SERVICE FOR THE NATION
‘As soon as it can happen, I want to become a pilot. Should my ability, my will, always be dependent on another person? Should the weakness of one person hinder my strength ...?’1
RUDOLF BERTHOLD
The first few days of World War I were a kaleidoscope of events for Rudolf Berthold. When he departed Wittenberg on that fateful Saturday, 1 August 1914, the streets overflowed with streams of soldiers. They were heading off to trains that would carry them to battlefront staging areas. All were swept up in the passion of the moment.
But, when Berthold arrived in Grossenhain that evening, the city appeared to be a ghost town. After a night during which nervous excitement hardly let him sleep, he was roused and inspired by the sound of Sunday church bells. After breakfast, Berthold’s spirits soared further upon seeing, as he wrote in his diary:
‘... an infantry battalion passing by. What a happy and refreshing sight! They are singing, marching with flowers in their buttonholes and on the bayonets of their rifles! They are invincible in their hopes! Despite the seriousness of the situation, they have happy, sparkling eyes. It was as if everyone was part of a big family... As if awakened by a knock at the door, I snap out of my musings ... My service for the nation begins.’2
Berthold marvelled at the soldiers and cavalrymen he had seen in Wittenberg – all distinguished by orderly rows of uniform designs and colours. Such pageantry and splendid heraldry had drawn him to military service. But, arriving at the Grossenhain airfield a day later, he saw various modes of attire; the Fliegertruppe was so new that it did not have a distinctive uniform. The variety of regimental dress worn by men reporting to the airfield made it hard to comprehend that all of them belonged to a cohesive aviation entity.
While Prussia dominated the German empire since it came into being on 18 January 1871, the Kingdoms of Bavaria, Saxony and Württemberg – and most of the lesser states – continued to send their own regiments into the field and retain links to them. The Kingdom of Prussia wisely allowed this expression of regional heritage and the subsequent mixture of disparate uniforms worn by aviation personnel during the war. In keeping with this sense of military autonomy, the Grossenhain facility was dedicated as a Königlicher Sächsischer Fliegerhorst [Royal Saxon Air Base].3
Feldflieger-Abteilung 23 Goes to War
Officially, Berthold was still attached to the 3. Kompanie des Flieger-Bataillons Nr. 1 [3rd Company of Aviation Battalion No. 1], which was also assigned to Saxony.4 There were five Flieger-Bataillons5 and all became gathering points for men to be assigned to various aviation units. After reporting to the airfield, Berthold was assigned as an aviation observer to Feldflieger-Abteilung 23 [Field Flying Section 23]. That unit, along with FFAs 24 and 29 and Etappen-Flugzeug-Park 3 [Advanced Area Aeroplane Depot 3]6, were among thirty-four FFAs and eight EFPs established by the Inspektion der Fliegertruppen [Inspectorate of the Flying Service] to provide aerial reconnaissance and bombing for German armies in the field.7
FFA 23 was commanded by thirty-two-year-old Oberleutnant [First Lieutenant] Otto Freiherr Vogel von Falckenstein.8 A pre-war flyer he, in 1911,9 completed the aviation course at Döberitz, on the western edge of Berlin, and participated in early air events.10 Vogel von Falckenstein had also been one of three company leaders of Flieger-Bataillon 1 when it was established at Döberitz.11 Hence, FFA 23 had a seasoned, knowledgeable and well-connected pilot in command.
But, the brisk and effective type of organisation that Berthold witnessed among ground troops dispatched from Wittenberg did not carry over to Germany’s new aviation branch. To begin with, FFA 23’s standard allotment of six aeroplanes12 consisted of Mars-Taube [Dove] monoplanes produced by the Deutsche Flugzeugwerke [German aeroplane works] – abbreviated as DFW – in nearby Leipzig. Their low speed made them popular among student pilots, but made them unsuitable for wartime flight operations. The Flieger-Bataillon provided commanding officers for many of the first military field aviation units13 and FFA 23 leader Vogel von Falckenstein drew on contacts with his former superiors to obtain expedited delivery of more modern replacement machines.
Thus, on the sixth day of mobilisation, Friday, 7 August 1914, FFA 23 headed off to war with new DFW two-seat biplanes.14 At that point, the efficient German railroad system was sending 550 trains per day15 to German cities closest to the frontlines in Belgium and France.
