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By Root 2507 0

an important part of the kaiser’s regime. As the cost of the war had affected the German people, the civilian members of the Reichstag had grown restless, some of them speaking out more openly, echoing the dangerous words that came from the streets. Ludendorff had long ignored most of what came out of the Reichstag, but their brazen protest of the kaiser’s policies, and their increasing criticism of the war, had forced the kaiser to offer some appeasement; thus, Ludendorff had been pressured to cooperate. The success of the March offensive had given Ludendorff what he needed most: a victory. If officers like Richthofen were inconvenienced by the snooping of the occasional politician, it was a small price to pay to quiet their harping. The High Command had found another use for their most celebrated flyer.

THEY HAD COME TO THE AERODROME MOSTLY IN CLUSTERS, LARGE staff cars driven by civilian chauffeurs, each polished auto bearing wide-eyed men in smartly tailored suits. Today, Richthofen was alone, would suffer the duty himself, Bodenschatz off on some administrative duty that was not quite significant enough for Richthofen to claim as his own. He was relieved to see only one automobile, had forced himself yet again not to be annoyed. He stood now with his well-rehearsed smile fixed tightly on his face, watched as a huge round man struggled to rise up out of his limousine, pouring out in a cloud of cigar smoke. Another man followed him out of the car, a pad of paper in his hand. Richthofen winced, forced the smile again, recognized the unmistakable sign of a newspaperman, a man who would preserve every detail of this visit for someone’s notion of posterity.

The fat man looked at Richthofen for a long moment, seemed to jump suddenly, pointed his finger at him, nodded vigorously. “Ah, yes! You are Captain Richthofen! I recognize you! This is an honor, sir, an honor! I am the third assistant minister of domestic commerce, Jurgen Schmidt. “

The man rolled toward him, and Richthofen accepted the flabby mass of the man’s hand, could feel the sweet stench of pipe smoke flowing over him. Schmidt backed away, appraising the field around him, and the man with the paper moved up closer, said, “Fleckmann, sir. I have been assigned to accompany Minister Schmidt, to record his impressions of our heroes of the skies.”

Richthofen caught a glint of sarcasm in the man’s cliché, thought, of course, an ink spiller who must pretend to enjoy the company of men of importance. Fleckmann held out his hand, and Richthofen responded with a brief firm handshake, could see Fleckmann studying him, questions already billowing up in a writer’s mind. Richthofen still had the smile, said, “Welcome to you as well, Mr. Fleckmann. I hope that Minister Schmidt’s impressions are favorable ones.”

Fleckmann ignored the platitude, said, “I hope to speak to you later, Captain. There is much you can tell us. The Air Service has always been somewhat stingy with information, but that seems to be changing. It has taken me some time to secure official permission to visit an aerodrome.” He glanced behind him, lowered his voice. “It required me to accompany the minister on his tour of the field. Opportunity is where you find it, I suppose.” There was no enthusiasm in Fleckmann’s voice, and Richthofen looked at the larger man, saw him scowling, gazing now at the small village of dirty white tents.

“I say, Captain, not quite what I expected. Hmph. I understand, however, that you took this from the enemy! Fine work! Our boys should have better conditions than this though.” Schmidt caught sight of the hangars now, four Fokkers perched inside. He pointed, said to Fleckmann, “You see there? The Fatherland’s finest, right there! Poised in all their glory, to drive the enemy away!”

Fleckmann made a note on his pad, and Richthofen forced himself to move up closer to him, said, “Actually, the British abandoned this base. It wouldn’t be accurate to say that we took it. . . .”

Fleckmann ignored him, continued to write, and Richthofen felt himself draining of energy. He pumped