Frederick Blakeslee painted all the covers for the entire run of Dare-Devil Aces. And each of those covers had a story behind it. This time Mr. Blakeslee brings us a story of what seemed to be an unnecessary bombing mission, that turned into a great success! From the June 1932 issue of Dare-Devil Aces, we present “Death Eggs!”

IN JULY, 1918, a British bombing outfit was given what was believed to be an unimportant mission. It had been reported by spies that there was an unusual movement in and out of a certain German town which was located opposite a sector that had been quiet for a week. As there were no railway yards or anything of military importance in the village—which was partly in ruins and apparently deserted—the bombing orders were indefinite. One Handley-Page was assigned to the mission and the pilot was ordered simply to bomb anything that looked suspicious. It was probably this nonchalant attitude that made the raid such a success.

As a matter of fact, the trains were bringing fresh troops. An entire German regiment—with supplies, machine guns and artillery outfit—had already been moved in under cover of night and plans were being rapidly completed for a major push, intended to take the Allies by surprise.

Things might have gone as scheduled if the German general had not felt the need of exhorting his troops before sending them into battle. He ordered them one morning to parade in the market square, and after the maneuvers proceeded to address them. The troops were standing at attention, listening to their commander, when with a roar a huge Handley-Page bomber streaked low overhead.

The pilot of the Handley-Page had come to a low altitude to better observe the supposedly deserted village and as he flew over the market place was startled to see it packed with Germans.

Too late the Germans recognized the British insignia. The bombs landed right in among the massed ranks. The results can better be imagined than described.

The bomber had been escorted by a squadron of Neiuports, which now came down and joined in, finishing the business with machine guns at close range. It was slaughter—but it was also War!

That same day, alive to the importance of the town, a large scale bombing raid was planned and executed, completing the ruin of what was to have been an important Boche victory.

“Death Eggs: The Story Behind The Cover” by Frederick Blakeslee
(June 1932, Dare-Devil Aces)

Starting in the May 1932 issue of Flying Aces and running almost 4 years, Eugene Frandzen’s “Lives of the Aces in Pictures” was a staple of the magazine. Each month Frandzen would feature a different Ace that rose to fame during the Great War. This time around we have Belgium’s favorite Ace—Lt. Edmond Thieffry!

Thieffry was Belgium’s daring ace who entered the war as an orderly and worked his way up to being King Albert’s leading sky fighter—preferring to fight alone, crashing at the enemy ships from high above. A strategy that worked well for him leaving him with 10 victories on his balance sheet by the end of the war.

After the war, Thieffry resumed his pre-war job as a lawyer, but kept his hand in aviation—helping to found Sabena (Societé Anonyme Belge d’Exploitation de la Navigation Adrienne) in 1923 which would remain Belgium’s national airline until 2001.

Thieffry was killed in a crash close to Lake Tanganyika during a test flight while trying to set up an internal air service in the Congo on April 11th, 1929. He was 36 years old.

• Download “Lives of the Aces in Pictures – Part 8: Edmond Thieffry” (December 1932, Flying Aces)

(Editor’s Note: These early installments of Frandzen’s “Lives of the Aces in Pictures” that were published in the pulp-sized issues have been reformatted from a two page spread into a one page feature.)

Starting in the May 1932 issue of Flying Aces and running almost 4 years, Eugene Frandzen’s “Lives of the Aces in Pictures” was a staple of the magazine. Each month Frandzen would feature a different Ace that rose to fame during the Great War. This time around we have France’s Ace of Aces—Lt. René Fonck!

Lt. René Fonck is recognized as one of the greatest French air fighters since Captain Guynemer and is credited with bringing down no less than 75 enemy planes, out of a claimed 142—bringing down six in one day (twice)! As his fame grew, sadly, so did his ego and he never really gained the admiration and popularity of Guynemer.

After the war, Fonck returned to civilian life, but kept his hand in aviation even trying to win the Orteig prize by being the first person to fly across the atlantic—he unfortunately crashed on take-off, killing two of his three crew members. Charles Lindbergh would win the prize seven months later.

He return to military aviation and from 1937-39 he acted as Inspector of fighter aviation within the French Air Force. However his later record of working with the Vichy government following the fall of France in June 1940 later besmirched his reputation. A French police inquiry about his supposed collaboration with the Vichy regime completely cleared Fonck after the war. The conclusion was that his loyalty was proved by his close contacts with recognised resistance leaders such as Alfred Heurtaux during the war—and he was awarded the Certificate of Resistance in 1948.

Just five years later Fonck suffered a fatal stroke and died in 1953 at the age of 59.

