As group leader, Berthold assigns the gouvernante* flights, barrage patrols and balloon protection patrols to the other Staffels, while we make only hunting flights.
Paul leads this formation. Johannes Klein, myself, Oblts Jahns, Turck and Auffarth, Ltns Veltjens, von Barnekow and Keller. There is no lower patrol.
We take off at 0805, in V formation, as ordered by der Eiserne, but loosen up the intervals once we’re out of sight of Kortrijk.
The wind is out of the west and it’s very hazy. There are stratus over the Wytschaete area of the front.
*Governess – a slang term for escorting working or bombing machines, also “playing governess.”
We visit Zillebeke Lake, Bixschote and the flooded area, Staden and Langemarck. Over the trenches at Ypres, three SPADs alter their course and pretend not to see us. Five triplanes about 1,000 meters overhead shadow us from the Ypres area up to Bixschote, then leave us. The brown birds above us and flying in the same direction appear to be almost standing still.
One finally makes a move to dive on us but none of his raggies* follow so he climbs back up to join them.
Paul maneuvered us into an excellent position in the sun over three REs but Klein suddenly drops out of formation on his own, alerting them and they get away from us. We return home almost in a straight line after this.
* Raggie, British Naval slang for a best buddy. The term is based on idea that best buddies shared the same polish and polishing rags. A breakup of such friends would be to part brass rags.
When we land at 0910, Paul is furious at Offz Klein and reports the breech of discipline to der Eiserne when he returns.
Both Paul and Klein are ordered to report to der Meister together. Neither is happy when they come out and go their separate ways.
We have the mid-day meal as a group, then go to Saint Joseph’s to see Otto Gerbig off. The casket has been sealed for transport as required by law. Eight of us carry him out to the ambulance that will take him to the train for his final journey back to Erfurt. Before the Sanka leaves, I place the 50 pfennig piece on the coffin, “for Charon.”
The training session is over in time for Vater and von Barnekow to be ready to join us for the next flight.
The wind has reversed itself and now comes from the east. It’s still quite hazy and a warm 22 degrees.
We take off at 1640 in formation.
Berthold leads the upper patrol, Jan Klein, Sepple, Paul, von Barnekow, myself, Keller. All three Oblts, Turck, Jahns and Auffarth take the lower patrol.
The Flak over the flooded area is particularly heavy, as is the enemy air activity. A flight of four SPADs five or six hundred meters below us, six SE 5s at about the same height, another twelve SPADs just a few hundred meters below us, then eight more coming up behind them. Two triplanes cross our path perhaps eight hundred meters above us. None of the Tommies seem eager to attack us.
Berthold makes his choice and attacks a group of SEs a few hundred meters below us. While we’re engaged with them, six SPADs dive in. I see Paul pulling one off Klein.
Berthold latches on to the object of his initial attack and follows him down, damaging him enough to force him to land at Zillebeke Lake. Two of his comrades do not like this and protest but together Berthold and I send them packing. The fight is very near the ground and we receive heavy ground fire.
We reform on der Meister and return by way of Polygon and Zillebeke.
Berthold’s SE was behind the lines, so it will probably only be a zlgzw* but he is elated. It’s his first success since he was wounded in April. . It might have been different had not the wind been so unfavorable to us today.
At Abendbrott, Berthold tells us about the review. All the GrossKanone (big guns) were there, Pechmann, Dostler, Bubi Voss, der Rittmeister himself led the aviation contingent.
He proudly shows us a photo and personal note from Prince Eitel Friedrich of Prussia.* He tells us of his meeting with the prince a few weeks earlier at a Sunday lunch near the 7th Army frontlines. He says he found the prince to be “A basic and unaffected man with a stern view of things.” In other words, a man after his own heart, in his opinion.
He passes the photo and note around, I ‘m the last one to look at it and I act particularly impressed. He knows me too well not to see through this. When I stand to reverently hand it back to him with a click of the heels, he looks up at me and says, “One day you will go too far Felix.”
“Jawohl, Herr Oberleutnant, probably so.”
