To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [96]
HIS BROTHER LOTHAR HAD JOINED SQUADRON ELEVEN. RICHTHOFEN had been enthusiastic about his brother’s arrival, the younger man determined to follow in Richthofen’s illustrious footsteps. There was never jealousy between them, no sense that Lothar resented the attention his older brother was receiving. If anything, Lothar was simply ambitious, would make a name for himself regardless of what his famous brother had already accomplished. Richthofen was careful about Lothar’s training, and although the young man had gone through the same learning process as Richthofen, had been both an observer and a pilot in the two-seat bombers, flying the single-seat fighters was something Lothar would have to study. After two weeks of the same intensive training the other pilots of Squadron Eleven had experienced, Lothar had been ready for combat. Almost immediately, with Richthofen watching him nervously, Lothar had attacked and shot down his first victim.
Richthofen’s pilots had claimed far more than their share of victories, and by the end of the month, Squadron Eleven had scored eighty-nine confirmed kills. Though few outside of Air Service Headquarters in Cologne were calling it a competition, Richthofen was quietly aware that during the same period, Squadron Boelcke had shot down only eighteen.
In mid-April, Richthofen was surprised to receive his second promotion in barely two weeks. Everyone in the squadron had expected him to be elevated to first lieutenant, entirely appropriate for a squadron commander. But then, another telegram had come from Cologne, and with it another cause for celebration. On April 17, he became Captain Richthofen. His men toasted him with typical enthusiasm, and Richthofen allowed himself to celebrate as well. He had achieved the same rank as Boelcke.
The good flying weather meant that each plane was in the air every possible minute of daylight, and since the Albatroses carried little more than ninety minutes of fuel, the pilots were making several flights every day. Though the routine was exhausting, the men were energized by their extraordinary success. But Richthofen had been performing this routine for far longer than most of his pilots, and von Hoeppner was keenly aware that his foremost flying ace was badly in need of a rest. As April drew to a close, Richthofen received a dismaying order. He was instructed to take six weeks of leave.
APRIL 29, 1917
Richthofen was planning his formal protest, had already prepared a carefully worded letter to von Hoeppner. He could not imagine so much time with nothing to do, could not simply leave his men behind, only to wander off to some quiet sanctuary. But the order did not precisely take effect until the end of the month, and Richthofen had taken advantage, had put his protest aside to devote one more day to leading his squadron aloft. The morning had begun as so many had before, success not only for Richthofen, but his brother as well. As he led the squadron back to the aerodrome, he was as enthusiastic as when he had taken off. He and Lothar had a visitor. Their father would be waiting for them.
Baron Albrecht von Richthofen had been the first in his family to choose life as a soldier, had risen to the rank of major in the cavalry. He had sustained a serious injury that resulted in near total deafness, and so had been forced to end his active military career prematurely. But with the start of the war, Albrecht had been vocal about returning to service, and the High Command had accepted gratefully. He now served as one of the many