The one characteristic above all others that made Major Lewis Hyde Brereton respected by both those under him, and his superiors, was the fact that he flew over the lines continuously and he never assigned any one to a mission that he would not do himself. All the boys were acquainted with his record for he not only fought in the air, but also on the ground. He kept his remarkable hold on men for they knew he was a fighter from the word “Go.” His whole career had been marked by a series of brilliant ideas which were so radical and revolutionary that they always took him into a fight before obtaining their adoption. For instance, he came to France with a large number of other officers—about two hundred in all—who accompanied Brigadier General Foulois, the latter having come over to take command of the Air Service of the American Expeditionary Force. The majority of the officers in the party were Brereton’s superiors, and it seemed that he was going to be swallowed up with many others in the service of supply, or in those days, what was called line of communications, which was in the rear, for out of 74that large number it seemed that but few were destined to reach the Front. Brereton immediately asked for the command of a squadron at the front. The authorities, of course, laughed at him and politely informed him that the Americans only had one squadron at the front and it had gone forward only a few days ago and that all the other squadrons in France had competent officers assigned to them; besides, the other squadrons could not go to the front for a long, long time on account of not having the proper planes and equipment, the production scheme in America having fallen down. This did not sound encouraging to Brereton so he arranged to have himself assigned to a tour of inspection at Amanty, near Gondrecourt, which was the place designated for our future observation squadrons to assemble before going to the Front. When he got there he found that it was true that only one squadron had, as yet, gone to the Front, but that there were three other squadrons then at Amanty—the 12th, 88th and 91st waiting for service airplanes before moving up for action. All these squadrons had old training planes, the A.R.’s—Avion Renaults.
The squadrons were to leave in the order of the 88th first, then the 91st and then the 12th, according to the rank of the Commanding Officers of each. Major Harry Brown was then in command of the 12th Squadron and Brereton found by accident, that Brown was extremely anxious to get into the bombardment end of the game and was more or less dissatisfied that the 12th was to be made an Observation Squadron. Brereton found that an assignment to bombardment would more than please Brown so he wasted no time on further inspection. He had happened onto his great opportunity, and he departed immediately for Colombey-les-Belles, which was the Headquarters of the Air Service, Zone of Advance.
 
The village of Vaux on the day preceding the Battle of Vaux
75Arriving at Headquarters, he presented Major Brown’s request to be transferred to Clermont-Ferrand to take a course in Bombardment in order that he might command our first Bombardment Squadron. This visit resulted in two orders being issued—the first relieved Major Harry Brown from the 12th and ordered him to Clermont, and the other designated as Commanding Officer of the 12th Aero Squadron, an officer previously unheard of in aviation at the front—Lewis Hyde Brereton.
Brereton asked permission to take his squadron to the front immediately, whereupon they thought him insane. It was pointed out to him that on account of not having service planes the squadron could not possibly get to the front before six weeks. Brereton went into one of his famous “pouts,” in which he puckers up his face like a baby about to cry, and said that we would never have an Air Service on the Front if they were going to be that particular. His idea was to take what we had and use it. He argued that since the squadron was going to work over a quiet sector they could operate just as well with training planes as with service planes, providing they had machine guns.
76Fortunately, he had hit upon the psychological argument for at that time every one in America was demanding the reason why we did not have squadrons at the front. There was a terrible mess going on about the Liberty motor and the other airplane scandals, so those in power agreed that it would help conditions materially to be able to say that we had squadrons at the front, rather than one squadron, so after considerable argument Brereton was authorized to take his squadron to the front at once with such equipment as they had.
So, the 88th and 91st were left at Amanty and the new comer arrived with orders in his hand to move the squadron forward for action.
Thus when it came time to pick a leader for offensive operations, General Mitchell knew what he was about when he selected Brereton for the Chateau-Thierry affair. He wanted a fighter and he got a fighter, for with his characteristic foresight Brereton prepared for any eventuality. He quite well knew that something would likely happen any day and he did not intend to let the observation end fall down if it was humanly possible to prevent it. His job was to accomplish the impossible; our “quiet sector” units must be prepared for a great and long offensive, and they must be gotten ready quick.
