The FReeper Foxhole Profiles Lt Frank Luke Jr. Part 1 Oct. 20, 2005

See Educational redources | Complied By Iris7

[alfa6]

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Lt Frank Luke Jr. Ballon Buster Part 1



Frank Luke was born in Phoenix, Arizona Territory, on May 19th, 1897.

Phoenix was then a small town then with a population of 1,500 in 1890. (Imagine!)

Frank Luke was said to be “cute but terrifying” as a child. Standard parental discipline had only temporary effect.

There are stories of him running off on his own as a small boy and returning after dark with two baby "sheeps" under his arms ("Man said if I could carry 'em I could have 'em."). Frank Sr. proclaimed "any youngster of mine who shows that much interest in dumb animals doesn't get punished for it, and that's that." In another family tale young Frank and his younger sister Otilla tried to collect 100 tarantulas in empty tin cans. The actual number collected is lost. ;-)

In high school Frank ran track and played football and baseball. Frank liked football best. At 5 feet 9 inches and 155 pounds he played fearlessly. He once played the entire second half of a game with a broken collarbone.

The game was rough in those days. The same eleven guys played both offense and defense, there were no shoulder pads (designed to prevent broken collarbones as a matter of fact), and probably no forward passing. The earliest mention of a legal forward pass that I can find is from 1906.

Luke boxed bare-knuckled against the hardest men in the area for $20 to the winner. They say he almost always won. An extremely competitive man, “he simply could not be stopped”.

Young Luke wanted to fly. When the United States entered the Great War Luke became an Army Pursuit pilot, a “fighter pilot” as we would say today. It seems to me that that trade at that time and in that war suited his personality.

He had to lie about his “college education” to go to flight school and become an officer. Oh, the shame, the horror! It seems that no records were required for that sort of thing in those days. People must have been given responsibility as they could handle it. How different it is today!

Luke went to France with something like ten flying hours and put right in a fighter.



Here is a letter to a friend back home Luke sent from France dated April 20, 1918:

Dear Pal:

Received, two days ago, your letter of March 5 and was very glad to hear from you. Pidge and Perry, from what I hear, failed to get in. It seems that at the time they reached Los Angeles the War Department sent orders not to enlist any more for the aviation branch. I would have liked to have seen Pinney get in. He sure would have had to study, no bluff.

I just passed a double-seater motorcycle. One of the fellows was carrying a pilot who had run into a tree and smashed his head. Gee, it was a tough sight! His eyes were bulged out and his head was one mass of blood. He died a short while after reaching the hospital.The trouble was a bad fog came up just after he left the ground. He tried to land before it reached him but was too late, lost his way, and hit the tree.

Oh, boy, it's great to be up flying, practicing stunts, and looking down on the earth spread out beneath you. But there are always the new graves, in some of them fellows you knew; there because of a faulty machine or bad judgment. Well, boy, it may be me next, but don't tell anyone what I have told you. I would hate to have my mother hear of it, because I tell her it is the safest branch of the service.My address is on the envelope.

Your pal,

FRANK

A French Nieuport Fighter,in Charles Guynemer's markings IIRC, similar to what many pilot schools used in France for advance training.


This is from Frank’s diary while in France:

During this training period Frank became friends with Joe Wehner. Both were exceptional athletes and skilled pilots, though Wehner was from Boston and had attended Phillips Exeter, a famous prep school of the day, and had traveled in Europe before the War while Luke was from the sticks.

On July 20th, 1918 Frank and Joe were assigned to the 27th Aero Squadron, 1st Pursuit Group.

The 27th “Eagle” Squadron was right on the sharp end. (The 94th “Hat in the Ring” Squadron, Rickenbacker’s outfit, was also in the 1st Pursuit Group. Rickenbacker knew Luke, and said of him that “He is the only man I know of without fear.” Rickenbacker is saying, I believe, that Luke was the only man he had known who had completely mastered his fear.)

Eddie Rickenbacker and his SPAD


Eagle Squadron’s commander, Maj. Harold Hartney, was a Canadian ace with two years in the war and unconventional ideas about how a pursuit squadron should be organized and led. Hartney fostered individualism, stressed individual initiative, and taught extreme tactics and maneuvers. Under his command Eagle Squadron became the AEF's best during the spring and early summer of 1918.

