Chapter IV

1. Account of death from “Flying For France,” by James Rogers McConnell
2. Captain Thénault’s speech at grave
3. Two articles by Paul Scott Mowrer; Editorial from Charlestown News and Courier
4. Article from L’Illustration
5. Berlin dispatch to Journal de Genève
6. Zundel’s letter.

I

Kiffin Rockwell and Lufbery were the first to get their new machines ready and on the 23rd of September went out for the first flight since the escadrille had arrived at Luxeuil. They became separated in the air but each flew on alone, which was a dangerous thing to do in the Alsace sector. There is but little fighting in the trenches there, but great air activity. Due to the British and French squadrons at Luxeuil, and the threat their presence implied, the Germans had to oppose them by a large fleet of fighting machines. I believe there were more than forty Fokkers alone in the camps of Colmar and Habsheim. Observation machines protected by two or three fighting planes would venture far into our lines. It is something the Germans dare not do on any other part of the front. They had a special trick that consisted in sending a large, slow observation machine into our lines to invite attack. When a French plane would dive after it, two Fokkers, that had been hovering high overhead, would drop on the tail of the Frenchman and he stood but small chance if caught in the trap.

Just before Kiffin Rockwell reached the lines he spied a German machine under him, flying at 11,000 feet. I can imagine the satisfaction he felt in at last catching an enemy plane in our lines. Rockwell had fought more combats than the rest of us put together, and had shot down many German machines that had fallen in their lines, but this was the first time he had had an opportunity of bringing down a Boche in our territory.

A captain, the commandant of an Alsatian village, watched the aerial battle through his field glasses. He said that Rockwell approached so close to the enemy that he thought there would be a collision. The German craft, which carried two machine-guns, had opened a rapid fire when Rockwell started his dive. He plunged through the stream of lead and only when very close to his enemy did he begin shooting. For a second it looked as though the German was falling, so the captain said, but then he saw the French machine turn rapidly nose down, the wings of one side broke off and fluttered in the wake of the airplane, which hurtled earthward in a rapid drop. It crashed into the ground in a small field—a field of flowers—a few hundred yards back of the trenches. It was not more than two and a half miles from the spot where Rockwell, in the month of May, brought down his first enemy machine. The Germans immediately opened up on the wreck with artillery fire. In spite of the bursting shrapnel, gunners from a nearby battery rushed out and recovered poor Rockwell’s broken body. There was a hideous wound in his breast where an explosive bullet had torn through. A surgeon who examined the body, testified that if it had been an ordinary bullet Rockwell would have had an even chance of landing with only a bad wound. As it was, he was killed the instant the unlawful missile exploded.

Lufbery engaged a German craft but before he could get to close range two Fokkers swooped down from behind and filled his aëroplane full of holes. Exhausting his ammunition he landed at Fontaine, an aviation field near the lines. There he learned of Rockwell’s death and was told that two other French machines had been brought down within the hour. He ordered his gasoline tank filled, procured a full band of cartridges and soared up into the air to avenge his comrade. He sped up and down the lines, and made a wide detour to Habsheim where the Germans have an aviation field, but all to no avail. Not a Boche was in the air.

The news of Rockwell’s death was telephoned to the escadrille. The captain, lieutenant and a couple of men jumped in a staff car and hastened to where he had fallen. On their return the American pilots were convened in a room of the hotel and the news was broken to them. With tears in his eyes, the captain said: “The best and bravest of us all is no more.”

No greater blow could have befallen the escadrille. Kiffin was its soul. He was loved and looked up to not only by every man in our flying corps but by everyone who knew him. Kiffin was imbued with the spirit of the cause for which he fought and gave his heart and soul to the performance of his duty. He said: “I pay my part for Lafayette and Rochambeau,” and he gave the fullest measure. The old flame of chivalry burned brightly in this boy’s fine and sensi­tive being. With his death France lost one of her most valuable pilots. When he was over the lines the Germans did not pass—and he was over them most of the time. He brought down four enemy planes that were credited to him officially, and Lieutenant de Laage, who was his fighting partner, says he is convinced that Rockwell accounted for many others which fell too far within the German lines to be observed. Rockwell had been given the Médaille Militaire and the Croix de Guerre, on the ribbon of which he wore four palms representing the four magnificent citations he had received in the order of the army. As a further reward or his excellent work he had been proposed for promotion from the grade of sergeant to that of second lieutenant Unfortunately the official order did not arrive until a few days following his death.

