the cover

BY: EMIL FRANZI,TERRI SOLTY LUKE

WWI Ace Frank

IF HE HAD RETURNED FROM HIS LAST FLIGHT, HE WOULD HAVE BEEN ARRESTED AND COURT-MARTIALED. INSTEAD, HE WAS THE FIRST ARMY FLIER IN WORLD WAR I TO RECEIVE THE CONGRESSIONAL MEDAL OF HONOR. IN 17 DAYS AND LESS THAN 30 HOURS IN THE AIR, HE OFFICIALLYracked up 18 confirmed and two probable victories. Unofficially, many think he did even better. We know how, where, and when he died. But we're not sure why. He's been described as resembling a character from an old "B" war film. Which makes you wonder if maybe those vintage epics weren't closer to the truth than we realize. Closer to what Frederic Remington called "the truth of other times." There's an Air Force base west of Phoenix named in his honor, a statue of him in front of the Arizona State Capitol, and biographies of him that have been read by several generations of Americans, including The (OPPOSITE PAGE) After only three months of combat in France and numerous near-misses with death, the carnage of the Western Front had evaporated the youthfulness of 21-year-old 2nd Lt. Frank Luke Jr. and replaced it with the face of a hardened veteran. RESEARCH DIVISION, ARIZONA DEPARTMENT OF LIBRARY ARCHIVES AND PUBLIC RECORDSBalloon Buster by Norman Hall. Dating from 1928, it's not completely accurate nor all inclusive, but Hall spent time with family members and with some of those who served with him. After scraping off the hype, Hall got most of it right. This World War I aviator was Frank Luke Jr. Born in Phoenix on May 19, 1897, he was the fifth of nine children of Frank and Otillia Luke. There are more than a hundred direct descendants of Frank and Tillie Luke living today, many of them in the Phoenix area.

Luke AN ENIGMATIC AMERICAN HERO

The first Luke to arrive in Arizona was Charles Augustus. Born in Germany in 1832, he served three years in the 2nd California Volunteer Cavalry and came to Mohave County in 1866. He was a member of a mining party that was ambushed by the Hualapais. Four died in the attack, and only Charles survived.

In 1873 he visited his brother Lorenz in New York and returned to Prescott with his 14-year-old nephew, Frank Luke Sr. Elected mayor in 1875, Charles later moved to Phoenix and married his second wife, Emma Liebenow. Two years later, Emma's daughter Tillie married Frank Sr. Charles died in 1899.

Frank Luke Sr., like Charles, had an interest in politics. He won several local offices, including Maricopa County supervisor and ultimately a seat on the State Tax Commission, a post he held until his death in 1939. Tillie lived until 1947, long enough to pin pilot's wings on her grandson James at Luke Field in 1944.

Frank Luke Jr. was the big good-looking blond-haired blue-eyed captain of the football team at Phoenix Union High School. A leader, a hellraiser, and with a strong attraction to and from the opposite sex, he and several close friends spent time riding, hunting, fishing, and shooting in the wild and open country that was then much closer to Phoenix. Courage and tenacity developed early: He once scored a winning touchdown knowing he had a broken collarbone.He was graduated from high school in 1915 and went to work in the New Cornelia Mine in Ajo, about 100 miles southwest of Phoenix. He'd already put in a couple of summers in the mine and gained a reputation as a hardnosed, cocky kid. He decided to set the pace for the rest of the miners on his shift, something that wasn't popular. Other miners picked the toughest brawler they had to teach the new kid a lesson. And Luke flattened him with one punch.

Some time later, a traveling prizefighter arrived in town. The professional boxer would take on whoever the locals picked, and the pro usually won or he wouldn't be in the business. Surprised that a tough mining town selected a baby-faced 18 year old, the fighter found out why when Luke knocked him cold in the first round.

When America entered World War I, Frank Jr.'s oldest brother, Edwin, enlisted. (Ironically, after training as an artillery officer, Ed was awaiting orders to the Western Front when the war ended.) Luke's sister, Eva, had become a Red Cross nurse, and she appealed to Frank Jr.'s patriotism. On September 25, 1917, he enlisted as a private in the Signal Corps.

Much has been written about Frank Luke's lack of discipline and his insubordination. That was true later in combat, but he clearly was well-disciplined enough to complete pilot training and gain a commission as a

JOIN THE AIR SERVICE

Frank Luke flew away from the group, claiming engine trouble. It worked once, but he did it again the next day. When Hartney confronted him, his response was, 'I got a Hun.' 2nd lieutenant. That he could shoot and fly probably helped.

