March 8, 1918 - Preparing to head off for Paris, and first American airmen story

Don Martin diary entry for Friday, March 8, 1918: 
Well here I am at 1:30 a.m. in my room, ready practically to start for France. Hustled all day. Had luncheon at the Carlton, as the guest of Russell Underwood, Ben Russell and Frank Phelps. Underwood was host. Wrote a very long letter to Dorothy. Dictated to Baird a 1500 word story on Whitehead; dictated other letters, sent cables, got my outfit together packed up; had dinner as guest of [I]. J. Whaley, a big oil man. Stayed at the office till 11:30; then came to the hotel and went to Russell’s room with some of his friends and am now about to take a bath. Have spent a lot of money!: $30 for boats [equivalent to $528 today], $112 for uniform etc. and a lot besides for odds and ends. Arranged for ticket, got my police permits, passports, etc. Everything is already now for my journey.

Weather fine.

     It was a six-page typed letter that Don Martin wrote to Dorothy at the Herald office on Herald stationary. He wrote what he thought would happen to him in France, and about his new clothing. Here are excerpts.

London, March 8, 1918

Dorothy:

... Just where [your Dad] will go in France after he gets there he doesn’t know but if the office has been able to get permission for me to go to the American front, I shall go there. If not I shall go to the front anyhow, only not as a regular and permanent resident of the general headquarters but as a visitor... The chances are that I shall go to some small French village not far from the firing line and live at some farmhouse or villagers place. It will be quite interesting. Strangely enough I shall very likely to the very section of France from which Grandmother’s folks came and wouldn’t it be remarkable and fine if I should be able to get trace of some of the descendants? 

Some of the older correspondents and literary stars may outshine me for experience but I can assure you that none will eclipse me for clothes. I went to the famous Burberry’s in London and got a complete outfit. I guess I’ll have to tell you about it. I have a regular officer’s uniform – knee breeches and tunic with a green brassard (band) on the right arm and a red letter C. printed on it. That means correspondent. Then I have a pair of fine army lace boots (they cost $30); heavy socks or stockings, and brown shirts. In addition to all this I have a khaki colored trench coat with fleece lining and a belt around it. It comes just below my knees and is both waterproof and warm. The fleece is buttoned on the inside and can be taken out and worn separately. My hat I haven’t got yet. I am to have an American field hat but I couldn’t get one of American style in London but can in Paris. I haven’t had the outfit on yet. I suppose when I first don it I will think that all the world is looking at me when, as a matter of fact, probably no one will notice me at all. 

... I made preparations in a hurry. I got a telegram from Mr. Bennett first asking me if I thought I could leave the London office in charge of the regular staff for a few weeks or months when I went to the American front. I told him I could.... Yesterday I got a telegram telling me to start for Paris when I was ready and I am ready... I shall leave here tomorrow afternoon and will be in Paris Sunday night. Mr. Bennett told me to go to the Crillon Hotel, which is a very good one. He said he would engage a room for me... When I get there I shall wait till authority to go to the front comes from Washington. 

The objective of my trip is to be with the American troops when the great German offensive takes place, if it ever does... It is a splendid opportunity of course. This is the biggest operation in the biggest war in history and I ought to know something about war when I get back. 

    Despite all the preparing for France, Don Martin found time to write his first of many stories to come about American airmen. Dated Friday, if that was March 8, it was cabled, for it was published in the New York Herald on Saturday, March 9, 1918.

FLYING HUNS ARE FAST BEING CONQUERED BY DARING ALLIED AIRMEN

American Skill, Courage and Brawn Expected to Put Finishing Touch to Conquest

AN ARMY INVINCIBLE WITH AIR’S MASTERY

Youngster’s from “Over Here” Show the Most Amazing Indifference to the Perils They Must Meet

[Special to the Herald]

Herald Bureau, No. 130 Fleet Street, London, Friday

     Germany could boast of supremacy in the air at the beginning of the war, and if fact up to a very short time ago. Now the Allies are unquestionably superior, and their aerial strength is steadily increasing. America is doing much to overcome the formidable air fleets of the Huns, and the commanders of all the European nations look to the newest and most powerful ally to furnish the genius, the equipment, the brawn and the daring to make the conquest complete and lasting.

