Part 1

NORMAN PRINCE

An American Volunteer who died for France

NORMAN PRINCE

A VOLUNTEER WHO DIED FOR THE CAUSE HE LOVED

WITH MEMOIR BY GEORGE F. BABBITT

BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY The Riverside Press Cambridge 1917

COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

_Published December 1917_

To the LAFAYETTE FLYING SQUADRON (_formerly the Escadrille Américaine_)

—those gallant young Americans who led the way their country was later to follow

_“Under the little crosses where they rise_ _The soldier rests; now round him undismayed_ _The cannon thunder, and at night he lies_ _At peace beneath the eternal fusillade_ _That other generations might possess_ _From shame and menace free in years to come,_ _A richer heritage of happiness;_ _He marched to that heroic martyrdom.”_

CONTENTS

I. MEMOIR 1

II. HIS OWN STORY 15

III. LETTERS 25

IV. FROM HIS FATHER 49

V. A COMRADE’S TRIBUTE 60

VI. HIS BROTHER’S SERVICE 65

VII. FROM THE FRENCH ENVOYS 68

VIII. MESSAGES OF CONDOLENCE AND APPRECIATION 71

ILLUSTRATIONS

NORMAN PRINCE _Frontispiece_

AS MASTER (_PRO TEM._) OF THE PAU DRAGHOUNDS 6

WITH HIS FAVORITE PLANE 10

PORTRAIT AS EXHIBITED AT ALLIED FAIRS 18

WITH HIS SUPERIOR OFFICER LIEUTENANT DE LAAGE DE MŒUX 26

APPLICATION TO RIDE A BREGUET DE CHASSE 30

MEMORANDUM OF THE BRINGING-DOWN OF HIS FIRST GERMAN MACHINE 38

COVER OF A FRENCH PERIODICAL 46

NORMAN PRINCE, FREDERICK HENRY PRINCE, JR., AND FREDERICK HENRY PRINCE 50

CONCOURS HIPPIQUE 54

CAMP NORMAN PRINCE 62

FREDERICK HENRY PRINCE, JR., WITH HIS NIEUPORT 66

DECORATIONS 72

NORMAN PRINCE

I

MEMOIR

It is fitting that the record of a young life of high aspiration, of fine achievement, and, finally, of supreme self-sacrifice on a world’s battlefield, should be permanently preserved, not only for the satisfaction of those near relatives and friends who deeply mourn its tragic and untimely end, but for the sense of pride and rapture of soul which the contemplation of such a record everywhere inspires. Grievous as it is to see a young and happy life cut off at the threshold of a promising career, there is compensation as well as consolation for such a fate when the fine fervor of youth, thoroughly imbued with a loyal and patriotic spirit, has won for its possessor the well-deserved plaudit of living and dying a hero. Such was the fate and such the reward of the subject of this memoir.

NORMAN PRINCE was the younger of the two sons of Frederick Henry and Abigail (Norman) Prince. He was a grandson of Frederick O. Prince, an eminent citizen of Massachusetts and a Mayor of Boston, and of George H. Norman, a distinguished citizen of Newport, Rhode Island. He was born August 31, 1887, at Pride’s Crossing, Massachusetts, receiving his early education under private tutors in this country and in Europe and completing his preparation for college at Groton, where he passed five happy and helpful years. He was graduated, with honors, at Harvard College in the class of 1908, taking the academic course in three years and receiving a _cum laude_ with his degree of Bachelor of Arts. Entering the Harvard Law School immediately after his college graduation, he received the degree of Bachelor of Laws three years later. He was admitted to the bar and subsequently began the practice of law in Chicago, coincidentally devoting much of his time and attention to the study and practice of aviation at a time when flying was popularly regarded as a mere sport rather than a practical utility in this country. This was a diversion from his more serious work at the start, but foreseeing the ultimate possibilities of aeronautics for practical purposes, and becoming an enthusiast in its scientific development, he neglected the practice of his intended profession, and being enabled to provide the necessary funds for experimenting with various types of flying machines, he tested their comparative advantages for aerial navigation. He possessed an exceptionally quick intelligence and applied himself with zeal and diligence to subjects that interested him.

From his early boyhood Norman had been passionately fond of manly outdoor sports, more particularly those connected with equestrianism. He loved hunting, polo, and kindred activities, and he thus developed qualities of sportsmanship that proved useful to him in his later experience in aviation. His courage and enthusiasm enabled him to undertake aerial flights that appalled less intrepid amateur navigators, but which were a joy and an inspiration to him from the beginning. Among his associates in amateur sports he had the reputation of being absolutely fearless. “I never knew a pluckier fellow,” said one of his schoolmates, recalling the days of their earlier companionship.

