"Protection Patrol - 7h05 to 9h05; 18 planes. Lts. Grant, Dawson, Martin, Donaldson, Hunt, McElvain, Whiton, Vasconcelles, Nevius, Beauchamp, Hudson, Polk, Rucker, Clapp, Roberts, Wehner, Sands, Luke. To protect two Salmsons in Fere-en-Tardenois region. Altitude 3000 meters. Lts. Hunt, Martin, McElvain, Whiton, Beauchamp, Sands did not return and are not heard of as yet.

"Two recon Salmsons were working over Fere-en-Tardenois and Fismes and the fighters were divided in two groups. Three circuits in German territory and out again while observers changed film. Shortly after 8 a.m. the fourth circuit began; at 8:10 a.m. the formation was attacked by eight 'Checkerboard Squadron' Fokkers. Soon the air was full of Fokkers and Albatros (from Jagdstaffel 17, 4, 6 and 10, all top-quality units) and even flights of two-place Rumplers and Hanoveraners."

Editor's Note: According to the first-hand, post-war account by Lt. McElvain (Site update 5/29/2000), the roster of pilots was much smaller, and Grant was not part of it.

It was Joe's first combat - and he never got in it. Engine troubles among his flight - apparently including Frank Jr.'s - reduced it to only two planes. About five minutes before the German Fokkers bounced the other flight, Lt. Rucker dove away and disappeared, leaving Joe to wander the skies alone. He witnessed several of the dogfights, including the destruction of one of the 27th's Nieuport 28s, but never got any closer than a 500-meter pot-shot at a formation of German planes.

Jerry Vasconcells was much closer to the action. After picking up the Salmson at 7:40, he was attacked at 8:10. The Germans' initial attack scratched the last Nieuport on the right of the formation, sending Lt. Sands into a fatal spin. It was as Hartney had told them at the beginning of the week.

From Vasconcells' perspective, events unfolded quickly. He got a burst on the Fokker attacking the recon plane, driving it off. Meanwhile, the other seven Fokkers were quickly boiling through his own formation. Two attacked Beauchamp; Vasconcells banked left and fired from long range to drive one off, but then watched Beauchamp's Nieuport roll over on its back and drop. Seeing another Fokker attacking a Spad, Vasconcells fired on it from 40 yards and sent it into a spin.

Ivan Roberts may have been the pilot of that Spad. Surprised and damaged by the initial attack, Roberts recovered, fought a dogfight with checkerboard Fokker and dispatched it in a head-on showdown.

The big gun for the 27th that day was Lt. Donald Hudson, who repeatedly lost control of his aircraft but nevertheless claimed three victories. Bounced in his Spad 13 by Fokkers, he banked left and to evade them and immediately fell into a spin. Hudson recovered, but found four aircraft on his tail. Trying to manuever around, Hudson fell into a second spin, recovering this time at 1,000 meters altitude.

"As I was coming out of the spin a machine was headed straight at me. I fired and he turned to the left, I turned a little to the left and turned back, again being right on his tail I fired about 20 rounds into him. He fell off slowly on his right wing and went into a spin."

Hudson turned on the other Fokkers - and immediately fell into a third spin. Recovering and trying to make altitude, he saw two planes drop past him in flames - one an enemy, the other a Spad that dropped by on its back within 20 feet of Hudson's right wingtip.

His engine overheating and his fuel low, Hudson broke for home. But he wasn't finished. Chance put him on a Rumpler two-seater just 200 meters off the ground. The German pilot passed on Hudson's right and banked to give the observer a clean shot, but Hudson followed him around and fired into the cockpit. The Rumpler's right wing came off suddenly and it plowed into the earth.

Under fire now from the ground, Hudson again turned for home - and again spotted a Rumpler beneath him - this time right on the deck. Turning to his left, Hudson aimed for the observer...and watched as the plane slammed into a railroad abuttment.

Hudson's adventure had carried him far from the main engagement. Those in the thick of it did not fare as well.

Oliver Beauchamp, Jason Hunt, Charles B. Sands and A.L. Whiton were killed. Sands, Whiton and Beauchamp had been in the squadron had been in the squadron less than one week.

R.C. Martin and Charles McElvain were captured. McElvain fought a long duel with Lt. Alfred Fleischer of Jasta 17 before running out of fuel and landing in German territory. Fleischer held his fire and landed beside him. The two became friends and after the war McElvain helped bring Fleischer to the U.S. to live. Fleischer's son went to work for McElvain's mortgage firm.

McElvain, Hunt, Martin and Whiton were from A-Flight; Sands and Beauchamp from B-Flight.

The pilots of the 27th claimed to have destroyed claimed six enemy planes. (Editor's note, 5/29/2000: McElvain says he shot down another Fokker, but of course, he was not around to claim it at the time.) Based on official records, Hudson was credited with all three aircraft, while Vasconcells and Roberts shared credit for another. Lt. Nevius also claimed a Fokker, but of all the claims that day it seemed the most dubious.