He shipped out for France on March 4, 1918. One line from a letter to his sister is telling: "I will make myself known or go where most of them do."

In this high-tech age, it's hard to grasp the stark simplicity of early aircraft. To see Spads and Camels close up is to recognize the courage it required just to fly one, let alone fight from it. Fragile kites with a wooden frame covered with fabric, most weighed well under a ton and were only about 20 feet long. Powered by inefficient rotary engines, their top speed was about a hundred miles an hour, and the crude instruments were less numerous than in today's cars. And they were flown from an open cockpit without a parachute.

Training was often minimal, and aircraft were known to fall apart in midair. The following is from Luke's diary of May 22: "... started up and at about 500 feet push-er rod broke and tore off hood. Landed in

LEARN-EARN

small field ok. On ground rest of day. Ruined motor. Made two holes in top wing. Noise very loud. Large pieces of tin flew in all directions."

Until late July, he ferried new aircraft to frontline outfits. Though he was chaffing to get into action, the extra flying increased his skills. On July 26, he was assigned to the First Pursuit Group, 27th Squadron, commanded by Maj. Harold E. Hartney.

The Front was advancing after years of stagnant trench warfare, and aerial activity was at its height. Both sides had more aircraft than earlier, and both had grown more cautious. Loneeagle heroes had been replaced. Formations eyed each other warily and rarely attacked unless they had a decided advantage, usually numerical. Both sides had lost too many comrades, and their leaders did what good leaders do: They kept their people alive.

Hartney lectured Luke the first day, telling him if he wasn't shot down in two weeks, he'd consider him a success. The young airman just grinned and a couple days later participated in his first combat formation. Luke flew away from the group, claiming engine trouble. It worked once, but he did it again the next day. When Hartney confronted him, his response was, "I got a Hun."

'Up and At 'Em!' 27th Squadron Battle Song 'Here Comes the Hun's Boy's, Roll Out The Planes, Start The Motors Call the Pilots Sound the Signal - and, Up and At 'Em!'

(LEFT) "The Arizona Balloon Buster." As dusk fell over the St. Mihiel Front, a SPAD piloted by an Arizona cowboy crossed the enemy lines and headed for a German observation balloon. In minutes, the "sausage" was flaming to Earth, and 2nd Lt. Frank Luke Jr., of the 27th Aero Squadron, had scored another victory. For his record of 14 balloons and four planes in 17 days, Luke was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor. MERV CORNING, COURTESY UNITED STATES AIR FORCE ART COLLECTION, 20.61 (ABOVE) Heraldry and songs were an especially important aspect of squadron pride and morale along the Western Front. Luke, a relentless hunter of German balloons and aircraft, defined the 27th Aero Squadron's insignia, a hunting American Eagle in the Worldly Sun, as seen in this original version designed by the squadron's ground crew and its historian, Corp. Walter S. Williams. The song was cowritten by Williams and the commander of the First Pursuit Group, Maj. Harold E. Hartney. AIR FORCE HISTORICAL RESEARCH AGENCY, MAXWELL AIR FORCE BASE, ALABAMA While Luke often said, 'They'll never take me alive,' consider this: He was wounded. He'd just killed men in the unit surrounding him. Why should he believe they'd want him alive?

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Luke couldn't find the spot on the map or otherwise verify the act. And that was the beginning of the Luke legend and the stories that he was a braggart. Those in his squadron didn't believe him, except for Major Hartney. A pilot friend later wrote that he never noticed this tendency to be a braggart. "And do not believe he became so later, even at the height of his fame."

He eventually became friends with 1st Lt. Joe Wehner of Boston, German born and because of that, suspect, who was constantly in Luke's company. When they moved into the Verdun sector with the Allied advance, Luke acquired a big interest in German observation balloons. "Luke did not consult Wehner. He was indifferent whether he had a partner or not," wrote Laurence Driggs in the August, 1919, issue of The Ladies Home Journal.

Aircraft were too light and radios too heavy for instant aerial reconnaissance, so both sides used huge sausage-shaped gas bags, filled with hydrogen and run up as high as 4,000 feet. Communication was by telephone. Balloons were well-protected by many antiaircraft guns and a flight of fighters. Those who made a hobby of going after them had even lower life expectancies than other pilots.

