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Airplane Division Of The Signal Corps

In June 1917, the U.S. Army's Aviation Section became the Airplane Division of the Signal Corps. It seems a small enough distinction now, but at the time it boded well for expansion of the embryonic air arm - the scratch-built sandlot team that soon would be thrown into the European big leagues, where the home team across the river (the Rhine) played a tough brand of full-contact ball. As the Yanks would discover, the big boys in the pros gave very little slack to the visiting amateurs.

There was no option but to grow as quickly as possible to professional size and standards. From 1917 to 1918, the Army's air branch absorbed a staggering 193,800 personnel for a total of 195,000. The latter figure would remain unmatched until 1942.

More bunk and hokun, has been penned about the Great War than anv other era of aviation history. The adage "It's a crime to send a kid up in a crate like that" has become "camp" in some circles, but the "chewing gum and bailing wire" image remains. Nine decades after World War I, there are still references to "canvas-covered wings" when, in fact, canvas was too heavy for the airframes and engines of the era. Great War airplanes were wooden structures covered with cotton or linen, heavily doped to conform to the airframe and "rib-stitched" for strength.

Likewise, the extreme youth of many World War I airmen has been overstated. Yes, there were 18-year-old airmen, but most were of college age; many were Ivy Leaguers from Harvard, Princeton, and Yale. The chivalric image conjured by the hackneyed phrase "knights of the air" is mostly pure Hollywood. On rare occasions the victor might stand the vanquished to a drink in the squadron bistro, but neither side refrained from shooting an unwary opponent in the back. Done properly, an aerial kill was an execution rather than a combat. Said one ace, "If it's a fair fight, you've screwed up." Accounts of disengaging because the enemy's guns jammed are extremely rare; true reports rarer yet. After all, the enemy you let off today might kill you tomorrow-or somebody who owes you money.

Apart from getting shot at, Great War airmen faced hazards that seem quaintly precarious today. The frailty of World War I aircraft has been overstated, but structural failure was not unheard of, and Allied pilots were not issued parachutes. Engines often were cranky, and because the prevailing wind in France was from the west, AEF fliers could not always stretch a glide to safety. Although much progress had been made in the science of flight, most new pilots still were woefully undertrained; many entered combat with fewer than 100 hours in their logbooks.

While fighter or "pursuit" pilots always received the majority of the ink, the fact is that aviation's primary roles in World War I were observation and reconnaissance. Pursuit squadrons existed to deny the enemy access to "our" airspace and to protect friendly observation and bombing formations. For every ace, there were dozens of two-seater crews who accomplished unglamorous, decidedly dangerous missions such as photography and artillery spotting.

Apart from bombing, an increasingly important aviation role was direct air support. Only the Germans specially equipped and trained squadrons for such work, but the Allies employed fighter and two-seater units to attack enemy troops, positions, and transport. As a result of Great War experience, the U.S. Air Service later developed "attack" aircraft and deployed them in squadrons dedicated to that task.

The World War II role missing from the Great War was transportation. By 1918, aviation technology had produced large, multi-engine aircraft with unusual range and significant bomb loads, but cargo capacity remained insignificant. However, had the war lasted into 1919, dedicated night-bombing units would have emerged in far greater numbers.

Not all airmen went aloft in airplanes. The lowly balloon, tethered perhaps 3,000 feet in the air, provided a splendid observation platform enabling friendly artillery batteries to fire "blind" by telephoned instructions. Armed with binoculars and a telephone, one sharp-eyed observer swinging in his wicker basket could do more to win the war than any fighter squadron. The Army's Balloon Section was capably led by Colonel Charles Chandler, whose troops enjoyed almost none of the "luxurious" benefits accorded aviators at prepared airfields. Of necessity the balloon companies operated close behind the lines, sometimes living more like infantry than airmen. Although 21 AEF balloons were lost to enemy action, only one observer was killed. However, several aeronauts made multiple emergency jumps, the record being five. It was a mighty hard way to make "ace."

In 1914, the United States ranked seventh in "frontline" aircraft with 55, just behind Austro-Hungary but ahead of tiny Belgium. Russia and Germany both had well over 200, Italy 150, France nearly 140, and Britain about 110. Uncle Sam had a long, long trail a'winding through the airy halls of clouds.

However, despite having to play catch-up in the European big leagues, the Yanks made a valiant effort. "They never came close to the goal they set themselves (nor the goals of their allies), but the U.S. Army's tiny air arm made impressive strides in organization, training, and doctrine. The biggest lapse was in equipment, as the Army produced no indigenous combat aircraft. (The Navy did, but not in significant numbers.) In 19 months of combatant status between April 1917 and November 1918, AEF relied wholly on foreign-built and -designed airplanes while earning the respect of allies as well as enemies.

