The Lafayette Escadrille: A Photo History of the First American Fighter Squadron

by Ruffin, Steven

  I only ask that you fly well, that you fight hard, and that you act as a man. I demand that you obey, explicitly and without hesitation, any orders I give when I am leading combat patrols…. Accept your share of the responsibility for upholding the good name of the squadron, and we shall get along quite well.

  Lt. de Laage was a terror in the sky, yet he wept openly when he lost one of his men. Nearly all of the pilots under his command spoke of him in similarly glowing terms: “the finest man I ever knew,” “a wonderful French gentleman,” and “no finer soldier ever lived.”

  The “Founding Seven”

  The first seven American members of Escadrille N.124 started arriving at Luxeuil on April 20, 1916. They had come to this time and place in their respective careers in various ways. Some had entered the Aéronautique Militaire after first serving as frontline soldiers in the Foreign Legion, while others had entered from the ambulance service. Two had come to France already trained as pilots and five of them had aviation experience in French combat squadrons before being assigned to N.124. Regardless of background, all had worked their way through the French flying schools like any other prospective pilot.

  SOUS-LIEUTENANT WILLIAM “BILL” THAW was the only American member of the escadrille to report as a commissioned French officer, and was thus the ranking American pilot throughout its existence. The heavy-set, bushy mustachioed Thaw was also one the best-liked Americans in the squadron, as demonstrated by the many laudatory comments fellow squadron members made about him during and after the war. Edwin Parsons probably spoke for many others when he wrote, “I can never speak or write about Bill without a certain feeling of awe, amounting almost to reverence.”

  The only American in the newly formed Escadrille Américaine holding a French officer’s commission was Sous-lieutenant William Thaw, pictured here. An experienced pilot and natural leader, he joined with Lieutenant de Laage to form a buffer between the sometimes unruly American pilots and the more business-like Capitaine Thénault. (Library of Congress)

  He was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania on August 10, 1893, to wealthy parents, Benjamin and Elma Thaw. He attended Yale from 1911 to 1913, before leaving to pursue a career in the new business of aviation. After learning to fly in 1913 at the Curtiss School of Aviation, in Hammondsport, New York, he purchased a Curtiss Model E Hydro flying boat and operated it out of Newport, Rhode Island. Here, he gave rides and made a number of highly publicized flights, most notably, one in which he flew under the four East River bridges and around the Statue of Liberty. He eventually made his way to Europe with his flying boat, in search of fame and fortune, and was in France giving rides when the war began. In spite of his considerable flying experience, his services as a pilot were not immediately needed, so he donated his airplane to the French government and joined dozens of other Americans by enlisting in the French Foreign Legion. While a soldier with the 2ème Régiment étranger, he envisioned the possibility of an all-American flying squadron but first had to get himself back into aviation. With great persistence, he eventually gained admission into the French Air Service, first as a gunner and then as a pilot with Escadrille C.42. Here, he earned numerous citations and a commission as a sous-lieutenant, or junior lieutenant, flying Caudrons—making him the first American in World War I commissioned an officer in the French army. When he arrived at Luxeuil in April 1916, the 22-year-old seasoned and decorated veteran of aerial warfare was well qualified to become a leader in the new escadrille of American volunteers.

  SERGENT NORMAN PRINCE was the other founding member of N.124, besides Thaw, to have been a pilot prior to coming to France. Also like Thaw, he came from an established and wealthy family. He was born on August 31, 1887, in Prides Crossing, Massachusetts, to Frederick and Abigail Prince. A 1908 graduate of Harvard College and 1911 graduate of Harvard Law School, he was practicing law in Chicago when he first became interested in aviation. He signed up for flight training—using a pseudonym, since his strong-willed father refused to give his blessing—and in 1912 received Aero Club of America License No. 55.

  Prince had spent a considerable part of his childhood in Pau, France, where his family had an estate, so soon after the war broke out, he rallied to her colors. In January 1915, he sailed to France, where he volunteered for the air service and began lobbying the French to establish a squadron of all-American volunteers. After completing the legal technicality of joining the Foreign Legion, he entered directly into French aviation—the first American to do so without first serving as a soldier in the trenches or as an ambulance driver. After receiving his brevet on May 1, 1915, the refined Harvard lawyer served with Escadrille V.B.108, and later V.B.113, before training on the Nieuport and reporting to N.124 at Luxeuil in April 1916.

