First over the Front

By Stanley Walsh

Lt. Billy Schauffler, pilot, First Aero Squadron, is writing this story. His letters add a fascinating human perspective to historic events. Young men of the era, Billy among them, eagerly joined the Great Adventure in the air over the Western Front. It was not all flying and fighting. He writes of French hospitality, fine wine and knee-deep mud and prays on the eve of battle for the safety of his men and the day when the sky will be silent and nightingales sing.

Major Billy Mitchell and civilian Billy Schauffler were both learning to fly in 1916 at the Curtiss Aeronautical Station, Newport News, Virginia. Student pilot Billy Schauffler badgered student pilot Billy Mitchell about getting into military flying. Captain Thomas Milling, a fellow student pilot, told Schauffler to write a letter of application which he would carry to Army Headquarters in Washington, D. C.

Billys letter writing saga began.

The Army fashioned an application form based on Billys letter and Milling suggested that all five civilian student pilots fill them in. They did. And within a month they were in the Army.

Lt. Schauffler tells of joining Americas only operational Air Force equipped with eight underpowered Curtiss Jenny JN-3, biplanes on the Mexican border.

In France he writes with humor about flying obsolete hand-me-down French aircraft. He tells of Squadron camaraderie, La vie en Escadrille. A squadron visitor wrote, The aviator at the front regards life in a lighter vein. When it is party time their high jinks have the elements of a Wild West Show. At mealtime it is a banquet without pretty girls.

Behind the lines he delivered the first airmail to Army Divisions scattered across France. On the battle line he describes hedge-hopping, guns blazing, across no-mans-land and enduring the muzzle blast of friendly artillery to deliver messages.

Billy was a pioneer pilot in the development of aerial reconnaissance. His letters, often written within minutes after returning from battle, stir the imagination. As he describes attacks we find meaning in the motto, Beware of the Hun in the Sun. You are there.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 22, 2011
• ISBN: 9781467026390

Stanley Walsh

Stanley Walsh, engineer, flyer, film producer, is a graduate of the University of Southern California with a degree in Civil Engineering. His professional career included planning and engineering of Dulles International Airport in Virginia. He engaged in aviation-oriented projects overseas in Bolivia, Tunisia, England, The Philippines, Saipan and Vietnam. During World War II he was a Bombardier-Navigator, Ninth Air Force, B-26 Martin Marauders in Europe. A hobby-turned-second-career is Travel/Adventure film production ranging from the Andes to the Pacific Islands, Italy – including the Italian Isles of Capri, Sicily, French Corsica and the glamorous Lake Region in the North of Italy. Stan is a member of the League of World War I Aviation Historians and the Explorer’s Club. He makes his home base in Rancho Palos Verdes, California.

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© 2011 Stan Walsh. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 11/18/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4670-2639-0 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4670-2640-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4670-2641-3 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011917776

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Dedication

Preface

Cover Story

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Glossary

Appendix A

Appendix B

Appendix C

Appendix D

Appendix E

Bibliography

About the Author

Dedication

To The Colonel’s daughter Kate deForest Schauffler Hawkins, to his grandson Bill IV, the Schauffler family and the Robinsons of Virginia who like many unheralded families across America supported the Doughboys and GIs of both World Wars.

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Western Front 1918

Preface

Library shelves are loaded with World War I aviation memoirs. In them aerial dogfights are dramatically described. Gallant chasse plane pilots duel in the sun to earn the glamorous, but unofficial title Ace.

Clearing the sky of enemy planes is only part of the story. Aerial reconnaissance was the other vital task assigned to Air Service aviators. Lt. Billy Schauffler’s letters from France give us a close-up look at the hair-raising exploits of observation flying. Through his letters we share the joys and frustrations of men perfecting the art of aerial spying.