• Download “Lives of the Aces in Pictures – Part 7: René Fonck” (November 1932, Flying Aces)

(Editor’s Note: These early installments of Frandzen’s “Lives of the Aces in Pictures” that were published in the pulp-sized issues have been reformatted from a two page spread into a one page feature.)

Starting in the May 1932 issue of Flying Aces and running almost 4 years, Eugene Frandzen’s “Lives of the Aces in Pictures” was a staple of the magazine. Each month Frandzen would feature a different Ace that rose to fame during the Great War. This time around we have the leading Ace of the Lafayette Escadrille—Major Raoul Lufbery!

Lufbery playing with Whiskey.

Raoul Lufbery was already famous when America entered the War. For some time he was the mechanic of Marc Pourpe, famous French flyer. Pourpe was killed in aerial combat. Lufbery who was with the Foreign Legion, asked to take his place in order to avenge his death. The French army, defying usual procedure sent him to join Escadrille de Bombardmente V. 102, where he made a distinguished record.

When the La Fayette Escadrille was formed, he became one of the seven original members of that famous air squadron—and, as it proved ultimately, became the most distinguished, winning his commission as a sous-lieutenant.

When America entered the War he was transferred to the American Air Service and made a major, refusing, however, to take command of a squadron. When he was killed at Toul. Lufbery was officially credited with 17 victories.

• Download “Lives of the Aces in Pictures – Part 6: Raoul Lufbery” (October 1932, Flying Aces)

(Editor’s Note: These early installments of Frandzen’s “Lives of the Aces in Pictures” that were published in the pulp-sized issues have been reformatted from a two page spread into a one page feature.)

Starting in the May 1932 issue of Flying Aces and running almost 4 years, Eugene Frandzen’s “Lives of the Aces in Pictures” was a staple of the magazine. Each month Frandzen would feature a different Ace that rose to fame during the Great War. This time around we have one of Britain’s most famous Aces—Major James McCudden!

Major J B McCudden, VC, DSO, MC, MM 1918 William Orpen, Oil on Canvas 30×36″.
© IWM (Art.IWM ART 2979)

James Thomas Byford McCudden was born in 1895. He joined the Royal Engineers in 1910, becoming a qualified sapper by 1913—holding a grade Air Mechanic 2nd Class, No.892 and enlisted with the Royal Flying Corps as a mechanic in 1913—the year before the war broke out. He worked his way up through the ranks eventually training as a pilot only to find he was a natural in the air. He is credited with 57 victories and awarded the Victorian Cross, Distinguished Service Order & Bar, Military Cross & Bar, Military Medal and the French Croix de Guerre—becoming the most highly decorated British pilot of the war.

He was killed in July 1918 when his aircraft stalled after take off and crashed to the ground. Shortly before his death McCudden published a renowned memoir of his air war, Five Years in the RFC.

• Download “Lives of the Aces in Pictures – Part 5: Major McCudden” (September 1932, Flying Aces)

(Editor’s Note: These early installments of Frandzen’s “Lives of the Aces in Pictures” that were published in the pulp-sized issues have been reformatted from a two page spread into a one page feature.)

Starting in the May 1932 issue of Flying Aces and running almost 4 years, Eugene Frandzen’s “Lives of the Aces in Pictures” was a staple of the magazine. Each month Frandzen would feature a different Ace that rose to fame during the Great War. This time around we have the third installment featuring France’s greatest flying Ace—Georges Guynemer!

That name may sound familiar to you if your a frequent visitor to this site. He’s been mentioned a few times in the past in conjunction with the lives of other Aces, and his demise was the subject of Frederick Blakeslee’s cover for the July 1933 issue of Dare-Devil Aces. Guynemer was France’s most beloved ace. He entered the French Air Service in November 1914 and served as a mechanic before receiving a Pilot’s Brevet in April 1915. Assigned to Spa3—Les Cigognes or Storks Squadron—Guynemer used his skills as an excellent pilot and marksman to quickly pile up the victories eventually being promoted to captain and commander of the Storks squadron.

By the time of his disappearance he had accrued 53 victories.

On 11 September 1917, Guynemer was last seen attacking a two-seater Aviatik near Poelcapelle, northwest of Ypres. Almost a week later, it was publicly announced in a London paper that he was missing in action. Shortly thereafter, a German newspaper reported Guynemer had been shot down by Kurt Wissemann of Jasta 3. For many months, the French population refused to believe he was dead. Guynemer’s body was never found.

• Download “Lives of the Aces in Pictures – Part 3: Georges Guynemer” (July 1932, Flying Aces)

(Editor’s Note: These early installments of Frandzen’s “Lives of the Aces in Pictures” that were published in the pulp-sized issues have been reformatted from a two page spread into a one page feature.)