  Escadrille Américaine founding members Elliot Cowdin (left) and Norman Prince had much in common: both were Harvard grads and scions of elite Eastern families, and both had served previously in French flying squadrons. It was Prince and William Thaw, however, who were instrumental in the creation of the new all-American squadron. (Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum)

  SERGENT ELLIOT CHRISTOPHER COWDIN was another Harvard man, having graduated in 1907. He was born on March 3, 1886 on Long Island, New York, to John and Gertrude Cowdin. His father was a successful businessman and sportsman, so Elliot grew up in a comfortable and financially secure atmosphere.

  Soon after the outbreak of war in Europe, he volunteered for the American Ambulance Field Service. He served there until February 1915, when he gained entry into the French Air Service. After completing flight training on May 1, he joined Norman Prince at Escadrille V.B.108, where he flew until August 1915. He then trained on Nieuport fighters and subsequently served in three different squadrons over the next eight months as a pursuit pilot, before finally ending up at Luxeuil with the Escadrille Américaine. Cowdin had served with some distinction with the French squadrons: he was awarded the Croix de Guerre with two palms and was the first American in the war to receive the French military medal, the Médaille militaire.

  SERGENT WESTON BIRCH “BERT” HALL was in many ways the most interesting founding member of the Escadrille Américaine. He was born on November 7, 1885, to George and Georgia Hall on a farm outside of Higginsville, Missouri. Hall’s father, while still only a boy, had served in the Civil War with Confederate Colonel Joe Shelby.

  A wanderer for most of his life, Bert found himself in Paris driving a taxicab when the war began. Within days, he was marching with William Thaw, the Rockwell brothers, and the other American volunteers through the streets of Paris to l’Hôtel des Invalides to sign up for the French Foreign Legion. His motivation for doing this is anyone’s guess. In fact, it is difficult to know just about anything with certainty about this man of many contradictions. In all likelihood, however, it was a sprinkling of idealism laced with a heavy dose of self-promotion that led him to volunteer. After several months of ground fighting, he too managed a transfer to aviation. After receiving his brevet, he served with Escadrille MS.38 for several months before returning to Avord for pursuit training and eventually, assignment to N.124 at Luxeuil.

  CAPORAL VICTOR EMMANUEL CHAPMAN was born on April 17, 1890 in New York City. The son of John and Minna Chapman, he was another of the original seven members of N.124 to come from a distinguished East Coast family. Victor was a direct descendant of John Jay, the second governor of New York and first Chief Justice of the US Supreme Court, the grandson of the president of the New York Stock Exchange, and the son of a prominent American writer. Thus, like many of the other founding members, he had little reason to volunteer to fight for France, other than his sincere belief in the cause.

  After graduating from Harvard in 1913, he traveled to France to attend the École des Beaux-Arts school of architecture in Paris. When the hostilities commenced, he immediately enlisted in the Foreign Legion, in which he fought for the next several months. On August 8, 1915 he transferred to the French Air Service as an aerial gunner in Escadrille V.B.108—th
e same squadron in which Prince and Cowdin were serving as pilots. With Prince’s help and encouragement, Chapman soon entered into pilot training, where he met up with two other future members of Escadrille N.124, Kiffin Rockwell and Bert Hall. In April 1916, all three were at Luxeuil, reporting to Capitaine Thénault and the new American volunteer squadron.

  One of the most controversial members of the Escadrille Américaine was Westin Birch “Bert” Hall. Born on a Missouri farm, the son of a Confederate soldier, his humble beginnings and worldly experiences ensured him outcast status among some of his elitist squadron mates. However, during his time with the squadron, he proved his courage and ability. (Library of Congress)

  Capitaine Thénault poses here with four of the first seven Americans to report to Escadrille N.124 at Luxeuil-les-Bains in late April 1916. James McConnell, Kiffin Rockwell, Thénault, Norman Prince, and Victor Chapman stand in front of the first airplane assigned to the escadrille, Nieuport 10 N.450. Chapman, a 26-year-old Harvard graduate from New York, decided to transfer from the ground war to aviation because he felt he had “neither helped the French nor injured the Germans.” Thénault later called this the “tragic photograph”—within a matter of months after it was taken, all four men standing beside him would be dead. (Washington and Lee University Archives)