Billy’s wartime duty began when he was ordered to join the 1st Aero Squadron on the Mexican border at Columbus, New Mexico. He was one of five non-West Point pilots, the dirty five: William G. Schauffler, Buck Gallop, Daredevil Barnaby, Paul Culver and an airman named Rolfe. They had trained together at the Curtiss Atlantic Coast Aeronautical Station in Newport News, Virginia. Their skill and value was soon recognized and Lt. Schauffler was appointed Squadron Adjutant.

In France the squadron would be the first to carry the Stars and Stripes over enemy lines, April 6, 1918.

Billy’s letters were often written within hours after landing from a battle sortie. They are more than polished post-war memoirs. They tell of squadron camaraderie, songs and games, even poetry writing contests after the evening meal. These activities were calculated to deflect anxiety from tomorrow’s mission.

The letters also tell of enemy fighters lurking in the sun, ready to pounce on high-flying photographic planes. Beware of the Hun in the sun – was the watchword. Meanwhile, flying at tree-top level to drop urgent intelligence messages, they were buffeted by both friendly and enemy artillery blasts. On trench harassment sorties machine gun and small arms fire riddled their planes.

I first became aware of Billy Schauffler, World War I aviator, in 1934 when Col. and Mrs. Schauffler invited me and other friends of their daughter Kate to a Halloween Party. I was twelve years old. One of the rooms in their huge house on Private Way in Lakewood, New Jersey was decorated with aviation memorabilia from the Great War, 1914 – 1918.

Photographs of pilots posing by their favorite airplanes and plaques with squadron insignia were on display. An old wooden propeller hung on the wall. Two framed patches of airplane fabric were nearby. One had been cut from the wing of an Allied plane. It showed the circular red, blue and white roundel symbol of the American Air Service. The other piece of torn fabric bore the dreaded black cross of an enemy fighter. It had been cut from a downed German flying machine.

I studied the souvenirs of war and thought what daring tales these relics might reveal. It was a fleeting thought. I wondered who would have chronicled the action.

Seven decades would pass before memories of the flying memorabilia would surface. Chronicles of action, long dormant suddenly materialized in the form of wartime letters from Lt. Billy Schauffler, pilot, U. S. Air Service in France. And I would have the privilege of reading his letters and compiling his story. Here is how it began.

In 2005, while visiting Kate Schauffler Hawkins at her home in La Canada. California, we recounted childhood memories and talked about family history. Kate showed me a collection of old photographs, news clippings and copies of the family wartime newsletter. Nearly hidden from view were pages, yellow with age, of Billy’s original letters. I sensed a story waiting to be told.

With Kate’s permission, I immersed myself in his letters and learned that Lt. Schauffler had been awarded the coveted French Croix de Guerre for exceptional gallantry over Verdun, 1 October 1918. As a student-pilot at the Curtiss Aeronautical Station in Newport News, Virginia in 1916, a fellow student was Billy Mitchell, then only an Army major. Both Billys were learning to fly. I also recalled a subsequent visit at the Schauffler home in 1936. I was introduced to their house guest, Baron Theobold von Zastrow from Germany. During the war, the Baron and Billy had flown observation sorties on opposing sides, but on different fronts.

During the post-war years, the era of the Lost Generation and Prohibition, Billy’s civilian career included early airline pilot and executive positions, invention of the Schauffler deep-sea sport fishing reel and writer of fish tales.

In 1939 war in Europe erupted. It was happening all over again. Coincidentally, newly published War Department orders included the names of William G. Schauffler, Jr. and Charles A. Lindbergh, reappointing them to full Colonel and pilot in the U. S. Army Air Corps Reserve.

During World War II Colonel Schauffler was recalled to active duty in 1942 and served as Base Commander at several major Army Air Force fields, including Geiger Field, Spokane, Washington, Harding Field, Baton Rouge, Louisiana and Peterson Field, Colorado Springs, Colorado. He was recommended for promotion to Brigadier General, but Army age limit regulations ruled out that honor.