One "balloon buster" of the very few who survived was legendary Belgian ace Willy Coppens. His memoirs, Flying in Flanders, tell us about his motivation.

Coppens flew combat missions for two years before he shot down anything. By April of 1918, the war became one of real movement. Observation balloons now had something to observe. Coppens wrote about the fear men in the trenches had of those balloons accurately directing artillery fire. He went after them because somebody had to. So did Luke.

Coppens bagged more than 30 before the Germans bagged him. On October 14, 1918, he crashed what was left of his Hanriot HD1 into the Allied lines. Hospitalized for months, he lost a leg. He lived well into his 90s and was one of the few men to write firsthand about the fine art of balloon strafing.

Wehner took on the fighters while Luke went down for the balloon. "This was risky business," wrote Driggs. "It was necessary, again and again, to return to the enemy barrage surrounding the balloon in order to bring it down. It was called certain suicide. Even if the flaming bullets penetrated the gas bag, they sometimes did not set them afire."

Germans cranked down balloons at sundown. Luke and Wehner would take off from a forward field and bag a sausage as it was being winched in, then fly home in the dark. A signal light fired from the planes notified the airdrome that landing lights should be turned on. "Almost instantly," wrote Driggs, "a searchlight behind the hangar pointed on an angle of 45 degrees. And in another moment, the row of landing lights along the road bordering the flying The field shone out in a gigantic T to indicate to the pilots the exact position of the field." Luke got his first balloon on September 11. "It was while Luke was chasing three enemy planes within our lines that he decided to make a try for his first balloon," wrote Henry Starkey Aldrich, a flight commander with the 1st Aero Squadron, A.Ε.Ε. "Luke eventually gave up the chase when he spotted the balloon. He dived at it but the bullets had no effect, and he dived at it again. The ground crew hastily began to lower it while the German gunners directed a murderous fire at him. A second burst also failed, and he attacked a third time when both guns jammed. "Luke then made a turn or two and succeeded in fixing one gun. About to make a final attempt, he saw the gas bag explode with a blinding flash." Hartney had moved up to command the group, and his new squadron leader was Capt. Alfred Grant. Unlike Hartney, Grant didn't believe the story of the first kill and was a tougher disciplinarian. Luke had quickly learned that when you flamed a balloon in front of thousands of people, confirmation was easy. On September 14, covered by Wehner, Luke nailed two more. By now his colleagues' earlier derision was changing to "Ride 'em, cowboy." The team and the tactics were clearly effective. By September 17, they were both aces, Luke with nine kills, Wehner with eight. The next day, Luke got two balloons and three fighters. And Joe Wehner didn't come back. Late in the afternoon of September 18, Luke set out to destroy two balloons near Verdun. Wehner accompanied him. Aldrich and Hartney later pieced together this account of what followed: As they crossed the lines, they saw a third balloon. Luke dived for his attack on this nearest balloon, and his pal climbed above him to keep an eye out for the enemy. The balloon soon collapsed. Before attacking the next target, the men saw six enemy Fokkers approach from the west. Unknown to Luke, however, there were three more Fokkers approaching from the opposite direction. Six Fokkers swooped down on Luke. Wehner saw them and in a desperate effort to save his friend fired a flare signal of warning. Luke, busy with his balloon busting, failed to see it. So Wehner piled into the mess. Climbing, Wehner placed himself between Luke and the enemy, while Luke dived on the second balloon and sent it down in flames. The third bag had disappeared. Looking in the direction of the first group of Fokkers, Luke saw that they had changed course and were heading home. Puzzled, the young ace swung about to see for the first time the other three planes, the famous Von Richthoven Circus. To his horror, they were all firing at close range on his chum's Spad, which fell earthward in a spin, trailing fire and smoke. Like exulting vultures, the Fokkers were still diving and darting upon the doomed machine, shooting streaks of unnecessary flaming bullets into the stricken Spad. Joe Wehner had fought his last fight. On his way home, Luke saw some French Spads circling a German Halberstadt. He broke up the party by diving in and blasting the German himself. Five in one day, running his total to 14, then the highest for an American. But he'd lost Joe Wehner.