Brereton selected Lieutenant Ben Harwood as his Liaison Officer, Lieutenant Mathis as his Information Officer and put me in charge of the Operations, so, we were gone from morning until late at night, 77traveling between the squadrons, corps headquarters and the various divisional headquarters, getting proper co?peration worked up and, in fact, getting some semblance of organization. The covetous eye of the Hun already looked on Paris. It was only a question of days until the German hand would be extended to grasp what the eye had seen.
The Huns held complete supremacy of the air. They dominated in the ratio of five to one and flew about in droves of fifteen and twenty. Where a fight on a mission had previously been the rare exception to our flyers it was now the common rule. We were very short of pursuit planes. Our Pursuit Squadrons—four in number—were trying to take care of not only our own Corps area, but also other areas held by the French and which adjoined us. As a result, very little direction protection was furnished to the Observation planes. So, the boys knew pretty well when they went out for a mission that it meant a scrap.
There was only one time at Chateau-Thierry when the Boche did not have the complete supremacy of the air. This was on July first at the Battle of Vaux, at which place Johnny Miller and I did the preliminary adjustment and Brereton and I did the artillery control for the Americans during the battle. We had every American pursuit and observation plane we could get off of the ground. There were not less than ninety-six planes in that formation—their mission being to protect the Infantry plane and to protect Brereton and me, who were doing the 78artillery work. There was such a swarm of planes above us that we practically never looked into the sky, but kept our attention entirely on the work before us. This was my idea of real protection. It was the nearest we ever came to our big threat to literally blacken the skies by droves of American airplanes. However, none of these were American airplanes, although the aviators were Americans. This was the first time in the war that the doughboy was brought to realize that there were really other American aviators than those famous ground flyers who took off and landed so often at the famous Hotel Crillion Bar Airdrome in Paris and who were so accurately described by Irvin Cobb.
The Vaux affair seemed to me just like the practice control of artillery fire that I once did on the blackboard in school exercises. It was really one of the easiest jobs I ever did and for which I probably received more credit. The previous day I had passed over the town and was happy for the poor peasants that it had been spared, for even though in the hands of the enemy it was practically intact. Now it was a shell-torn blot of destroyed homes, made more desolate by the scattered bodies of the German dead—and I had been one of the guiding masters of its ruin.
 
The village of Vaux during the Battle of Vaux, July 1, 1918
79From the first of July to the fifteenth we were continuously engaged in making the best possible preparations for what we knew must come. On the morning of the fifteenth it came. It came from Chateau-Thierry along to Rheims. The first day we did not worry a great deal for we confidently felt that the Germans would never be able to cross the Marne as all the bridges had been blown up, but on the morning of the sixteenth day things were mighty blue. An American pursuit plane immediately after daylight, reported that the Germans had constructed pontoon bridges in different places and were already sweeping across the Marne.
This flight by a pursuit plane and the resulting information was, I think, unquestionably one of the greatest flights of the entire war. I did not learn until several days later who the aviator really was. No one seemed to know, nor could we find any record on the regular reports. The French Army Commander told me the source from which he had gotten this timely information as to the presence of the pontoons. It seems that General William Mitchell, who commanded all American Aviation at the Front, had been at the French Army Headquarters during the night of the fifteenth, getting the reports from the Front and making his a?rial dispositions accordingly. An hour before daybreak on the morning of the sixteenth he left the French Headquarters and without telling any one his intended movements he drove his high-powered automobile, with all haste, to the American Pursuit Airdrome about fifty kilometers away. Climbing into a single place Spad, the General hastily drew out a pocket notebook and scribbled a few words to his chief of staff, and handed this note to his mechanic. Then the General headed his plane into the wind 80and with whirring motor sailed off into the somber darkness. At the first glimpse of dawn he was over Fere-en-Tardenois, fifteen miles within the German lines. He saw the glare of the village, but the usual whiteness of the roads was not there—they were of a greenish hue, like the morning mist surrounding them. It was hard to comprehend the magnitude of this view. Heading south for five miles, the roads presented the same aspect. From fifteen thousand feet the General swept down to three thousand. Here he could realize the awful fact of what was taking place below him—the whitened roads were green with the thousands of German troops driving on toward the Marne with the steadiness and determination of a huge caterpillar. On south he flew—the Germans were everywhere—infesting the whole salient like a plague of locusts. Reaching the Marne, it was certain the inevitable had happened—one, two, three, four, five—five pontoon bridges already across and the onrushing Huns were marching across in terrible precision.
