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Title: Norman Prince : A volunteer who died for the cause he loved
Author: Babbitt, George F.
Language: English
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NORMAN PRINCE
An American Volunteer who died for France
[Illustration: _Norman Prince_]
NORMAN PRINCE
A VOLUNTEER
WHO DIED FOR THE CAUSE
HE LOVED
WITH MEMOIR BY
GEORGE F. BABBITT
[Illustration]
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.
[Illustration: _As Master_ (pro tem.) _of the Pau Draghounds_]
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.
[Illustration: _With his Favorite Plane_]
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.
“My squadron spent a month in the east and during this time I
went farther into the enemy’s territory than I had been before.
I think the longest distance was when we made the raid on two
localities over one hundred kilometres within the enemy’s lines
in Bocherie, as we called it. During this month General Joffre
came to review our four squadrons of bombarding machines. With
him came the President of France and the King of the Belgians.
These distinguished visitors witnessed the departure of a
squadron of some ninety of our machines on a bombarding raid
loaded with bombs and flying four abreast. They were highly
complimentary in their salutations to us Americans.
“During this month in Lorraine I experienced the hardest knock
I had received up to that time. One day six German machines,
fully equipped, bombarded Nancy and our aviation field. To
retaliate, my squadron was sent out to bombard their field
on the same afternoon. We started with thirty machines to a
designated rendezvous and fifty minutes later, after getting
grouped, we proceeded to our ultimate destination. I had a very
fast machine, and reached the German flying field without being
hit. When about to let go my bombs and while my observer was
aiming at the hangars of the Germans my machine was attacked
by them—one on the left and two on the right. I shouted to my
observer to drop his bombs, which he did, and we immediately
straightened out for home. While I was on the bank the Germans
opened fire on me with their machine guns which were even more
perilous than their shells. My motor stopped a few moments
afterwards. It had given out and to make matters worse a fourth
German machine came directly at us in front. My observer, who
was an excellent shot, let go at him with the result that when
last seen this German aeroplane was about four hundred feet
below and quite beyond control. The other Germans behind kept
bothering us. If they had possessed ordinary courage, they
might have got us. Flying without any motive power compelled
me to stand my machine on end to keep ahead of them. As we were
nearing the French lines these Germans left us, but immediately
batteries from another direction opened fire on us. As I was
barely moving I made an excellent target. One shell burst near
enough to put shrapnel in my machine. It is marvelous how
hard we can be hit by shrapnel and have no vital part of our
equipment injured. I knew I was now over the French lines,
which I must have crossed at a height of about four hundred
metres. I finally landed in a field covered with white crosses
marking the graves of the French and German soldiers who had
fallen the previous September at this point. This was the
battle the Kaiser himself came to witness, expecting to spend
that night in Nancy.
“Thousands fell that day, but the Kaiser did not make his
triumphal entry. Looking back on this latter experience of mine
I think myself most fortunate in having been able to return to
the French lines without a scratch. I got home safely because
the German aviators lacked either courage or skill or both.
They had me with my engine dead, four against one, and twenty
kilometres within their lines.”
[Illustration: _Portrait as exhibited at Allied Fairs_]
Alluding to the occasion of the telling of this story, William Roscoe
Thayer, who presided at the dinner, said when the tidings of Norman’s
death came from France: “I shall never forget that Christmas night at
the Tavern Club when Norman sat next to me and told me many details of
his service and then arose and gave that wonderfully simple, impressive
story. To have had such a service and to die fighting for the cause which
means the defense of civilization—what nobler career could he have had?
I can think of no one who more thoroughly enjoyed the life of continuous
peril which he led. The honors which it brought him showed that France
recognized as heroism that which he took as a matter of course.”
III
LETTERS
The following letters of Norman Prince, although chiefly of an intimate
and personal character, are here published as a part of the record of
his experiences in the service of France and as further testimony to
his tenderly affectionate nature and his constant thoughtfulness and
solicitude for those he left at home.
[Illustration: _With his Superior Officer Lieutenant de Laage de
Mœux_]
_Havre, Jan. le 29, 1915._
_Dear Mamma_,—I have just put foot ashore in France after a
disagreeable crossing, 2nd class. Here in Havre there are
troops and troops always passing. French troops, chiefly of the
reserve; thousands of English troops in khaki, Belgian troops
without uniform. They all say, not at all in a boastful way,
that they will be back home again by the end of the year. Will
they?
Dear Mamma, I hope you are well and that papa has not taken too
much at heart my leaving home at this time. I believe I can
find a place to do some efficient and useful work for the cause
to which I am so deeply devoted. My love to you all. I shall
write often.
Affectionately your son,
NORMAN.
* * * * *
_Esc N. 124, Secteur 24, May 15, 1915._
_Dear Governor_,—Arrived _en escadrille par la voie des airs_
to replace a disabled pilot until the _Escadrille Américaine_
is formed.
I saw the battle lines and heard for the first time the
never-ending boom of guns. This is war in dead earnest and
right at hand. Will write more fully later.
Affectionately,
NORMAN.
* * * * *
V. B. 108-B. 103, _May 20, 1915_.
_Dear Freddy_,—Arrived here at the Front last Tuesday piloting
two _Voisins appareils de bombardement_. On the way we
bombarded observation balloons, railway centers, _poudrières_,
aviation camps and other locations of Boche activity—but not
towns or cities or other localities where the lives of helpless
women and children might be endangered. We are in the section
where all the French advances have lately been made. The
vertical guns of the Boches are particularly annoying to us.