Luke's depression was massive. Hartney and Grant decided he needed leave. He was sent to Paris for a week, but he came back three days early claiming, "There was nothing to do." On September 26, Luke was back with a new partner, 2nd Lt. Ivan Roberts of South Lee, Maine. Luke got one more kill, but Roberts was shot down and was presumed missing. The next day, Luke took his Spad on an unauthorized visit to a neighboring French squadron. He stayed overnight, and Grant found out he had flamed a balloon on the trip. Grant grounded him. On September 29, Luke left against orders again and landed at a forward field to refuel. But he took off hastily, a mistake that would cost him. Grant called ahead and ordered the flight leader to detain him. He'd already recommended Luke for the Distinguished Service Cross. Now he planned to court-martial him. Landing at the advanced field, Major Hartney, who was unaware of the order to detain Luke, saw him and sent him after a line of balloons. Luke took off, and dropped the following message on a group of American observers: "Watch 3 Hun balloons on the Meuse. Luke." He got the first two, but observers saw Luke's plane get hit. He bagged the third, and wobbled toward home under heavy fire. As he passed over the village of Murvaux, he strafed a column of German infantry, killing several. He then landed in a field, got out, and drank from a nearby stream. Surrounded by Germans, he drew his pistol and was killed in a brief firefight. We know all this because a group of villagers who saw it signed a sworn statement in May of 1919, and showed where the Germans had buried Luke. Until then he, like Wehner and Roberts, had been classified as missing in action. The story of Luke's death enhanced the rumor that he was crazy. The war was According to the villagers of Murvaux, France, who witnessed Luke's fateful last day above the German lines, the Arizona daredevil shot down three balloons and two planes before strafing a German infantry column in the town's streets and landing in the church cemetery. Pulling his .45 automatic, Luke refused to surrender and fought until shot in the chest and killed. KEVIN KIBSEY FROM AN ORIGINAL DRAWING PUBLISHED IN LIBERTY MAGAZINE, MARCH 17, 1928 almost over. All he had to do was surrender. While Luke often said, "They'll never take me alive," consider this before passing posthumous psychiatric judgment: He was wounded. He'd just killed men in the unit surrounding him. Why should he believe they'd want him alive?

The villagers said they weren't allowed to handle his body or mark his grave. The Germans were running out of chivalry in 1918. Congress awarded Luke its Medal of Honor posthumously about a year later for "conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity." The award, recommended by Captain Grant, the man who had ordered Luke grounded and then arrested, specifically cited Luke's heroics on the day he died. His father accepted the medal during a ceremony at the Arizona State Capitol.

Additional information about Luke's last day recently surfaced. The following is a quote from the war diary of Corp. Walter S. Williams, 27th Aero Squadron, First Pursuit Group, U.S. Army Air Service.

After Captain Grant grounds Luke "Luke leaves the operations shack, leaving Capt. Grant under the impression that he is disciplined. But unchanged, Luke strolls out on the hangar apron and informs the crew that he is immediately taking to the air again, before word got out to the flight sergeant... the ship is not completely serviced for another patrol. And he takes off. It was a very bad move as his #26 plane had not been completely refueled, and he did not get refueled at the Verdun base."

Luke knocks down two planes and gets after the third balloon. His engine sputters] "He cannot make it back to the American lines or base. He is forced to land. His motor dead. He lands in an area of a church cemetery and hops out of the plane. The German ground troops call to him to surrender. But instead he draws his automatic pistol and begins shooting at the Germans. They [return fire] downing Luke.

Reports from the village of Murvaux are that Luke was stripped of all identification and decorations and wheeled through the village on parade in a wheelbarrow, leaving the villagers to bury him later."

Frank Luke Jr. was one of America's greatest heroes. Both of his commanding officers thought so. And fellow airman Capt. Eddie V. Rickenbacker thought so, too. At a ceremony in 1930, at which Rickenbacker was finally awarded his Congressional Medal of Honor for destroying 26 enemy aircraft, Rickenbacker paid his compatriot this compliment: "If Frank Luke had lived, I wouldn't be here today."

Luke and Rickenbacker were the only two American Army fliers to receive the Congressional Medal of Honor in World War I.

Tucson-based Emil Franzi, a consultant and radio commentator, has a deep interest in the history of Arizona and the military.

Terri Solty Luke, a journalist and public relations consultant, married into the Luke family, and says she realizes the importance of preserving the Frank Luke history as it represents the pioneer spirit of Arizona. She lives in Phoenix.