‘May 1917! It is a splendid spring day, trees in full bloom, the radiant blue sky extends over the … Somme countryside. Only lightly attired, I lie under the wondrously flowering apple tree, let the burning afternoon sun shine on my body, stretch myself in the pleasant warmth. Now and then there is a gentle breeze; then white and pink blossoms flutter down on to me. Everything around me, as far as the eye wanders across the broad countryside, breathes of peace. It is also quiet today at the frontlines. Silently our sleek [Albatros] aeroplanes stand in front of their tent-hangars; they are also sunning themselves. Down below, the Oise river winds its way to the south west; its waters shimmering. I stare into the endless sky, which shows not even the smallest cloud, and dream. High in its zenith stands the sun, sending out incandescent fire, everything draws closer beneath the shady canopy of blossoms.

‘Suddenly harsh thuds pierce the peace of the spring day; in the north there are white shrapnel clouds in the blue heavens, at high altitude the sound of engines is as faint as the hum of bees. “Enemy flyers in sight”, calls out the sentry. With one blow the numbness dissolves, we jump up and get dressed. The dreams are forgotten, the weariness is gone, muscles and senses become taut. The engines of our aeroplanes thunder into life – we are ready.

‘”All clear” is the last command. My machine races across the grass, after a few seconds I take off from the ground. I am flying. The pitching and vibrating has stopped, my bird calmly climbs on high, towards the sun. I look around me; following close behind me, the [patrol] leader, are three other aeroplanes. They depend on me to lead them into battle and to victory, just as I trust them to follow me wherever I lead them. Higher and higher we climb, farther and farther the countryside stretches below us. There is nothing more of the oppressive mid-day heat to be felt; cold, fresh currents of air rush by us. The 160-horsepower engine works calmly and surely; at 130 kilometres per hour we climb southward toward the sun in order to remain unseen to the enemy, lying in wait within its powerful rays …

‘Now the altimeter shows 5,000 metres. We are high enough to be able to reach the enemy bombers, which at this altitude intrude deeply into our rear. I throw my machine onto one wing and steer a northerly course. The others follow this manoeuvre as quick as lightning and the swarm is again gathered tightly. Restlessly, eyes search the horizon to find our opponent. We are approaching Cambrai. Then, suddenly, again there are exploding puffs from our anti-aircraft guns; they are at about 4,000 metres. Right after that I catch sight of the enemy: four big bombers hastening back to their frontlines. But they are not alone; several single-seat fighters are advancing across the frontlines to make contact with their returning comrades and cover them. Now … lightning-quick, the decision must be made as to which of the two groups is to be attacked. A battle against the bombers – with the enemy single-seaters behind us – promises little success. Therefore, first [we go] against the single-seaters. We have higher altitude and dive with greater speed onto the smaller machines and at the same time cut off the line of retreat of the big planes coming from the east.

‘Unexpectedly, we break out of the cover of the sun and open fire. Our [single-seat] opponents are confounded, bring their machines about and flee behind their own frontlines. They are beaten in the field of battle and now can only follow the main attack of the bombers, which are still over our territory. We hurry after [the bombers] in a dive and in tight turns each of us gets behind his opponent. By this manoeuvre I have come out slightly ahead of my comrades and in the blink of an eye, as I charge into the formation, I am alone for a few seconds. Fierce machine-gun fire from four aeroplanes crackles towards me; an angry rattling resounds unpleasantly in my ears. The smoke streaks of the incendiary ammunition come whistling close by me. Gritting my teeth, I get closer to them. To the right and left, my people now appear and bring relief. I still have one opponent to deal with. Infuriated, he hurls his bullets at me, I dive below him and gain momentum so that I can pursue him like an arrow. The enemy observer stretches far out of his cockpit to be able to shoot more easily at me; just then I also open fire. At the same time my two machine guns hurl a hail of metal into the enemy aeroplane. From thirty to fifty metres’ distance, I am now right at his fuselage, while his stream of fire comes right by me. But I do not let up and soon the observer slumps over. Just after that an enormous flame of fire bursts out of the machine and … the enemy aeroplane explodes. Wood and metal splinters fly everywhere and endanger my machine; quickly, I pull up to climb above the wreckage swirling in the air. Below me, the brightly flaming fuselage and its crew plunge to the ground. The wings break off and follow slowly smouldering, leaving behind a black ribbon of smoke. This all took only a few moments, but it was an experience of great stress! The enemy is demolished. I look around me and a thousand metres below me I see a comrade in battle with an opponent which he forces lower and lower until finally … [it] hits the ground and smashes to pieces.

‘Less successful were both of our comrades: each of their opponents just barely got away. The four of us formed up tightly together, set a course for our airfield and a few minutes later I am again lying under my blossoming tree – it has not even been an hour since we were resting here.

‘Again I stare into the sky, in which everything is now calm, and think about my brave opponents – Englishmen – who now find their graves in France’s soil. My nerves tingle faintly [from the recent excitement] while a steamy oppressive humidity spreads over the countryside. “My second victory,” says my comrade, who is stretched out contentedly in the blazing sun. I reply: “My seventh”. Tranquillity rules again, as we dream on. Strong thunder rumbles and black clouds move in from the south, lightning flashes, the relief of thunderstorms draws near. Gusts of strong wind disrupt the oppressive humidity of the late afternoon. Heavy drops of rain come pelting down. We hurry inside. Refreshed by the stormy air, we sit in the garden of our quarters in the evening twilight and there the Staffelführer [Bruno Loerzer] raises his glass. We drink to the victors: “Vivant sequentes! [Long live those who are to come!]”.