It was singularly fortunate that the man who undertook this hazardous mission was a rare tactician and strategist. He realized the awful truth where the ordinary airman would not have conceived the possibilities of such a situation. The General knew that the biggest German Army ever concentrated was on the move in a final effort to intimidate and conquer the world.
He made a landing in a small wheat field at the French Army Headquarters. It would have been 81folly to go on to the American Airdrome for if ever seconds were golden this was the time. He told the supreme commander the extent of his observation and how far back the Germans were concentrated. It was realized that it would be absolutely inconceivable to attempt to hold back this advance by a frontal attack. There was only one thing to do—we must flank the German Army and force them to withdraw or be annihilated. This must be done within three days or the Germans would break the line of our armies and march unmolested to Paris, coming up and flanking our own Northern forces. Going to his own Headquarters, the General was handed the note he had written to his distinguished chief of operations, Captain Phil Roosevelt. It simply stated that if he did not return by eight o’clock that morning to notify Brereton to take command of the American Aviation at the Front. The distinguished Roosevelt had also been out doing some rough riding so the note had never reached his hands.
This flight of General Mitchell’s needs no comment—it was no less than wonderful, and when the flyers finally heard who had made it, our morale was strengthened one hundred per cent. We felt we had a fighting General sure enough.
The Germans continued their crossing on the sixteenth, sweeping on down toward Epernay on the seventeenth and on the night of the seventeenth it rained. It rained all night; and all night long, passing our headquarters were troops going up to the 82front; all night long we could hear their continuous tramping; the roads were hydraulically jammed with cannons, ammunition trains, supplies and troops. They were going to Chateau-Thierry. They were retreating from the south it seemed, but why did they come to this side of the salient? Why not stop the Germans by a frontal defense?
In a few hours we knew why for on the night of the seventeenth, at nine o’clock we received orders from General DeGouttes of the French Army that the French Army, in connection with the First American Army Corps, would attack all the way from Soissons to Chateau-Thierry in an effort to flank the German advance and would continue at any and all costs until the Germans were forced to withdraw from the salient or face annihilation.
The attack was to start at daybreak on the following morning. Then I heard of Mitchell’s flight and information. His recommendations had been concurred in by Marshal Foch and General Pershing. There was some activity in our headquarters. We got hold of our squadron and balloon commanders and ordered them to report immediately. By the time they all got there it was eleven thirty at night. Harwood was still up at the line where he had been all day in liaison with the line units. Brereton was over in conference with the Corps Commander, General Liggett. Lieutenant Mathis was busy getting out the necessary maps, so, I took the orders for the battle and, like a young Napoleon, I told the whole story and made the a?rial dispositions for the first 83day. Fortunately the squadron and balloon units had already been assigned to the various line units and had made some arrangements. Of course, the suddenness of the attack, and the short time we had been there, had caused many details to be incomplete. I told them that they would still have to go up to the lines that night and see the units to which they were assigned in order to be on the job at daybreak. This was absolutely necessary and yet it did not seem that they could possibly be able to get there due to the roads being packed with the on-marching troops. It was a great question, but it was the only way possible. Ben Harwood, our liaison officer, saved the day, for he came in just as I was about to dismiss them. Ben had shown his natural initiative and resourcefulness, and had already been to every American unit. He had gotten the big news while still at the front lines and had, very fortunately, obtained all the necessary liaison information. Harwood took over the meeting, explained everything he had learned from the line units, and by one-thirty o’clock all the squadron and balloon commanders were on their way back to their organizations to get out the necessary orders and to see that the planes were at the lines at zero hour.