With Kate’s continued interest and with copies of the Schauffler family wartime newsletter provided by Dr. Benjamin Woods Labaree, Ph. D., custodian of the newsletter collection, I have reproduced, verbatim, Billy’s fascinating letters. So, let your imagination soar. Turn back the clock to 1918 and be First Over the Front with Lt. Billy Schauffler, pilot, First Aero Squadron in France.

Please note: We have included all of Billy’s letters to different people. In some letters his descriptions of events are repetitious, but he often includes different details. It is these details that paint a vivid picture of his and squadron activities. This is evident in letters written after the Armistice, November 11, 1918, in which, without censorship restriction, he is free to reveal airdrome locations, battle areas and crash landing sites.

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Major William G. Schauffler, Jr. 14 October, 1919. One of the first pilots in the First Aero Squadron and by war’s end commander of the 3rd Corps Observation Group.

Cover Story

On March 21, 1918, the last desperate German offensive to smash the Allies began in Picardy. To the south, the German Paris Gun fired projectiles 76 miles into the city. The Allies were on the brink of disaster.

Field Marshall Foch became Commander-in-Chief. General John J. Pershing agreed to commit the American First Army to battle.

The First Aero Squadron became the nucleus of the First Corps Observation Group commanded by Colonel Billy Mitchell. On April 4th, they moved to Ourches, 15 kilometers west of Tours on the Meuse River. They were the first American-trained airmen to enter action. Major Royce would lead the official first reconnaissance mission over enemy territory on April 6th.

Unofficially, on April 2nd, Lt. Billy Schauffler with Capt. Griffen in the observation seat accidentally flew into enemy territory.

Here is Billy’s story:

"It was all a mistake. We were trying out a new camera and did not intend to go over the German lines.

"We were using an auto road map which was none too accurate and that, coupled with cloud cover, had us completely lost.

"As we focused on a town, I noticed large puff-balls of black smoke appearing in the sky about the plane. I wondered why the French were firing at me. I flew lower to let them see the American flag on my fuselage but they increased their fire.

"Suddenly a burst of machine gun fire tore through the back cockpit floor. Captain Griffen roared into my ear, ‘Those are German uniforms! Let’s get the hell out of here!’ I looked and sure enough they were. The streets of the town were lined with soldiers in field gray. A German officer was standing at the steps of a building firing madly at us with a pistol. We were lost. As I side-slipped away, I sighted four German machine guns on the roof of the church. I dived at them but in the excitement forgot my guns were loaded and didn’t fire a shot.

On landing safely at home, we counted one hundred seventy-two bullet holes in the wings, fuselage and flags on the sides of my plane. This was an unofficial trip, so I was given no credit.

(This exciting event is captured by Randy Green in the cover painting. The aeroplane is a SPAD XI over St. Mihiel.)

"Meanwhile, a friend had sent me two silk flags and these I had tacked onto the fuselage and doped over. I wanted the boys in the trenches to see the Stars and Stripes as we flew over the front.

Afterward, on the 10th of April I was shot down. The ‘Archie’ actually did not hit me but the concussion from the burst I ran into split my wooden prop. Before I could cut the switch, the vibration was so great the motor shook loose. It was hanging by a bolt up against the radiator. I glided from six thousand feet altitude to a landing just back of the lines. The plane was a wreck. As we were in range of German ground artillery, we set fire to the plane and ran like hell for cover. A few seconds later eight almost direct hits exploded around our plane. My silk flags were lost in the fire.

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The framed 1st Aero Squadron insignia displayed at the National Museum of the U. S. Air force, Wright-Patterson AFB, Dayton, Ohio. The writing above the flag reads:

This was the First Aero Squadron, AEF, to fly officially across the German lines April 6, 1918, St. Mihiel Sector. Major Ralph Royce was the pilot.

And below

"I inherited the plane when Major Royce stopped flying it. I was shot down by ‘Archies’ in it. Landed back of our lines for a Happy Landing.

