| Erwin Böhme | |
|---|---|
| Born | 29 July 1879 Holzminden |
| Died | 29 November 1917 Over Zonnebeke |
| Allegiance | German Empire |
| Service/branch | Luftstreitkräfte |
| Years of service | 1899 - 1900, 1914 - 1917 |
| Rank | Oberleutnant |
| Unit | Jasta 2, 29, Kasta 10 |
| Awards | Pour le Mérite |
Erwin Böhme (29 July 1879 – 29 November 1917), Pour le Mérite, was a German pilot during World War I. He was born in Holzminden, grew into an athletic sportsman, and became a flying ace during the war credited with 24 victories. He was a both a close friend and a military subordinate of Oswald Boelcke and was inadvertently responsible for Boelcke's death. Böhme was also both a contemporary of, and eventually subordinate to, the Red Baron[1]
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Böhme was the second of five sons in his family; he also had a sister. He qualified as an engineer by attending a technical college in Dortmund. He reported for national service with the Garde-Jäger Regiment in 1899.[2]
He was an athletic youth, participating in many sports. He was a superb ice skater. He was also a champion swimmer; on 30 July 1905, the day after his 26th birthday, he outswam all other entrants in a race across Lake Zurich, covering the three mile distance in 52 minutes, 40 seconds. He was also a great mountain climber; during the three years he lived in Switzerland, he was the only non-Swiss member of the Swiss alpinists' guild.[3]
Tiring of Switzerland, he decided to search for adventure in Africa. He was corresponding with a Swiss African explorer, Dr. David. It was typical of Böhme that he decided to hike from Bern, Switzerland to catch a ship in Genoa, Italy instead of catching a train. This foot journey included a solo traverse of the Matterhorn.[3]
He reached German East Africa, only to discover Dr. David had died, and began working there in 1910. His employer was a German lumber and agricultural company. He helped construct a cable railroad from the Usambara railroad, in what is now Tanzania, up to New Hornow in the Pare Mountains. The cableway was used to ship cedar to the Hubertus lumber mills in Germany, who prepared it for use in producing pencils.[3]
In July, 1914, Böhme returned to Europe, intent on skiing and mountaineering in the Swiss Alps. He was greeted by news of the outbreak of war. However, instead of continuing on to neutral Switzerland, he returned to Germany to enter military service.[3]
Böhme returned to service in his former military unit. He requested transfer into aviation; it may be that his prior service and athleticism helped expedite his entry into pilot's training despite his comparatively advanced age of 36. His adventurous and aggressive spirit may have also impressed the recruiters.[4]
He was assigned initially to Doberitz, then to Lindenthal for flight training. He was first in his class to qualify as a pilot, in December 1914.. He was then assigned to instructor duty for the next year before being assigned to an active unit[3] as an Offizierstellevertreter. He joined Kampstaffel 10 near Metz, commanded by Wilhelm Boelcke,[5] in December 1915. Albatros C.III serial number 766/16, which Böhme flew in, had a fierce dragon painted on the right side of its fuselage and a crocodilian monster on the other. Böhme commented that they "...made a terrifying impression on the Russian peasants."[6]
On 5 March 1916, Wilhelm Boelcke's more famous brother visited, and Böhme met him.[7] Oswald Boelcke, one of the first two fliers to use machine guns synchronized to fire safely through the propeller of an airplane had as a result become one of the first two German aces; he had won his Pour le Merite in January.[8] Later that month, Böhme fought his first dogfights, against a couple of French Farmans and a Nieuport scout.[5]
By May, 1916, Böhme was already a veteran of aerial warfare; he had flown numerous barrage, or defensive, patrols, as well as bombing missions. He was promoted to Leutnant der Reserve (lieutenant of reserves) in this same month.[7] On the 20th, he wangled an aircraft ride to drop in on the director of Hubertus Mills, to help celebrate his 25th wedding anniversary. On this trip, he met the director's eldest daughter. He began a correspondence with her that led to their engagement in October, 1917. The letters became the basis for a posthumous book, Briefe eines deutschen Kampffliegers an ein junges Mädchen (Letters of a German Combat Pilot to a Young Girl), published in 1930.[3]
Kasta 10 moved eastward to the Russian Front in June, to Kovel; by now, one of his squadronmates was a rookie named Manfred von Richthofen. Böhme scored his first aerial victory shortly afterwards with Kasta 10, while flying an Albatros C.III; it was over a Nieuport 12 fighter on 2 August 1916. The unlucky victim was ace Podporuchik (2nd Lieutenant) Eduard Pulpe of the Imperial Russian Air Service. Pulpe fell near Rogistche on the Eastern Front.[9]
After this victory, Böhme was transferred to Jasta 2, which was under the command of the younger brother of his former commander. Oswald Boelcke, the younger Boelcke, was not only a well established ace; he was pioneering the tactics and strategy of fighter aviation. He had carte blanche to recruit such pilots as he wished; he had asked for, among others, Manfred von Richthofen and Böhme. In turn, Böhme's fate became intertwined with Boelcke's to the point where Böhme is most commonly known through his association with Boelcke. They were reputedly best friends.[10]
Under Boelcke's tutelage and leadership, Böhme thrived as a fighter pilot. He scored his first triumph with Jasta 2 on 17 September 1916 (a Sopwith 2-seater of 70 Squadron, RFC) and was an ace by 22 October, with five confirmed wins and one probable.[1] Then came the tragedy that forever linked Böhme's name with Boelcke.