The rain stopped just before daybreak. It seemed that even the heavens were effecting a close, immediate and personal liaison with us, as Harwood would say. When the barrage lifted and the boys went over the top in America’s first big effort, they found there to cheer them and to assist them the 84drone of airplanes, upon the wings of which was painted the American cocarde. It was the real launching of American aviation—it was truly the beginning of the end.
We were tremendously handicapped by the shortage of pilots and observers and during the entire period of the offensive we were unable to get replacements for our casualties. In our office we were taking care of the transmission of every order pertaining to the Air Service, taking care of the aviation movements, issuing of instructions, getting out the necessary reports and information. Our office personnel consisted of Colonel Brereton, Lieutenant Harwood, Lieutenant Mathis and Sergeant “Spike” Marlin, of whom I cannot speak too highly for sticking to the job throughout that prolonged period. The boy was sick at the time, but knowing we had no one else, he stayed right with it and worked on the average of twenty hours a day for two weeks straight. I might incidentally say that all of the rest did the same. In fact, our real activities began when the Germans made their attack on the fifteenth and with our Shortage of personnel it was necessary that some one be on the job day and night. Our losses were terrible. It began to tell on me for I was losing all my dearest friends.
Tired and exhausted under this three days’ strain, in which we had about two hours sleep nightly, on the third day of our own drive, namely, the twentieth of July, at about ten in the morning, it was deemed necessary by the American and French High 85Commanders that a long distance reconnaissance should be made immediately in order to determine as near as possible the intention of the enemy. The Americans did not have an Army Reconnaissance Squadron at Chateau-Thierry at the time so the mission came to us for proper action.
I talked it over with Brereton and we agreed that in order to do the mission properly with full justice to every one concerned it would take not less than twenty-five planes and considering the distance of the mission, the time necessary in the air to complete it, and the supremacy of the air held by the Germans, based upon the average of our casualties, we decided we would lose not less than eight of these planes, with a minimum of sixteen officers.
But things were in a very peculiar situation. We had been temporarily stopped and it was necessary to find out whether the Germans intended to make a firm stand or whether their stand was only temporary, in order to give them time to withdraw their forces from the south. When we came to our decision we consulted the high command, telling them the number of planes it would take and what our minimum losses would be. We impressed upon them our already heavy casualties and how short we were of airplanes. The answer was that the importance of the mission would justify all losses should the desired information be gained.
At this answer I suddenly became a tactician and strategist. I hit Brereton with the suggestion that if we could find a pilot and an observer who were 86overloaded with “guts” and properly “hardboiled” and who did not care much for their lives, they might be able to get in fine by going very low and thus get the information. My idea was that if we went in with twenty-five planes this would be such a force that the Germans would be able to concentrate practically their entire Richtofen circus against us before we would have had time to make the large circuit assigned and get out, while if one plane went in, extremely low, several favorable suppositions might be possible; namely, the German Chasse Patrols, high in the heavens above, seeing a plane so far behind the line, would not think that it could possibly be other than a friendly plane; and being by itself, the anti-aircraft and the command reporting it would not call out so much pursuit as they otherwise would; and, furthermore, being alone the pursuit planes would not have so much chance of finding it. I agreed with Brereton that it was practically hopeless, but at the same time it was a long chance and as it was in the middle of the day, if this mission failed we could have another mission of the twenty-five planes required, in readiness to take off to perform the mission in compliance with the original plan. This large formation could leave as soon as definite news was obtained that the first plane had been shot down, or that it had failed to return after a reasonable time. Brereton laughed sarcastically and said, “That idea is just about as feasible as a single aviator trying to fly to Berlin, picking out 87the Kaiser from the rest of the squareheads and hitting him with a bomb.”
I accused him of being arbitrary for not giving valid reasons against the plan whereupon he sprang to his feet and puckering up in his singular way, exclaimed, “I am running this Air Service, Lieutenant, and I don’t need any suggestions from First Lieutenants.”
