coming battle.
Broughton helps me along the cluttered communication trench and out into the wider reserve trench.
“We call this one St. John’s Road because it’s the way home,” he tells me.
Fortunately it’s not far to the dressing station and the lorry’s already there waiting for me. I say my goodbyes and thanks to Broughton. A doctor takes a cursory look at my wound, compliments the job done on it and tells me there’s nothing more he can do. He gives me a chit for the reserve hospital outside Amiens and tells me that there are no ambulances, so the lorry’s probably my best way to get there.
I persuade the lorry driver to stop off at the squadron, where I learn that while Bowie returned safely, theB.E.2c was shot down after Gordo. Everyone wishes me well and I set off for Amiens, in agony at every bump in the road, but worried most of all that I’ve lost Horst’s Pour le Mérite.
CHAPTER 15
Preparing—June 1916
M y last hope for retrieving Horst’s Pour le Mérite is crushed when I arrive back at the chateau after my short spell in hospital at Amiens. I’m excited when Wally tells me something was delivered from the Newfoundlanders while I was away, but it’s only a scrawled note from Lieutenant Raleigh.
I hope your wound has healed, but I’m afraid I have some bad news. After you left with Broughton, Fritz targeted your plane relentlessly with machine-gun fire and trench mortars. Just before evening stand-to, theyhit it square on and started a fire. All we could do was watch as it burned. I sent a patrol out that night, but they could salvage little. They brought back the Lewis gun, although it was in bad shape. Perhaps we can rescue some parts. As you requested, I had the patrol search for your medal. Unfortunately, there was no sign of it. The fire was hottest around the cockpit, and there was little left that was recognizable. Even if your medal survived and was missed in the dark, it must have been badly damaged by the fire. I am truly sorry we could not find it. I know how important these things are
.
We are out of the line at present, but we’ll return in a few days for the big attack. I wish you well and all luck in the upcoming affair
.
Again, my apologies
.
Jim Raleigh
I feel like I have failed Horst. He entrusted me with this important family heirloom and I allowed it to be destroyed. Why didn’t I take the medal out of the cockpit with me? I know the answer to that—if I had stayed to untangle the Pour le Mérite, I would probably be dead now. But I’m filled with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, the medal didn’t seem to bring me luck on my last flight. I was, after all, wounded and shotdown. On the other hand, I survived and managed to get home. Maybe I stopped believing in my lucky charm when I heard that Max Immelmann had been awarded one. But still, I can’t help wondering where my luck will come from now.
“Did you hear?” I turn to see Wally standing in the doorway. “Immelmann’s gone. He was shot down and killed near Lenz a few days back.” I guess I look more miserable than I should, because Wally goes on to say, “You don’t look too happy to hear the news.”
“I’m glad we won’t have to worry about Immelmann anymore,” I say, trying to force a smile, “but I’ve lost my lucky charm. It’s silly, but I feel miserable without it.”
“It’s not silly,” Wally says. “This war isn’t rational and we have no control over our fate. Archie explodes below you, an engine fails at three thousand feet, a wing folds in a dive, a Fokker comes at you out of the sun—there’s a hundred things that can kill you and sometimes luck’s all that keeps us alive.”
“And I’ve lost mine.”
“No, you haven’t. Luck’s up here.” Wally taps his temple. “The charms are just what we link the luck to. When Jock’s luck ran out, having his bagpipes in the cockpit didn’t help him.”
“I suppose you’re right. I’ve never seen you with a
Broughton helps me along the cluttered communication trench and out into the wider reserve trench.
“We call this one St. John’s Road because it’s the way home,” he tells me.
Fortunately it’s not far to the dressing station and the lorry’s already there waiting for me. I say my goodbyes and thanks to Broughton. A doctor takes a cursory look at my wound, compliments the job done on it and tells me there’s nothing more he can do. He gives me a chit for the reserve hospital outside Amiens and tells me that there are no ambulances, so the lorry’s probably my best way to get there.
I persuade the lorry driver to stop off at the squadron, where I learn that while Bowie returned safely, theB.E.2c was shot down after Gordo. Everyone wishes me well and I set off for Amiens, in agony at every bump in the road, but worried most of all that I’ve lost Horst’s Pour le Mérite.
CHAPTER 15
Preparing—June 1916
M y last hope for retrieving Horst’s Pour le Mérite is crushed when I arrive back at the chateau after my short spell in hospital at Amiens. I’m excited when Wally tells me something was delivered from the Newfoundlanders while I was away, but it’s only a scrawled note from Lieutenant Raleigh.
I hope your wound has healed, but I’m afraid I have some bad news. After you left with Broughton, Fritz targeted your plane relentlessly with machine-gun fire and trench mortars. Just before evening stand-to, theyhit it square on and started a fire. All we could do was watch as it burned. I sent a patrol out that night, but they could salvage little. They brought back the Lewis gun, although it was in bad shape. Perhaps we can rescue some parts. As you requested, I had the patrol search for your medal. Unfortunately, there was no sign of it. The fire was hottest around the cockpit, and there was little left that was recognizable. Even if your medal survived and was missed in the dark, it must have been badly damaged by the fire. I am truly sorry we could not find it. I know how important these things are
.
We are out of the line at present, but we’ll return in a few days for the big attack. I wish you well and all luck in the upcoming affair
.
Again, my apologies
.
Jim Raleigh
I feel like I have failed Horst. He entrusted me with this important family heirloom and I allowed it to be destroyed. Why didn’t I take the medal out of the cockpit with me? I know the answer to that—if I had stayed to untangle the Pour le Mérite, I would probably be dead now. But I’m filled with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, the medal didn’t seem to bring me luck on my last flight. I was, after all, wounded and shotdown. On the other hand, I survived and managed to get home. Maybe I stopped believing in my lucky charm when I heard that Max Immelmann had been awarded one. But still, I can’t help wondering where my luck will come from now.
“Did you hear?” I turn to see Wally standing in the doorway. “Immelmann’s gone. He was shot down and killed near Lenz a few days back.” I guess I look more miserable than I should, because Wally goes on to say, “You don’t look too happy to hear the news.”
“I’m glad we won’t have to worry about Immelmann anymore,” I say, trying to force a smile, “but I’ve lost my lucky charm. It’s silly, but I feel miserable without it.”
“It’s not silly,” Wally says. “This war isn’t rational and we have no control over our fate. Archie explodes below you, an engine fails at three thousand feet, a wing folds in a dive, a Fokker comes at you out of the sun—there’s a hundred things that can kill you and sometimes luck’s all that keeps us alive.”
“And I’ve lost mine.”
“No, you haven’t. Luck’s up here.” Wally taps his temple. “The charms are just what we link the luck to. When Jock’s luck ran out, having his bagpipes in the cockpit didn’t help him.”
“I suppose you’re right. I’ve never seen you with a
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