When Luke and Wehner arrived at the 27th Major Hartney gave them a welcoming speech. Here is one listener’s memory:

You men stand in front of me today (but) within two weeks each and every one of you will be dead - cold dead - unless you weigh what I say. "You are going to be surprised in the first, second or third trip over the line and, despite all I can say right now, you will never know there is an enemy ship near you until you notice you windshield disintegrating or until a sharp sting interrupts your breathing. "School is over. You have a man's job... so when you get up there over the lines and you find you want to come back that means you're yellow. I do not ask you to be brave enough to go over, I only ask you to have enough guts to come back and tell me so and get to hell out of this outfit.

You are in the 27th in name only. When you have shown your buddies out there that you have guts and can play the game honestly and courageously, they'll probably let you stay. You'll know without without my telling you when you are actually members of this gang. It's up to you.

Major Hartney trained rookie fighter pilots by putting them in the air and attacking them, proving over and over what he had learned in two years of aerial combat: When you see one Hun, look for the second. Watch for the Hun in the sun. Keep your head moving. Don't dive to shake a Boche on your tail. Shoot to kill.

To survive by some miracle two years as a fighter pilot on the Western Front Hartney must have been more than lucky. Luke was training under a master. Major Hartney taught that air-to-air fighting was not decided by stunt flying but by marksmanship, surprise, nerve, teamwork, and by taking advantage of even a split second enemy weakness. Hey, war is still that way for sure.

Luke would be just one of the unremembered dead without Major Hartney, I think.

The 27th Squadron pilots did not like Frank Luke. Real hostility, I mean. Ostracism. He made only three friends in the Group. After the war, Hartney described Luke:

Bashful, self-conscious, and decidedly not a mixer...his reticence was interpreted as conceit. In fact, this preyed on his mind to such an extent that he became almost a recluse, with an air of sullenness, which was not that at all.

Luke's self-confidence caused most of the pilots in the group to regard him as a boastful four-flusher and many of them never liked him, even to the end, in spite of his extraordinary accomplishments. You could not altogether blame them. Frank was unfortunate in frequently giving the wrong impression.

One day George Jordan, a veteran sergeant of the 147th, told me he had been chatting with Luke as a German plane flew over. Looking up, Luke said, "Gee, that plane would be a cinch for me." This and many similar remarks would certainly indicate a high degree of boastfulness but I really believe they were nothing of the sort. I think they were simply the honest confidence of a zealous but not-too-diplomatic boy.

The Squadron called him "The Arizona Boaster" according to Quentin Reynolds.

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FReeper Foxhole Armed Services Links

[alfa6]

Hartney considered Luke a pain in the rear that July but changed his mind soon after, as we shall see. Hartney wrote this story ten years later:

The first time I really took much of an interest in him was about three days after I had lost six of my officers and Don Hudson had shot down two biplane Rumplers carrying four men on Aug. 1, 1918. I had already been up to the lines to see if I could find any of my boys.... That first day I could not get any farther than Villers Cotterets, not far from our small advance airdrome, although farther north, and had to return by foot and freight train via Paris.

A couple of days later Luke came to my tent and said, 'Major, Lt. Clapp says it is all right for me to go up with you this morning if you can take me.' I shall never forget that journey. Frank, one enlisted man and I went along in my Packard. On this trip he talked freely, of his days on the plains back home, of incidents of his training, of his ambition to be an outstanding flier. He was extremely serious always.

Walking to the top of a hill we found the two German planes Hudson had brought down... The two pilots and their observers were still there, their faces black, the summer sun getting in its rapid work. One of them had on very light patent leather low shoes. This impressed Luke. 'Wonder where he was the night before,' he murmured. Rumor had it among the ground troops that one of the Germans was a girl, but this was not true.

Three hundred yards farther we came to the top of another knoll and looked down the other side, a smooth space of about a hundred acres. Never have my eyes rested on such a sight. May they never again behold one like it. The hill was literally covered with dead men, side by side, head to head, little or no space between, practically all of them American doughboys. They had died in droves charging German machine gun nests left behind to cover the retreat. Right in front of us were a German and an American who had actually pierced each other with their bayonets and neither bayonet had been withdrawn.