W. G. Schauffler, Jr. 1st Lieutenant, Army Air Service, AEF."

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Lt. William Schauffler with unidentified observer in Spad XI number 2.

The flag on the fuselage was not an official 1st Aero Squadron insignia flag, but rather a silk flag that Schauffler had doped onto the side of the aircraft for ground troops to see. The aircraft and flags were destroyed about a week afterward when Schauffler was forced down by antiaircraft fire and the airplane destroyed by artillery fire.

Acknowledgments

Many people made this book possible. We thank all for their contributions and encouragement.

First and foremost, we tip our hat to the spirit of Aunt Ray of Sunapee, New Hampshire. Silent and unseen, it hovered nearby to guide the destiny of her work until it was rediscovered. I have extracted selected pages of Billy’s letters for this publication from her more than 72 wartime newsletters.

Aunt Ray became the clearing house/editor of a wartime family newsletter. She transcribed letters from family members and friends in the service and mailed copies to all contributors. She crafted its pages and called it The Christian Fiend. The title stems from a long-remembered humorous happening. A member of the family once dictated a thank you note to a group of young supporters. The typist left out a letter as she wrote: Dear Christian Friends the misspelled word: Fiends, captured the imagination of young people in the armed forces. Far from home, they read the newsletter with fiendish delight! Without doubt it inspired more letter writing.

An extensive Fiend file has survived. The current custodian of the archive is Dr. Benjamin Woods Labaree, Ph.D, Amesbury, Massachusetts. I am grateful to him for extracting pages pertaining to Billy and for finding several elusive photographs. In addition his updated Chronicle of the Schauffler Family in America provided valuable background data about family members mentioned in Billy’s letters.

I am deeply indebted to Kate de Forest Hawkins, Billy’s daughter and my childhood friend for preserving letters and newspaper clippings and giving me access to this important Schauffler family material.

A special thank you to Jocelyn Green, for her encouragement and constructive conversation, ideas and hospitality. Her ability to decipher abysmal handwriting and her computer skill were indispensable to the birth of this book. In the 1950s Jocelyn and her mother were neighbors and good friends of Howard Chandler Christy, famous World War I poster artist, when they lived in New York City. Jocelyn was a model for one of his later works.

A double special thanks to artist extraordinaire Randy Green, Jocelyn’s son. Randy is a charter member of the American Society of Aviation Artists, and is a current active artist for the Air Force Art Program. His art is known for technical accuracy and for depicting dramatic events. His work can be seen on his web address http\:www.randygreenart.com. We are privileged to have his authentic rendering of a historic moment for our cover.

Valuable editorial guidance was given by Rosalyn Gindoff, wife of my boyhood friend, Abe Gindoff, Past President of the Jersey Aero Club (1966). We talked of many things aeronautical. I also appreciate the proof-reading talent of Vernon Pack of Westerville, Ohio for his tireless review of the manuscript. His informal liaison with the Mott Military Museum in Groveport, Ohio helped confirm Great War dates and data.

Hal McClure, retired Associated Press writer and Bureau Chief, urged me onward with stories of his Foreign Correspondent experiences. Peggy VanEtten friend of Kate and Schauffler neighbor recalled enjoying fisherman-Colonel’s deep-sea catch. The generous supply of anecdotes and memories from friends and the upbeat interest of aviation history buffs inspired me to write Billy’s story.

Thank you.

Introduction

Lt. Billy Schauffler, Pilot, First Aero Squadron, U. S. Air Service, American Expeditionary Force, is writing this story. His letters from France during the Great War 1917-1918 were written with no thought of publication other than in a family newsletter. Fortunately for us and posterity Billy’s letters were preserved by his wife, Augusta Spring de Forest, his daughter Kate de Forest Hawkins and in surviving copies of the family newsletter.