In April 1917, the Aviation Section of the Signal Corps boasted one squadron with an assortment of obsolete aircraft, 65 officers (fewer than .50 trained pilots), and 1,055 other personnel. The tiny Army air arm's only institutional experience had been gained in the fruitless pursuit of Mexican bandit chief Pancho Villa. There was no operating doctrine for a major war, even if there had been adequate equipment.

Yet America's greatest aviation ally, France, dreamt great things - impossible things. Premier Alexander Ribot requested that America deliver 4,500 aircraft to France by the summer of 1918, with 5,000 pilots and more than 10 times as many support personnel. Toward that end, the good premier suggested a monthly production of 2,000 aircraft and 4,000 engines. It was a cosmic leap of faith, considering that the eventual total exceeded what France herself produced.

Ground schools were established at eight American universities; airfields were constructed almost overnight. Pilot, aircrew, and technical training courses were provided in the United States and Canada while overseas facilities were arranged in Britain, France, and Italy. The U.S. government arranged to purchase frontline aircraft and observation balloons from those same allies.

In short, there was a universal shortage of everything and precious little time in which to produce it. Amid such urgency, an efficient leadership and administrative scheme had to be established for planning, coordination, and production. The men who built the fledgling U.S. Arrny aviation branch remain largely unknown to history nine decades later, but they included Major General Mason M. Patrick, 55, who succeeded Foulois as chief of AEF aviation in May 1918.

The Army Air Service (AAS) was almost wholly committed to France, operating in conjunction with French and British forces. From the spring of 1918 - roughly a year after Washington declared war on Berlin - U.S. Army squadrons began combat operations in central and southern France. Although U.S. Navy aircraft patrolled the English Channel and a few Marine Corps squadrons operated in northern France and Belgium, the huge proportion of American aviation was the Army pursuit, bombardment, and observation wings in the sector around Verdun. The first major campaign was defense of the Chateau-Thierry sector northeast of Paris from May to July 1918. American air power's offensive debut occurred in the St. Mihiel operation south of Verdun in September, quickly followed by the Meuse-Argonne attack.

To a much lesser extent, Army airmen also served in Italy. The first contingent arrived in September 1917 and began training for combat missions with Italian squadrons. The Yanks were assigned to Caproni bomber units, helping to blunt a major Austrian offensive in June 1918. Flying day and night missions, the Americans suffered extraordinarily light casualties (two killed, one captured) throughout the Italian campaign.

In May 1918, the Aeronautics Division became the AEF Air Service (AEFAS), indicating greater autonomy for the aviation branch. However, the airmen were administratively if not literally lashed to the ground forces, performing a variety of missions in support of infantry and artillery. Observation and bombing squadrons flew three types of aircraft: the well-regarded Breguet Type 14 and Salmson Type 2 from France and the British-designed DeHavilland 4, with American-built models arriving late in the war. Upon receiving their wings, the crews of such aircraft were necessarily cross-trained in artillery observation, photography, cartography, communications, and gunnery. By later standards, training was incredibly simple; some recently graduated pilots were made instructors with fewer than 50 hours of total flight time.

Nevertheless, the first-generation airmen accomplished their mission, assuming they survived to learn the appropriate lessons. A DH-4 pilot recalled one of his first sorties, flying at 3,500 feet a few miles behind the American lines. Abruptly, a sharp-shooting German artillery battery put a shell below and behind the DeHavilland, shaking the crew and puncturing several holes in the tail. It was a lesson learned: Never again fly straight and level, except while taking photographs, anywhere near the lines.

Artillery observation was a crucial task. Normally, single planes were used to regulate artillery fire on different types of targets. While "spotting" for 155mm rifles, aircrews flew over the trajectory of the shells, but when directing 8-inch howitzers, they flew under the trajectory. When the gun was ready to fire, the pilot turned away from the target so that the observer would be looking over the tail to send a wireless message informing the battery of the estimated necessary correction.

The arrangement also had the observer, with two Lewis Guns, facing the direction from which German fighters would likely appear. "We would play cat and mouse with the fighters," recalled one veteran. "When they got too close, or tried to get behind us, we would open the throttle wide, put the nose below the horizon, and hotfoot for home! They were a little faster, but as long as we did not let them get a chance to make a dive, they wouldn't follow us very far over the lines; then we would go back to work."

One of the most important but underreported observation missions was the "contact patrol." During Allied offensives it was essential for division and corps headquarters to know how far friendly troops had advanced as of a given time and how enemy forces were responding. In the era before two-way aircraft radios, aerial observation was invaluable because phone lines were often cut by shellfire, leaving couriers and even carrier pigeons as the last resort. Low-flying two-seaters braved heavy gunfire and poor weather to identify the doughboys' leading elements in the 1918 attacks at St. Mihiel and the Argonne.