‘Lightly we clink our glasses together, the ice-cool wine relieves the burning thirst of the hot day. Yes, vivant sequentes!’⁴⁷

The RFC war diary entry for 10 May offers another albeit less dramatic view of the quartet of D.H.4s that Göring’s patrol engaged:

‘A photographic reconnaissance of No. 55 Squadron had heavy fighting during the whole time they were over the lines. As a result of the combat, one German machine was destroyed by Lieut. Pitt and 2nd Lieut. Holroyde, and two were driven down out of control – one by Capt. Rice and 2nd Lieut. Clarke, and the other by 2nd Lieut. Webb and 1/AM Bond.’⁴⁸

There were no German fighter aircraft losses corresponding to these claims; indeed, there was only one fighter loss that day – Leutnant der Reserve Werner Albert of Jasta 31 – and it occurred over Vaudesincourt⁴⁹ in the Champagne Sector. It took place too far east to be connected to 55 Squadron’s operations.

However, a British source confirms the loss of 55 Squadron’s D.H.4s over German lines that day, while making a photographic reconnaissance of a seven-kilometre area from Caudry to Neuvilly, northwest of Le Cateau:

•	The crew of Second-Lieutenants Bevan W. Pitt and John S. Holroyde50 in D.H.4 A.7416, whose aircraft, according to RFC records, was last seen going ‘down in flames and … [was] seen to crash at Le Cateau … A German publication states that both pilot and observer were killed.’51
•	Captain H. Senior and Corporal P.H. Holland, R.E.52 in D.H.4 A.7413, whose ‘machine [was] brought down at Gouzeaucourt … pilot wounded, observer killed’.53
•	Second-Lieutenant Trevor Webb and Aircraftsman 1st Class (Sergeant) Walter Bond54 in D.H.4 A.7419, whose ‘machine was seen to fall in pieces at Le Cateau as a result of a direct hit by A.A. fire… A German publication states that both pilot and observer were killed.’55

In addition to Göring’s claim of credit for a D.H.4 that exploded in the air over Le Pavé, just over twenty-five kilometres west of Le Cateau, there were two other German participants in this fight: Leutnant Walter Blume, also of Jasta 26, who claimed a British two-seater northeast of Gouzeaucourt, some thirty-two kilometres west of Le Cateau; and Vizefeldwebel Fritz Krebs claimed a British normally ‘fuselaged’ biplane north of Le Cateau. All three claims were approved.⁵⁶

Sorting out the claims, it seems most likely that Göring shot down the two-seater that exploded; despite the RFC contention that the Webb-Bond aeroplane was hit by antiaircraft, no German anti-aircraft [Flug-Abwehr-Kanone, popularly known as Flak] unit claimed a two-seater in that area on 10 May.⁵⁷ Blume’s claim of a two-seater northeast of Gouzeaucourt was almost certainly the aircraft in which Captain Senior and Corporal Holland were brought down. And, Krebs’ claim of a victory north of Le Cateau surely involved the Pitt-Holroyde D.H.4.

The unnamed comrade with whom Göring chatted lightly after the fight was Leutnant Walter Blume, who achieved his first (not second) aerial victory that day. Blume had been a successful combat pilot in Feldflieger-Abteilung 65 in Alsace and, on 31 January 1917, became among the first pilots to join Jasta 26. He made steady progress in his air fighting career and, after he shot down twenty-seven enemy aeroplanes, on 2 October 1918 he was awarded the coveted Pour le Mérite.⁵⁸

Command of Jagdstaffel 27

A week after Göring scored his seventh aerial victory, the commanding general of the air force appointed him as Staffelführer of Jasta 27. Established on 5 February 1917,⁵⁹ the Staffel was initially led by Leutnant Hans von Keudell, a founding member of Jasta 1 and an eleven-victory ace; he started with four pilots, mechanics and fighter aircraft (older machines used by Jastas 8 and 18) and three aeroplanes and pilots from Armee-Flugpark 4 [Army Air Park 4] in Gent. Keudell led this battle force to its first airfield, at Ghistelles⁶⁰ in the 4th Army Sector in Flanders,⁶¹ where the next Allied offensive was anticipated. Keudell scored Jasta 27’s first aerial victory, on 15 February, but was himself shot down and killed the same day.⁶² He was succeeded by Württemberg native Leutnant der Reserve Phillip Wieland, who had scored an aerial victory while with Feldflieger-Abteilung 6 and went on to fly with Jasta 8 before joining Keudell’s crew.⁶³ In late March, Wieland moved the unit⁶⁴ southwest to an airfield at Iseghem, in the 6th Army Sector.⁶⁵ The new airfield was even closer to the battles that would mark Bloody April, but Jasta 27 faced a daunting task: it was the only mid-to-high-flying single-seat fighter unit assigned to Gruppe Souchez,⁶⁶ one of five aircraft unit groupings in the 6th Army Sector. Jasta 27 and three Schutzstaffeln [protection flights] of low-level two-seat ground attack aircraft⁶⁷ were responsible for four two-seat reconnaissance / artillery cooperation units.⁶⁸ Additionally, Jasta 27 lacked new aeroplanes – and an aggressive Staffelführer with more combat experience.