12 October 1998, 06:04 AM
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#3 (permalink)
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Guest
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I'll take a stab at the first one on your list. Until his actions proved otherwise, Luke's self-confidence caused most of his peers to consider him a boastful liar. As the weeks went by, that attitude began to change. Might be easiest to quote "Up and at 'Em," by  Harold Hartney:
Quote:
Several days latter, August 16, 1918, to be exact, I had my first real feel of Frank Luke's dependability in the air. Our advance airdrome at Coincy was ready for us, camouflaged gas trucks and everything, and we got orders to use that as the starting point for a protection patrol. We were having great trouble with the new Spads and the boys of the 27th and 147th had no confidence in them. A poorly housed reduction gear which would get out of line with the slightest nick in the propeller was constantly causing us mechanical difficulties. It would vibrate and soon the various pieces of plumbing would start to ease loose and the engine would begin to miss or quit completely.
At 5:05 p.m. I led a gang of 12 of our planes and three from the 94th out at 9000 feet to protect one of Ken Littauer's photographic Salmsons from the 88th Squadron. We soared up in perfect formation. From Fere-en-Tardenois to Fismes, however, our boys began dropping out with engine trouble. Finally there was only one plane left besides mine. By now we were at 18,000 feet and already had had several minor brushes with the enemy.
It was one of those grim, heat-hazy days when it was particularly difficult to spot enemy ships. The first intimation of their presence would be the streaks of tracer bullets and that nasty click-click as hostile missiles snapped menacingly past your ears. Only this one plane stuck by me. Things got too hot for me and I "piqued" for our Coincy field. As I pulled in, there were thirteen of our ships sitting on the ground. When I had taxied to a stop a lot of the pilots came running over to tell me they thought I had been lost and to utter loud and violent blasphemies concerning the Spads and the French "who had wished those crocks on us." I am told that no man ever cursed as loud and vehemently as I did at that moment.
I was still ranting and giving everyone hell when a lone Spad came in with the pilot goosing the engine and causing a terrific racket.
"Here comes your boy friend now," said one man from the 27th. "He said he was going to get his first Boche today or never come back. Let's see what the blow-hard's got to say for himself. Bet he claims one."
Some of the others beat me getting over to find out what had happened to Luke. One came running back to me.
"What did I tell you? He says he shot one off your tail."
I took Frank by the arm and walked him away from the others. From what he told me, the way he described it and from the fact that I was there, I believed then, and always will believe, that he did shoot a German plane off my tail. However, although I used every resource I could muster, both before and after the Armistice, in trying to get him a confirmation, that victory is unconfirmed to this day.
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