Tired and exhausted from lack of sleep, a court martial didn’t matter any more to me than five cents does to a millionaire, and Brereton, who had suffered the same loss of sleep and, of course, more serious irritation on account of his responsibility, did not care any more for a poor Lieutenant than an elephant does for a fly. The dog’s hair had been rubbed the wrong way for I reared up on my hind legs and began to paw air and it looked like the Corps Air Service was to have a slight disruption. I was so sore that I almost bawled. I hotly informed Brereton that if I was to hold the job of Operations Officer I intended to express my opinion, and if it wasn’t approved, he had a right to say so in a military manner, and in no other.
Then came my downfall. I raved on, “I’m getting good and tired of this proposition of being stuck up on one of these bullet-proof jobs when all my buddies are flying two and three times a day and getting killed,” and after a moment of silence, I continued, “I came over to be a fighter and I want 88to go to the Squadron and take my chances with the rest of them.”
Brereton was worn out and was in no mood to be irritated. “Well,” he sharply and decisively replied, “if you want to go down to the Squadron, go ahead, no one’s holding you.”
This made me more peevish than ever, for I had in some way or other acquired the idea that the Corps Air Service could not possibly exist without me. My pride was bruised forever. With even more irony he went on as if to leave no opportunity for a repetition of such bluffing on my part, “If you’re so hardboiled and brave, why don’t you tackle the mission you just outlined. Go ahead and win yourself the Croix de Bois (Cross of Wood).”
I was serious about the proposition; I was pretty sure of getting killed, but after that last sneering remark my decision was formed. Momentarily, I hated Lewis Hyde Brereton more than I ever hated any one in my life, but I knew his weakness, so, I was determined that we should die together.
“Well, why don’t you go on?” he hotly demanded.
It was up to me; I did not have the composure of a jack-rabbit, and I began to paw air again, pound the table and turn red, and said, “Well, Major L. H. Brereton, I’ll go, you know that, and I’ll get the information, but I can’t pilot a plane. I am the observer. If you will order,” and I accentuated “order,” “a pilot for me, there will be no further delay.”
I knew he would do it. He only needed to be 89brought to the psychological moment. I knew his big nature would not permit him to order any one on such a mission. Changing from his irritant, harsh and denouncing manner, his face registered the greatest possible human kindness and the merry twinkle in his eye told the world we were friends again.
“Well, Elmer,” he said, in a sharply pitched voice, which, however, carried deepest respect and utmost conviction, “we have never asked any one yet to do what we would not do ourselves. If you want to go on that mission, I’ll go with you.”
We hopped into Brereton’s motor car and were off to the airdrome. Mathis called the squadron and instructed them to have the command plane in readiness. On the way to the airdrome the trip was marked by a prolonged silence. We were not particularly fisty; at least, I was not, because I was beginning to realize the magnitude of our undertaking. It seemed to me that we were already making the flight. Just as a flyer keeps a cool and level head when actually engaged in a combat, even though at great odds, so, as we sped on, I did not feel any particular nervousness. It was not necessary to talk over the mission for Brereton knew as well as I what we were supposed to do, and the route we must take.
Arriving at the airdrome we found the plane ready. Only a few officers were on the field and to these we said nothing more than the ordinary greeting between flyers when leaving on a mission. We climbed into our places. Brereton played with the 90throttle for a few moments, then he turned around and in the usual way preparatory to taking off he asked, “All clear, Elmer?” I looked around to see if any other planes were in the air, whose landing might interfere with our taking off; seeing none, I answered as cheerfully as possible, “All O.K., Sir.” But he did not take off; he allowed the motor to idle away. Suddenly he turned his head and in a tone that indicated profound sincerity, and at the same time extreme uncertainty, he said, “Elmer, we’re a couple of boobs. We’ve got no business doing this job. If they do get us who in the devil is going to run this Air Service? Your darned hunch is all wrong this time.”