I have done so many times before… and paid the penalty many times as well. Despite this, I persist, it amuses me.
Paul tells me afterward that Jan Klein made no excuses. He was verbally reprimanded but no more. Berthold warned that a continuation of this sort of behavior could jeopardize his imminent promotion to Leutnant.
Paul was also singed by the Volcano, being told that he was too lax and apparently hesitant in conducting the patrol. In the future he would maintain proper intervals and take off in formation. He felt that der Eiserne actually blamed him for the incident more than Klein. He respects him as an air fighter but is considering a request for transfer away from him.
He and Jan make up later. Klein saying that he doesn’t quite know what got into him, he knew what he was doing was stupid but the tension of waiting for the proper moment was too much for his nerves and he apologized with all his heart.
*The Kaiser’s 2nd son and at one time, commander of the 1st Foot Guards.
He doesn’t know what had gotten into him, but I do, it was das Jagdfieber (the hunting fever). In the Legion we called it the furor Teutonicus. It is the same fever that infected this boy’s ancestors, making them unable to wait for the command to attack, turning into berserkers, mindlessly breaking ranks to throw themselves against our shield wall without the support of their comrades. Easy meat for us.
It is the same fever that we too felt, when they began to break and run and the command came from Pertinax, our general, “Let loose the Legion.” It is the fever that was on us as we killed the Marcomanni until our arms could no longer lift a sword.*
I have no doubt that der Eiserne prefers Jan’s headstrong aggressiveness over Paul’s cooler, more calculating style. But both have their place.
*This is during the Marcomannic Wars 166-180 AD. Eber participated as a member of Legio II ‘Italica,’ one of two legions created for the offensive of 172-174AD against the Marcomanni and their allied tribes. Due to a lack of manpower after a plague ravaged Rome during this period, Gladiators, slaves and professional criminals were admitted into the ranks of these two legions, Legio II and Legio III, both of which were later given the title ‘Italica Pia”(the second faithful Italian Legion) after they supported Septimius Severus in his bid to become Emperor.
Screenshots from the video game Totalwar: Rome II, by SAGA
After I leave the Pilotenkasino, I sit in the armchair I have in my room with a cognac and roll a cigarette of Turkish.
Jan Klein and his Jagdfieber have caused my mind to reminisce about those days in Germania. I never light the cigarette, nor do I finish my drink.
I drift off into a deep sleep and dream.
I am standing at the window, looking out at the statue of the composer, Orlando di Lasso in front of the Hotel Bayerischer Hof on Promenadeplatz.
At a knock on the door I say, “Eintreten!”
The door opens, Bruno is shocked when I turn around. I am no longer an old man dressed in a loose fitting suit. Instead, he sees a man about his own age, clean shaven, in jeans and a polo shirt, standing at his full height and with a huge grin.
“Who are you?” He asks, although we both know full well who I am.
I laugh at him and speak in American English, “My passport says I’m my own Great-Grandson. You can call me Carl Junior.”
He becomes angry, “So, this was all an elaborate hoax after all?”
In German now, I answer, “No…the hoax was that I was a ninety-three-year-old man.”
“I see.” But of course, he didn’t.
Continuing in German, “I told you my age, approximately.”
“I do not understand any of this. Why are you playing this game and what do you hope to achieve?” Becoming louder he yells, “What is it that you want from me!”
I lock eyes with him and, not quite as loudly, “Setz dich! Listen to me now! I will tell you who I am and you will see what my object is!”
He sits in the armchair, adopting a poker face and I know that he’s acting the Psychoanalyst now.
“Shall I lie on the couch Herr Doktor?”
“Whatever will make you comfortable.”
I sit on the bed and light a Marlboro.
“Are you an American or a German?”
“I am neither.”
“When recognized by my mother’s husband as his own, I was named Marcus Triarius. I am not certain as to the exact date of my birth but it was approximately 20 BCE, during the reign of Caesar Augustus.”
I looked at Bruno’s expressionless face and couldn’t resist a faint smile before continuing.