Chief among the factors leading to heavy U.S. infantry casualties was the impact of enemy air superiority. The situation was particularly notable in the Chateau-Thierry and Belleau Wood area in June, when German reconnaissance aircraft and observation balloons largely went unhindered. However, the cause was more one of inadequate Allied air cover rather than lack of effort or appreciation. As the AEF gained strength, its wings also grew stronger.

One example is the Meuse-Argonne operation, involving one of the legendary actions of the AEF In early October, a battalion-size formation of the 77th Infantry Division was trapped in extremely rugged terrain, outflanked by German shock troops. Lieutenant Colonel Charles Whittlesey's "lost battalion" sustained itself for five perilous days, taking heavy casualties from both enemy gunfire and "friendly" artillery.

Despite low ceilings and heavy automatic weapons fire, DH-4s of the 50th Aero Squadron searched for Whittlesey's beleaguered force and finally found it. There ensued probably the first sustained aerial resupply mission in history as food, medicine, and ammunition were dropped by the lumbering DeHavillands. However, poor visibility in the tangled Argonne Forest resulted in many drops falling wide of the mark. On October 6, the crew of Lieutenants Harold E. Goettler and observer Erwin B. Bleckley made two trips into the cauldron, the first resulting in severe damage to their aircraft. They returned to base, climbed aboard another DH and set off again. Flying lower than ever to make an accurate drop, their plane was shredded by close-range gunfire - some from rocky crags above thern! Goettler turned the dying DeHavilland for friendly lines but crashed short of base. Both fliers died in their heroic, selfless effort and after the war received posthumous Medals of Honor.

The 1st Pursuit Group was organized with four squadrons in early 1918, short on everything but enthusiasm. Originally equipped with Nieuport 28s - racy biplanes with rotary engines-some of the first patrols were unarmed because insufficient guns had arrived. Another shortage was leadership. Although American veterans of the French and British air arms were often selected for command positions, there was a good deal of bickering as to whether French or Royal Flying Corps (RFC) doctrine and methods should pertain. By far, the best-known squadron commander was the 94th's Major Raoul Lufbery, ace of the Lafayette, but he was killed in May. Lufbery represented an institutional dilema because the combat veterans possessed knowledge essential to performing the mission but most had no command experience. Worse yet, few of them understood the workings of the U.S. Army, requiring a rnixture of old hands and professional officers.

The 94th and 95th Aero Squadrons began operations in March, the 27th in June. Lufbery's Hat in the Ring outfit claimed the AEF's first victories during an extremely short "scramble" on April 13, downing two German fighters near Gengoult Aerdrome at Toul. The Yanks were on their way.

However, the game was about to change. AEF pursuit squadrons frequently faced second-line German Jagdstaffeln that spring, but summer brought the varsity to play. Two of the Kaiser's elite "flying circuses" moved to the American front, with dramatic results. Hermann Goering's Geshwader No. 1 "Richthofen" (named for its first commander, killed in April) and Captain Bruno Loerzer's Geshwader No. III made their presence known amid a riot of colored Fokkers and glowing tracer bullets. The eight squadrons of these two wings, plus other "Jastas," gave the Yanks a series of hard-fought combats as Goering and Loerzer's aces fattened their scores at the expense of Nieuports and SPADs.

Meanwhile, beginning in July, two other pursuit units fought farther north in the British sector. The 17th and 148th Squadrons, equipped with Sopwith Camels, were American-manned and gave a good account of themselves. After the war their work was ably described by Elliott White Springs, a colorful Carolinian who wrote a popular book and munerous magazine articles. Springs finished the war as the AEF's third-ranking ace with 13 victories.

Other Army fliers gained combat experience in regular French and British units. Although wearing American uniforms, such Yanks were fully integrated into the Allied squadrons. Whatever their units, by November 11, U.S. Air Service (USAS) pilots and gunners were credited with some 624 enemy airplanes and 60 balloons, although not all were "hard" kills as in the French and German services. The policy has been expressed as "every kill was a victory but not every victory was a kill."

Walter J. Boyne, USAF (ret.) Series Editor, Barrett Tillman. The War to end All Wars. Alpha Bravo Delta Guide to the U.S. Air Force. Alpha Books. 2003.

America's First Air War Treadwell. Explains in detail the part played by U.S. aviators and aircraft in WWI. Covers the development of the U.S. Air Service and the U.S. Naval Air Service, and their first use of aircraft in a combat situation. The founding of the U.S. Army and Navy air units through the Signal Corps, National Guard, the First Yale Unit and the Governors Island Training School is also included.

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