The dogfight of Aug. 1 was a memorable disaster, but despite the loss of six brother pilots (the squadron's largest single-flight loss of the war), only three of the six were veterans. Still, it was enough of a blow to essentially pull the squadron out of the war for the next week. No 27th pilot would engage in another combat until Aug. 14.

Rain soaked the battlefield on Aug. 2 and 3. The demoralized 27th sat on the muddy ground.

Aftermath
Cpl. Walter "Shorty" Williams, the squadron's enlisted historian, remembers that the 27th went on liberty on Aug. 2, took delivery of another round of Spad 13s on the 3rd and watched a Liberty DH-4 demonstration on Aug. 4.

What happened next is one of the best glimpses we are to get into the workings of Luke's psyche. I'll pull an extended quote from Hartney here because it's really just his story:

"The first time I really took much of an interest in him was about three days after I had lost six of my officers and Don Hudson had shot down two biplane Rumplers carrying four men on Aug. 1, 1918. I had already been up to the lines to see if I could find any of my boys....That first day I could not get any farther than Villers Cotterets, not far from our small advance airdrome, although farther north, and had to return by foot and freight train via Paris.

"A couple of days later Luke came to my tent and said, 'Major, Lt. Clapp says it is all right for me to go up with you this morning if you can take me.' I shall never forget that journey. Frank, one enlisted man and I went along in my Packard. On this trip he talked freely, of his days on the plains back home, of incidents of his training, of his ambition to be an outstanding flier. He was extremely serious always.

"Walking to the top of a hill we found the two German planes Hudson had brought down... The two pilots and their observers were still there, their faces black, the summer sun getting in its rapid work. One of them had on very light patent leather low shoes. This impressed Luke. 'Wonder where he was the night before,' he murmered. Rumor had it among the ground troops that one of the Germans was a girl, but this was not true.

"Three hundred yards farther we came to the top of another knoll and looked down the other side, a smooth space of about a hundred acres. Never have my eyes rested on such a sight. May they never again behold one like it. The hill was literally covered with dead men, side by side, head to head, little or no space between, practically all of them American doughboys. They had died in droves charging German machine gun nests left behind to cover the retreat. Right in front of us were a German and an American who had actually pierced each other with their bayonets and neither bayonet had been withdrawn.

"Frank stooped over and picked up some unmailed postal cards fallen from a pocket of one of the dead boys. The one on top was addressed to his mother out in Iowa.

"'Leave them there,' I said. 'That American padre over there is busy picking up such things to send back to the next of kin.'

"Carefully and reverently, Luke replaced the cards in the pocket of the dead Yankee.

"'Boy!' he exclaimed. 'I'm glad I'm not in the infantry. They haven't a chance, have they, Major?'

"Hiking back to the road, we got into our car and made our way farther along toward Fismes, on the Vesle, where somebody had told us the front line lay. We noticed some peculiar stares in the eyes of several small detachments of American troops marching on the road. Presently a young second lieutenant stopped us.

"'Sir, do you realize you're beyond the front lines? The last car that went up there didn't come back. It was captured.'

"Things were so quiet it seemed incredible...

"...We found several, including two enemy and several British Camels. Most of them had bullet holes through the head rests. On one we actually found a rifle lying on the wing. The plane seemed intact and only a splotch of blue and a torn helmet indicated what had happened to the pilot.

"'These men were all diving away when they were hit, weren't they, Major?' asked Luke.

"'Yes,' I replied. 'It's what I've told you and the other boys a dozen times. That's about the only time one gets hit.'

"'By God, they'll never catch me that way,' said Frank.

"....We walked farther and saw other wrecks but none of them ours. Then we went back to the Packard and drove toward Fere-en-Tardenois. Luke asked permission to go over and take another look at the two crushed, interlocked German two-seaters. We got out and I strolled over to glimpse again that terrible slaughter field where so many men lay dead for economic and political reasons beyond their comprehension. It was getting dark. Except for the rumble of distant guns there was absolute silence. Silhouetted against the evening skline on top of that hill was one moving figure. It was the steel-helmeted padre. Slowly he would stoop over and pick up something and put it in his pocket. I did not disturb him.

"Again in the car we were almost to Fere-en-Tardenois when something attracted our attention. It was a group of American soldiers watching something in the sky a little distance away. We got out and joined them. It was a single German plane. He had dropped from the sky like a bullet and poured some incendiary bullets right into one of our observation balloons. The sausage, full of hydrogen, was falling in flames. The occupants had bailed out in their parachutes. Even as we watched, the heine pilot dipped into a swift attack on a second balloon nearby. He caught it as it was being dragged down by its winch. It, too, went up in flames. The rattle of our machine guns were terrific but it meant nothing. The Boche Albatross went blithely hedge-hopping homeward. All was still again.

"The sights and experiences of that day must have had a profound impact on Frank Luke. A less intrepid boy would certainly have lost any further desire to go into such gory and savage doings and would have found ways and means of getting himself sent to a safer part of the war zone. But with Luke it was different. All the way home he was silent. And I am positive that on that homeward trip he laid out his future course and made his plans to become our most spectacular flier and the world's greatest strafer of enemy balloons."