A DFW Mars-Taube monoplane, the type first assigned to FFA 23. (Heinz J. Nowarra)
FFA 23’s men, aircraft and equipment were on one of those trains, travelling westward across Germany to Montjoie [now called Monschau], south of Aachen, near the Belgian border. FFA 23 was assigned to the German 2nd Army,16 commanded by Generaloberst [Colonel-General17] Karl von Bülow. The 2nd Army was part of a broad ‘wheeling’ movement intended to sweep through northern Belgium, into central France and then, in concert with Generaloberst Alexander von Kluck’s 1st Army, to surround Paris.18
At various points during the journey, Berthold wrote in his diary:
‘We were on the train for forty-eight hours, which seemed endlessly long ... Finally we approached our destination. There was hours-long waiting before we disembarked. One military transport after another plodded through the unloading. The evening sky was blood-red. The muffled rumbling of the cannons gave us an inkling of the severity of the firing at Liège that had begun.’19
On Sunday, 9 August, FFA 23 was ordered to send up two-man crews to reconnoitre the area south of Maastricht in the Netherlands, being careful not to violate Dutch neutrality, and over the heavily-defended Belgian fortress cities of Liège and Namur and then south to Dinant to determine the locations of any Belgian or French forces opposing the steadily-advancing German 1st and 2nd Armies that made up the right flank of the invasion force. But once again the new aviation branch experienced growing pains; disassembled aeroplanes and support equipment were not as easily put into action as ground troops and horses. Berthold described the situation:
‘Unloading proceeded with feverish haste. Each two-man aircrew competes with the other because each wants to achieve the first flight over the enemy ... Some of us already know one another from our peacetime service. The abteilung is made up of six aeroplanes, an Abteilungsführer [literally section leader, actually commanding officer] and adjutants, seven pilots20 and as many observers.21 They are really nice fellows. Our leader, Vogel von Falckenstein, has a true Prussian soldier’s disposition and is an accomplished old pilot. Everything went so smoothly thanks to his aviation experience and his tireless efforts …’22
By Saturday, 15 August, the aircraft were assembled and housed within large hangar-tents on the newly-cleared airstrip. Nearby, smaller tents for aircrews and ground support staff were erected. Later that day, Rudolf Berthold and Leutnant Johannes Viehweger, a prewar pilot,23 made FFA 23’s first flight over the battlefront. They were armed with a pistol and a rifle for Berthold’s use. As the observer, he was in charge of the aeroplane and directed the pilot where to fly; he was also responsible for the aeroplane’s defence. He described the mission:
‘It was bad weather today, but we advanced to the Meuse river. How proud I am ... to be the first observer in the abteilung who has flown ahead of our cavalry and brought back the first report about the enemy! The bullet holes in the wings show that it was not easy for us to be over the enemy territory; we flew an all too straight course [with no zig-zagging]. The Army High Command was surprised; they had, perhaps ... not given aviation too much credit. Therefore, our flight showed that the aeroplane, through its reconnaissance capability, must have an important significance for the ground troops.
‘The flight itself was beautiful, but difficult. Our airfield at Montjoie is in the worst spot imaginable. Big forests stretch out to the south, to the east and west are steep slopes and to the north there is a village … The day came with Belgian fog. One had to recognise it: inscrutably it crept coldly under the skin. We waited for hours, but the fog would not clear. Finally, toward noon, it lifted and cloud formations appeared. Liberated, my pilot and I breathed sighs of relief, hauled the aeroplane out of the hangar-tent, and an hour later we found ourselves over the Ardennes forest, heading toward the French town of Givet, along the Meuse river.
‘It was very difficult to gain orientation. At the outset, at 1,000 metres altitude, we had a clear view, but all we saw was forest, endless trees, no railroad line, no river, no valley. For a time, dense fog obstructed every distant view. Then I said to myself: keep going at any cost ... And finally the forest below again appeared through the haze. Glittering railroad tracks showed their trail. Far below us, along the Meuse, I saw the enemy working feverishly. It seems that we caught them by surprise, as they still lacked a large body of troops. I assessed the situation and made a sketch of it.
