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By Root 2478 0

been told to expect it first in serial form, individual chapters released as articles in various official publications. The complete book would come soon after, once the final editing work had been completed. When Richthofen sent the young woman away, he had not even read the manuscript himself, knew that whatever she had written would be changed anyway, would be converted by the experts into something they would find useful. In the days since she had gone, it surprised him that he actually missed the work, all the explanations of his missions, pausing to watch as the young woman wrote furiously on the pads of paper. He had even enjoyed talking to her about his family, some of the history he had to research himself. His father had been helpful, providing information about his ancestry that Richthofen had never learned as a child. It was nothing like the adventure of flying, and he appreciated that the stenographer had seemed as interested in his family’s background as she was about his conquests in the air. But despite the occasional flirting glance, Richthofen had been relieved that her behavior had remained professional. He was especially cautious now. The painful experience of his stay at St. Nicholas, of Kate, were still with him.

HE HAD TAKEN A TRAIN TO BERLIN, FELT NO URGENCY ABOUT ARRIVING anywhere official. But even in the huge city, he could not escape his celebrity, and his presence was regarded as more than just another special event. He endured the obligatory receptions in his honor, countless photographs with high-ranking officers who sought their own memento of the Red Battle Flyer. But Richthofen found nothing pleasant about the social turmoil of the city, and after performing his social duties for a few days, he was grateful to accept an invitation to go hunting on one of the nearby royal estates.

His host was the duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, a genial man whom Richthofen had met by chance on the train to Berlin. Richthofen’s visit had of course thrown the man’s entire estate into a frenzy of social planning, a bevy of servants scrambling to make ready for the sudden arrival of Germany’s most famous soldier. Richthofen accepted the duke’s hospitality with smiling graciousness, but he knew that with the parties would come the crowds, and especially the women. His week in Berlin had engulfed him in too much of that already, hoards of fluttery eyes, soft arms curling through his without invitation, indiscreet proposals that many of the other officers seemed to accept as a matter of course. He had never been brusque, did not have the oily skills of some who knew how to escape the grasping tentacles of the ambitious. But he did have one very convenient excuse: his wound. Though he rarely suffered any more from the aftereffects, the dramatic white cap on his head proved to be the perfect means to escape overbearing officers as well as their mistresses.

Richthofen was grateful that the duke understood his guest’s priorities, and their days were spent roaming the vast woodlands of the man’s estate. The hunt had been wonderfully successful, the duke offering his enthusiastic surprise at Richthofen’s marksmanship and his skills in the wild, the kind of praise Richthofen had grown accustomed to. Despite his success in the forest, the hunt itself had soon become a distraction. As each day passed, he could not escape thoughts of Schweidnitz, of seeing his mother. Now, after more than a week of recreation, he really wanted to go home.

SEPTEMBER 15, 1917

The duke had summoned his chauffer, and Richthofen was surprised the duke had accompanied him to the aerodrome, a small cramped airfield outside of his estate at Reinhardsbrunn. Richthofen realized his impatience was showing, but the duke took no offense, instead had arranged for a pilot to fly Richthofen to Schweidnitz. It was a gracious favor from an accommodating host, and Richthofen would certainly not object; he was feeling more anxious to be home as each day passed. The thought of taking the slower train had no appeal to him now, a part of him already