That's a loving and moving description of a subordinate. It was also written 10 years after the war - long after Luke had become a miniature legend. As Fighter Pilots of World War I quoted Hartney, Luke was "the damnedest nuisance that ever stepped on to a flying field." We can only guess at the contemporary context and veracity of that quote.

Hartney returned from the trip and - the next day - set out to improve the quality of his pilots. The 27th was on a downward slide, and he meant to do something about it.

"By about Aug. 5 I could see that the new faces were not supplanting the old. I had made it my personal job to take on every man in mock combat. Our newsomers, those who survived the August 1 thing, were supposed to be the cream of the training camps but without exception, even after repeated warnings, I could sneak up and close in on them so near that it would have been fatal for them had I been an enemy. It was this experience that confirmed my obsession concerning surprise atttacks and the need of good eyesight.

"And now (Aug. 3) another catastrophe befell the squadron - they took away our beloved little Nieuports and gave us 220-horsepower gear-driven Spads. Both the 27th and the 147th were heartbroken; the 94th and 95th were delighted. Niether of these machines was in favor with the French Army. In fact, the Nieuport had never been accepted by them. The British refused the same batch we got. But we loved them and them performed perfectly for us. This was because both Bonnell and I had learned, from similar machines in England, the frailty of the Nieuport wing structure and the likelihood of the fabric ripping off in a too-steep dive and pull out. This was why I sent one boy to the rear for repeated improver dives...

"An Englishman who flew one of the Spads on our airdrome said 'The thing flies like a bloody brick, you know.' That was our opinion, too, and it and the Spads remained with us for the rest of the war. Even our mechanics, the very best in the world, could not keep them as serviceable as the Nieuports. Therefore our machines available for each day's work dropped from about 90 percent to 50 percent.

"Overhauling the water-cooled new engine took four days. The same job could be done in four hours on the air-cooled Monosoupape."

In truth, the squadron had been receiving Spads since around the third week in July. But the shipments of that first week of July, 1918, completed the transition. As Hartney said, it was anything but smooth.

A few pilots, including Frank Jr. and Joe, flew test flights on the 4th, 5th, and 6th - probably the mock dogfights Hartney spoke of.

On Aug. 7, 11 planes - including Joe and Frank Jr. - scrambled on an alert to the Fismes region just before 7 p.m. Frank didn't return in time to make the daily report. No report remains for Aug. 8.

On Aug. 9 the squadron flew its first legitimate mission since the Aug. 1 debacle - a 13-plane recon escort mission. Their new 220-horsepower Spads with their improperly- aligned propeller gearing simply fell apart. Frank Jr., Dawson, Donaldson and Hewitt made forced landings. Frank Jr.'s was the only plane that could be salvaged, but he was also the only one of the pilots who failed to return home before the squadron filed its daily report.

On Aug. 10, Luke flew a 12-plane patrol. Again, he returned late. (Meanwhile, Shorty, showing the keen intellect that was his trademark, was injured when he tried to shoot an American bullet out of a German rifle.)

The weather finally broke clear on Aug. 11. Joe flew a couple of testing flights, and 15 Spads went out on a protection patrol (recon escort) under Hartney's command that afternoon. Engine troubles forced Grant down for an emergency landing, and Dawson, Hudson, Clapp, Hill and Frank Jr. were all delayed in returning by engine trouble.

Despite good weather on the 12th, the squadron's only flights were trials by Luke and Wehner. The same two flew trials again on the 13th, then caught Hartney's 3:30 p.m. patrol. For the first time since Aug. 1, the 27th reported sighting the enemy - though no combat ensued. Landing at the airdrome that afternoon, Dawson cracked up No. 4.

It was also a memorable day for Shorty, who fought one "frog" over Shorty's prediction that the war would be over by Christmas.

The 14th brought extremely clear weather, and pilots all along the front took to the air. The 27th sent out a 12-plane patrol at 9:40 a.m., again led by Hartney and including Luke and Wehner. Later that afternoon, Vasconcells led 11 pilots - Luke and Wehner included - on a 4 p.m. patrol. It produced the squadron's first combats since Aug. 1.

The patrol picked up a portion of the 95th as it circled Chateau-Thierry, then flew west to Fismes. Vasconcells spotted eight German fighters above them and another formation of eight below. The cautious flight leader maneuvered for about 30 minutes before turning south, and the top formation dove toward the Americans.

Vasconcells turned into the attack and fired, but the brief combat appears to have done no more damage than a few bullet holes. Neither side lost any aircraft, and the only casualty of the flight was Lt. Nevius, who ran out of gas and had to land at Villers- Cotteretes.

The day was notable for another reason: the 27th got orders to prepare to move to a new airdrome.

On Aug. 16, Lt. Nevius landed his refueled plane at Saints. He caught Grant's 8 a.m. protection patrol, as did Luke and Wehner. A few hours later, returning from Hartney's 5 p.m. protection patrol at 6:45 p.m. Nevius misjudged his landing and crashed to his death - shaving off the top of his head in the process.

Shorty also states matter-of-factly, "Lt. Lucas brought down a Hun."

If only it were that simple.