Here was a thought that had not entered my mind for we alone were familiar with every detail of the organization of the operations for the drive and our loss at that particular time would really have been felt. I personally felt it was too late then to change, but this was a question which I felt was up to the Chief himself to decide, so after thinking it over a moment I said, “Use your own judgment, Sir.” He hesitated a few seconds, then shrugged his shoulders and turned loose, “Well, I guess Bill Mitchell can handle it all right, and as he made that flight the other day by himself, I guess we, together, can make this one.” He pulled his goggles down over his eyes, hastily adjusted his helmet, motioned the mechanics to remove the blocks.
“All clear, Elmer?” he questioned.
“All clear, Sir,” I replied.
91He gave her the gun and we were off. We headed straight over Coulommiers, to La Ferte sous Jouarre, which was the headquarters of the 1st U. S. Army Corps, and followed the Marne on to Chateau-Thierry. We lost no time in climbing, but in a steady path like the crow flies we went directly over the lines. We were only nine hundred feet high and every feature on the ground seemed to stand out perfectly. Our course carried us straight north along the road from Chateau-Thierry to Roucourt; from here we branched off toward Fere-en-Tardenois, and from Fere-en-Tardenois we hovered along the road to Grandes Loges and St. Remy. Leaving St. Remy we clung to the road leading north and finally reached Soissons. Banking to the right we skimmed along the River Vesle, searching the roads on both banks to Misy-sur-Aisne. We followed the Vesle down to Braisne and Fismes. At Fismes we were thirty kilometers within the German lines, and had reached our farthest objective; it was now only necessary to get out without being caught.
I cannot remember the exact route we took in getting out. I only remember that Brereton asked me at Fismes, which way home and I answered, “south with the wind.” I remember that we crossed the Marne again at Dormans and headed toward La Ferte to drop our message of information. In fact on the trip out I was not concerned with the route particularly—I knew that south meant home and we already had the information wanted, so, to 92me, life and happiness meant home by the shortest possible route.
 
ROUTE · COVERED · BY · ‘BRERETON’S · FAMOUS · FLIGHT’
In undertaking such a mission as this, that is, in being so far behind the lines without protection, I fully realized the utter futility of trying to concentrate 93my attention on the sky in search of enemy planes and at the same time do justice to the importance of the mission which would require practically constant attention to the ground. I quite well know that if we were caught so far back we would have no possible chance to get away with our lives, so, in my mind, it was of no importance to watch the sky. My watching the heavens would not help us from being seen, but at the same time, as we were carried along, I was also carried off with a multitude and variety of thoughts. About the biggest question I was attempting to solve was just how long I would last after a German patrol started after me. Then, I figured myself falling in flames. It is strange the many thoughts that will play upon one’s mind in similar circumstances. The sudden pangs of regret that you ever left the airdrome and even more sincere sorrow that you ever got into the Air Service; the wondering what the boys in the Squadron are doing, and how the folks back home are, and whether you will ever see them again, and what the preacher in the village church will say at your memorial services and whether the Commander of the Army will write your mother a nice letter of condolence and whether the girl who jolted you will be sorry; and you wonder what you would finally have turned out to be if you had not been killed, and other such trivial, little things; and the fact that you had wished you had burned all your letters before you left and a lot of little things you should have attended to before—for instance, on that 94flight I remembered that I was directed to call up the Corps Artillery Squadron and relieve them from two flights during that day. I brooded over the thought that if that Squadron went on with those flights and one of the flyers got killed how sorry I would be—how sorry I was that I had not attended to that before going out on this fool trip myself.
I was certainly thankful that I had $10,000 worth of Government life insurance and was wondering how my mother would get along on $57.50 per month for twenty years, and I wished I had taken out $20,000 worth in private life insurance instead of spending two hundred dollars last month in Paris. All these more serious thoughts were going through my mind, having practically no one dependent upon me and with only the expendable rank of First Lieutenant upon my shoulders, and then I thought of poor, old Brereton with a wife and two children, and a Major’s responsibility. Very shortly before this, Major Brown, in command of the 96th Squadron, had gotten lost in Germany and had landed with five other American planes and their crews, and this matter had occasioned unfavorable remarks as to his judgment. None of Brereton’s friends would ever be able to explain why, in his responsible position, he ever even started out on such a hazardous mission as this.
