an instructor—only about enough to keep from smashing in landing, because one never knows when the inst
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XII
XII
October 22, 1917. Ah, —— [D] : Once more I take my pen in hand to lay at your feet the burdens of an overwrought (how is that word spelled?) mind, said burdens being caused by a most unpleasant captain. Just because I was in Paris for a day and a half without a permission, he handed me eight days of jail, and today for nothing at all he hauled me out in front of the entire division and got quite angered when I told him in extremely broken French that I hadn’t understood a word. But as the jail d
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XIII
XIII
Escadrille Spa-84, Secteur Postal 181, Par A. C. M.—Paris. November 1, 1917. Well, I’m here—in sight of the front at last. To date I haven’t been out there yet and won’t for a few days more as they take lots of care of new pilots and don’t feed them to the Boche right away. Probably day after tomorrow the lieutenant in command will take me out to show me around the lines and after that I’ll take my place in patrols with the others. The work is exclusively patrolling, establishing as it were a ba
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XIV
XIV
November 5, 1917. Well —— [E] : Here I find myself writing to you without waiting for the usual two or three months to elapse. Do you realize that it was over five and a half months ago that I left my native land? It doesn’t seem near so long to me. Just at present I have about thirteen hours a day to write, read the Washington Star and New York Times , eat an occasional meal (we only get two over here, worse luck), build fires in the stove and stroll for exercise. The rest of the time is devote
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XV
XV
November 10, 1917. Evening. You know November in France. I’ve been here almost two weeks now and am still à l’entrainement , that is, I haven’t started in to do any regular work yet. Only five times have I been able to fly in two weeks. But I’ve got my own machine, and mechanic, everything is in order and I’ve been assigned to a patrol the last two mornings when it rained. Tomorrow again at 8:50 with four others—patrol for one hour and fifty minutes at about 15,000 feet, back and forth over our
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XVI
XVI
Somewhere in France, November 13, 1917. Dear Father: Campbell was in the Lafayette Escadrille and they are a member of the same group as Spa 84, so I have asked them about him. He was on a patrol with another chap, they attacked some Boches and when it was over the other chap was alone. Campbell was brought down in German territory and so reported missing. I believe that the chap he was with has seen and talked to Campbell’s father or some close relative since. Another chap named Bulkley was bro
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XVII
XVII
At the Front, Somewhere in France , November 17, 1917. At present things are hopelessly slow on account of bad weather, so I have a good deal of time to write and naught to write of. I still am waiting for my baptism of active service which is assigned for each day and held up on account of fog, low clouds or rain. In the afternoon it usually lifts a little, not enough to fly over the lines, but sufficient to permit a little vol d’entrainement , a practice flight around the field. I’ve been taki
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XVIII
XVIII
At the Front—Somewhere in France. November 30, 1917. The rumor at the Lafayette Escadrille this evening is that they have been at last transferred. Of course they had similar rumors many times before. For myself I am becoming rather indifferent, very well satisfied here except for weather, and getting what I came over here for. Father mentioned something about a monitor’s job (after I had had experience at the front). My present inclination is decidedly against the idea. There is no job in the w
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XIX
XIX
At the Front , December 1, 1917. I tried to give you all some idea of the strength of a Spad in a letter a while ago. At home people speak of a factor of safety, meaning the number of times stronger the machine is than is necessary for plain flying. The Spad is made so that a man can’t bust it no matter what he does in the air—dive as far and as fast as he can and stop as brutally as he can—it stands the racket. Of course, motors do stop and if it happens over a mountain range—well, that’s just
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XX
XX
December 3rd, 1917. Dear —— [F] : Thanks for the merry, merry wishes for the gay Xmas season and I’ll try to remember them when the day comes along. Sundays and holidays are not very much noticed here at the front, except that on Sunday the mechanics all get full of pinard and song and devilment—the pinard (meaning cheap red ink used by the French in place of drinking water) is of course responsible for the two latter. In the villages, the entire male population likewise drinks much wine and eve
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XXI
XXI
Châlons-sur-Marne. December 8, 1917. Dear —— [G] : I got the Sunday Star a few days ago and there was that same old picture and —— staring me in the face! A very nice write-up, I thought it. What a bunch of big-wigs they did gather together! We packed up bag and baggage yesterday and flew off to a new place, and here we are waiting for the baggage to catch up. I have grave fears that there may be some fighting one of these days, and if so, I think it will be about time for me to get out of this
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XXII
XXII
Châlons-sur-Marne. December 8, 1917. Yesterday we were awakened at 6 and told that we were going to move out, bag and baggage at 2. So now as new barracks were not ready we came down here last night and have been seeing the sights of the town since. It is full of Americans, ambulances, doctors, Y. M. C. A. workers, everything but fighting men which I trust we’ll see before long....
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THE FINAL COMBAT
THE FINAL COMBAT
On December 12, while on patrol, Stuart Walcott met a German biplane carrying two men. Three cable reports agree that he shot down and destroyed this machine about two and a half miles within the German lines. He then started back for the French lines and was overtaken by four Albatross German planes. He was overcome and his machine went down in a nose dive within the German lines, it being assumed that either he was shot or his machine disabled. There was still a hope that he might have escaped
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STUART WALCOTT
STUART WALCOTT
[A biographical note written by his father.] Benjamin Stuart Walcott was sturdy and self-reliant as a boy and very early developed strong personal initiative, good sense and courage. I find in my notebook under an entry of July 6, 1905, a few days before Stuart’s ninth birthday, that with him and his brother Sidney I had measured a section of over 10,000 feet in thickness of rock with dip compass and rod in northern Montana, and that that night we slept out on the Continental Divide after a sand
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