Army regulations forbid keeping a diary; however, resourceful Billy Schauffler reasoned that letters to the home front, while not documenting day to day activities could constitute a diary-like record. Billy became a prolific letter writer. The result is a portfolio of fascinating letters. For censorship reasons, Billy blanked out the names and locations of airfields.

Billy Schauffler was born November 24, 1891, the son of a prominent missionary doctor, in Beirut, Syria (now Lebanon). Dr. William Gray Schauffler’s household included Lebanese servants and a Lebanese nanny for young Billy. It was not surprising that Billy learned and spoke more Arabic than English in his pre-school days.

In 1896, when Billy was five years old, Dr. Schauffler, with his family, returned to America and settled in Lakewood, New Jersey to establish a medical practice. He became associated with the New Jersey National Guard, eventually becoming its Surgeon General.

Billy’s early school days were at the prestigious Taft School. While a student, he served three years in the First Corps Cadets, Massachusetts Volunteer Militia.

Billy’s military association had begun.

With appropriate family credentials, he was accepted to serve a one-year hitch in the prestigious Seventh Regiment, New York National Guard. Here, one had to measure up to high social standards just to enlist. It was an outfit of sons of New York society, often called silk stocking soldiers. During World War I, as the 107th New York Regiment of the 29th Division, the Empire Division, its reputation as a fighting force equaled that of the downtown Bowery Boys of the Fighting 69th.

Having completed his infantry enlistment and noting that World War One had started in Europe, Billy signed up for a month’s training in the Business Men’s Training Camp, Plattsburg, New York. It was a crash course in shooting and drilling for future officers. The year was 1915.

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A page from an article contributed by Stan Walsh published in Over The Front, Journal of the League of World War I Aviation Historians, Vol. 23 #2, Summer 2008.

William G. Schauffler is front row far right.

When did the flying germ get into Billy’s system?

It was November 1915. While visiting the Panama Pacific Exposition in San Diego, California, a flying boat flew overhead. Billy found out where it was landing and approached the pilot. To his sorrow he learned the pilot was charging about ten times as much as Billy had in his pocket. Billy’s interest had peaked, so he hung around and made himself useful. His enthusiasm rubbed off on others and he became the Barker or Come-on-man encouraging others to take a ride. For this he received free aeroplane rides, and may have handled the controls.

Billy fell in love with flying.

In a response to an inquiry about his early flying days, Billy wrote a brief biographical recap of his actions dated October 29, 1919 He tells about badgering Billy Mitchell, then only a Major, for a chance to join the Army Air Service. The year was 1916.

It is not clear if his flight training was private (as was Major Mitchell’s) or sponsored by the Navy since he was in the Naval Reserve Aviation Section. Later he states he was one of the first five men in the country to get into Army aviation from civilian life. In an undated letter (believed to be early summer 1916) to Aunt Ray, Billy implies that he is paying to learn to fly.

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The key word in Billy’s letter to Aunt Ray in early summer, 1916, is free. We learn that, like Major Billy Mitchell, Billy Schauffler is also paying to learn to fly. This changed in late summer when he and five other student pilots were sworn into the Army and continued training here.

The letter reads:

Sunday Noon

My Dear Aunt Ray,

I’ve meant to write you before this to say hello and how are you, but I’ve been putting it off until I could write and tell you that I’d made my license flights and had passed them all right. I made my flights in fine shape and made a good record for myself.

When I went up for my figure eights, I took the machine up over twelve hundred feet and cut my eights small. Usually the fellows go up and fly around in the same old beaten path that they’ve been using for instruction, but I wanted to show Capt. Baldwin I could do something on my own hook so I went high. When I was ready to come down I cut off my motor at 1200 and spiraled down to a good landing. Result, Capt. is going to keep me here for a while for more work free of charge and that means I’ll probably get a position of instructor here at the school. However, I’m not counting on it for a fellow has to be as good as anyone in the country to get a position here, but I’m tickled to pieces to be good enough to get a tryout.