The night before Rockwell was killed he had stated that if he were brought down he would like to be buried where he fell. It was impossible, however, to place him in a grave so near the trenches. His body was draped in a French flag and brought back to Luxeuil. He was given a funeral worthy of a general. His brother, Paul, who had fought in the Legion with him, and who had been rendered unfit for service by a wound, was granted permission to attend the obsequies. Pilots from all nearby camps flew over to render homage to Rockwell’s remains. Every Frenchman in the aviation at Luxeuil marched behind the bier The British pilots, followed by a detachment of five hundred of their men were in line, and a battalion of French troops brought up the rear. As the slow-moving procession of blue- and khaki-clad men passed from the church to the graveyard aëroplanes circled at a feeble height above and showered down myriads of flowers.

II

Captain Georges Thénault’s speech at the graveside was brief and moving; the following translation conveys but a slight idea of the soldierly simplicity and sincerity with which it was delivered:

Here by this tomb so recently closed, we meet to-day to pay our final duty to our comrade

Sergeant Kiffin Rockwell was born in Newport, in the South of the United States. The descendant of an ancient family of soldiers, among whom was one of Washington’s officers, who distinguished himself in the War of Independence and later several officers who distinguished themselves dur­ing the War of Secession, he received a thorough military training, which gave him the imprint that characterized his life.

Learning of the cowardly aggression of which our coun­try was the object, and loving France as a second mother­land, he, with his brother, here present, hastened to France to enlist in the Foreign Legion. He took part in the combats of Artois, in May, 1915, and after a valiant charge of four kilometers, fell, wounded in the thigh, near Neuville-Saint-Vaast, of glorious memory. Immediately on his recovery he joined the aviation corps, where he obtained his brevet in an exceptionally short space of time. On the formation of the American escadrille, he came with it to Luxeuil. Here he at once attracted attention. On May 18th of this year he was the first at Hartmannsweilerkopf to engage in battle, in which he was victorious. Shortly afterwards, for his services, he was awarded the military medal. Ordered to Verdun, he took part in every expedition against the enemy. He was happy in the midst of danger; the greater the strength or the number of the enemy, the more anxious was he to attack. Never did Rockwell consider that he had done enough.

His courage was sublime and when the flights prescribed by the Commandant were accomplished he would set out again on his “Baby,” barely allowing his mechanic time to refill his tanks.

Indefatigable, he would fly over Vaux and Douaumont, above the crash of the enemy’s guns. Where Rockwell was the German could not pass, but was forced rapidly to take shelter on the ground. Daily he compelled enemy airships to descend on their own territory, far behind their lines, his own machine returning with the glorious marks of these en­counters.

One day an explosive bullet struck him in the face. He would take no rest, despite the advice of his chiefs, but returned to the combat and brought down one more enemy machine within our lines.

He was a great soldier with a high sense of duty. This he accomplished simply and valiantly, without boasting and without ambition. “I am paying my part of our debt to Lafayette and Rochambeau,” he would say. He gave himself to France and for France he sacrificed himself.

On September 23, immediately on his return to Luxeuil, he burned with a desire to fly over the fields of Alsace. He flew over them and not far from the spot where he fought his first glorious battle, he attacked the enemy. But there, cruel fate willed it that he, Rockwell, who for four months fought at Verdun; who single-handed attacked ten enemy machines, should fall with a bullet in his chest as he advanced to meet his adversary.

Glory be to him who fell valiantly in the pursuit of his dream of love and justice. He met the glorious death he so much desired. On the night of his death, when we were gathered together, I said to his comrades, “The best and bravest of us all is no longer here.” And never was commendation more merited.

Glory be to his noble family and to his brother, whom a serious wound has forced to leave the field of battle. We share in their great sorrow. And to thee, our best friend, in the name of France I bid thee a last farewell. In the name of thy comrades, who have so often proved that they know how to keep their promises, I salute thee reverently.

And with the memory of those who have already fallen, and whom we here invoke, we swear faithfully to guard thy memory and to avenge it.