Starting in the May 1932 issue of Flying Aces and running almost 4 years, Eugene Frandzen’s “Lives of the Aces in Pictures” was a staple of the magazine. Each month Frandzen would feature a different Ace that rose to fame during the Great War. This time around we have the second installment featuring America’s Flying Soldier of Fortune—Bert Hall!

Weston Birch “Bert” Hall was one of the seven original members of the Lafayette Escadrille. And was probably America’s most colorful Soldier of Fortune. Born in 1885, he began his storied carrer in the early 1900’s in the Balkan war. Later, he is reported to have dropped rocks on the sultan of Turkey’s enemies while flying for the Turks. He was a four-flusher, a liar, a deserter and a damn good poker player who was good at reading his opponents.

Hall wrote two books about his exploits in the Lafayette Escadrille, En L’air (1918) and One Man’s War (1929). The former was the basis of the 1918 film A Romance of the Air, in which he starred as himself.

He assisted the Chinese in the 1920’s when he headed the Chinese air force. However he was sentenced to 30 months in jail when a money for arms deal fell through and was accused of receiving money under false pretenses.

When he was released in 1936, he ended up moving around alot—to Seattle for a while and Hollywood where he worked for 20th Century Fox Studios. By 1940 he found himself in Dayton, Ohio—finally settling in Castalia, Ohio and starting the Sturdy Toy Factory.

He died of a massive heart attack while driving down the highway in 1948.

• Download “Lives of the Aces in Pictures – Part 2: Bert Hall” (June 1932, Flying Aces)

(Editor’s Note: These early installments of Frandzen’s “Lives of the Aces in Pictures” that were published in the pulp-sized issues have been reformatted from a two page spread into a one page feature.)

Starting in the May 1932 issue of Flying Aces and running almost 4 years, Eugene Frandzen’s “Lives of the Aces in Pictures” was a staple of the magazine. Each month Frandzen would feature a different Ace that rose to fame during the Great War. This time around we have the inaugral installment featuring America’s Ace of Aces—Eddie Rickenbacker!

Rickenbacker is credited with 26 victories—the most of any American flyer. He was awarded the Medal of Honor, Legion of Honor, Croix de Guerre and the Distinguished Service Cross with 8 oak leaf clusters (1 silver & 3 bronze).

Before the war, Rickenbacker had become one of the most successful race car drivers, and, with the war’s end, Rickenbacker went back to what he knew. He elected to leave the air service and established his own automotive company that ultimately went out of business. Not detoured, he bought the Indianapolis Speedway—turning it around and making it profitable. From there he went into General Motors. When GM aquired North American Aviation in 1935, RIckenbacker was asked to manage one of their holdongs—Eastern Air Transport which Rickenbacker merged with Florida Airways to form Eastern Air Lines—taking a little airline flying a few thousand miles a week to major airline!

(Somehow during all this he found the time to also script two popular comic strip from 1935 to 1940—Ace Drummond and Hall of Fame of the Air.)

The advent of World War II brought Rickenbacker back to service—but as a civilian Representative to the Secretary of War in the survey of aircraft installations. Resuming his role at Eastern Air Lines after the war. With Eastern’s financial losses in the 1950’s, Rickenbacker was forced out of his position as CEO in 1959 and resigned as Chairman of the Board on December 31st, 1963.

Rickenbacker spent his remaining years lecturing, writing his autobiography and traveling with his wife. He suffered a stroke while in Switzerland and contracted pneumonia—dying on July 23rd, 1972.

• Download “Lives of the Aces in Pictures – Part 1: Eddie Rickenbacker (May 1932, Flying Aces)

(Editor’s Note: These early installments of Frandzen’s “Lives of the Aces in Pictures” that were published in the pulp-sized issues have been reformatted from a two page spread into a one page feature.)

Frederick Blakeslee painted the covers for Dare-Devil Aces‘ entire fourteen year run. Every one of those covers told a story, and Blakeslee had a page inside the issue with which to do so. We present Blakeslee’s second cover for Dare-Devil Aces—the March 1932 issue—and The Bombing of Oberndorf!”

THE night raid on Oberndof, Germany, home of the Mauser gun and ammunition works, was perhaps one of the most daring—and effective—feats of its kind during the early part of the War. Forty French and British planes took part in this expedition—and thirty-three returned. The picture on the cover shows the bombing at its height.

During part of the journey to Oberndorf, the Allied bombers were without protection, as the combat ships scheduled to guard them could not carry fuel enough for the entire trip. The ships left them at a certain point, therefore, and met them again on the way back.