Where is Allen now? Did he get to the border? The First Corps got cold feet I hear, but I heard indirectly that Allen went with some other outfit. If you know his address please let me know.

Now I must run along to lunch. Lots of love to you and to any more of the family.

Bill

Editor’s note:

The Allen mentioned here is a friend from his First Corps Cadet days in the Massachusetts Volunteer Militia 1912 – 1915. In Bill’s December 17, 1917 letter, Chapter 5, he tells about being offered an instructor position at Newport News.

Billy’s October 29, 1919 recollection continues:

The following Spring I was determined to learn how to fly so I joined the Naval Reserve Aviation Section of New Jersey and for three months spent all of my time as a Gob at Keyport, New Jersey helping to build a hangar for a plane that had been donated to the organization. Nobody in the camp knew how to fly, but all thought they could, so one fine day the ship was brought out, the motor tuned up and then – Crash! – over she went on her nose, and that was the end of our flying hopes. A few weeks later found me at the Atlantic Coast Aeronautical Station in Newport News, Virginia where Capt." Thomas Scott Baldwin was and there it was I learned to fly the summer of 1916.

"It was during this time that Capt. T. DeW. Milling (now Col. Milling) and Major William Mitchell (now Brig. Gen. Mitchell) were doing a lot of flying at Newport News on weekends. In fact, I think Gen. Mitchell learned how to fly that fall, and I think I saw him make his first solo flight early one morning on the old flying field which is now Camp Stuart. At any rate, I remember pestering the life out of both these officers for a chance to get into the Army Air Service. Finally, that chance came and I didn’t waste any time about getting in my application.

"I think my application was the first one in the country to be received in Washington, for I drew it up myself, and a week later Capt. Milling brought down another to be filled out in printed form which is almost an exact duplicate of the one I had made. He also brought down other blanks for me to get filled out by the other men on the station, and you may be sure there wasn’t a happier crowd of fellows in the States than we were when we got a telegram one Sunday afternoon ordering us to report to Washington as soon as possible for our physical examinations. Of the nine of us who went up for our examinations, five of us passed; Gallop, Barnaby (killed in France), Rolph, Culver and myself. A few weeks later we were all enlisted as Sergeants in the S. E. R. C. [Signal Enlisted Reserve Corps] at Fort Monroe, the first five men in the country, I believe, to get into the army aviation as student pilots from civil life.

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A Curtiss JN-4, Jenny at Newport News, Virginia.

Schauffler, third from the left, and friends are posing either at the Curtiss Atlantic Coast Aeronautical Station or more likely a pre-arranged rendezvous on a Hampton golf course. The other aviator, second from the right, is Carl Balts, a flight instructor.

"During the winter and early spring we were under flying instruction at the Curtiss School at Newport News and we watched the growth of that school under the Army from about a half dozen pupils to almost a hundred. I was lucky enough to be the first man to pass my R. M. A. [Reserve Military Aviator] flight examinations, but Gallop, Barnaby, Rolph and Culver finished a day or two after and then came the wait for our commissions and active service orders. My commission as First Lieutenant in the S. O. R. C. [Signal Officers Reserve Corps] came through on March 17, 1917 and my active service orders to join the Third Aero Squadron at Fort Sam Houston came on April 2, 1917 – four days before war was declared against Germany.

One month at San Antonio where we helped build Kelly Field and then a bunch of us, with the exception of Culver, were ordered to Columbus, New Mexico to join the First Aero Squadron for immediate overseas service.

This brief chronology rings up the curtain on Billy’s military aviation adventure. The chapters that follow are his unpublished letters. In them we detect his affection and affinity for family and for people. At times he comments, with dismay, on things that hamper getting the job done. In other letters he graphically describes danger. He uses his literary talent to pen amusing verse. On the eve of battle he pauses to offer a prayer. In Billy’s writing we sense the spirit, character and courage of all Great War aviators. We share the excitement of early military flying and his pride in carrying the Stars and Stripes over the Western Front.

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Billy