They have got two out of six of the pilots of our Escadrille
since our arrival. One got down within our own lines; the other
fell within the lines of the Boches—whether he was killed or
not we do not know.
(_Eight miles from the German trenches._)
Been here a week and have become quite accustomed to being shot
at. We go out every day and the salutations we get from the
Boches are rapid and continuous when we are over their lines.
The Boches here have more vertical guns to aim at us—more to
the mile of front than anywhere else. There are hundreds of
French aeroplanes grouped here because it is in the twenty
miles north of Arras and south of the English where all the
recent French advances have taken place. Attacks and counter
attacks by day and night, and the bang of artillery in the near
distance never ceases. We often go out at the same time as
the infantry attack behind the artillery fire, the artillery
of both sides banging away at the trenches, batteries and at
us,—the avions in the air. It is a wonderful spectacle and
something frightful as well—until we get used to it!
N. P.
* * * * *
_Paris, September 6, 1915._
_My dear Grandmamma_,—I am in Paris on a few days’ leave and
just had luncheon with a friend who is leaving to-night for
Rome and I have asked him to mail this letter to you on his
arrival.
For the last four months I have been at the front—two months
in the North near Arras during the attacks of May and June.
After that we were stationed for a month near Nancy in the
East. Now we have returned to the north again where there is
increasing activity. I am happy and in the best of health.
I sleep under canvas on a stretcher bed and eat in the shed
of an old farm house near by. I have nothing to complain
of. I like it. There are ten American pilots with us in the
French service and twelve others in training with their
number constantly increasing. Some day soon we will all be
united in one escadrille—an Escadrille Américaine—that is my
fondest ambition. I am devoting all my spare energies to
organizing it and all the American pilots here are giving me
every encouragement and assistance in the work of preliminary
organization. As I have had so much to do in originating and
pushing the plan along, perhaps I shall be second in command.
I would enjoy tremendously a letter. My address now is
Sergeant-Pilote Prince
Escadrille d’Avions Canon
3me Groupe de Bombardement
Secteur Postal 102.
I hope you are in Rome, not in Treviso, which must be _dans la
Zone des Armées_.
Your affectionate grandson,
NORMAN.
[Illustration: _Application to ride a Breguet de Chasse_]
* * * * *
_Cⁱᵉ Gˡᵉ Transatlantique, À bord, January 4, 1916._
_My dear Mamma_,—Just a line before the pilot leaves us to tell
you that Freddy and I appreciate your sorrow in having your
two boys go to the war. However, the greater the sorrow, the
greater the joy will be when they return!
Nothing was forgotten. Freddy and I have the same stateroom and
I shall immediately start to make him fit. I tell him that in
order to join the Flying Corps, one cannot weigh more than 75
kilos.
Your most affectionate son,
NORMAN.
* * * * *
_G. D. E. Div. Nieuport Secteur 92A, February 19, 1916._
_Dear Governor_,—Enclosed is a letter from Freddy. Notice that
he says the discipline at Pau is very strict.
I am a schoolboy again. I am training to fly the very fastest
_appareil de chasse_—quite a different instrument from the
_avion canon_ which weighs three times more than these small
chasing _appareils_.
I am busy pushing matters, in regard to the formation of the
Escadrille Américaine. There is a possibility that St.-Saveur,
now a captain in the aviation, may command us. Although but a
short time on the front he has done finely as a pilot. We are
all _disponible_ to go to the front and are only waiting for
a captain, the personnel—(chauffeurs, secretary, cook, etc.)
our avions and the motor cars. Orders for our formation will
be issued, I hope, next week. The weather has been very rainy
and windy here for a week, which is to be expected, during the
month of February. We are losing no time, however.
Those Lewis guns, if there is any way of getting hold of a
dozen, would be much appreciated by us here. The more you can
get for us the better, but I realize that it may be impossible
even for you to get hold of any.
How are the horses? Don’t overdo the schooling!
I hope you and Mamma are enjoying Aiken. The main thing is to
care for your health.
With love to Mamma, who, I trust, is not too anxious about
Freddy and me.
Your affectionate son,
NORMAN.
* * * * *
_Esc. N. 124. Secteur 24, June 26, 1916._
_Dear Mamma_,—Oliver Wolcott, who has been cantoned near by
with the American Ambulance, is going home to serve with the
militia and is to take this letter with him.
No news of Freddy this past week. The training is so thorough
at these aviation schools that he risks but little while there.
Probably he won’t get to the front for another month.
Poor Victor Chapman! He had been missing for a week and we knew
there was only a very remote chance that he was a prisoner.
He was of tremendous assistance to me in getting together the
Escadrille. His heart was in it to make ours as good as any on
the front. Victor was as brave as a lion and sometimes he was
almost too courageous,—attacking German machines whenever and
wherever he saw them, regardless of the chances against him. I
have written to Mr. Chapman—a rather difficult letter to write
to a heart-broken father. Victor was killed while attacking
an aeroplane that was coming against Lufberry and me. Another
unaccounted for German came up and brought Victor down while
he was endeavoring to protect us. A glorious death—_face à
l’ennemi_ and for a great cause and to save a friend!
Your affectionate son,
NORMAN.