‘The engine was running well. The wind was very gusty. My pilot was good at the controls. I pointed my hand to the north. There – with a loud crash – a small white cloud appeared and then another! There was a strange bang in the left wing – we were hit by shrapnel! An anti-aircraft shell almost got us! After a three-hour flight, it was time to go back home, as we had everything we needed.’24
Early FFA 23 air operations were carried out with DFW B.I two-seat biplanes with their distinctive ‘banana’ wings. (Heinz J. Nowarra)
Down Behind Enemy Lines
Two days later, Berthold and Viehweger made a flight to determine whether Belgian or French forces were moving along the Meuse river, where they would come under fire by German forward artillery batteries. Mist, fog and low clouds at about 400 metres obscured any long-range view. But the Army High Command pressed Oblt Vogel von Falckenstein to have his airmen obtain the information. Berthold and Viehweger were in the air only a short time when they became lost. Ever a perfectionist, the observer blamed their sad state on his pilot, later writing in his diary:
‘My pilot did not concentrate on my instructions; I had studied the map very carefully so that we could not fly off course. But in order to avoid the clouds, the pilot withdrew ever further to the south and finally had to land and, of course, it was on such a bad piece of ground that the aeroplane’s entire undercarriage was bent out of shape ...’25
Berthold was enraged by the turn of events, fearing most of all they would be captured. But the first people they met were local villagers, speaking German but probably from Malmédy, a multi-lingual area between Germany and Belgium. The villagers said they saw no German soldiers, but that French cavalrymen were moving through the woods. That was enough for Berthold to lead the dejected Viehweger out of the area.
The two men moved across open fields demarcated by wire fences which, as they passed by and over the barriers, tore at the soft fabric of their flight suits and slowed them down. Berthold was in no mood to talk, but later confided to his diary:
‘We were very hungry and had only a belly full of rage. And all that due only to the fleeting mood of a pilot found to be wanting. As soon as it can happen, I want to become a pilot. Should my ability, my will, always be dependent on another person? Should the weakness of one person hinder my strength, which knows no barrier? ... Indeed, I had much time to think about that, for the way back appeared to be endlessly long. The thorns snagged many pieces from my tunic. The forest was so dense.’26
By now, their FFA 23 comrades knew that, if Berthold and Viehweger were still alive, they were probably down behind enemy lines. While the rest of the unit moved north that day to a better airfield, closer to Liège, the missing crew would be listed as the unit’s first casualties, a distinction that was anathema to the ambitious Berthold. He later became known for his explosive temper and, on this occasion, his unshakeable faith in his own sense of mission enabled him to keep his angry feelings to himself. But, eventually, he must have found a way to voice his disappointment; he never flew again with Viehweger.
As the sun began to set, the two airmen’s fortunes brightened. Berthold wrote:
‘Toward evening we dared to walk closer to the main road; I had my revolver ready to fire. Carefully, we looked all around us. Then, on the road, like a manifestation of our homeland, came a German bicycle patrol feeling its way along! We dashed forward. There was a hoorah from both sides. Saved! ...
‘Our first concern was about our aeroplane. The patrol leader provided the necessary people and then we searched for our bird ... A group of hussars [light cavalry] had found my jacket, which I had thrown away, and saw the abandoned aeroplane. They surmised that we were the crew ... We then explained everything.
‘We dismantled our aeroplane for transport to the new airfield. After a full day’s journey in a car provided by the 3rd Army commanded by Crown Prince Wilhelm we ended up in Liège. We were greeted joyously by our comrades ...’27
Back at their unit, Berthold and Viehweger learned that they were not FFA 23’s only casualties on 17 August. Ltn Aribert Müller-Arles and his pilot, Ltn Hans-Joachim von Seydlitz-Gerstenberg, were brought down over French territory. Müller-Arles was severely wounded and taken prisoner. He remained in French captivity until 6 September 1917, when he was interned in Switzerland28 on humanitarian grounds. Seydlitz-Gerstenberg escaped and made his way back to FFA 23.