Immediately before the raid, the Allies had staged offensive operations all along the lines in order to draw as many Boche squadrons as possible from the route to be taken by the bombers. The ruse was successful, and on October 12th, 1916, the bombers took off into skies that were practically clear of enemy planes. It wasn’t long, however before the Germans realized what was going on. Hurriedly they mustered enough combat ships to give resistance. So, not long after the bombers had left their protection behind, they flew into a running fight. But, keeping in tight formations, which made it difficult for the Jerries to get at them, they eventually reached Oberndorf. Here they were met by everything the Germans had—archies, machine guns, anti-aircraft, etc. Despite this, the raid was highly successful and the Intelligence Department later reported that effective work in slowing down productions of German munitions of war had been accomplished.

After dropping their bombs, the ships streaked for home, harassed by the enemy. The protection, on meeting them, took over the battle and changed the tune, driving the Boches off with heavy casualties. And on the night of the 12th, thirty-three of the original forty bombers landed at their airdromes.

“Bombing of Oberndorf” by Frederick M. Blakeslee (Dare-Devil Aces, March 1932)

Editor’s Note: This month’s cover is the fifteenth of the actual war-combat pictures which Mr. Blakeslee, well-known artist and authority on aircraft, is painting exclusively for BATTLE ACES. The series was started to give our readers authentic pictures of war planes in color. It also enables you to follow famous airmen on many of their amazing adventures and feel the same thrills of battle they felt. Be sure to save these covers if you want your’ collection of this fine series to be complete.

THE bombing expedition on which this cover is based is pictured in two parts. The actual raid is shown on the cover of the August issue of DAREDEVIL ACES. This month the adventure of one of the bombers on that mission is pictured.

I shall not repeat the story of the raid here, for that has been told in DAREDEVIL ACES.

Three big British bombers took off late one afternoon to bomb the reported position of a long-range gun implacement. They were flown by British pilots but were to operate in conjunction with an American outfit of fighting ships.

The bombers met the Americans high over Dun and started for the scene of operation. They flew in a tight formation and saw no enemy craft, although they were being followed by several Boches who did not dare attack such a formidable group.

The flight was deep in enemy territory when one of the bombers developed engine trouble in the right-hand motor. It fell behind and unfortunately, at this moment the top patrol was hidden by a cloud so did not observe the accident.

The pilot of the bomber, finding his trouble was getting serious, turned about and started for home, looking for a target for his load of bombs. Through an opening in the ground fog he saw what he took for a supply depot and ordered his men to let go their “eggs.” They were later to be informed that they had fired an ammunition dump.

It was not long before more serious trouble than a “sick” motor arrived. It came with a roar and blazing guns. It was a German Hannoveraner biplane (the bright red ship in the foreground); almost at the same time another ship arrived to add to the difficulties of the bomber. This was a Roland single-seater biplane (the blue and yellow plane diving in from the left).

The bomber, due to its crippled condition, was unable to maneuver and had to fight off the Boches as best it could. The Englishmen were in an uncomfortable position but not hard-pressed until the fight was joined by a Fokker D-VII and a Fokker monoplane. Then things got more serious.

The big ship flew steadily on but was sustaining a deadly fire from every direction. The motor still functioned and seemed to get no worse, but every moment increased the hazard. It was being slowly cut to pieces. Already one rudder was out of commission and a stream of bullets had cut through the center of the fuselage and weakened it. The wings looked like a sieve and many of the wires were cut, also weakening the wings. Tt was remarkable that the ship did not collapse then and there.

They shot down one Boche with their last drum of ammunition. Both gunners and pilot were wounded and they had given themselves up as lost, when help arrived in the form of a patrol of S.E-S’s, who scattered the Germans right and left in short order.

The pilot, faint from a wound in the abdomen, landed his ship on his own airdrome but cracked up in doing so, completing the wreck of an already half ruined ship. All survived, however, and they are living today, proud of their D.S.C. awarded by the American government.

The bombing ship shown on the cover is a very famous one, although most of its fame was gained in peace time persuits. It was designed as a long-distance bomber. It carried two engines in “power eggs” one each side of the fuselage. There were three types of engines used, the Fiat, Hispano-Suiza and Rolls Royce. The bomber here shown is a Vickers Vimy Rolls, which is 1 ft. 6½ in. longer than the other two, otherwise they are the same in appearance. They carried two gunners and a pilot. To prevent the machine from standing on its nose after too fast a landing, a skid was fitted under the nose of the fuselage. Span 67 ft. 2 in., gap 10 ft., overall length 44 ft., speed low down 103 m.p.h., speed at 5,000 ft. 98 m.p.h., landing speed 56 m.p.h.