* * * * *
_Escadrille N. 124, Secteur 24, June 29, 1916._
_Dear Mamma_,—Enclosed is a photograph of Victor Chapman and
myself, taken two days before his death. It is a print of what
is probably the last photograph taken of him. I have sent one
to Mr. Chapman.
We are too busy and short of pilots at our Escadrille to think
of taking a _permission_ at present. _Tout va bien. Bonnes
nouvelles de_ Freddy.
Your affectionate son,
NORMAN.
* * * * *
_July 2, 1916._
_Dear Mamma_,—A few lines to tell you that _tout va bien_. This
letter will be taken over and mailed in New York by an American
Ambulance driver who dined with us last night.
To-day I am _de garde_ all the morning—that is to say, from
dawn to noon. I must be by my avion ready to start as soon
as any Boches are signaled. None have been so far this
morning—worse luck!
Your affectionate son,
NORMAN.
_Esc. 124, Secteur 24._
* * * * *
_Esc. N. 124, Secteur 24, July 6, 1916._
_Dear Governor_,—Enclosed is a letter which speaks of Freddy.
The Escadrille is running well. St.-Saveur lunched at our
_popole_ last week and wished to be remembered to you and
Mamma; de R⸺, who was on our team at Bagatille, was here for
lunch to-day with R⸺; both wish to be remembered; de P⸺ came
last week looking very fit and will write to you shortly.
The aviaphone for my helmet arrived in good shape and I
have lent it to my captain, as I am riding at present a
single-seated aeroplane.
Your affectionate son,
NORMAN.
[Illustration: _Memorandum of the bringing-down of his first German
machine_]
* * * * *
_Deauville, Sept. 2, 1916._
_Dear Mamma_,—I am down here with friends, passing part of my
_permission_. It is very pleasant and refreshing, the change.
One soon gets enough of Paris in summer and in wartime. Here
no one pays the slightest attention to the war. There are few
_militaires_—mostly _civiles_ from Paris and their _amies_.
Good bathing,—golf in the afternoon—many good-lookers, making
the _plage_ rather good fun.
Freddy is nearly through at Pau. He is now at the acrobacy
school learning to do stunts in the air. It is a part of the
training of a _chasse_ pilot. I gave him some pointers before
he left and told him to do the least possible with the old
machines which are quite out of date and clumsy.
Monday I return to Paris and Tuesday back to the Front, my
eight days _permission_ expiring on that day.
I was fortunate enough to run across a German the other day
who didn’t see me approaching. If you read the _communiqué
aérien_ of the 23d or 24th you will find mention of my
Boche,—“_un avion désemparé est tombé dans la forêt de
Spencourt_.” Undoubtedly they will give me this time the
Médaille Militaire,—the chicest decoration in France. The chief
pleasure of having it will be the satisfaction of having earned
it many times and that my receiving it may please the governor
and you.
_A bientôt_, dear Mamma. Thanks for the socks and the
handkerchiefs.
Most affectionately,
NORMAN.
* * * * *
_Escadrille Américaine, par Luxeuil-les-Bains,
Haute-Saône, September 24, 1916._
_Dear little Mamma_,—I am so afraid you will worry more than
ever when you hear of poor Kiffen Rockwell’s death. I know
how anxious you must be with the two of us over here. Keep
very busy, ride a lot, go out to dinners and get as many other
distractions as possible so that you will not have too much
time to think of us. As far as danger to us goes, we are trying
to take as few chances as possibly consistent with playing the
game.
Everybody tells me that Freddy is showing himself to be an
excellent pilot. Unfortunately he has not yet fully decided
to come with our Escadrille. He would prefer to go to another
which is commanded by St.-Saveur. I dare say he might be
happier if he did not come with us, but _à point de vue_ of
safety it seems to me he would be better off with us. I could
be a lot of assistance to him, telling him all I have learned
this spring hunting Germans, and he would have an excellent
mechanic in Michel, who by the way, has been Rockwell’s
mechanic while waiting for Freddy’s arrival; and further, he
could have my machine to ride, which is the _dernier cri_
in _appareils de chasse_, with two machine guns. He would
otherwise get one as safe, but not so good for knocking down
Boches. He would have only one gun.
Did I write you that I had knocked down another Boche two days
before leaving the Verdun district? I enclose a clipping giving
the _communiqué officiel_, with mention also of my Boche who
fell at Dieppe.
Dear Mamma, I must stop writing now. We are going out to try to
avenge Rockwell. Don’t worry! I am doing my duty as safely as I
know how. With much love to you both,
Most affectionately,
NORMAN.
* * * * *
_To his Mécanicien_
_Cher Michel_,—En cas qu’un accident m’arrive—c’est à dire
que je suis tué, blessé ou que je reste chez les Boches—je
vous prie d’écrire quelques lignes à ces dames, les adresses
desquelles sont écrites sur les enveloppes (ci-incluses).
Dis leur que je t’avais dis d’écrire préférant qu’elles sachent
ce qu’il m’est arrivé plutôt que de rester dans l’angoisse au
sujet de mon sort.
Signe ton nom en mettant que tu avais été mon mécanicien dévoué
depuis mon arrivée sur le front.
Mes effets, papiers, lettres, etc., le tout, il faut mettre de
suite dans mes valises et les remettre personnellement à mon
frère.
Ci-inclus deux chèques comme cadeau en récompense du boullot
que vous et André ont fait si soigneusement sur les appareils
de Bibi et qui m’ont permis à gagner la Médaille Militaire.