At the outbreak of hostilities in Europe his love of the strenuous life, combined with his intensely patriotic instincts and his deep sympathy with the cause of the Entente Nations,—more particularly for France,—prompted him to go abroad and offer his services in their behalf. He adopted this course ardently and spontaneously, feeling that he was thus performing a duty that he owed to the cause of Liberty and Righteousness throughout the world.

One of the finest chapters in the history of contemporary life is that which records the loyalty and patriotic fervor of so many young Americans, who at the beginning of the World War, before their own country had abandoned its attitude of neutrality, volunteered for military service on the side of the Allies, in the fighting ranks of the foreign legions, especially in the aviation service, which called for efficiency and courage in individual combat that recalled the heroism and devotion of the ancient days of chivalry. The inspiring example of these early American volunteers may be said to have given the first impulse to the popular uprising which ultimately led to our country’s active participation in the war.

Having passed many of the earlier years of his youth in France, Norman saw and appreciated his opportunity to testify to the sincerity of his love for what he affectionately called his “second country.” He took passage abroad in December, 1914, four months after the outbreak of the war, arriving in Paris early in the following January, when he promptly offered his services to the Government as a volunteer in the French army to serve until the end of the war—“_jusqu’ au bout_,” as he emphatically put it when he took the oath of allegiance. He began his preliminary training in the military aviation school at Pau, and on receiving his certificate of proficiency, he served for a short time in the aerial defense of Paris and was then sent to the Western battle-front, where, as is told in the subsequent pages of this memoir, he distinguished himself by his skill and bravery in many air raids against the enemy, winning at once the confidence and admiration of his commanders and comrades.

At the beginning of his active service in France Norman conceived the idea of bringing the American aviators, together with some of those of the foreign legions, into a single squadron, not only that the Americans might thus be associated in closer comradeship, but also that their achievements might become more distinctive and thus redound to the glory of their native country as well as to that of the Allies. This laudable purpose, which was inspired wholly by Norman’s initiative, was realized by the organization of the American aviators into a body which was at first known as the _Escadrille Américaine_ and which subsequently became the famous Lafayette Flying Squadron. Originally carrying the Tri-color, this Squadron was permitted to carry the Stars and Stripes after the entrance of the United States into the war. It thus became the proud distinction of this Squadron that it was accorded the honor of carrying the first American flag that appeared on any of the battlefields of the World War. These aviators soon became famous for their skill and daring in their aerial raids over the German lines, and they were repeatedly cited in army orders, individually and collectively, for their fine courage and unflagging spirit of self-sacrifice. In one of these official orders General Pétain, Commander-in-Chief of the French Armies on the Western front at the time, took occasion to say that this American Squadron had aroused the profound admiration of the commanders under whose direction it had fought, as well as of all the French aerial squadrons fighting beside it and aspiring to rival it in valor and achievement. It was for his fine individual conduct on this famous battle-front that Norman won successively the Croix de Guerre, the Médaille Militaire, and the Croix de la Légion d’Honneur. Coincidentally, he successively achieved the ranks of sergeant, adjutant, and lieutenant. He had up to this time engaged in 122 aerial engagements with the enemy ’planes and was officially credited with five Boches brought down in battle, not to mention four others not officially recorded. Few of his comrades had rendered more active service. He was as ambitious as he was intrepid and resourceful.

On the morning of Thursday, October 12, Norman and other members of his Squadron were assigned to convoy a French bombarding fleet in an aerial raid on Oberndorf, a German arms and munition center located in the Vosges near the plains of Alsace. While circling over the town, they came in close contact with a formidable array of German aircraft, and a terrific encounter ensued in which shot, shell-fire, and skillful manœuvering disabled many of the machines on both sides. It was at the conclusion of this battle in the air that Norman’s Nieuport machine struck an aerial cable while he was endeavoring to make a landing in the dark within the French lines near Luxeuil. In this collision his machine was overturned and wrecked and he was thrown violently to the ground. On being rescued by his comrades, it was found that both his legs were broken and, as was subsequently found, he had sustained a fracture of the skull. He was carried to the neighboring hospital at Gerardmer, where for a time he manifested the undaunted courage that he had always shown under adverse conditions, cheerfully requesting the attending surgeons who were setting the bones of his broken legs to be careful not to make one shorter than the other! The skull fracture was not discovered until later, and it was as a result of this latter injury that Norman died from cerebral hemorrhage on the following Sunday morning, October 15. His comrades gathered around his bedside when he became finally unconscious, in the vain hope of detecting symptoms of renewed vitality, but he passed away peacefully as in a sleep. Those of his near relatives who had been summoned from Paris arrived at his bedside too late to find him alive.

