To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [28]
“I’m sorry,” Lufbery said. “There is no time to explain. Perhaps you will fly one day.”
“I would be afraid. Why do you do it?”
It was the one question Lufbery could answer, and he moved past the driver, stepped down through the doorway, said, “To kill Germans.”
LUFBERY HAD BECOME QUALIFIED FIRST IN THE BOMBERS, HAD ALREADY served for more than six months with the French Escadrille 106. But he shared the ambitions of many who piloted the clumsy two-seaters, and was able to persuade his commanding officer to send him to the fighter training field at Plessis-Belleville. It had been his first experience in the Nieuports, the petite biplane that was France’s answer to the German single-wing Fokker Eindeckers. The Nieuports were the first fighter planes that could effectively compete with the Fokker, but what the French required most were capable pilots to fly them. It was not a skill that Lufbery came by naturally, and the training had been a struggle. Finally, in early May, he had earned his certificate, and his new assignment.
The American Escadrille had been founded by a small group of pilots, aided by the energy and finances of several influential Americans in Paris. One of the most influential was Dr. Edmund Gros, a physician from California, who had established an American hospital in Paris, as well as organizing an American ambulance corps. The strict letter of American law made it illegal for an American to fight under the flag of another nation, and with the American government’s insistence on a neutral status in the war, the men who volunteered for service to France were forced to walk a tightrope with the French government. Some had joined the French Foreign Legion, the catchall for misfits and soldiers of fortune from all over the world. But several Americans had other ambitions. They wanted to fly. The meetings had begun, private affairs between Dr. Gros and French government officials, eager to find a way to bring much-needed American assistance to the French air service without setting off alarms in Washington, Paris, or Berlin. After lengthy and delicate discussions, the French ministers nervously rationalized that it was no violation of American law if the American participants had not been recruited in the United States. The loophole had been found, and Dr. Gros now began to assemble the first American unit to be officially allowed to fight for the French army. There were seven men, most already familiar with flight training. Among them, Bill Thaw and Norman Prince were the sons of wealthy American financiers, the kind of men whose influence carried weight in the government ministries in Paris. Through their efforts, other Americans of great wealth were encouraged to contribute to the funding of the American Escadrille, including men with the familiar names of Vanderbilt and Morgan. Despite the American government’s official stance of neutrality, the American businessmen understood the economic value of the Allied cause. To the financiers, President Woodrow Wilson’s policy of neutrality was a naÏve political mistake that might result in a German victory. Should the French and English lose the war, the cost to the financial interests in the United States could be catastrophic, since far more trade existed with those nations than with nations aligned with Germany. If this small group of American pilots were successful against the Germans, their exploits could inspire thousands more to take up the cause, putting pressure on Wilson to acknowledge America’s crucial economic link to the allies.
Regardless of the political wrangling, for the pilots, the American Escadrille offered them the opportunity to fly as a single unit. The French government insisted that the Americans grant some concessions to soothe the continuing uneasiness in Paris about the direct participation of American fighting men, and so, the escadrille would be designated as Escadrille N-124, would be commanded by a French officer, would be part of a larger French air wing, and would take its orders