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By Root 2395 0

a great assault had taken place on this same muddy landscape, the third time a massive wave of foot soldiers would rise up and out of their trenches to throw themselves at the enemy’s strength. This time the plan had come from British field marshal Douglas Haig, who had loudly proclaimed that the British success at Messines was only the first volley of his great campaign to end the war on British terms. Haig’s strategy had been bitterly opposed by his own government, especially the Prime Minister David Lloyd George, who insisted that Haig had squandered his advantage, had allowed the best weather of the year to pass by. But Haig’s unbridled enthusiasm had quieted his critics, and on July 31, twelve British divisions, nearly one hundred fifty thousand men, pushed their way across the muddy no-man’s-land of Flanders. Whether or not the British soldiers shared their commander’s optimism, they were soon faced with a stunning dose of reality. The artillery barrage that had preceded their assault was designed to demoralize the spirit of the German defenders, or eliminate them altogether. Instead, the shelling had so churned and blasted the waterlogged landscape that a swift attack by men on foot had become impossible. But there was another problem as well. Haig’s plan to blast a breakthrough in the German fortifications did not allow for the one obstacle that neither side could control. Within hours after the British push had begun, the rains came. The prime minister’s predictions about the weather proved to be tragically accurate. From the shelter of their concrete bunkers, the German defenders faced an enemy whose attack simply drove itself deeper into the softening ground, Haig’s grand assault drowning itself in a great ocean of mud. Those British troops who could move at all finally confronted their objectives, but the numbers were too few, and the machine guns of the German defenders were waiting for them. In a matter of days, Haig’s great attack was at a standstill.

Whether driven by desperation, or the urgent need to give his country another victory, Haig ordered his soldiers not to retreat. The Tommies could only gather themselves into any shelter they could manage and wait for more orders. After two miserable weeks the skies began to clear, but instead of allowing his men to retreat, to refit and resupply, Haig ordered the assault to resume. With the new British tanks wallowing uselessly in the mud, the British supported their desperate troops with the only other offensive weapon they could muster. The new Sopwith Camel was finally reaching the front lines, and alongside the new plane, the British threw every available aircraft into the fight, the only means available to hold back what every British soldier but Haig presumed to be a certain German counterattack.

RICHTHOFEN HAD RETURNED TO COMMAND OF JG-1 ON JULY 25, FINALLY winning his ongoing fight with von Hoeppner to allow him to return to duty. He still wore the bandage, would still have to make visits to St. Nicholas Hospital, the doctors still needing to examine and probe and redress the wound.

The relief at leaving the hospital had been tempered by his good-bye to his nurse. For the last few days he spent at St. Nicholas, his thoughts had turned to flying again. It was the excuse he gave himself, the explanation in his own mind why he had detached himself from her. But he could not escape the gnawing guilt, made worse when she did not respond. She seemed to accept his change of heart without any emotion at all. Their walks ceased, her attention to him confined to the duty of changing his bandage. The nurse had replaced the woman, and Kate had resumed her duties without ever asking him why he had suddenly pulled away. Despite the guilt, it was a relief to him, but a curiosity as well. When the day came for his farewells, he was surrounded by a friendly gathering of patients and doctors, and those soldiers who could leave their beds. She was there as well, simply a part of the crowd. He had hoped for the chance to talk to her, not sure what kind of good-bye