The dead hero was given all the honors of a military funeral, which was held in the Luxeuil aviation field, where the body rested on a caisson draped with the American and French flags. The services, which were conducted by a French regimental chaplain, were attended by a large representation of the Allied military divisions, including French and English officers of high rank, as well as a full representation of the American Escadrille and pilots from the neighboring aviation camps. During the funeral, instead of the customary firing of cannon as a salutation to the dead, a squadron of aeroplanes circled in midair over the field in honor of the departed aviator, showering down myriads of flowers. The body was borne to a neighboring chapel, there to rest until the end of the war, in accordance with the military regulations governing the temporary disposition of the remains of those dying at the battle-fronts.

A memorial service, held on the following Sunday in the American Church in Paris, was described by those present as one of the most impressive ever witnessed in that sanctuary. The American colony came in full numbers to testify their admiration and appreciation of their fellow-countryman’s valor and sacrifice. The President of the French Republic, the heads of the executive and legislative branches of the Government, the Army and Navy and the Diplomatic Corps were represented by their most distinguished members, and the emblems of mourning contributed to a scene that was as beautiful as it was significant and memorable.

This is but the bare outline of the biography of a rare spirit whose loyalty to his ideals and the high chivalry of whose devotion to the cause of Liberty, Civilization, and Humanity have made his name one to be remembered and his memory cherished with those of his patriotic comrades and fellow-countrymen who fell for the same cause “in the sunny morn and flower of their young years.”

It deserves to be noted here that in all of Norman’s spoken or written messages, telling of his experiences in France, there is nowhere to be found a note of doubt or discouragement or a word denoting any lack of confidence in the ultimate triumph of the cause for which he was fighting. The Allies might meet repeated reverses, and tremendous sacrifices of blood and treasure might have to be made, before a decisive victory could be achieved, but he never doubted the final outcome of the war. His faith in this respect was as firm and unflinching as were his courage and natural optimism in all human affairs. His sense of consecration was unceasingly vibrant. He deeply regretted that his own country was not yet actively enlisted on the side of the Allies and that he was not permitted from the beginning to represent his Government as well as his country in the fighting lines, but this disappointment did not diminish his enthusiasm as an American volunteer soldier giving his services for a cause that he believed to be that of his country and of the world. In one of his letters he wrote enthusiastically:

“Everything goes well. Before the end of this war we shall have aeroplanes with at least 800 or 1000 horsepower flying from Soissons to Petrograd, setting fire to the four corners of Berlin.”

The death of his comrade Victor Chapman touched him deeply. “Poor Victor!” he wrote. “He was killed while fighting a German aeroplane that was attacking Lufberry and me. A sad but glorious death, facing the enemy in a great cause and to save a friend!”

Norman Prince’s heroic sacrifice is finely described in the ode written in memory of the American volunteers fighting for France, by Alan Seeger, the young American soldier-poet, who finally gave his own life for the cause of the Allies on the battlefield of Belloy-en-Santerre;

“Yet sought they neither recompense nor praise, Nor to be mentioned in another breath Than their blue-coated comrades, whose great days It was their pride to share—aye, share even to the death! Nay, rather, France, to you they rendered thanks (Seeing that they came for honor, not for gain), Who opening to them your glorious ranks Gave them that grand occasion to excel— That chance to live the life most free from stain And that rare privilege of dying well.”

II

HIS OWN STORY

Some of Norman’s experiences in the French aviation service were of an exceptionally thrilling character, showing the peculiar perils of aerial warfare. At the time of his last home visit on a short furlough, he was invited to relate some of these at the Tavern Club in Boston. His story, as modestly and frankly told by him on that occasion, is best given in his own words:

“I sailed for Europe in the latter part of the year 1914 in order to do what I could to help the cause which I believed, and still believe, to be that of my own country, as well as that of the Allied Nations.