Ces chèques sont payables, à ma mort ou dans le cas
que je reste chez les Boches, à défaut de ce que cela
m’arrive—(espérons-le) à la démobilisation de vous deux.
En cas qu’un de vous devient civil avant l’autre, celui devenu
civil prends son chèque et le présente à la Banque—où il sera
payé.
Bonne poignée de main!
NORMAN PRINCE.
_Esc. N 124, par Luxeuil-les-Bains, le 6 Septembre, 1916._
* * * * *
_From his Mécanicien_
_Secteur 16, le 25 Octobre, 1916._
_Monsieur et Madame Prince_:—
Excusez-moi si je suis un peu en retard pour vous donner
quelques détails sur le malheur qui nous frappe en la perte de
Monsieur Norman.
Il m’avait laissé, juste huit jours avant sa chute fatale,
quelques enveloppes avec adresses écrites par sa main pour
que je vous écrive quelques mots ainsi qu’à quelques amis si
quelque chose lui arrivait. Je vous joins du reste la lettre
qui est un véritable souvenir.
Pauvre Monsieur Norman, les boches n’ont pas pu avoir raison de
lui et n’ont pas eu ce plaisir là.
Il a trouvé la mort après tant de combats affrontés, tant de
dangers, et il en est sorti avec les honneurs à son avantage.
Son dernier départ a été le 12 Octobre, avec son avion de
chasse Nieuport monté avec deux mitrailleuses et avec lequel il
avait abattu un boche le 10, deux jours avant: il est parti à 2
heures faire la protection d’un groupe d’avions de bombardement
très en avant dans les lignes ennemies. Il a abattu un avion
de chasse ennemi à 3 hrs. qui venait attaquer le groupe et
lui barrer la route. Comme toujours, faisant son devoir avec
conscience, il a attendu que tous les avions ont repassé les
lignes avant de rentrer lui-même et à la dernière minute il
pense à atterrir dans le champ d’aviation le plus près vu que
la nuit commençait à tomber.
Il était prêt à faire un atterrissage des plus normal, malgré
l’obscurité, quand le malheur a voulu qu’il touche un cable qui
était au bordure du champ, et dont il ne pouvait soupçonner la
présence et son avion est venu s’écraser sur le sol.
Il a été relevé et aussitôt transporté dans un Hôpital sans une
plainte et sans perdre un instant ses sens, causant avec un de
ses camarades d’escadrille.
Il avait deux jambes fracturées, la droite à la cuisse et la
gauche au-dessus la cheville. Il a été opéré aussitôt, non sans
recommander aux docteurs de bien s’assurer de ne pas faire une
jambe plus courte l’une que l’autre, car il faisait beaucoup de
sport.
On lui a arrangé ses deux jambes et tout était fini à minuit.
Le lendemain il causait avec tout le monde et tout faisait
espérer les meilleurs résultats d’une prompte guérison, il
passe une bonne nuit et le matin du 14 à 6 heures est frappé
d’une embolie cérébrale (au moment où personne ne s’y
attendait nullement) et n’a repris connaissance.
Je suis resté jusqu’à ses dernier moments auprès de lui, et je
n’ai pas eu la chance de le voir reprendre ses sens une seconde.
Ce que je puis dire c’est que rien n’a été négligé et qu’il a
été très bien soigné. Il paraissait très heureux.
Il en était à son avion cinq boches abattus officiellement et
en avait quatre autres en réalité mais non confirmés—plus un
ballon captif d’observation qu’il avait attaqué et enflammé:
et les nombreux bombardements du début sur voisin où il était
toujours le premier prêt à partir et des fois le seul qui
allait droit au but.
Malgré tous les dangers parsemés sur sa route et après avoir
pris tant de soins et d’attention il nous est enlevé (il ne
comptait que des amis sincères et dévoués) et juste au moment
où il était arrivé au but: Médaille Militaire, Légion d’Honneur
et Croix de Guerre qu’il avait si noblement gagnées.
C’est une grande perte pour l’armée Française et aussi pour
nous, car il nous rapportait avec son amitié l’honneur du
devoir et la bravoure du bon soldat.
Il a été ramené à Luxeuil, où un service funèbre a été célébré
au milieu de ses amis; il a été accompagné par ses nombreux
camarades avec toutes les honneurs.
Après avoir appris la maladie grave de Monsieur nous sommes
restés quelques jours sans nouvelles causé par le déplacement
de l’escadrille, et nous avons été très heureux, Monsieur
Frédéric et moi, quand il a reçu une cable lui annonçant que
Monsieur Prince allait mieux et que tout danger était écarté.
Á present Monsieur Frédéric est avec nous, et vous pouvez
compter sur moi pour que je fasse tout ce qu’il me sera
possible pour lui, et espérant que l’on aura le bonheur de voir
la signature de la paix en bonne santé, je termine.
Monsieur et Madame, si vous désiriez d’autres renseignements,
je me ferais un devoir de vous les donner, et c’est avec
plaisir que je vous donnerai tous les renseignements possibles.
Recevez, Monsieur et Madame, mes respectueuses salutations.