During their sixth mission on 28 October 1916, Böhme, Boelcke, von Richthofen, and three other pilots from Jasta 2 pounced upon two DH-2 scouts from No. 24 Squadron. In the scrambled attack in gusty weather, Richthofen was cut out of his firing approach on one British plane by an interposed German plane. Böhme and Boelcke were both closing on the other.
Boelcke had to swerve to avoid a mid-air collision in the dogfight. Böhme's Albatros briefly collided with that of Oswald Boelcke. The wheels of Böhme's plane barely brushed the fabric of the top wing of Boelcke's craft, but it was enough to start the fabric unraveling. Boelcke struggled for control as his plane's control surface shredded in the turbulence. He skillfully crashlanded after the entire upper wing tore loose in a cloud. In his haste to be airborne, he had not fastened his seat belt. Böhme survived the accident, as he had suffered only landing gear damage, but Boelcke was killed by his relatively mild impact.[11][12]
After landing, a sorrowing and despairing Böhme was discovered in his quarters with his pistol in his hand. Manfred von Richthofen had to talk him out of suicide.[3]
That same evening, a British flier dropped a wreath stating "To the Memory of Captain Boelcke, our Brave and Chivalrous Opponent. From, the English Royal Flying Corps."
Three days later, Böhme wrote the following letter to his fiance:
"My Dear Miss Annamarie!
Boelcke is no longer among us now. It could not have hit us pilots any harder.[12]
On Saturday afternoon we were sitting on stand-by alert in our aerodrome blockhouse. I had just begun a chess match with Boelcke – it was then, shortly after 4 o'clock during an infantry attack at the front, that we were called. As usual, Boelcke led us. It wasn't long before we were flying over Flers and started an attack on several English aeroplanes, fast single-seaters, which resisted efficiently.[12]
In the following wild turning-flight combat, which allowed us to take shots only in short bursts, we sought to force down our opponent by alternately cutting him off, as we had already done so often with success. Boelcke and I had the one Englishman evenly between us, when another opponent, hunted by our friend Richthofen, cut directly in our path. As fast as lightning, Boelcke and I took evasive action simultaneously, and for one instant our wings obstructed our view of each other – it was then it occurred.[12]
How I am to describe my feelings to you from that instant on, when Boelcke suddenly emerged a few metres on the right from me, his machine ducked, I pulled up hard, however nevertheless we still touched and we both fell towards the earth! It was only a slight touching, but at the enormous speed this still also meant it was an impact. Fate is usually so senseless in its selection: me, only one side of the undercarriage had torn away, him, the outermost piece of the left wing.[12]
After a few hundred metres I got my machine under control again and could now follow Boelcke's, which I could see was only somewhat downwardly inclined in a gentle glide, heading towards our lines. It was only in a cloud layer at lower regions that violent gusts caused his machine to gradually descended more steeply, and I had to watch as he could no longer set it down evenly, and saw it impact beside a battery position. People immediately hurried to his assistance. My attempts to land beside my friend were made impossible because of the shell craters and trenches. Thus I flew rapidly to our field.[12]
The fact that I had missed the landing, they told me of only the other day – I have no recollection of this at all. I was completely distressed, however I still had hope. But as we arrived in the car, they brought the body to us. He died in the blink of an eye at the moment of the crash. Boelcke never wore a crash helmet and did not strap himself in the Albatros either – otherwise he would have even survived the not at all too powerful of an impact.[12]
Now everything is so empty to us. Only little by little does it come fully to our consciousness, that within the gap which our Boelcke leaves, the soul of the total is missing. He was nevertheless in each relationship our leader and master. He had an irresistible influence on all, even on superiors, which had to do purely with his personality, the all naturalness of his being. He could take us everywhere. We never had the feeling that anything could fail if he were there, and almost everything succeeded as well. In these one and a half months he has been with us we have put over 60 hostile aeroplanes out-of-action and made the dominance of the Englishmen shrink from day to day. Now we all must see that his triumphant spirit does not sink in the Staffel.[12]
This afternoon the funeral service was in Cambrai, from where the parents and brothers escorted their hero for burying at the cemetery of honour in Dessau. His parents are magnificent people – courageously accepting the unalterable with all the pain they feel. This gives me some solace as well, but nothing can be taken away from the sorrow over the loss of this extraordinary human being.[12]
For your last letter with the flower greetings I thank you very much. I was very happy about it, but as to the reply, I must still allow some time – the experience of October 28 rests too heavily upon me.[12]
Faithfully yours, Erwin Böhme"[12]
Böhme returned to duty with a vengeance. He survived for another year, month, and day. He shot down two more British planes in November; an FE-8 'pusher' of 40 Squadron and a Morane Parasol of 3 Squadron, flown by the highly decorated Lt. E.M. Roberts (MC, DFC, DCM), who crashed in Allied lines.[13]
On the day after Christmas, he shot down and severely wounded future Canadian 12-win ace Lt. William Henry Hubbard flying a BE-2c of 5 Squadron, for his eighth victory.[13]
Böhme shot down a DH-2 (of 32 Squadron, RFC) on 7 January 1917, for nine. He was then ordered on leave; he spent it hiking in the Bavarian Alps. Upon hearing of casualties in the Jasta, Böhme cut his leave short and returned to duty. For his tenth victory, he forced down the DH-2 of 6-kill ace Captain William Curphey of No. 32 Squadron on 4 February, who was fatally wounded. (Hpt. Franz Walz, CO of Jasta 2, also claimed tis DH-2).[13] Böhme downed a two-seater 25 minutes later.