“The Vickers “Vimy” Bomber” by Frederick M. Blakeslee (August 1932)

Now we come to its peace time fame. It was in a Vickers Vimy Rolls-Royce airplane that Captain J. Alcock and Lt. Whitten Brown, both afterwards knighted, made the first direct flight across the Atlantic from St. Johns, Newfoundland to Clifden, Galway. They traveled 1,880 miles in 15 hours 57 minutes at an average speed of 118 m.p.h., May 18th-19th, 1919.

Captain Ross Smith and three companions, in the same year, and in the same type of ship, flew from England to Australia in 30 days, flying a total of 11,294 miles. They landed at Port Darwin, North Australia and later crossed the continent to Melbourne.

Frederick Blakeslee painted the covers for Dare-Devil Aces‘ entire fourteen year run. Starting with the June 1931 cover of Battle Aces, he started running actual war-combat paintings by Blakeslee on their covers. In a happy cross-over, in August 1932, Mr. Blakeslee had two covers from the same incident. This week we have the Dare-Devil Aces cover which has the main action, while next week we’ll have the Battle Aces cover from that month that covers a side incident concerning a missing bomber. Look for it next week.

AN IMPORTANT concentration point in the American sector had been shelled for days by long-range guns. Yank airplanes had combed enemy territory trying to find their location, but the gunners were canny. They fired in the early morning and at sundown when there was a ground mist. On days when flying was impossible they fired continuously. On good days they were silent.

By noting the direction from which the shells came the line of fire was determined. According to mathematical calculation the guns should have been in the center of a torn-up forest; but all that met the eye there were stumps of trees and water-filled shell holes. However, something
was queer about those shell holes. Only an area of a few acres was filled with water, while, outside that the shell holes were just holes. One pilot, diving as low as fifty feet, gave the ground a searching look. Suddenly he zoomed and streaked for home.

Late that afternoon a bombing expedition consisting of three Vickers “Vimy” bombers and a fighting squadron of Sopwith Camels left their dromes. On the way, one bomber dropped behind and when the rest discovered him missing, it was too late to stop and find him. The account of his adventure is in the August issue of BATTLE ACES.

There was a ground mist, but it suddenly cleared and just at sundown the expedition arrived over the forest to see the flashes of many guns, where in the morning not a gun had been visible.

Streaking for the flashes, they found what you see on the cover. They bombed and shot up the position and after using up their ammunition, started for home—and just in time, too, for an overwhelming force of Boche planes was coming up from behind. Late that night a large-scale bombing expedition annihilated the position. The pilot who discovered the guns, noted that many of the supposed water-filled holes were only patches of canvas, which, from a height, gave the appearance of water.

“The Big Gun Bombers” by Frederick M. Blakeslee (Dare-Devil Aces, August 1932)

Find out what happened to the lost Vickers “Vimy” Bomber next week!

Editor’s Note: This month’s cover is the nineteenth of the actual war-combat pictures which Mr. Blakeslee, well-known artist and authority on aircraft, is painting exclusively for BATTLE ACES. The series was started to give our readers authentic pictures of war planes in color. It also enabled you to follow famous airmen on many of their amazing adventures and feel the same thrills of battle they felt.

THE story behind this month’s cover —which shows an exploit of two brothers, Captains Jean and Charles Ranconcour—had its origin five years before the beginning of the War, when the Frenchmen were visiting Berlin. One evening, while they were dining in a crowded restaurant with a friend, a Prussian officer approached their table and without warning flung a glass of wine into Jean’s face. The three leaped to their feet; Charles demanded an explanation in behalf of his brother. The Prussian turned to him, surveyed him from head to foot, then slashed him across the face with a pair of heavy gloves. Jean promptly knocked him down.

By this time, of course, a large crowd had gathered and it was with considerable difficulty that order was restored. First Jean, then Charles, challenged him to a duel and the Prussian accepted, telling them to await his seconds. They waited for two hours, only to learn then that their strange enemy had been seen leaving the city—hurriedly; he had heard, no doubt, that both brothers had a reputation as expert duellists.

From that moment the two brothers swore to obtain satisfaction for this cowardly assault—but their opportunity did not come until nine years later high above the battlefields of France.

The outbreak of the War found Jean and Charles officers in infantry regiments. Late in 1917 they received word that the Prussian officer was in a certain Boche aviation squadron. The brothers immediately transferred to aviation and through influence they were both attached to the same French squadron—Jean as pilot and Charles as his gunner.

They got the reputation of being careful fighters. Although they never avoided a combat, neither did they go out of their way to get into one. But as they did their work and were popular no one accused them of cowardice. The more astute among the squadron guessed the truth. From the name they had christened their Breguet and the fact that Charles scrutinized all enemy planes with binoculars, they guessed the brothers were hunting a particular enemy.