Votre dévoué serviteur,
MICHEL PLAA PORTE,
_Mécanicien Escadrille,
N. 124, Secteur 16_.
[Illustration: _Cover of a French Periodical_]
IV
FROM HIS FATHER
Memories of my younger son Norman are so tender and fragrant that his
bereaved father may well feel some hesitation in recording them for
publication lest they may seem to those who never enjoyed intimate
relations with him to have been inspired by absorbing parental pride and
affection rather than by less partial and disinterested judgment. If
there may be any warrant for this impression it will be readily allowed
that the sacrifice of this young life in a great cause and the commingled
pride and sorrow occasioned by such a martyrdom furnish adequate occasion
for the warmest eulogy. To know Norman well was to love him and admire
his fine traits of mind, heart, and soul.
I hardly know when our real companionship began. When he was yet a little
boy, just emerging from the nursery, Norman was wise and resourceful
beyond his young years. He was always reading and he was persistently
inquiring about things worth knowing. His youthful self-reliance is
amusingly illustrated by an incident when he was but about eleven years
of age. He asked for a private tutor to teach him Latin, and he felt so
sure of the kind of an instructor he wanted that he took upon himself the
somewhat responsible task of obtaining one without advice or assistance.
Having found one willing to accept the position Norman at once proceeded
to put him through a preliminary examination to test his professional
capacity.
[Illustration: _Norman Prince, Frederick Henry Prince, Jr., Frederick
Henry Prince_]
Describing this incident the tutor writes: “Norman came to me for work
in Latin when I had no reasonable hours at my disposal for him. At my
recommendation he sought the services of another tutor, but he soon
came back to me in considerable perturbation. With his quick, incisive,
convincing sentences he described Mr. Smith’s inefficiency in Latin, and
declared his complete despair of ever getting his tutor over six books of
Virgil in two weeks. Not to be caught again by the self-assurance of a
tutor, he asked, ‘Can you really read Virgil, Mr. Woodbury, and if so how
fast can you read it?’ Determined to keep within the speed limit and not
to disappoint him, I said, restrainedly, that I thought I might read ten
lines a minute. His eyes glistened with expectancy, but with caution he
inquired, ‘Really, Sir? May I time you, Sir?’ With my consent he pulled
out a stop-watch, and finding I could slightly better my estimate, he won
me over by his irresistible arts of persuasion to give him the hours from
seven to eight in the morning and nine to ten in the evening. These were
unseasonable hours for so young a lad, but he never failed to be ready
for work at the beginning and at the close of the day until his task was
completed. Through his vivacity and his cleverness and his unfailing
good nature he became very popular with the dozen or more fellows who
were tutoring with me that summer. Between him and me there developed a
friendship which to me was a source of great enjoyment and has now become
a treasured memory.”
This incident serves to show that Norman’s precocity was mitigated by a
well-developed sense of humor as well as a playful mischievousness. There
was a merry twinkle in his eyes, denoting that he was not always to be
taken too seriously in his search for knowledge.
A marked trait of Norman’s early youth was his dashing intrepidity. He
began hunting when he was but seven and he never showed a sign of fear.
I can see him now in my mind’s eye mounted on his spirited chestnut
thoroughbred riding as straight and true as any of the older hunting men.
An accident that happened to him and his brother Frederick before they
went to school at Groton illustrates the fearlessness of both of them in
their childhood. It was a morning appointed for a meet and the rain was
falling in torrents, making the riding cross-country more than ordinarily
dangerous, so that I deemed it prudent to tell my sons that perhaps it
might be better for them not to join us that day. They dearly loved the
sport, and I remember how the tears came to the eyes of Norman when he
heard my gentle warning, though, as the event proved, he did not take it
any too seriously. On my return home that evening I found Norman in the
care of a surgeon with a broken thigh, while his brother had a broken
collar-bone, the result of fast riding on the slippery turf. Regardless
of the dangerous conditions against which they had been warned they had
taken not only to hunting but to racing and by accident they had pulled
into each other at the finish where both were violently thrown. As they
lay stunned on the ground Frederick was the first to gain consciousness
and he shortly heard Norman murmuring jokingly, “Fred, I think I’m dead.
How do you feel?” Not even this playful disregard of parental counsel
operated to check a certain degree of admiration for such an exhibition
of calm nerve under painful circumstances. Norman’s interest in hunting
and racing witnessed no abatement when he took to aviation, or even
after he had experienced some of that stern joy that warriors feel. A
post-script to one of his letters from the front in France made the naïve
inquiry:
“How did my horse run at the Country Club meeting?”
Another marked feature of Norman’s personality was his gracious and
attractive bearing under any and all circumstances. To his quick
intelligence and dash he added a courtesy and graciousness of manner
that charmed all those with whom he came in contact, whether at home or
abroad, at work or at play, in the rough-and-tumble of life or in the
drawing room. His _savoir faire_ which seemed his by instinct, gave him
a charm that was rare to meet.
[Illustration: _Concours Hippique_]
About all the notable characteristics that marked Norman’s earlier youth
remained with him as he grew older, showing a constantly progressive
development. This was particularly the case as to his alert mentality and
his remarkable capacity for acquiring knowledge easily and quickly. As a
student he could hardly be called exceptionally studious in the sense of
being closely attached to his text books, but what he lacked in studious
habits he more than made up for by the facility with which he grasped
any subject that invited his attention. This accomplishment of his was
demonstrated in a gratifying way when he was at Groton preparing for
college. He was given an opportunity to join his brother for a year of
study abroad, but he asked that he might take his entrance examinations
for college before going. The next examinations were only a week or two
ahead, and Norman still had another year at Groton before his turn would
come in regular course. Having obtained the requisite permission of the
Groton and Harvard authorities thus to anticipate his work he underwent
the examinations at once, though he was then but 15 years old. He passed
them all without a condition and without any uneasy apprehension on his
part, apparently.