“The man whom I believed to be my father was one Constantius Triarius, Primus Pilus of Legio VII.* My mother’s name was Martia.** Her family name and the exact circumstances of her birth are unknown to me.”
“Both of these parents perished in a plague when I was quite young. I also contracted the plague but did not die and was raised by another of the Centurions of the Seventh until I came of age to join the Legion at seventeen.”
I served with the Seventh in Germania in the campaigns of Tiberius against the Marcomanni and in the suppression of the Illyrian Revolt, rising to the rank of Optio of the First Cohort.”***
* First File, commanding Centurion of the First Cohort, and senior Centurion of the Legion.
** Meaning, devout to the god Mars.
***An Optio, meaning to choose, because he was chosen by the Centurion, was a position roughly equivalent to a Lieutenant and was second in command of the Centria.
“Just so. It was there that I first tasted death.”
“I awoke on the battlefield among the dead, stripped of my armor and clothing, everything that I possessed. I was in great pain from my wounds which were being licked by something, wolves. I was surrounded by wolves and expected that this would be my death, to be eaten alive by them.”
I look at Bruno To see if there is any reaction. None whatever. Very professional.
I continue, “I found that they had no intention of eating me, but instead stood guard over me and brought me food. It was mostly raw meat which they vomited out for me as they would for one of their cubs. This would have been too disgusting for me, but I was starving and I became accustomed to it.”
“Scraps of clothing were brought to me and huge dogs slept next to me, keeping me warm as it was September and beginning to get quite cool.”
“These were, by the way, some of the same huge war dogs the Germanii loosed on us at the end of the battle.”
“Woodpeckers also brought me things, bread they had stolen from some German farm somewhere, cheese, vegetables, whatever they could steal and carry.”
“These animals being sacred to Mars, I prayed and made offerings to him. I wondered what great plan he had for me that he went to so much trouble on my behalf.”
“The stench of the place was horrible, mutilated bodies were everywhere and severed heads were nailed to trees. But to this too, I became accustomed with time. Why my body was not mutilated as the others had been I did not know.”
Screenshots from the video game Totalwar: Rome II, by SAGA
“As I healed and became stronger, I built a fire and cooked what the wolves and woodpeckers brought to me and I was able to build a lean to. I was surprised at how quickly my wounds healed.”
“Once I saw the wolves attack a party of Chatti who had been coming to investigate my fire. They were routed by the wolves and several were killed. They never returned.”
“By mid-October I was strong enough to travel but the wolves blocked my way. After a few days a huge Schwarzpecht * appeared and perched on the tree next to my shelter. He spoke to me, not in words exactly, but in my mind.”
I grinned at Bruno, “Yes Herr Doktor…in…my…mind.”
Then I continued on, “This was Picus, one of the sons of Mars and the same who had brought food to Romulus and Remus.”*
* Black woodpecker, a crow sized woodpecker common in Germany.
“Picus said to me, ‘I have come to tell you who you are and to bring you to your father.’”
“But my father is dead.”
“Your father is the one to whom you have been praying and giving thanks for your deliverance.”
“Do you have any questions thus far Herr Doktor?”
“So you are a demi-god?”
“That is correct. But a unique one, not half, but three quarters divine. Can you guess how this came to be?”
“Mars and Ares being one in the same, yes…I can guess.”
I go on, “Picus said, ‘You, since your death and resurrection, have come to the attention of the Dii Consentes** of whom your father is one. They have condemned his obscene and irresponsible act in creating an abomination and a threat.’”
I said, “I did not, I am not a spirit…I live!”
“But dead you were.”
I then asked Picus, “How am I a threat?”
He said to me, “A non-divine immortal, if allowed to propagate would possibly create an immortal race that would rule the world and could change the balance of power between humanity and the gods, bringing about their end.”
“The wolves will lead you to your father, who is to test you to see if, since you cannot be killed by a mortal, you can be killed by one who is divine.”
I asked now, “And what if I cannot be killed?”
His reply was only, “Then we shall see.”
“The wolves then began to move and nudge me along, completely encircling me.”
*Therefore Carl Eber’s ‘Bruthu from anuthu muthu.’