“Reaching France I offered my services to that Government as an aviator. They were promptly accepted and I contracted an engagement to serve France until she had achieved victory. Seven other Americans enlisted with me at the same time as aviators, and we proceeded from our dépôt, where we were clothed, to the flying school at Pau in the south of France in the Pyrenees, where conditions for flying are exceptionally good, there being hardly any wind in that region. The school at Pau at the time was the largest flying school in the world. While we were there about three hundred young men were in training, and at last accounts, there were over five hundred pupils practicing in aviation, using at least two hundred modern machines. We remained there a month. As a rule it takes about forty-eight days to turn out a military aviator, qualified and fitted to obtain the civil and military licenses required. In order to obtain the latter it is necessary to make a successful flight of about four hundred miles across country. I had already acquired a fair knowledge of the science of aviation at home and had made numerous flights in different machines, so that the training at Pau came comparatively easy to me, but it was necessary for me to become thoroughly acquainted with all the rules governing the French military aviation service, as well as to make myself familiar with the French machines in order to meet the full requirements of the training. When we were through this school we received our _brevets militaires_ and we had ridden every kind of air craft used in the French Army.

“All licensed aviators, as turned out, are sent to the reserve station for aviators near Paris. In our case, after spending a week or two there, we were found fit for more active service, and we were suddenly sent to the front in the north of France, arriving there in time for the May attacks near Arras and Artois. Our perilous experiences in aerial warfare were soon to begin. After one reconnoitering tour we were sent out to bombard munition dépôts, railway centers, and aviation fields in the rear of the enemy’s lines, from ten to forty kilometres distant from our base. I have a vivid remembrance of my first bombarding expedition. The action took place at a point not far within the enemy’s lines. I was sent with two or three members of my squadron to bombard a station where ammunition was being unloaded. It takes about forty minutes for a machine heavily loaded with bombs to get to a sufficient height to cross the lines. The minimum height at which we crossed was about seven thousand feet. I saw my comrades cross ahead of me and noted they were being heavily shelled by the enemy. Accordingly, I decided to go a little higher before crossing. When I found I had only sufficient gasoline left to make my bombardment and return to my base, I started over. I was soon to experience what I may call my baptism of fire. The impression made upon me by the terrible racket and the spectacle of shells aimed at me and exploding near by made me shiver for a moment. Though I was confident and unafraid, my limbs began to tremble. Still I kept straight on my course. I would not have changed it for the world. My legs were so wobbly from nervous excitement that I tried to hide them from my observer, who was an old hand at the game. I confess to a feeling of relief when I reached the point where our bombs were to be thrown over. Having discharged this duty I was glad to return to my starting-point with the motor running at slow speed, and knowing that I was soon to be out of range of the enemy’s deadly fire.

“In this bombardment my machine was made almost entirely of steel tubing with a 140-horse-power engine, capable of carrying a load of bombs weighing from four to seven hundred pounds. As an arm of defense it carried a machine gun. This is the type of machine that has made most of the long raids on the enemy. I soon became accustomed to the duty I had to perform and to flying with the spectacle of shells bursting all around me, at the same time keeping on the lookout for the ’planes of the enemy. We made seventeen bombardments during the ensuing month of June and we got to be old hands at this kind of warfare. It is never quite agreeable to be shelled up in the air or elsewhere, and those who make the boast of liking it do not tell the exact truth.

“To illustrate how well the French military aviation service is organized and supplied with machines, let me tell you of my experience at the front in Lorraine, where one day I had the misfortune to break one of the wings of my machine. Instead of stopping to have it repaired, all I had to do was to turn it into a supply station near by where it was at once dismantled and sent to the rear. I was then promptly supplied with a new machine. A change of aeroplanes by an aviator in action in France is like a cavalryman changing his horse. If there is anything the matter with the animal, even if it is only a corn, a new one is at once forthcoming. There is no suggestion of parsimony or niggardliness in giving out the supplies necessary for efficient fighting.

“On another occasion, when we were making a raid on the railway station at Douai, which was about twenty-five kilometres within the enemy’s lines, we started with a squadron of some twenty machines. There happened to be that day a great many German machines out. Somehow or other they knew we were coming. We had four or five brisk engagements with them. Our planes had only machine guns with which to defend themselves, while the Germans used regular fighting machines. This aerial engagement resulted in four of our machines coming back riddled with bullets, my lieutenant being hit in the leg.

“I was fortunate enough that day to escape the range of the German flying machines by going farther north and passing through the clouds, though I was shelled from a long distance all the way. I succeeded in dropping my bombs on a railroad station, one of which I saw explode in a bunch of freight cars in the railroad yard. As I was returning within our lines the Englishmen, by mistake, opened a brisk fire on me which necessitated my going up into the clouds again. I proceeded due west until I ran out of gasoline and I then descended in the dark near the headquarters of the English. It was my good fortune to land safely and on my arrival at my post I was brought before the English commander, who asked me to tell my story. Mine being one of the four machines out of twenty that had reached Douai in the raid, I was awarded a citation and given the right to wear a War Cross—my first decoration.