Well, I came to the conclusion that one has two brains—one constructive and the other retrospective, for actually while I was thinking all of those things I was at the same time intently watching the ground 95and carefully noting the location of all my information.
That trip, from a standpoint of a war panorama, was a sight-seeing tour of wonder. Imagine the solid and continuous barrage of thousands and thousands of shells bursting in a line for miles and miles, the barking cannons on each side, like so many ferocious dogs spitting fire, roads filled with on-marching troops, coming up in formation from both sides, walking as it were, into that veritable valley of death and destruction; the air filled with hostile planes and our whole safety depending upon the supposition of being alone and so far behind the lines that the Germans would not realize the presence of an enemy plane.
We must have seen between a total of seventy-five and one hundred German airplanes during the entire flight, for do not think that we kept our eyes glued to the ground all the time; at least I did not; and in one place we were so near a Boche airdrome that we saw the German planes on the field milling around about ready to buzz up after us. Yet even at such a low altitude we were only fired at once or twice by machine guns from the ground. At the front the machine guns were busy firing forward and in the rear there did not seem to be any available.
Our mission had been a long one and one of the few in which the crew can use their own judgment. So, when he circled over La Ferte, the Headquarters of the Corps, and dropped our message, we had not 96only stated the facts as we had seen them, but also our conclusions, taking the whole aspect as it presented itself.
When we got back to the field Brereton circled the field twice before he could land. He was considerably discomposed—personally, I was the living Wreck of the Hesperus. Brereton’s car was waiting and we rushed up to headquarters. The boys on the field were still ignorant as to where we had been and what we had done. Neither Brereton nor I said very much about the mission for we didn’t know whether we would be condemned for undertaking it or congratulated upon its successful completion. Of course, the line units around Corps Headquarters did not realize exactly the importance of such an undertaking, although I admit that Lieutenant Colonel Williams, whom we affectionately called “Houdini,” and who was in charge of G-2 Information Group, stated that night, at the nine o’clock conference, that it was good dope and whoever got it, he certainly wanted to congratulate them. Brereton kept closed like a clam, while the position of my mouth was not unlike an oyster. However, when the French Air Service Commander, Commandant Gerard, heard of it, and he knew of it almost immediately, he came right over and offered his congratulations and was very profuse in his praise. Then we began to think we had really done something. The French told General Mitchell about it and he came right up to Headquarters and patted me on the back. Brereton was out, but when General 97Mitchell did that I knew we had done something.
In a very short time came the famous order of the great French officer who commanded our Army—General De Gouttes. It was as follows:
SECRET
VIth Army ? ? ? 24 July 21h 50.
TELEPHONE ORDER.
The enemy is in retreat on all our front. I give the order to march without stopping in such a way as to lay hands upon the enemy, to accelerate his retreat and not to lose contact with him under any pretext.
DE GOUTTES.
136/G3 ? ? ? Headquarters 1st A. C.
24 July 1918.
Copy transmitted for your information and thorough compliance.
By Command of Major General Liggett:
MALIN CRAIG,
Chief of Staff.
Hq. First Army Corps
Official
Operations Section
Afterwards, when we were around French Headquarters we were always pointed out as “tres fort” and “tres brave” and were treated with a great deal of consideration by the French, for they considered the flight as about the greatest thing they had seen pulled off for some time, especially since the information 98had been accurate and had been of great assistance. In fact, they thought it was so good that they did not hesitate to decorate Brereton with the Legion of Honor and the Croix de Guerre. At that time I was only a Lieutenant so I was decorated with the Croix de Guerre and, as Brereton expressed it, as long as I was with him I was in the Region of Honor. However, I received stacks of approbation that I feared for a while would be condemnation, but those are the chances one takes in undertaking any flight which is revolutionary in the form of tactics or strategy. In fact, if we had been shot down on the mission and had been unsuccessful we would probably have been referred to, even at this late date, as the participants in “Brereton’s Famous Flight,” only there would have been a different accent of insinuation on the word “Famous” than there now is in its common acceptance.