One day early in 1918, the brothers were returning from a mission with two other bombers when they sighted a group of enemy ships escorted by battle planes. Charles examined the flight through his field glasses, as usual; then suddenly he dropped the binoculars, spoke rapidly to his brother. Much to the astonishment of their fellow flyers, Jean’s plane turned and with throttle wide open, hurtled straight for the enemy.

The two other French pilots, realizing something unusual was about to happen, and knowing also that Jean was helplessly out-numbered and had need of every possible gun, turned and followed.

In the scrap that ensued the Frenchmen shot down a two-seater L.V.G. and routed the rest, then looked around for the brothers. They were engaged in a fight to the finish with an L.V.G. that turned, sideslipped and looped but could not shake this French terror on its tall. If Jean and Charles had been careful before, their tactics now were completely changed. They fought like fiends.

In trying to escape, the Boche ship turned and came screaming back just as Jean’s plane dove across it. There was a crash as the landing gear carried away the tip of the L.C.G.’s wing. At the same moment Charles poured a murderous— and fatal—fire into the cockpit.

The L.V.G. dove and crashed. When he had seen it hit the earth, Charles cooly climbed down onto the landing gear and disentangled the wreckage. A few minutes later all three French ships landed near the shattered Boche plane. The body of the German was dragged from the wreckage; Jean and Charles bent over it, looked closely, then straightened and shook hands. The duel to which they had challenged this enemy 9 years ago, had been waged—and won.

The brothers transferred to a combat squadron soon after and both piled up a formidable score before the war ended.

The German ship shown on the cover is an L.V.G. type D single-seater scout.

The French ship is a Breguet type 14B-2 with a 300 h.p. Renault engine. It was designed as a day bomber, but carried one gun in front (synchronized) and two guns aft. Only the upper planes were provided with ailerons. The part of the lower plane lying behind the rear spar was hinged along its total length and pulled downward by means of twelve rubber cords fixed on the under side of the ribs. An automatic change of aerofoil corresponding with the load and speed thus results with an easier control of the airplane with and without a load of bombs. Its span was 14.364 meters; length 9 m; speed low down 185 kms per hour. It climbed to 5,000 m. in 47 m. 30 sec. Ceiling was 5,750 m.

“The French Breguet” by Frederick M. Blakeslee (December 1932)

Editor’s Note: This month’s cover is the eighteenth of the actual war-combat pictures which Mr. Blakeslee, well-known artist and authority on aircraft, is painting exclusively for BATTLE ACES. The series was started to give our readers authentic pictures of war planes in color. It also enables you to follow famous airmen on many of their amazing adventures and feel the same thrills of battle they felt.

THIS is the story of a combat in which three German ships were brought down by one American flyer, without a shot being fired by either side. The cover shows how it was done.

A few days before this combat occurred, the American had lost his closest friend. The two men had grown up together in the same town, had enlisted together and had managed to stick together until the day one of them had been killed. His life had come to an end under particularly tragic circumstances, for he had given it for his friend. That friend had sworn vengeance.

On the morning after the funeral, this pilot took the air on an independent patrol, looking for trouble. He encountered no enemy ships and returned. After breakfast he again took off with the same result. That afternoon he resolved to go into Germany and bomb the airdrome of the squadron that had killed his chum.

He arrived over it without opposition except for the inevitable Archie over the lines. There was no ship in sight on the field. He dropped his bombs, doing considerable damage to two hangars and receiving in reply a hot ground fire which did no damage to him whatever. He turned to go back to his airdrome just in time to meet the charge of a Pfalz scout which had approached unobserved. The Boche proved to be as skilled as the American, so that neither gained an advantage over the other in the five or more minutes that the combat lasted. They had both, however, exhausted their ammunition. Finally they waved to one another and departed.

Fortune favored the Yank, for the fight had not attracted any roving Boche. He was no doubt saved by the fact that the squadron of the field over which he had been, was away on some devilment of its own. On his way back, near the lines, he sighted three dots which rapidly approached and soon resolved themselves into two Junkers, escorted by a member of the squadron for which the American had been searching.

This squadron was noted for its savage and ruthless mode of fighting. No quarter was expected of them and no quarter was given. All the Allied outfits in this sector had sworn to exterminate them, but as every man of them was a skillful pilot it proved no easy matter. As a matter of fact the event that finally put an end to this squadron was the death of its leader. True to type, the escort of the Junkers flew ahead to meet the helpless American. On seeing that he had at last met his enemy, the Yank forgot that his ammunition was gone. His only thought was to down this Boche or to die in the attempt.

With rage in his heart he kept on and the two planes came at each other with tremendous speed. As they approached, the American pressed his trigger. Nothing happened, and he remembered with despair his helplessness. It was too late. He could not turn back now.