Frank stooped over and picked up some unmailed postal cards fallen from a pocket of one of the dead boys. The one on top was addressed to his mother out in Iowa.

‘Leave them there,' I said. 'That American padre over there is busy picking up such things to send back to the next of kin.'Carefully and reverently, Luke replaced the cards in the pocket of the dead Yankee.

'Boy!' he exclaimed. 'I'm glad I'm not in the infantry. They haven't a chance, have they, Major?'

Hiking back to the road, we got into our car and made our way farther along toward Fismes, on the Vesle, where somebody had told us the front line lay. We noticed some peculiar stares in the eyes of several small detachments of American troops marching on the road. Presently a young second lieutenant stopped us.

'Sir, do you realize you're beyond the front lines? The last car that went up there didn't come back. It was captured.'

Things were so quiet it seemed incredible...

...We found several, including two enemy and several British Camels. Most of them had bullet holes through the headrests. On one we actually found a rifle lying on the wing. The plane seemed intact and only a splotch of blue and a torn helmet indicated what had happened to the pilot.

‘These men were all diving away when they were hit, weren't they, Major?' asked Luke.

'Yes,' I replied. 'It's what I've told you and the other boys a dozen times. That's about the only time one gets hit.'

'By God, they'll never catch me that way,' said Frank.

.... We walked farther and saw other wrecks but none of them ours. Then we went back to the Packard and drove toward Fere-en-Tardenois. Luke asked permission to go over and take another look at the two crushed, interlocked German two-seaters. We got out and I strolled over to glimpse again that terrible slaughter field where so many men lay dead for economic and political reasons beyond their comprehension. It was getting dark. Except for the rumble of distant guns there was absolute silence. Silhouetted against the evening skyline on top of that hill was one moving figure. It was the steel-helmeted padreSlowly he would stoop over and pick up something and put it in his pocket. I did not disturb him.

Again in the car we were almost to Fere-en-Tardenois when something attracted our attention. It was a group of American soldiers watching something in the sky a little distance away. We got out and joined them. It was a single German plane. He had dropped from the sky like a bullet and poured some incendiary bullets right into one of our observation balloons. The sausage, full of hydrogen, was falling in flames. The occupants had bailed out in their parachutes. Even as we watched, the heine pilot dipped into a swift attack on a second balloon nearby. He caught it asit was being dragged down by its winch. It, too, went up in flames. The rattle of our machine guns were terrific but it meant nothing. The Boche Albatross went blithely hedge-hopping homeward. All was still again.

The sights and experiences of that day must have had a profound impact on Frank Luke. A less intrepid boy would certainly have lost any further desire to go into such gory and savage doings and would have found ways and means of getting himself sent to a safer part of the war zone. But with Luke it was different. All the way home he was silent. And I am positive that on that homeward trip he laid out his future course and made his plans to become our most spectacular flier and the world's greatest strafer of enemy balloons.

[alfa6]

August 16th 1918

Major Hartney:

Several days later, Aug. 16, to be exact, I had my first real feel of Frank Luke's dependability in the air. Our advance airdrome at Coincy was ready for us, camouflaged gas trucks and everything, and we got orders to use that as the starting point for a protection patrol. We were having great trouble with the new Spads and the boys of the 27th and 147th had no confidence in them. A poorly housed reduction gear which would get out of line with the slightest nick in the propeller was constantly causing us mechanical difficulties. It would vibrate and soon the various pieces of plumbing would start to ease loose and the engine would begin to miss or quit completely.

At 5:05 p.m. I led a gang of 12 of our planes and three from the 94th out at 9000 feet to protect one of Ken Littauer's photographic Salmsons from the 88th squadron. We soared up in perfect formation. From Fere-en-Tardenois to Fismes, however, our boys began dropping out with engine trouble. Finally there was only one plane left besides mine. By now we were at 18,000 feet and had had several minor brushes with the enemy.

Salmsom with an escort


It was one of those grim, heat-hazy days when it was particularly difficult to spot enemy ships...as I pulled in (at Coincy) there were 13 of our ships sitting on the ground. When I had taxied to a stop a lot of the pilots came running over to tell me they thought I had been lost and to utter loud and violent blasphemies concerning the Spads and the French...I am told no man ever cursed as loud and as vehemently as I did...