Having achieved this triumph he went abroad, studying for a time in
Germany and at Oxford, subsequently entering Harvard in the sophomore
year. At college, as at school, he acquitted himself creditably and was
graduated with high honors. He subsequently took the degree of Bachelor
of Laws at the Harvard Law School in due course.
It was at this time that he became an enthusiastic devotee of aviation,
and when an opening came for him to begin the active practice of the
law, he preferred to give his attention to the science and practice of
aerial navigation with the Wright brothers and with Starling Burgess at
Marblehead. Knowing something of the perils of aviation, particularly
during the early stages of its development in this country, and
apprehending that its fascinations for Norman might prove more or less
perilous, as well as tending to distract his attention from the more
serious concerns of life, I sought by every means to dissuade him from
giving so much of his attention to it, but his ambition to distinguish
himself as an aviator made it difficult for him to pay due heed to my
serious counsel, and I subsequently found that he had been experimenting
for some time with flying machines in high altitudes under an assumed
name in order to escape detection and an undesired notoriety.
Recalling these venturesome incidents in Norman’s early career as an
amateur aviator, I sometimes think that perhaps fate had reserved him for
the cause to which he finally gave his life and that the character of
this service was that for which he had shown such a passionate fondness
and aptitude, despite all obstacles and discouragements. Worldly success
won by the ordinary plodding methods meant little to him. He aspired
to hitch his wagon to a star. He cared nothing for the privileges of
wealth, even though they might be within his reach, and he envied no
man his success in whatever honorable lines he might elect for himself.
His ambition was to achieve something worth while and he gave all his
energies to the accomplishment of that purpose.
Considering these predominant traits of Norman’s character, as well as
his achievements, I conclude that he could hardly have wished for a
nobler fate than that which finally befell him on a battlefield of France.
Speaking for Norman’s mother I would say in her behalf:
“Light sorrows speak—great grief is dumb.”
A mother’s grief for the loss of a dearly beloved son is too deep to find
adequate expression in words. Memories of Norman’s tenderly affectionate
nature, of his fine character, his charming personality and his unfailing
buoyancy and cheerfulness are so real, so vivid, and so abiding that
it is difficult to realize that he has gone. Although he has indeed
gallantly sacrificed his young life for a cause he dearly loved, his
mother cherishes the firm faith that the fine spirit thus displayed by
him remains undaunted and unquenched, and that it is still the blessed
privilege of those near and dear to him to continue to enjoy this sweet
belief.
A further measure of consolation has been found in the many and tender
messages of sympathy that have come from near and far, testifying to the
warm appreciation of Norman’s rare qualities as they were revealed in his
life, and to the general admiration of his heroic self-sacrifice. These
messages have helped to comfort and sustain the bereaved family.
FREDERICK HENRY PRINCE.
V
A COMRADE’S TRIBUTE
In a contribution to the _World’s Work_, James R. McConnell, a
sergeant-pilot of the original American Escadrille, gave the following
graphic description of the engagement in which his comrade Prince lost
his life. It is a pathetic circumstance that but a short time after he
had written this tribute, Sergeant McConnell himself met the same fate as
that which befell his American comrade, his dead body having been found
within the German lines where he had fallen in an aerial combat with the
enemy.
“On the 12th of October, twenty small aeroplanes flying in a
‘V’ formation, at such height that they resembled a flock of
geese, crossed the Rhine River, where it skirts the plains of
Alsace, and, turning north, headed for the famous Mauser works
at Oberndorf. Following in their wake was an equal number of
larger machines, and above these darted and circled swift
fighting ’planes. The first group of aircraft was followed by
British pilots, the second by French, and four of the battle
’planes were from the American Escadrille. They were piloted
respectively by Lieut. de Laage, Lufberry, Norman Prince and
Masson. The Germans were taken by surprise, and as a result few
of their machines were in the air. The bombardment fleet was
attacked, however, and six of our ’planes were shot down, some
of them falling in flames. As the full capacity of a Nieuport
machine allows but a little more than two hours in the air the
_avions de chasse_ were forced to return to their own lines
to take on more gasoline. The Nieuports having refilled their
tanks, went up to clear the air of any German machines that
might be hovering in wait for the returning raiders. Prince
found one, and promptly shot it down. Lufberry came upon three
and he promptly disposed of them.
“Darkness was rapidly coming on, but Prince and Lufberry
remained in the air to protect the bombarding fleet. Just at
nightfall, Lufberry made for a small aviation field near the
lines, known as Corcieux. Slow-moving machines, with great
planing capacity, can be landed in the dark, but to try to
feel for the ground in a Nieuport, which comes down at about
a hundred miles an hour, usually means disaster. Ten minutes
after Lufberry landed, Prince decided to make for the landing
field. He spiraled down through the night air and skimmed
rapidly over the trees bordering the Corcieux field. In the
dark he did not see a high-tension electric cable that was
stretched just above the tree tops. The landing gear of his
airplane struck it. The machine snapped forward and hit the
ground on its nose. It turned over and over. The belt holding
Prince broke, and he was thrown far from the wrecked ’plane.