From Belgium into France
The German advance proceeded rapidly through Belgium and reached the fortress of Maubeuge, along the Sambre river in northern France, on Sunday, 23 August.29 The next, day FFA 23 Abteilungsführer Otto Vogel von Falckenstein flew over the advance route as far as Philippeville and Beaumont near the Belgian-French border to confirm the enemy forces’ retreat. He selected Ltn Rudolf Berthold to be his observer.30
On 26 August, the day that the five Belgian forts at Namur fell, Vogel von Falckenstein again flew over French territory and took Berthold with him. They flew beyond Maubeuge to Valenciennes,31 the next major objective of the advancing German forces, and returned with useful information. Not so lucky that day, however, was a second FFA 23 crew, which was brought down at Ville Dommange, near Reims, within French lines. The observer, Oblt Karl von Gross,32 was captured and subsequently died at Villers-aux-Noeuds, in French captivity, on 20 September 1914.33 There is no mention of von Gross’s pilot, who may have escaped to German lines; thus, no casualty report would have been necessary.34
Oblt Otto Karl Ferdinand Freiherr Vogel von Falckenstein, FFA 23’s first commanding officer, flew several missions with Rudolf Berthold. (Tobias Weber)
Berthold was assigned to fly with twenty-seven-year-old Oblt Otto Freiherr Marschalck von Bachtenbrock35 to observe the progress of retreating French troops on Monday, 31 August. The two men flew again on 1 and 3 September36 and, on the latter occasion, Berthold reported the retreat had deteriorated into chaotic disarray.37 He wrote:
‘We stride from victory to victory. How happy I am when, through my flights, I can help! Now I fly reconnaissance in any weather and keep the Army High Command well informed. My aeroplane is the only one that is always ready to take off. The opponent does not show up at all. Where are the French aerial performers? ... The enemy retreat back to St. Quentin is orderly. Twice a day I determine the movement of the columns. We are hard on the enemy’s heels: La Fère and Laon have fallen.’38
By late August and early September, the German advance to the Marne river seemed to portend success for the invasion plan and a conclusion of hostilities in France. Berthold’s view from the air – far more accurate than any traditional cavalry reconnoitring – reinforced hopes for German success. He wrote:
‘Every day I have flown reconnaissance missions. First we followed the retreating enemy incessantly to St. Quentin. They were on forced marches ... and I was amazed by the relatively good bearing of the retreating French columns ... But the soldiers were scarcely across the Marne river when there was no longer any restraint: without discipline they threw away their weapons and knapsacks and fled into the countryside ... I went down to 100 metres’ altitude and wrote and sketched what I saw ... The Army High Command’s order was clear: “Relentless pursuit!”’39
The Battle of the Marne
Other events, however, quickly changed the course of the fighting and led to a reversal of German fortunes. Many books and studies have examined that aspect of World War I combat; for this book it is necessary to note only that, on the westward-moving German right flank, Generaloberst von Kluck’s 1st Army and Generaloberst von Bülow’s 2nd Army became separated in early September,40 thereby enabling fresh French troops to advance northward and exploit the gap between the armies in a way that spared Paris from being enveloped by German forces. Consequently, the German drive was halted.
Rudolf Berthold had a unique vantage point to witness the Marne battle’s effect on the German advance. But, equipped only with high-powered binoculars and no radio equipment, he could only look on as French reinforcements were transported to Provins, some seventy kilometres south-south-east of Paris. There, the soldiers were formed into columns and led northward less than twenty-five kilometres to La Ferté-Gaucher, a staging area from which to begin their thrust into the gap. Berthold ordered his pilot to return to their airfield quickly so he could deliver his report. Back at the field headquarters, a sceptical staff officer asked him: “Have you perhaps mistaken retreating French troops for advancing soldiers?”41
Berthold kept his anger to himself, but later wrote:
‘I fumed with rage. At my urging, another aeroplane was sent out; it completely confirmed my observations. I could not keep still and flew yet again: my second report gave an even clearer picture. Ever more Frenchmen had poured into the gap between the 1st and 2nd Armies ... In my third report I stated: “The opposition has passed through and is already behind our lines.”’42
Berthold and his pilot, Otto Marschalck von Bachtenbrock, took off again and made an extensive reconnaissance beginning in the 1st Army sector to the north. After they returned three hours later, Berthold was ordered to report directly to Generaloberst von Bülow. The seventy-one-year-old general, a Franco-Prussian War veteran,43 listened intently as Berthold stated: ‘The opposition is advancing with strong columns between the 1st and 2nd Armies. It is heading north and has already crossed over the Marne.’44
On Sunday, 13 September 1914, Berthold was again summoned to Generaloberst von Bülow’s headquarters. By then, the original plan had been abandoned45 and German general staff planners were adjusting to new developments. But for Rudolf Berthold this meeting with the general was a joyous occasion, as he was presented with the Iron Cross 2nd Class, which ‘in the first year of the war ... was a highly-regarded military award’.46
Berthold immediately recognised the design of the badge, a cross pattée with arms that are narrow at the centre and broaden out at the perimeter; the design had been used for nearly eight centuries by the Teutonic Knights, who displayed it on their shields, breastplates and banners. The Iron Cross became the emblem of a military award when instituted by Prussian King Friedrich Wilhelm III on 10 March 1813 for his subjects who were fighting Napoleon Bonaparte; the award was renewed on 19 July 1870 by King Wilhelm I during the Franco-Prussian War, and on 5 August 1914 by Kaiser Wilhelm II.47 Even though the 1st and 2nd Class awards were issued to officers and enlisted men alike, as well as some civilians of all German states,48 the ribbon issued with the medal bore Prussia’s colours of black and white. Variations of the same cross pattée also graced the fuselages and wings of German aircraft during World War I.
