To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [83]
Richthofen had expected von Hoeppner to stay the night, was suddenly relieved the general’s visit would be brief. He had no idea what the commander of an air squadron was supposed to do to entertain the senior commander of the entire German Air Service. Von Hoeppner was far higher up the German chain of command than any officer Richthofen had met, and though he had no idea exactly why the general had scheduled this visit, he was certain von Hoeppner would be testing him, making sure that this new position was not merely another ribbon Richthofen would hang on his wall. He stepped back, waiting for von Hoeppner to give him some sign that they could move inside, thought, If he is here to confirm that I am up to this task, the first impression has not gone well.
Richthofen was now the commander of Pursuit Squadron Eleven, which had been stationed in a small village near the French town of Douai. The squadron had been assembled in October 1916, and had distinguished itself for one very dubious achievement: In the three months of its existence, Squadron Eleven was one of the only fighter groups on the entire Western Front that had yet to shoot down a single enemy plane.
The opportunity to command his own squadron had no appeal to Richthofen. He respected what Stephan Walz had already done with the Boelcke Squadron, understood that every command needs an efficient administrator, someone who understands and has patience for all the minute aggravations of managing an aerodrome and its pilots. As he departed Boelcke’s aerodrome for the last time, the wineglasses had been raised, the handshakes extended, and Richthofen did his best to share in their celebration for his new position. It was certainly an honor, and Richthofen already understood the challenge of teaching merely adequate pilots to become expert fighters. Boelcke’s lessons were still within him, and now, Richthofen would be the teacher. It was a challenge that filled him with absolute dread, but at least, as commander of Squadron Eleven, they would learn his way, or they would leave.
“You may not feel this chill, Lieutenant, but I prefer to have this conversation indoors. Have you an office here?”
Richthofen made a short bow, said, “Forgive me, sir. Please, this way.”
The general followed him to the wide open entrance of a hollow wood-frame building, what had once been a barn, the hard dirt floor barely hiding the pungent scent of its former occupants. In one corner were two hastily built walls that carved out a space that he now called his office. Richthofen moved quickly to the single wood door, held it open, grimaced as his dog suddenly bounded through the opening behind them, a cascade of barking.
“Fine animal, Lieutenant. Great Dane, yes?”
“Yes, sir. I call him Moritz, sir. I apologize for his . . . energy, sir.”
Von Hoeppner glanced around the room, sat in the one small chair, said, “Nonsense. No better companion. Completely loyal, resolute in his efforts to please. The perfect characteristics of a soldier, wouldn’t you say?”
Richthofen moved to the small desk, reached down, adjusted a gas heater, the orange glow now brighter, slid the heater forward, closer to the general. Von Hoeppner seemed to ignore the gesture, said, “A great many of us are growing old, Lieutenant. Headquarters is filled with generals who are held captive by their glorious pasts. I must admit, I envy the boundless energy of your companion out there. If we are to win this war, the challenge will fall to the young, to men such as you.”
Richthofen caught the word: if. It was a surprise.
“We are doing our best, General.”
“Some of you. I must tell you, Lieutenant, your name is mentioned in every staff room in Berlin. For quite some time, the Air Service suffered a considerable amount of neglect. That is, until men like you gave us an identity. You are certainly aware that my own position was lightly regarded for some time. We are fortunate that Herr Ludendorff appreciates the value of aircraft. In some ways, we must be grateful to the French. Their ingenuity awoke the