Both of his legs were broken and he suffered other injuries.
Despite the terrific shock and intense pain, Prince did not
lose consciousness for a time. He even kept his presence of
mind, and gave orders to the men who had run to pick him up.
Hearing the hum of a motor, and realizing that a machine was
in the air, Prince told them to light fires on the field. ‘You
don’t want another fellow to come down and break himself up the
way I’ve done,’ he said.
“Lufberry went with Prince to the hospital in Gerardmer. As
the ambulance rolled along Prince sang to keep up his spirits.
He spoke of getting well soon and returning to service. It
was like Norman. He was always joyous and energetic about his
flying. Even when he passed through the harrowing experience
of having a wing shattered, the first thing he did on landing
was to busy himself about getting another fitted in place. No
one thought Prince was mortally injured in the accident, but
the next day he went into a coma; a blood clot had formed on
his brain. Captain Haaf, in command of the aviation groups of
Luxeuil, accompanied by our officers, hastened to Gerardmer.
Prince, lying unconscious on his bed, was named a second
lieutenant and was then and there decorated with the Legion of
Honor. He already held the Médaille Militaire and the Croix de
Guerre.
“Norman Prince died on the 15th of October. His body was
brought back to Luxeuil and he was given a funeral similar to
Rockwell’s. It was hard to realize that poor Norman had gone.
He was the founder of the American Escadrille, and every one in
it had come to rely on him for inspiration. He never let his
spirits drop, and he was always on hand with encouragement for
others. I do not think Prince minded going. He wanted to do his
part before being killed and he had more than done it. He had,
day after day, freed the line of Germans, making it impossible
for them to do their work, and five of them he had shot to
death.
“Two days after Prince’s death, the Escadrille received orders
to leave for the Somme. The night before the departure, the
British gave the American pilots a farewell banquet and toasted
them as their guardian angels. They keenly appreciated the
fact that four men from the American Escadrille had brought
down many Germans, and had cleared the way for their squadron
returning from Oberndorf. The Escadrille passed through Paris
on its way to the Somme front. The few members who had machines
flew from Luxeuil to their new post. At Paris the pilots were
reënforced by three other Americans, among whom was Frederick
H. Prince, Jr., who had completed his training and had come
over to serve in aviation with his brother Norman.”
[Illustration: _Camp Norman Prince_]
VI
HIS BROTHER’S SERVICE
It was the proud privilege of both the Prince brothers to give their
active services to France on the battle fronts. Having passed their
boyhood and early youth together, performing the same tasks and enjoying
the same recreations, Frederick and Norman developed similar ambitions
and aptitudes, particularly in their more strenuous activities. Moreover,
they had obtained in part their early education in France, and the call
to the French colors at the outbreak of the war appealed almost as
strongly to them as to the patriotic Frenchmen. Norman’s early experience
as an aviator at home and abroad gave him a temporary advantage over
Frederick in that he already had the preliminary training for service in
the aviation corps in which both desired to enlist. He was consequently
first of the two to realize his heart’s desire and to take the oath of
allegiance to France and her cause. It was with pardonable hesitation
that permission was subsequently given by his parents to their only other
son to join Norman in the perilous aviation service but it was freely
given, with an appeal for God’s blessing, and Frederick sailed for France
with Norman on the latter’s return from his Christmas furlough at home
in 1915. He underwent the rigorous training at the Pau aviation school
and began his active service at the front in the late summer, flying at
first with the intrepid Captain Guynemer, at the latter’s invitation,
and subsequently joining the Lafayette Squadron on the western front. He
won the high esteem of his comrades for his courage and manly bearing,
performing his duty with joyous enthusiasm and taking active part in
twenty-two aerial engagements during the ensuing five months. When Norman
fell at Luxeuil, it was a trying moment to Frederick, who had lost
his only brother and the companion of his lifetime, but he promptly
offered his services to France in his brother’s place and he fought
with the Lafayette Escadrille until he came home on a short furlough.
He subsequently returned to France to rejoin his Squadron with courage
undaunted, and with unflagging faith in the ultimate triumph of the cause
he loved and for which he was proud to be actively enlisted.
[Illustration: _Frederick Henry Prince, Jr., with his Nieuport_]
VII
FROM THE FRENCH ENVOYS
On the occasion of the reception given by the Commonwealth of
Massachusetts and the City of Boston to the French Envoys who came
to this country in an official capacity, the patriotic devotion and
sacrifice of Norman Prince were gracefully alluded to by the Envoys who
included in their number M. René Viviani, Minister of Justice, Marshal
Joffre, Vice-Admiral Chocheprat and the Marquis de Chambrun, Deputy, and
descendant of Lafayette. At the lunch in Faneuil Hall, given by the City
of Boston, Vice-Admiral Chocheprat, in his reply to the Mayor’s address
of welcome, paid a touching tribute to “Mr. Frederick H. Prince’s son
Norman, the gallant young aviator who sacrificed his life for France,
and the cause of the Allies.” Thereupon Marshal Joffre arose from his
seat at the table and placing his hand over his heart made a bow to the
young hero’s father, who sat by the Marshal’s side and who was acting as
chairman of the reception committee.
Subsequently at the reception given to the Envoys at the Boston Public
Library, M. Viviani, in concluding his graceful response to Governor
McCall’s address of welcome, said:
“I salute that young hero, Norman Prince, who has died after having
fought not only for France, but for America, because we have the same
ideals of right and liberty.”