I was still ranting...when a lone Spad came in with the pilot goosing his engine and causing a terrific racket.

'Here comes your boyfriend now,' said one man from the 27th. 'He said he was going to get his first Boche today or never come back. Let's see what the blowhard's got to say for himself. Bet he claims one.'

Some of the others beat me getting over to find out what had happened to Luke. One came running back to me.

'What did I tell you? He says he shot one off your tail.'

...Frank Luke was a lonesome and despised man from that day until he brought down his first balloon near Marieulles on the St. Mihiel front on Sept. 12. In the whole group he found only three men who believed in him - Joe Wehner and Ivan Roberts in the 27th and Norman Archibald in the 95th. A few days later, just as we shifted to St. Mihiel, Archibald, a green but gallant pilot, was captured by the Germans. Luke spent most of his spare time on the machine gun range perfecting his already excellent marksmanship.



According to Luke's biographer, James Norman Hall (Mutiny on the Bounty and many others with Charles Nordhoff, Falcons of France and others by himself as well as a combat fighter pilot in the 1st Aero Group), Hartney believed his renegade pilot was speaking the truth. br>
James Norman Hall:

I am firmly convinced the boy got the plane. His verbal account of the battle contained those little differences that give such a report the touch of verisimilitude. But the squadron didn't believe him, and that made Luke bitter.

As a result Luke regarded his brother officers contemptuously, taunted them with their own shortcomings, dared them to fight, and when they declined, avoided them.

All but one - Joe Wehner."

Hartney was transferred to higher command on August 21st. His replacement was Lieutenant Alfred Grant, a strict disciplinarian and a true martinet. On the first morning of being in command he made an all hands inspection, dress uniforms, tool counting, button counting, clothes stacked just so on shelter halves, every pair of shoes shined brightly, brass gleaming, chins shaven and hair freshly cut. And, of course, the inspection was held at the traditional time of 4:30 AM. He instituted roll calls at night and at arms drill for the enlisted men. This stuff really turned off Frank Luke.

On September 3rd the Eagle Squadron arrived at Rembercourt to support the American Battle of the St. Mihiel Salient. They would stay there until the Armistice.

Some 550,000 Americans and 110,000 French took part in the St. Mihiel offensive with 3,000 artillery pieces and 400 French tanks (some of which were manned by Americans). George S. Patton was there. Douglas MacArthur. Allied aircraft consisted of 297 pursuit planes (226 available), 259 observation planes (219 available) and 55 bombing planes (42 available) for a total of 627 (487 available). The French supplied 627 planes (430 available). In addition there were 15 American and six French observation balloons.



If all went as hoped, American forces would spearhead a drive into the center of a bulge in the German lines, rupturing the front and setting the stage for the final drive into the Fatherland - the planned Meuse-Argonne offensive, and then the famous Plan 1919 and the destruction of the German Army.

[alfa6]

Each American unit had a place in the plan. The Eagle Squadron was to destroy the Draken.

We must now examine the Draken, or Drachen, which means “kite”, but more completely it means “Dragon”. The Draken were German observation balloons flying 1,000 to 4,000 feet above the ground and just behind the German lines. The Draken was a very steady observation platform where a truck could be watched from fifteen miles away, men from five or six miles, and artillery fire from thirty or forty miles away by muzzle flash at night. Pre-planned artillery fires covered every inch of the ground in front of the Draken. Such an important set of eyes was protected very well indeed, as you would expect.



The following is taken from the historian Dr. David Payne:

The sausage shaped balloon of both sides on the Western Front was around 200 feet (60m) in length, 50 feet (15m) feet in diameter, and contained about 30,000 cubic feet of inflammable hydrogen gas. Some of the larger balloons were filled with coal gas, also then known as illumination gas.

Most observation balloons had an external envelope made of sheets of rubberized (gutta percha = latex rubber + naphtha) diagonal cotton cloth, sewn together as gores and segments. The rubberized cloth was then vulcanized. Inside the envelope so formed, were located cylindrical hydrogen gas-bag(s) and a ballonet, which was filled with a constant supply of air from the wind further tautening and stabilizing the envelope.

A valve attached to a fixed chain inside the balloon would be activated when the balloon expanded an was in danger over-inflating as it ascended, or warmed in the sun, releasing gas so the balloon would not burst under its own pressure.