“Surrounding the field was an army of wolves, bears and other wild creatures. Vultures circled the open sky above the meadow. One great eagle perched on a branch behind where Mars stood.” *
“Picus perched on a pile of weapons, armor and shields for me to choose from.”
“I chose those I was most familiar with, the scutum and gladius, Lorcia Segmentata (segmented armor), greaves, galea (helmet of the common Legionarius) and the Manica, (Dacian war armguard sleeve), which I tried but discarded as it hampered movement of my sword arm.”
“We fought from this early afternoon until darkness fell, giving each other many wounds, but nothing that could kill.”
“This scar,” I said, touching my face, “was one of them. None of the scars from the wounds Mars gave me that day faded with time as all the others I have received through the years have done.”
“When the sun dropped below the land, Mars called for his chariot pulled by fire breathing horses:
Aithon – Red Fire Phlogios – flame Konabos- tumult as a loud confusing noise Phobos – fear
“I was left on the field to rest and tend my wounds. A bright light suddenly sprang up behind me. When I turned there was a fire and a meal prepared for me and wine, which I had not tasted since before the battle.”
“Picus remained with me and advised me.”
“You will not win. Whether you can defeat your father or no. Whether he can kill you or no.”
I asked him, “Then what should I do?”
He said, “You should call upon your grandsire, Jupiter, offer yourself as a sacrifice to test whether you can die or no, throw yourself on the mercy of the gods if you cannot die. This is the only hope you have."
"There are many things worse than death.”
“I decided that he was correct. So, in the morning, when Mars appeared to renew the battle, I stood naked and unarmed and called upon Jupiter as Picus had advised.”
“I presented my bared chest to Mars and he struck me in the heart, splitting it in two.”
“I became conscious again in agony and was again cared for by the wolves, dogs and woodpeckers until I was strong again.”
“You might imagine that, having died times without number that the dread of death would not trouble me.”
“I will tell you now, death is often quite painful and traumatic and on the occasion when it is so instantaneous that you feel little or nothing, the resurrection and recovery more than compensate.”
“There is also the shock of discovering yourself in a pile of corpses or buried alive or worse, burning or burnt. This type of immortality is not something to be desired. My very existence is a curse.”
“During this time, I thought about the injustice of what had been done to me and of my sator,** I will not call him my father. How was he ever a father to me? He created me as an experiment of the most perverse kind and what was his punishment? To have to kill me?”
“He did not acknowledge me or so much as speak one word to me. He struck me down without hesitation. No…he is no father of mine!”
“All the gods, what do they do but use men for their entertainment!”
“When I was strong enough, Jupiter himself appeared in the meadow in the form of the great eagle I had seen when I did battle with Mars.”
“He said to me that he and the council had judged that my valor in battle with my sire and the willing sacrifice of myself made me worthy to be elevated to join them as the personification of soldierly courage and discipline.”
“I was young and angry, having been badly used. My reply was, ‘I want nothing to do with gods and their amusements! You are all despicable and it is no honor to be counted among you! I would remain as I am, a man and a soldier among soldiers.’”
“Jupiter was angered at this rejection and granted my wish. I would be, for all time, just what I was. I would suffer all that men suffered, I would be spared nothing and never have the release of death. I would never rise above the level that I had achieved in my Legio and no matter how I attempted to avoid it, war would always find me.”
“No god would give me aid.”
“Too, I could not be allowed to father children, just in case this immortality would be passed to them. So, Liber appeared as a goat and touched me with his horns as I stood, frozen in place.”
“I was left there with nothing except the rags the wolves had brought me.”
“My Legion no longer existed and I could not reveal that I had survived the massacre without being accused of cowardice and executed so I began my first new life. I made my way to Xanten where I joined Legio XXI.”
* All sacred to Mars, as are woodpeckers and dogs. Eagles are sacred both to Mars and Jupiter, but primarily they represent Jupiter.