Back at his airfield, Berthold’s immense pride in this great honour was so great that he even noted the time, 8:00 p.m., on the letter he wrote home:
‘An hour ago I received the Iron Cross 2nd Class. Apart from General von Bülow, I am the first [person in the 2nd Army] to wear this ... solemn badge. It had just arrived from supreme headquarters. I still cannot grasp that it is real and that this black and white ribbon is on my uniform. I kissed the cross ... and yet I did nothing more than my duty...’49
The Battle of the Aisne
The evening’s award ceremony capped a good day for Generaloberst von Bülow. Earlier that day, German forces had withdrawn across the Aisne river to higher ground, to dig in, in order to withstand the British Expeditionary Force and French troop concentrations that followed them. Called the First Battle of the Aisne, this action resulted in a German ‘line of defence which ran along the heights from east of Compiègne to north of Reims ... [in which there would be] dogged fighting with attacks and counter-attacks, but [with] little or no real progress [being made]’.50 Ultimately, these attacks ‘did not cease until the opposing armies raged along a line of trenches stretching from the Swiss frontier to the coast of Belgium’.51
Bad weather in mid-September restricted flying until the 20th, as Berthold noted:
‘Finally the weather again improved somewhat. Quickly, an aeroplane was sent off ... The gap between the 1st and 2nd Armies had still not been closed, despite the shifts in position. The troops advancing from Maubeuge were engaged in heavy fighting south of Laon; our flank near Berry-au-Bac was in great danger and therefore we headed there. To the northeast, I saw strong troop concentrations – about a division – moving eastward, with much artillery. Friend or foe?
‘I ordered my pilot to circle continuously. Then it became clear that they could only be masses of enemy troops. But in order to be quite sure, I had my pilot go down low. Suddenly I felt a hit against my back and I turned around: a French bullet was sticking out of my seat, thereby confirming my hunch. The Army High Command had no idea that so many enemy soldiers were marching here.
‘In an instant we were in an aerial combat with a Frenchman. So ... we had to shake off this fellow and then, as quickly as possible, make our report. I had a pistol fitted to a rifle stock,52 while the Frenchman had a machine gun in his aeroplane ... I aimed as carefully as I would at a firing range, until I saw the whites of the opponent’s eyes, then I fired. Suddenly, the enemy machine tilted up and fell away. We did not bother with him further and flew directly toward our lines.
‘From afar I saw a long, dark column heading for Fère-en-Tardenois and Soissons. The mystery was solved: the French had pulled troops from their frontlines to roll up our flank. I completed my sketches quite calmly and then we flew back. It was not fast enough for me. After we landed, I jumped out of the aeroplane and into a waiting car and was off to the Army High Command headquarters ... Based on my report, that night, one of our guards divisions was called out. The opposition was apprehended and struck!’53
As effective as Berthold and his pilot were, without in-air radio equipment they could not use their aeroplane’s full potential for aerial reconnaissance. That failure was influenced by sceptical early German aviators, who saw only disadvantages to carrying heavy, cumbersome electronics gear aboard their frail, underpowered aircraft and were slow to adapt the application of existing technology to newer and better aeroplanes.54
Berthold received an advantage of sorts on Monday, 21 September, when FFA 23 was moved closer to the frontlines to reconnoitre the Allied armies. The abteilung was assigned to an airfield at Bazancourt,55 less than ten kilometres northeast of Reims. Toward the end of the month, the weather turned cold and rainy with blankets of fog, all of which conspired to dissuade even the most devoted flyer. But at least the airmen did not have to dig trenches and build living quarters around them. Rather, they dispossessed residents of civilian houses near their airfield and made themselves much more comfortable than they had been while living in tents. The aircrews at FFA 23 had experienced many long, gruelling flights and were glad for the comfortable rest. That level of personal comfort was enjoyed by most airmen – on both sides – due to the static nature of war that began in 1914. As one historian noted: ‘The line established in November 1914 did not move as much as ten miles in either direction until February-April 1917 …’56
Never one to stay idle, Rudolf Berthold soon found work to keep himself busy. His aeroplane’s engine was now completely worn out and he worked with FFA 23 mechanics on another aircraft to make it airworthy. While in the midst of those labours on Sunday, 4 October, he and Oblt Vogel von Falckenstein were summoned to the Army High Command headquarters. Berthold thought they would be assigned a new mission. He was irritated that the aeroplane was not yet ready to fly.