M. Henri Franklin Bouillon, French Minister of International Affairs, who
made an official visit to this country later on, took occasion to express
his admiration of this fine American aviator. Speaking subsequently at
a public gathering in London of his observations in America he said: “I
cannot better express to you the sentiment of the American people than
by quoting that young American hero Norman Prince, who, in acknowledging
a salute to the American aviators in Paris, said, ‘We have done what we
have done; you must judge us by our hearts.’”
VIII
MESSAGES OF CONDOLENCE AND APPRECIATION
As Norman Prince was among the first of the American volunteers offering
their services to France and to make the supreme sacrifice for her
cause, it was but natural that his fate occasioned widespread and deeply
sympathetic comment. The mournful tidings served in no small measure to
bring home to the American people a more adequate realization of the fact
that it was a World War that was waging on the European battle-fields
and that the sooner this situation was recognized here the better for
the cause of civilization everywhere. The messages of sympathy and
appreciation were as numerous and universal as they were fervent and
sincere. They found expression in the press, in the pulpit and in the
forum, and the name of this hero came to be accepted as a fitting symbol
of patriotism and self-sacrifice. Few of these messages were more tender
and appreciative than those which came from Norman’s comrades in the
aviation service in France. Commanders and subordinates were alike in
this respect. A message from the comrades gathered at his bedside when he
died said:
“Norman passed peacefully away this morning. He died like the
brave man he was. He was more than a brother to us. We are all
heartbroken.”
The French Government took formal and appreciative notice of the event,
the representative of the French Army in this country sending this
message to the family:
“The French Government transmits to you expressions of its deep
and sorrowful sympathy on the occasion of your son’s glorious
death. In my name as Military Attaché representing the French
Army in the United States, I desire to say that his death has
been for all his French comrades a cause of profound grief. It
is with the greatest admiration that we have seen all these
gallant young Americans risking and giving their lives for the
cause of France. Their memory deserves to be kept in the hearts
of our compatriots as is that of Lafayette in this country.
“We bow gratefully and respectfully before his grave.”
Representing the British Admiralty, Rear-Admiral Alfred E. A. Grant sent
this message from London: “It was splendid of him to come over to fight
for the Allies. You could have felt nothing but pride to have heard how
his commanding officers speak of him—of his popularity with all his
comrades; how gallantly and faithfully he performed his duties and how
deeply his loss is regretted by all who knew him.”
[Illustration: DECORATIONS _awarded to Norman Prince by the French
Government_
CROIX DE GUERRE (_Red and green ribbon_)
_Star_, won for being cited in _L’Ordre du Jour_ of his
Division for having been the only one of twenty-five aviators
to reach Douai in 1915.
_First Palm_, won for being cited in _L’Ordre du Jour_ of the
French Army for having brought down an enemy avion.
_Second Palm_, for having brought down two enemy avions on the
same day—at the same time receiving the
_Third Palm_, cited in _L’Ordre du Jour_ for having brought
down a fourth enemy avion, and for meritorious service in a
raid on the Mauser ammunition works at Oberndorf—at the same
time receiving the
MÉDAILLE MILITAIRE (_Yellow and green ribbon_)
CROIX DE LA LÉGION D’HONNEUR (_Red ribbon_)]
Rev. Dr. Endicott Peabody of the Groton School wrote: “I must tell you
how deeply Mrs. Peabody and I sympathize with you in Norman’s death. He
gave his life in a great cause. That will be a comfort to you both, and
he met his death with the courage that is characteristic of his family.
Even with these considerations, I realize that your hearts must be heavy.
It will please you to know that one of Norman’s classmates at Groton,
who had followed his career in France with keen interest, has sent a
contribution toward a memorial that he desires established at the school.”
Speaking for the Harvard Class of 1909 of which Norman was a member, its
Secretary, Francis A. Harding, said: “On behalf of the Harvard Class of
1909, I wish to express the very deep regret which every Harvard man,
and especially every classmate of Norman’s, has felt after reading the
announcement of his death in France. To those of us who knew Norman
intimately, the news of his death comes as a distinct shock, and every
member of our class feels proud to have known and to have been affiliated
with one who had the courage to give in such a noble way everything he
possessed to the great cause in which he believed.”
From South Carolina Senator Tillman wrote: “Your son gave his young life
in defense of what all of us know is a sacred cause. He was a twentieth
century Lafayette, a modern knight errant whose statue will yet grace
the capital of France. Prince? Yes, a Prince indeed—‘sans peur et sans
reproche.’”
Many other thoughtful and tender messages came from others, friends and
strangers, at home and abroad, testifying their commingled sorrow and
admiration. Senator Henry Cabot Lodge telegraphed from Washington this
tribute:
“Nothing could have been more gallant than his life—nothing
finer than his death in a great cause, dear to his heart.”
An eloquent and fitting epitaph!
TO NORMAN PRINCE
From a Boston Boy, in France, American Ambulance Field Service, October
20, 1916.
Gone is the honored boy bird
He’ll fly no more for France,
His spirit though,—a silent word
That over all the Earth is heard,—
Commands her friends Advance!
His courage and devotion tried
Must all the world convince
He was, as all of us decide,
And France, for love of whom he died,
In name and deed—a Prince.
The Riverside Press
CAMBRIDGE. MASSACHUSETTS
U. S. A
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