Due to paucity of suitable dyes, the balloons were usually colored yellow or grey with chrome or aniline dyes.

Helium, an inert gas, and, therefore, potentially a much safer balloon inflation agent, was not available in large quantities until just before the Armistice and was never put into operational use on the Western Front in the Great War.

The shape of the stabilizer at the rear end of the balloon often gave the nickname to the balloon. A typical example of the sausage-type was the not very successful German balloon designed by Major John Parseval and Hauptman von Siegsfeld almost thirty years before the Great War. It had a single stabilizer (or ballonet) that was tube-like, located low and centrally and curved over the tail of the balloon. It was officially called the Drachen – German for Dragon or, also, a Kite (more confusion!) - and unofficially as the Nulle or the ‘Testicle’ due to the suggestive shape of the air-filled steering bag. The size of this balloon was 65 feet long and 27 feet in diameter (20m x 8m).



One end of the 15mm (5/8th’s of an inch) diameter cable that tethered of all types of observation balloon was attached to the under-belly of the balloon by multiple branch ropes with attachment points to a ‘girdle’. This went all the way round the long axis of the balloon. It provided a bracing effect, and enhanced rigidity and stability. The other end of the cable was wound onto a winch that was bolted to the back of a 3-ton lorry and powered by a petrol engine. This winch would be used to pay out the balloon cable as the balloon rose in the air – nominally at about 10 metres per second - and to reel it in when the observation missions were accomplished. Later models were provided with express speed winches so that when danger threatened – as it frequently did – the winch could within seconds, rather than minutes, reel in the balloon and its occupant(s).
The balloon crew also had access to a valve in the nose of the balloon that could release gas and expedite the descent of the balloon. Another device, self-explanatorily called the ‘ripper panel’, could be opened by the balloon crew in even greater extremis; it would cause the balloon to descend even more precipitately.

The anticipated ‘life’ of an observation balloon in an active sector of the Western Front was about two weeks. By 1918, due to the activities of the air aces called ‘balloon-busters’ the ‘life’ of a balloon could be as little as half a day. These aces called the men who manned the balloons, ‘balloonatics’.

When fighter aircraft became sophisticated and could carry out the aerobatics required to safely target the observation balloon many attempts were made to shoot the observation balloons down. It was not until the special incendiary machine gun bullets – the so-called Buckingham bullets, fired from special .45 caliber machine guns - became available that any degree of success was achieved.

Of course, every attempt was made to protect the balloons by supportive action from the ground and the air. Every balloon site was surrounded by anti-aircraft artillery and high-powered machine-guns, and had a shield of fighter planes. (Draken were protected by seventy or eighty well manned 8mm water-cooled machineguns, explosive incendiary autocannon, and a battery of 77 mm anti-aircraft artillery.) Chains and cables were suspended from the balloon to make further hazards for the enemy fighter aircraft and, where the balloons were gathered in a group, a sort of chain mail was linked between them. The Germans skilled use of a spectacular incendiary anti-aircraft shell was said to deter all but the most ardent of the Allied fighter pilots.

German Krupp 70mm Flak Gun


Paradoxically, the closer a balloon was winched down to the ground, the safer it became, as most pilots would not attack below 1,000 feet altitude for fear of anti-aircraft and small arms fire.At the time of planned infantry offensives, the fighter aircraft squadrons of the side launching the offensive were specifically instructed to target the enemy’s observation balloons, so as to blind the enemy field commanders to the movements and dispositions of the attacking troops.

Eagle Squadron’s job were the drachen. One of their Spad XIII’s two machineguns was changed over to a special .45 caliber machinegun firing Buckingham red phosphorous incendiary ammunition and tactics were practiced. (Luke for sure killed his first Draken without the Buckingham incendiaries. At some unknown later date he used the Buckingham equipment.)

Some folks have said that Frank Luke just went out and killed Draken for his own personal reasons. This is completely untrue. Luke became famous in seventeen days at St. Mihiel. On the first day Frank Luke was despised by his squadron mates and called a boastful liar. Two weeks and three days later the other pilots looked on Frank Luke with awe and amazement.

Instead of scorn for "that boastful liar Luke" his squadron mates would say with deep pride and humility "I flew with Frank Luke."