At the headquarters, and in the presence of officers on his staff, Generaloberst von Bülow presented Berthold with the Iron Cross 1st Class. The young pilot wrote in his diary in the manner of a man who has just had a dream come true:
‘It was the most beautiful moment in my life so far! I wept for joy that again my chest would be decorated – was it really happening or only a dream? Again, as in the previous instance, I was, after General von Bülow, the first man in our [2nd] army to receive this high award!
‘I am overjoyed ...The Iron Cross 1st Class, and for what? That I ... was always ready to fly, even when the weather was bad? That I brought back the decisive report about the Marne and Reims? That I never returned from a flight without results and that all my findings were correct and important? I only did my duty ...’57
A crash at Bazancourt airfield a few days later had the unintended consequence of enabling Rudolf Berthold to return to Germany. Following the accidental death of Unteroffizier [Corporal] Friedrich Ostermann on Thursday, 8 October,58 Berthold’s pilot, Otto Marschalck von Bachtenbrock, refused to fly in any of the abteilung’s DFW B.I aeroplanes. Berthold noted that Ostermann ‘crashed to his death due to uncertain causes. He flew a new bird, the same type and series that we have. My pilot could not be induced to fly in it further. He wanted to obtain a new bird from the factory. Then we would fly it from Frankfurt or Cologne directly to our airfield ...’59
On Saturday, 10 October, FFA 23 was ordered to move westward to a new airfield outside St. Quentin in the Picardy section of northern France. The following day, whether due to the current bad weather or Marschalck von Bachtenbrock’s impassioned plea, he and Berthold were authorised to head off by train for the DFW factory in the Lindenthal suburb of Leipzig.
Berthold’s writings offer no details about his month-long absence from FFA 23, but we can assume that he and Marschalck von Bachtenbrock could have devoted a few days’ time to be with their respective families. Then, of course, they could select a new aeroplane that inspired their confidence and arrange to fly it back to the battlefront.
With the strengthening of German 2nd Army positions in the Picardy region, the city of St. Quentin became ever more crowded with military units. Hence, while Berthold and Marschalck von Bachtenbrock were in Germany, on Thursday, 29 October, FFA 23 was relocated to the grounds of Château Roupy, some ten kilometres southwest of St. Quentin.60
Events after their return suggest that Berthold took a more than usual interest in the DFW Flying School, also at Lindenthal, which was affiliated with the regional military aviation facility at Grossenhain.61 For, upon returning to the abteilung, Berthold convinced his superior, newly-promoted Hauptmann [Captain] Otto Vogel von Falckenstein,62 to release him to the nearby Etappen-Flugzeug-Park 2 [Advanced Area Aeroplane Depot 2] at Château de Grand Priel – subject to immediate recall, as needed – so he could resume his pilot training. Berthold presented a plan that would benefit the abteilung, as he subsequently wrote in his diary:
‘Before the war broke out, I had already undertaken a certain amount of training as a pilot ... My activity as an observer during the time of mobile warfare made enormous demands on me. But now, as November brought on bad weather and …for weeks flying was cancelled, the longing to complete my training as a pilot took hold.
‘I went to the aeroplane depot, as I declined to go to a flying school in Germany. I told my Abteilungsführer that I would like to continue to serve as an observer with the abteilung; for, I would want to immediately return as such if I should become only an average pilot. He agreed to that.’63
Berthold’s request was approved and he was off to EFP 2, which was located on the grounds of a larger and more elegant château, less than fifteen kilometres away.