  CAPORAL KIFFIN YATES ROCKWELL was born in Newport, Tennessee, to Reverend James and Loula Rockwell on September 20, 1892. Like Bert Hall, he did not attend Harvard or Yale, nor did he come from an elite Eastern family. Also like Hall, he was a son of the South: both of his grandfathers had fought with the Confederate Army during the Civil War. He spent his childhood on his maternal grandfather’s farm in South Carolina before moving with his family at the age of 14 to Ashville, North Carolina. After briefly attending Virginia Military Institute, he received an appointment to the US Naval Academy but turned it down to join his older brother, Paul, at Washington and Lee University. He attended there for two years.

  When the war began in August 1914, Kiffin was living in Atlanta with Paul. They soon boarded a ship to Europe to volunteer for what Kiffin called “the cause of all humanity,” and by the end of the month, they were wearing the uniform of the French Foreign Legion. Kiffin served in the trenches until May 1915, when he received a bullet wound to the right thigh. By this time, thoroughly disillusioned with both the ground war and the Legion, he volunteered for the air service. The thin, gangling, 6’ 2” 23-year-old proved to be a natural pilot as he progressed through the various phases of flight training. After reporting to Escadrille N.124 at Luxeuil, he achieved great success before his luck came crashing to an end.

  Thanks to his brother Paul, Kiffin is one of the best-documented members of the squadron. Paul became the squadron’s self-appointed historian and spent the rest of his long life memorializing his brother in every way possible. His book War Letters of Kiffin Yates Rockwell provides modern-day historians a particularly interesting behind-the-scenes perspective of life in the squadron.

  CAPORAL JAMES ROGERS MCCONNELL was born in Chicago, Illinois, on March 14, 1887, to Judge Samuel and Sarah McConnell. He attended high school in New Jersey and Pennsylvania, and when his father moved his family to Carthage, North Carolina, James enrolled in the University of Virginia. He graduated from there in 1910.

  He lived for a while in New York City, attempting with future fellow N.124 member Charles Chouteau Johnson to establish a business. When that ended, he moved to Carthage to accept a position with the Randolph and Cumberland Railway. In January 1915, he decided to sail to France to see the war. For the next few months, he drove for the American Ambulance Field Service, and in the process, earned the Croix de Guerre for distinctive service and courage under fire. Eventually, he decided that “it was plainly up to me to do more than drive an ambulance. The more I saw the splendour of the fight the French were fighting, the more I felt like an embusqué—what the British call a ‘shirker.’” Consequently, he entered into aviation, and upon completion of training, was assigned to the new Escadrille Américaine currently forming at Luxeuil in April 1916. Though serving faithfully, the intelligent and urbane McConnell’s biggest contribution was literary in nature. Thanks to several weeks of convalescence following an injury received in a crash landing, he wrote his classic book Flying for France.

  Making the Grade

  All seven of these young Americans had, before arriving at Luxeuil, worked their way through the highly effective French aviation training pipeline. It was a long and demanding regimen, lasting several months and consisting of several types and levels of flying schools located throughout France.

  The first step after acceptance was to pass a physical examination that, in the midst of a desperate world war, seemed little more than a joke. As Lafayette Escadrille Pilot Biographies author Dennis Gordon put it, it was one that “anyone but a blind amputee could pass.” Future squadron member, Ted Parsons, agreed with that assessment:

  James Rogers McConnell, posing here in front of a Nieuport fighter at Cachy, served as an ambulance driver before volunteering for aviation. Born in Chicago, he graduated from the University of Virginia and was living in Carthage, North Carolina, when he left for France. (Washington and Lee University Archives)

  Standing me off at ten feet in front of a chart whose letters looked as large as the Corticelli sign in Times Square, he [the examiner] commanded me to read. “The second line,” he’d say, “the third letter. I see there a B. What do you see?” Sure enough, it was a B, and I’d say so. “Bon,” he’d explode enthusiastically. Then we’d do some more …. He was right every time. He never tried to cross me by calling the wrong letter. He wasn’t taking any chances I’d be wrong, and his “Bons” grew bigger and better with every answer.