“With Legio XXI, I took part in the punitive campaigns across the Rhine. The eagles of XVII and XIX were recovered in Germanicus Julius Caesar’s campaign in 15-16 CE and we marched to Teutoburg Forest where we burned and buried the bleached bones of my comrades.”
“And so this has been my life for more than 2,000 years from army to army and war to war.”
“What is your diagnosis?” I laughed again, “Perhaps you can write a paper on my case, Nit Wahr.”
“I think it is a very elaborate delusion, if you truly believe it.”
“Yes…it is very elaborate and I do believe it. You will come to believe it too. The proof of this and everything else I have told you is here in these boxes.”
“Why do you feel you have to take me on a trip back in time, what is the purpose of this?”
“Over the many centuries I have lived and fought in hundreds of wars, spilled the blood of unknown numbers of men, women, even children. I have loved and lost good comrades, women, horses, animals of all sorts to whom I have become attached. They die and I alone remain.”
“But I am a man like any other. I do not die but I feel the same things as other men, I feel fear and love, suffer the pain of death and the pain of returning to life. There have been times when the burden of these unavoidable things, loss, pain, grief, fear, becomes too much for the human mind to carry. I have longed to die, tried to die, countless times, but I cannot.”
“For decades at a time I have gone, forgive me for using such a layman’s term, insane. Wandered in the wilderness, living like an animal on instinct alone or locked in a lunatic asylum until my unhinged mind could heal itself.”
“Seeing this, one of the goddesses took pity on me, defied Jupiter and aided me…Anna Perrena, the circle of the year. Do you remember her story, the trick she played on Mars?”
“Yes…she disguised herself as Minerva, the virgin goddess Mars wanted and tricked him into marrying her.”
“Yes, my grandmother. She granted me this ability to revisit the past.”
“To what purpose?”
“I have found, over time, that sharing this burden with another helps me to maintain my equilibrium. Do you not understand that this is the thing that you who choose, in these times, to be psychoanalysts actually do? Share the burdens of others. It is no wonder that so many who choose that profession end their own lives. This and your passion for these relics you see before you, are why you are the perfect candidate for my bargain.”
“You must realize that what you ask is an impossibility.”
I laugh again. “Jünger, time is not as linear as is generally believed. What did Shakespeare say?”
In English, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy?”
“So can you see, from this story, fantastic as it may seem, for me, dead is not dead.”
“I beg you to accept my bargain, I am weary beyond measure.”
It’s 0800 and we’re in the air on the way to the Ypres salient. Berthold leads Klein, myself, Paul, Vater Turck, Jahns, Auffarth and Keller in the upper patrol.
Sepple leads the lower with, Schober, Barnekow and Runge in tow.
The wind is still against us, coming from the east. On the ground is fog with a low sea of cumulus above it. Visibility is excellent above the cloud layer. It’s expected to get over 22 degrees today.
As we work our way along over the flooded area, a big two-seater passes above us and Berthold and I separate from the formation to attack him. Vater Turck takes over the front of the V.
I stay above and behind der Meister to protect him while he deals with our prey. I also provide some distraction for the English Franz.
After a protracted fight, Berthold finally shoots him down near Dixmunde.*
The upper patrol circles around while we climb to rejoin.
Just as Berthold takes his position at the head of the V again SPADs, triplanes and SE 5s appear apparently from nowhere and there is a large, confused Luftkampfes over the flooded area.
This Tripe skin from the WOFF Skin Pack is for RNAS-1 Stanley W. Rosevear
I follow Berthold as long as I can, but lose site of him after a sharp turn, I’m too busy to go looking about for him so I throw Beomia all over the sky, firing at every cockade I see and I see many.
I don’t like getting into these whirlpools, too many aircraft to keep track of and a very good possibility of a collision. I try to do all the damage I can to as many of the Lords as possible, especially to the triplanes which can’t take very much damage before their performance is significantly reduced. In this way, I hope to make as many as possible go home. That’s the best possible outcome we can hope for, our machines being so much inferior to theirs at this time.
When we are able, each of us breaks away. We’re too scattered and low on fuel to be able to find der Eiserne and reform. So, we return piecemeal, singly or in twos and threes.