Strangely, no shots came from the German who dipped just in time to avoid a collision. Then began a series of maneuvers that carried them all over the sky. The American could do nothing but avoid the fire of the German. Both men were evenly matched as to skill and both maneuvered successfully in order to keep out of one another’s range. Had the German known the helpless condition of the American, the fight would have been ended long ago. This, of course, he did not suspect. It was later found that the German’s gun was hopelessly jammed, which explained his failure to fire on the first onslaught.

In the meantime the Junkers had approached and passed. Neither had fired a shot nor made any attempt to join the battle. No explanation has ever been made of their failure to do so. The climax came swiftly. In fact the entire incident happened in less time than it takes to tell it. The two ships, the S.E-5 and the Fokker, got into the maneuver called “chasing tails.” They went round and round, one behind the other, each thinking the other could fire. This tactic of chasing tails by two ships of equal speed and by two pilots of equal skill, could be continued indefinitely unless the circle was broken by another ship. It was effective in preventing one from getting on the other’s tail. Sometimes pilots in this maneuver broke by mutual agreement, by use of signals, each going his own way.

The whirling ships had overtaken the Junkers and had approached dangerously close. In an attempt to break the vicious circle, the Boche dove his ship. As his head was turned, he did not see the leading Junker and crashed at full speed into it. Both fell in a flaming streak, but not before some flying wreckage had shattered the propeller of the following Junker. This ship landed safely in Germany. So three ships were downed without a single shot!

“The Junkers Biplane” by Frederick M. Blakeslee (November 1932)

Editor’s Note: This month’s cover is the eleventh of the actual war-combat pictures which Mr. Blakeslee, well-known artist and authority on aircraft, is painting exclusively for BATTLE ACES. The scries was started to give our readers authentic pictures of war planes in color. It also enables you to follow famous airmen on many of their amazing adventures and feel the same thrills of battle they felt.

IN JUNE, 1918, there arrived at a certain American airdrome in France a group of replacements who had been trained in England. Among them was a lad by the name of Carr. To use a remark of one of his instructors, he was “the world’s worst pilot but a damn fine lad.” He had wrecked more ships than any man in camp. Why he was not thrown out of aviation, or at best sent to an observation group, he did not know. The fact remains that in the final test he passed, and was sent with five others to a fighting squadron. This squadron was proud of its toughness and its record for victories. The squadron leader looked the replacements over critically and approved, for they were just the type he wanted.

Carr was tall, with broad shoulders and an infectious smile—the sort of fellow one likes instantly. He was selected to be the first to go over the lines. Accordingly, next morning he was one of five to line up and take off. However, only four actually did take off. Carr’s ship went wobbling across the field and came up standing in a hedge. The mechanics looked it over for defects and, fortunately for Carr, found one that might have caused the crack-up. Carr, much surprised, thanked his lucky stars for that. Naturally he did not mention that the accident was due to his own stupidity. He was congratulated on his escape and wished better luck.

His next chance arrived and this time he managed to get into the air. His orders were strict; should a fight occur or if he were to loose the others, he was to return immediately. He was back in ten minutes—the time it took him to get lost and return to the airdrome. It did not help his reputation when he crashed in landing.

There followed a painful series of mishaps by which he became known as the “lovable ole dub.” It took them less than a week to discover that Carr would make a far better cab driver than a pilot. On the other hand he was the leader of all their binges. His smile carried him through all his troubles and with the willing help of the rest of the squadron his mistakes were smoothed over. However he was a great responsibility to flight leaders, who dreaded to have him in their patrol. At last, after a bit of particularly stupid flying, the C. O. decided that he would have to return to England. Carr was broken-hearted; he would rather die than be sent back. Rage against his own inability to fly determined him to try one last flight on which he would cither kill or be killed.

Early on the day he was to leave he took out his ship, gave it the gun and swept into the air. Although he did not realize it at the time, he was flying as he should have flown long ago. For the first time, instead of putting his ship into the air by sheer nervous will power, he forgot flying and thought only of fighting.

He had not gone far when he saw a patrol of Jerries beneath him. Without an instant’s hesitation he dove with such fury that he scattered the German ships right and left. Before they had become organized, he had shot down two of them. He dove head-on at another, intending to crash and end his life; but the panic-stricken Boche pulled up and fled with the others who had had enough of this mad American. Carr turned his De H-5 about just in time to see a green Pfalz diving at him. He plunged at him head-on, ripping out a savage burst. The Jerry, badly hit, looped but Carr looped after him.

