“Only one explanation I can see, Reed,” said the Skipper. “Burwell must have escaped, stolen a Halberstadt, and flown over. He was trying to land here when his tank was hit from the ground.”

“We—we killed him ourselves!” gasped Rip. Joe was dead. Rip tried to grasp the fact, but could not. He saw before him the laughing blue eyes, the ruddy countenance, the square shoulders of his nearest and dearest friend. He felt again the throb of relief in his throat as he had seen that tiny figure jump from a wreck, far below, and move across the greenness of the meadow. Joe Burwell dead, like this? But no, it could not be. It was too ghastly. His mind refused to believe—and yet, the evidence. . . . Rip needed to find out what events had led from Joe crashing in a field in Germany to flying that Halberstadt to it’s fiery conclusion!

Not one of those American pilots dared approach that seething cauldron of flames—not one could read its strange secret. But when only gray dust remained of what had been a German plane, they saw—and read the—MESSAGE IN THE ASHES!

• Download “Message in the Ashes” (February 1931, Sky Birds)

Among those factual features was “Famous Firsts” which ran frequently in the pages of War Aces. “Famous Firsts” was an illustrated feature much along the lines of Barrett’s “Is That a Fact?” that was running in War Birds, only here the facts were all statements of firsts. And like “Is That a Fact?” in War Birds, this feature was also taken over by noted cartoonist Victor “Vic Vac” Vaccarezza in 1932.

The September 1931 installment, from the pages of War Aces, features facts about the Sopwith Tabloid, the Fokker Eindecker, the Taube and Captain Oswald Boelcke, and Lieutenant Max Immeman!

For the August 1931 issue, Martin spins a yarn about Lieutenant Howdy Dean, a pursuit pilot for the hundred and first who was looking to get himself half a boche—poor Howdy had four and a half victories to his credit and needed that extra half to make him an Ace.

• Download “The Bobtail Ace” (August 1931, Wings)

If you enjoyed this brief taste of Franklin H. Martin’s writing, you’ll be happy to hear that we’ll be coming out with Franklin H. Martin’s Aces—a volume that collects Martin’s five stories that appeared in the pages of Aces in the fall of 1932, including the Black Hawk of Prussia duology. More information coming to this site soon!

Unseen Guns!

THE breaks of war! One minute you were a hero and the next going down in a burning crate. It happened on both sides of the line. In the picture on the cover this month we see the pilot and observer of an early German Taube monoplane which has just brought down a French single-seater. As the scout falls and bursts into flame, the Germans make the mistake of relaxing their vigil to share glances of congratulation. Then from their blind side comes an unexpected burst of fire from another scout.

It came quick and fast in the Air Service. One minute you were the victor and the next some one was battering the dials out of your instrument board. And there were two ways of being mentioned in dispatches!

“Unseen Guns!”
Sky Birds, November 1931 by Colcord Heurlin

The Giant Killer

IT IS interesting to note that comparatively few Zeppelin raids were made on Paris during the war. Early in the big conflict the French brought down a big gas-bag, and the Germans decided to devote their raiding to night Gotha patrols or hurling giant shells from the security of the wood that hid Big Bertha. The main air defense of Paris in the early days was carried out by the old Maurice and Henry Farman ships. These rare old pushers, weird as they might seem today, were too much for the Zeps. Our cover this month shows a gunner in a Henry Farman “shorthorn” putting the fatal burst into a big raider on its way to bomb Paris. The airmen are wearing the famous old crash helmets that all wise flyers donned before taking the air, prior to 1915 or 16.

“The Giant Killer”
Sky Birds, October 1931 by Colcord Heurlin

The Fighting Spotters

PROBABLY no group of fighters in the World War did as much and got so little credit as the artillery spotters pictured on this month’s cover. These men sat over the German lines and provided “eyes” for the big* guns that pounded the enemy dumps, transport, front-line redoubts and artillery bases.

The heroes of the air today are those pilots who fought in sleek, high-speed scouts, but the artillery-spotting airmen had to do their important work in slow, unwieldy, low-powered ships, and had to rely on what little protection they might expect from the high-flying scouts and fighters above.

Hundreds of budding airmen who trained and prepared themselves for action against the German circuses found themselves unceremoniously dumped into the cockpits of R.E.8s and told to go off and control a “shoot.” This meant that a pilot and observer would leave their airdrome, fly out over the battery they were to control, lower their wireless aerial and pick up the battery control dugout.

Once in contact they would fly out over the target and call for the first shot. This would be observed and the corrections made, by wireless. Shot after shot would be pounded out and corrected until the target was “hit.” All this would be carried out while the ship was flying in a broad figure-8 track. One half of the figure-8 would be over the German lines and the other over Allied territory.

Needless to state, these “shoots” were not always staged under tea-party conditions. Often the spotting ship would be attacked while completing the correcting process as in our cover, but in all cases, the spotters stuck it out until they had registered a “hit” and had sent out their command for “salvo.” Grimly they hung on, the observer handling his Lewis gun and telegraph key, fighting and dying amid a wild fanfare of machine-gun bullets and the screaming wail of the shells that were being vomited out from steel muzzles at the request of the fighting observer, who in all probability was taking a torrent of enemy fire as his fingers tapped out the all-important corrections for the gunners many miles behind the lines.

Little honor, little glory and often the gibes of fellow flyers who were lucky enough to be flying faster and more up-to-date ships was their lot, but they accepted their Jobs and did them well. They lived and died, true examples of the old creed of the flying men: “We Are the Eyes of the Army.”