On 10 February, he claimed his 12th victim, another DH-2 of 32 Squadron which force-landed in Allied lines. During a dogfight on the 11th with Sopwith 'Strutters', he was wounded in the arm.[1][14]
By the start of April 1917, Böhme wrote home that only he and Manfred von Richtofen were left alive from the original Jasta 2 founder members of 1916.[15]
By 8 April, he had recovered enough to teach at Jastaschule I at Valenciennes Aerodrome until on 2 July, when he was given command of Jagdstaffel 29 based at Bersee, North West of Douai and covering the German 4th Army.
Böhme scored only once during the summer, on 14 July, before returning to Jasta 2 as commander. Böhme was again wounded, in his hand, on 10 August, while attacking an observation aircraft he was attacked by fighters of SPA 3, possibly flown by Adj.Rene Fonck.[16] The tendon of his right index finger—his trigger finger—was severed.[17]
While recovering, Böhme was posted as Commanding Officer back to Jasta 2, effective from 18 August 1917. On 19 September, Böhme began his final series of claims, scoring twice in September and five times in October, he was up to a count of 20.[1]
On 28 October he attended ceremonies in Dessau to honor the first anniversary of Oswald Boelcke's death. The next day, he managed a side trip to Hamburg to propose marriage to his fiance, Anna-Marie Bruning. She accepted despite her father's belief that Böhme might not survive the war.[18]
On the 31st, he visited Manfred von Richthofen. His flight home was interrupted by an attack by an 84 Squadron Royal Aircraft Factory SE.5a, which he quickly downed for his 21st triumph.[19]
He scored on both 6 and 20 November 1917.[1] On the 24th, he was awarded the Pour le Mérite, his nation's highest decoration for bravery.[8]
Then, on 29 November, Böhme took off on his last mission. Böhme had already claimed an unidentified Sopwith Camel earlier that day. Now he and his five strong flight spotted a Royal Flying Corps Armstrong Whitworth F.K.8 of No. 10 Squadron on a photo-reconnaissance mission near Zonnebeke, Belgium. Veteran pilot Captain John Patten should have been preparing for home leave, but had decided to fly one more mission. In the back seat of their photographic reconnaissance plane, Lieutenant Philip Leychester manned the camera and the gun. Patten tells the story:
"Suddenly, I heard the clatter of Leycester's machine gun above the roar of the engine. I looked round to see what he was shooting at, and nearly had a heart attack. Slanting down from above, getting nicely into position thirty yards behind my tail, was an Albatros. "I immediately heaved the old A-W round in a split-arse turn, tighter I think than I had ever turned before. I felt a flash of panic as I lost sight of the Hun, but Leycester must have been able to see him all right as he kept on firing. My sudden turn had done the trick. The Albatros overshot and suddenly appeared right in front of me. Because of the relative motion of our two aircraft, he seemed to hang motionless, suspended in mid-air. I could see the pilot's face as he looked back at me. I sent a two-second burst of Vickers (machine gun) fire into him. His aircraft seemed to flutter, then slid out of sight below my starboard wing. I was pretty certain that I had hit his petrol tank. Behind me, Leycester was still blazing away. He was using tracer (incendiary bullets), and it may have been one of his bullets that ignited the petrol pouring from the Hun's ruptured tank. When I caught sight of the Albatros again, it was burning like a torch and side-slipping towards the ground, trailing a streamer of smoke. For an instant I saw the German pilot, looking down over the side of the cockpit. Then the smoke and flames enveloped him."[3]
Oberleutnant Erwin Böhme's charred body was recovered from the wreckage, and he was buried with full military honors by the British. Because he had fallen behind their trench-lines, they took the responsibility of interring him in Keerselaarhock Cemetery. He was reinterred at Hinter den Linden after the war. The location of his grave has since been lost.[3]
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