Just at this point a Fokker Tripe joined the fight. Both planes came out of the loop with Carr on the German’s tail and his tracers crashing into the ship ahead. The Fokker zoomed and his wheel smashed through the left wing of the Pfalz, which went down out of control and crashed behind our lines. In a moment the pilot of the Fokker discovered that he had made a mistake in thinking that he or anyone could withstand such reckless and savage fury. He gave up in panic, raised his hands in token of surrender and followed Carr meekly back.

Carr returned to an overjoyed squadron, as confirmation of his victories had traveled ahead. He did not return to England. Instead he rose to be flight leader, then C.O., and finally became one of America’s aces.

The De H-5 was produced late in 1916 and was extensively used at the front. It was so constructed that the pilot’s view upward and foreward was not entirely blanketed by the top wing. For this reason the top wing was staggered backward and the pilot’s cockpit put beneath the leading edge of that wing. Despite loss of efficiency which resulted from this backward stagger, by careful attention to the reduction of head resistance, a ship was produced with very good all-round performance. Its span was 25′-8″; length 22′; engine 110 h.p., Le Rhone; speed at 10,000 ft. 102 m.p.h.; landing speed 50 m.p.h.; approximate ceiling 15,000 ft.

“Lt. Carr and the De H-5″ by Frederick M. Blakeslee (October 1932)

Lester Dent is best known as the man behind Doc Savage. But he wrote all number of other stories before he started chronicling the adventures of everyone’s favorite bronze giant. Here we have an intriging tale which seems to be the start of a character he never got back to—The Black Bat. From the October 1932 issue of Flying Aces we present “The Blue Ghost Patrol!”

Hot on the trail of those two traitor ships from his own base flew the Black Bat, famous Allied secret agent whose face no man had ever seen. Suddenly five Albatrosses swooped down and sent him crashing into the sea. But in the next second they had gone on—and their Spandaus were hammering at the two traitor ships!

• Download “The Blue Ghost Patrol” (October 1932, Flying Aces)

If you enjoyed this story, Black Dog Books has put out an excellent volume collecting 11 of Lester Dent’s early air stories set against the backdrop of World War !. The book includes this story as well as others from the pages of War Birds, War Aces, Flying Aces, Sky Birds and The Lone Eagle. It’s The Skull Squadron! Check it out.

And as a bonus, here’s a plucky article from Lester’s home town paper, The LaPlata Home Press, about his early success selling stories to the pulps while working as a telegraph opperator in Tulsa, Oklahoma!

LaPlata Man Known As A Writer

Lester Dent Sells Stories Written In Liesure Hours
The LaPlata Home Press, LaPlata, MO • 12 June 1930

Lester Dent, a graduate with the Plata high school class of 1923, is building a name for himself in Oklahoma as a writer of adventure fiction.

Mr. Dent is the son of Mr. and Mrs. Bern Dent, who live three quarters of a mile north of the Santa Fe lake. After finishing high school here, Mr. Dent attended Chillicothe Business College, taking a course in telegraphy. Recently he has made talks on short story writing before the journalism extension class of Oklahoma University, and the Claremore, Okla., writers club.

Part of a feature article which appears in the Sunday World, Tulsa, Okla., reads:

Lester Dent, who writes air, action, adventure and mystery stories for the all-fiction magazines, is a press telegraph operator on the “Hoot Owl” trick—midnight until 8 o’clock in the morning—in the wire room of the Tulsa World. In his spare time, Mr. Dent manages to write and sell several hundred dollars’ worth of short stories and novelettes a month. Since January 1, he has placed featured novelettes in Popular, Air Stories, Top Notch, etc.

Besides having “pounded brass” as a telegraph operator in a dozen middle west cities for oil companies, the Western Union and the Associated Press, Mr. Dent has apprenticed as a horse wrangler, cowboy and sheep-herder in Wyoming during which period he contributed materially to the success of a number of pulp paper magazine publishers by reading all of their thrillers he could buy, borrow, or get hold of otherwise: has been a pipeline roustabout, trapper, stenographer, punched a “Mux” tele-graph typewriter, and “put in a number of summers working like the devil on a farm near LaPlata, Mo., for no visible purpose but to raise enough corn to feed a span of voracious Jack and Jinn mules through the ensuing winter.”

He attended Tulsa University law school long enough to discover there was hard work entailed in the business of being a lawyer, and declares he lost interest. In addition, he says he is a radio operator, although “rather rusty,” and “a terrible flier, one eye being off the job and the other showing a peculiar brand of judgment when it comes to distances.”

Mr. Dent is 24 years old, is something over six feet tall, and weighs around 225. He started writing fiction slightly more than a year ago when, he says, he “suddenly discovered it was the racket for any nitwit who wants an easy living.”

• Download “LaPlata Man Known As A Writer”
  (12 June 1930, The LaPlata Home Press)