His example inspired the Eagle Squadron, the 1st Pursuit Group, the Army Air Service, and the Army Air Corps. Frank Luke inspires the United States Air Force to this day.

We will continue his story tomorrow.

Map of the lines before the St. Mihiel Offensive

[alfa6]

Educational Resources

http://www.homeofheroes.com/wings/part1/2_luke.html (Home Of Heros)
http://www.af.mil/history/person.asp?dec=Early_Years&pid=123006460 (USAF History)
http://www.theaerodrome.com/aces/usa/luke1.html (The Aerodrome)
http://www.archives.gov/research/alic/reference/military/ww1.html (National Archives)
http://www.gwpda.org/photos/greatwar.htm (Great War)

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NOW UPDATED THROUGH JULY 31st, 2004




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[alfa6]

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Good Thursday Morning Everyone.

If you want to be added to our occasional ping list, let us know.

[alfa6]

Many thanks to Iris7 for doing the research and writing for the Frank Luke threads. Other than the picture captions and one, maybe two very small alterations every thing that you read is from the crafty pen of Iris7.

Regards

alfa6 ;>}

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning America!!

TGIF!!

OMG, I thought I would never get the kinks out!

[alfa6]

Good evening Miss 'feather

Are I a day behind or is you a day ahead???

Regards

alfa6 ;>}

[Soaring Feather]

Oh man, alfa I is ahead. LOL

Been that way every since I got home from MO. ;)

[snippy_about_it]

Thanks to you both for this story. I like the name for the balloon crews. Balloonatics. LOL. Looking forward for the rest of the story.

[Neil E. Wright]

Thanks for picking up the slack and taking over on these threads .... you're ALMOST as good as SAMWolf and snippy .... :)

keep up the good work!!!

±

"The Era of Osama lasted about an hour, from the time the first plane hit the tower to the moment the General Militia of Flight 93 reported for duty."
Toward FREEDOM

[E.G.C.]

Good morning to everyone at the Freeper Foxhole.

[Iris7]

Howdy, Neil.

Hey, always room for one more! Jump on in, water's fine!

[Iris7]

You two have put in some serious time and work on the Foxhole over the years. I speak from experience!

I think you will like Frank Luke. He IS such a decent and brave youngster. ("Our God is the God of the living" as Jesus said.)

Hmm, maybe MacArthur in the Great War....

[Samwise]

Thanks to both of you. Good job!

Frank Luke was said to be “cute but terrifying” as a child. Standard parental discipline had only temporary effect.

This line cracked me up.

[GailA]

Good morning every one.

[texianyankee]

Good Thursday morning to everyone! Hope your day goes well.

[The Mayor]

October 20, 2005

Living Royally

Read:
Galatians 3:19-4:7

You are no longer a slave but a son, and if a son, then an heir of God through Christ. —Galatians 4:7

Bible In One Year: Matthew 20-22

There is an ancient story about a man named Astyages who determined to do away with a royal infant named Cyrus. He summoned an officer of his court and told him to kill the baby prince. The officer in turn delivered the youngster to a herdsman with instructions that he should take him high up into the mountains where the baby would die from exposure.

The herdsman and his wife, however, took the child and raised him as their own. Growing up in the home of those humble peasants, he naturally thought they were his real parents. He was ignorant of his royal birth and his kingly lineage. Because he thought he was a peasant, he lived like one.

Many Christians fail to realize the royal heritage that is theirs in Christ. They live as spiritual peasants when they should be living royally. According to the apostle Paul, believers "are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus" (Galatians 3:26). He also said, "Because you are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into your hearts, crying out, 'Abba, Father!' Therefore you are no longer a slave but a son, and if a son, then an heir of God through Christ" (4:6-7).

God has given us everything we need to live victorious, fulfilling lives. Let's not live like peasants. —Richard De Haan

Rejoice—the Lord is King!
Your Lord and King adore!
Rejoice, give thanks, and sing
And triumph evermore. —Wesley

A child of the King should reflect his Father's character.

FOR FURTHER STUDY
God Our Father

[alfa6]

Good Morning Neil, Iris7 gets the credit for todays thread. I are just the illustrator and poster on this one.

y'all have a great day

Regards

alfa6 ;>}