  Once declared physically fit, the “élève pilote,” or student pilot, drew his flight gear and reported to the first school. In most cases, flight training began at one of the large flying schools located at Pau, Avord, or Buc. Here, future members of N.124 had their first experience with an airplane. Some received dual instruction on a trainer, such as the Maurice Farman, while others trained on the Blériot. Those who trained on the latter did not immediately leave the ground in it. They first strapped themselves into a machine with wings so short that it could not take off. In this so-called “Penguin,” they learned to control an airplane on the ground and to manage the engine, as they raced back and forth across the huge flying field, wheels firmly planted on the grass. From there, they graduated to a “rouleur” with slightly more wing area and power—just enough to hop off the ground. From this, they progressed to bigger and more powerful trainers and longer, higher flights, complete with turns and other increasingly complex maneuvers. At the completion of training, students took a series of flight tests, after which, they received their brevet and were promoted to the enlisted rank of caporal.

  Typically, a prospective “aviateur de chasse,” or pursuit pilot, would then move on to the next phase of training in higher performance airplanes. When finished with this so-called “école de perfectionnement,” he would travel to Cazaux, in Western France, for a course in aerial gunnery. Here, he learned how to shoot at a moving target while throwing himself around the sky in an airplane traveling 100 miles per hour—a skill so challenging that few pilots ever really mastered it.

  The next stop in the journey towards becoming a fighter pilot was the school of aerobatics. Here, new pilots perfected the advanced flying skills they would need in order to maneuver against highly accomplished German pilots. Surviving the dogfights in which they would soon be embroiled would require learning every trick known—and sometimes, even that would prove insufficient.

  Once pilots had completed training, they were assigned to a pilot pool, officially called the “Groupe des Divisions d’Entraînement” or GDE. Most of the American pilots went through the GDE at Plessis-Belleville, a small town a few miles northeast of Paris. At this sprawling and utterly flat flying field, they were left mostly on their own, with the freed
om to fly as much and as often as they wanted, while they waited for an assignment to a frontline squadron. By this time, they had successfully completed a rigorous course of instruction and gained great confidence in their aerial fighting skills. They could fly and they could shoot, so they were ready—at least, as far as they were concerned—for anything the Germans could put up against them. Almost without exception, they were eager to get to the front so they could start knocking down enemy planes and collecting medals.

  What these well-prepared, but inevitably overconfident, young pilots could not possibly know was that they were, in reality, still very green-behind-the-ears novices. In spite of their intense training, at which they may have excelled, they still had to learn the hardest lesson of all: how to stay alive in a very dangerous sky. Until they had gained many hours of hazardous combat experience and learned the way the brutal and constantly evolving game of aerial warfare was really played, their chances for survival were not good—especially, if unlucky enough to encounter an experienced enemy airman or to be forced to fight against numerical odds. Such was aerial combat as it existed in World War I, and such was the game of chance that the American pilots reporting to N.124 at Luxeuil in April 1916 faced. Four of the seven would eventually come out losers.

  ‘A Machine of Aces and an Ace of Machines’

  The first six new planes assigned to the pilots reporting to the N.124 were the highly touted Nieuport 11 and Nieuport 16 pursuit planes—three of each. The light and highly maneuverable 11, nicknamed the “Bébé,” or baby, for its diminutive size, was the first successful French chasse plane of the war. By the spring of 1916, the Aéronautique Militaire was already in the process of upgrading to the Nieuport 17, but the untested Americans were not complaining. They were happy to have the 11 and higher-powered 16, which were still at that time, fighters worthy of aces—and equal to anything Germany had with which to oppose them. The little single-seat sesquiplanes—biplanes with smaller lower wings than upper ones—weighed just over 1,000 pounds fully loaded and were powered by Le Rhône air-cooled rotary engines that developed 80 or 110 horsepower. These engines rotated with the propeller, thus creating a powerful torque with which the pilots had to contend; however, they also created enough power to allow them to scoot across the lines at 100 miles per hour and climb to altitudes above 15,000 feet. To fly a Nieuport was the highest honor any French pilot could have in 1916. It was, as it was known, “a machine of aces and an ace of machines.”