“The Fighting Spotters”
Sky Birds, September 1931 by Paul J. Bissell

Rear Gun Action

TWO-SEATER pilots were not always confined to “action front.” There were times when they had to be able to use the rear Lewis—many times, in fact. This month’s cover shows a pilot whose observer had been killed during a dogfight, and as most of the opposition was coming from the rear, and he had little or no chance to out-maneuver the Jerry ships, the pilot was forced to lean back in his cockpit and take over the observer’s gun.

As long as there were cartridges in the drum, the pilot could put up some sort of a defense, but once the drum was expended he was forced to go back to his attempts to get away by means of the joystick and throttle.

Artillery-spotting ships, that were often suddenly attacked by the enemy scouts, ran into situations of this kind many times. And on the other hand, the observer was often called upon to take over and attempt to fly the ship back when the pilot was killed. Neither situation was any too pleasant.

“Rear Gun Action”
Sky Birds, August 1931 by Paul J. Bissell

The Back Seat Hero

THE two-seater observer—the man who did more and got less credit than any rating in the air services. He fought and died with the best of them. If his pilot was killed, he stood a good chance of going west without being able to do much about it. In the rear seat he took the bulk of the enemy hatred. He was responsible for protecting his own tail and garnering Important observations at the same time. He took the pictures, dropped the bombs and directed the attack. While it Is not generally known, the observer, no matter what his rank as compared to the pilot, was the actual commander of the ship. And yet he never got any credit. He had to light and fly under the worst conditions, and if the truth were known, observers probably got more enemy planes than did the pilots. He fought in a billowing cockpit with a gun that rattled and strained against the slipstream; and when It was all over, he seldom got credit for the ships he destroyed, and usually had to bask in the reflected glory of the man who wore the double wings.

The Back Seat Hero
Flying Aces, January 1931 by Arnold Lorne Hicks

Quentin Roosevelt’s Last Flight

THE death of Lieutenant Quentin Roosevelt on July 14th, 1918, while serving with the 95th Aero Squadron, First Pursuit Group, probably brought the war-in-the-air home to more Americans than any single instance.

The youngest son of former President Theodore Roosevelt, Quentin joined the Air Service a few days after America entered the Great War in 1917. He was commissioned and trained for his pilot’s wings at Mineola, and in July sailed for England. Later on ho went to Paris, where he was given a post at the Aviation Headquarters until October.

Quentin was not satisfied with an S.O.S. job and finally prevailed upon the Staff to let him get in more flying. He went to Issoudun and completed his course and later was put in charge of one of the training fields there. Still dissatisfied with his lot, he managed to get transferred to Orly, where he did considerable testing of planes. An order sending him to the Front came in June, 1918, and he joined the 95th Squadron.

On July 14th, less than a month after joining his squadron, Roosevelt went on patrol with his flight. Seven Nieuports were in the formation. They reached the line with considerable difficulty, due to the grouping of much cumulus cloud. They patrolled their area for nearly half an hour before any real action occurred. Then out of nowhere came an equal number of Fokker D-7s.

A dogfight followed at once. Nieuports and Fokkers milled in and out of a fantastic design of tracer. The battle lasted several minutes before visibility conditions compelled both sides to withdraw.

Eye-witnesses of the fight declared that two Fokkers went down, apparently out of action, but whether they crashed could not be told, because a layer of thin vapor cut off most of the view of the ground.

The Nieuports, having been shot about badly, decided to head off home. It was not until the ships were about to land that their pilots realized one of their machines was missing. Then as they landed, the terrible realization came that Quentin Roosevelt, the most beloved of the famous White House Gang, was missing.

For hours they made frantic inquiries—with no trace of young Roosevelt. Then two days later, a German two-seater came over and dropped a wreath. Along with it was an envelope containing a message that stated that Lieutenant Quentin Roosevelt had been shot down in flames and buried with the highest military honors where he had fallen. The grave had been photographed and a print of the picture was enclosed. The letter also explained that the grave might be found at Chamery.

Immediately the word was cabled back to America. It was a distinct shock to everyone in the United States. Quentin Roosevelt’s death was followed by a wild surge of intense patriotism. Thousands of young men flocked to the recruiting offices demanding their acceptance in the Air Corps.

After the Armistice there was some talk of bringing his body back to this country, but the Roosevelt family decided against this, saying that it was better that his remains should lie in the soil of the country for which he had made the Great Sacrifice. Today his body lies with hundreds of other Americans in one of the great war cemeteries that are cared for by America.

Quentin Roosevelt’s Last Flight
Flying Aces, October 1931 by Paul J. Bissell

Billy King hated the French. A year in the Foreign Legion infantry, under hardboiled officers and non-coms, was mostly responsible. That was before the United States entered the war and Billy became eligible for transfer—a transfer that shot him right back into another French outfit again! It was in a cafe wallowing in his misfortune that Billy King wound up getting mixed up with a girl, an ex-king of Monravia. and a hairbrained scheme to snatch the mustaches of Captain von Grunow of the Imperial German Air Service! From the pages of the December 1931 Aces, it’s H.P.S. Greene’s “Kings Up!”

Take a Yank pilot soured on the world. A Paris mademoiselle. A strange gent with a monocle, and a red-nosed taxi hawk. Mix well with champagne, toss into tracer-torn sky—and watch for fireworks!

• Download “Kings Up” (December 1931, Aces)