     Without an adequate force of courageous and experienced airmen an army these days is at the mercy of its foes. With a force which can win and hold a sweeping mastery an army is invincible. The improvements that have been made in flying craft since the first scouts winged their way over the battle fronts in 1915 will be a revelation to the world when the curtain of peace has fallen and the secrets jealousy guarded are given to the civilian populations.

     In August 1915, Lieutenant Porte, of Great Britain, intended to attempt a flight across the Atlantic from Newfoundland to the Azores and thence to Spain. There were few who believed he could have done it. Now, experts say, a flight across the Atlantic would be a mere incident in the life of wonder fliers who are manoeuvring about the fields of France with the grace and confidence of a gull.

The Eyes of the Army

     The “eyes of the army’ have been opened wide in the last two years. They have increased a thousand fold during the last twelve months. Should the war last another full year a flock of aeroplanes, numbering hundreds, will be common in Europe, and, it may be said, will be a menace to such (at present) impregnable outposts as Heligoland.

     The programme for aerial attack and defence in the concluding days of the war would almost startle the world if it could be revealed. What the Teutons are doing and intend to do can only be guessed at, but it is a fair assumption that they are keeping well astride of their enemies in the matter of ingenious devices, but they cannot hope to equal them in the extent of the output. German airplanes brought down in the last few months are literally dreadnoughts of the air, but they have met their fate when they encountered other giants just as formidable—craft which were but the advance guard of a fleet which will spell doom for the Teuton if he is not crushed on land and sea before another year has passed.

     The youthful flier from America already has won the admiration of the Europeans. He has every quality needed for the super airman. He is an athlete; he has dauntless courage; he is ambitious; he has mechanical skill and has the spirit of his forefathers. He has arrived at the training grounds here and on the Continent with a splendid fundamental knowledge and he has swiftly acquired the “tricks of the profession” which only fliers from the front—the frigates, as they are sometimes called—could teach him. When the time comes for an aerial dash here, there or anywhere, the American will be on the wing of others and the story of his exploits will be an interesting one to hear.

Americans Fear Nothing

     Not long ago twenty American fliers were seen on their way “somewhere.” They were all university men in their early twenties. Five were members of wealthy families. All were youngsters of the highest standing at home. A more unassuming group one could not find and it was no surprise that the men about the lobby of a prominent London hotel spoke of them is a most admiring way. They have no illusions. They know they are entering the most dangerous branch of the service. They said good humoredly that they hoped they would look well in “wooden overcoats.”

     Most of the men are youngsters. Men in their late teens learn most quickly, but it is not to be assumed that older men are failures. One of the most daring air achievements of the entire war was carried out by a French flier who has passed his fortieth year. He has brought down thirty enemy machines and soars aloft like a swallow. He was a grocer in a French village before the war. An American who recently passed through London is thirty-seven and has a record which will not be excelled in many years.

     The airmen furnish the romance of the war. They are “game” chaps. They are good sportsmen. There probably is not one who does not expect to die in service if the war lasts two years or more. There is not one who does not realize that every time he leaves the ground he is literally courting death, and yet there is no record of a single airman holding back or faltering when the most dangerous call was made upon him.

A Glide in a Ray

     In a recent raid on London from a base outside thirty youngsters whirred into the air together precisely like a flock of partridges. Thirty German Gothas were heading for London to drop bombs. These youngsters were going up to engage them in combat and every one was aware that he was perhaps speeding to instant death. They were gone a half hour. Returning, one of them thrilled London. Ten thousand feet above the city he was picked up by the beam of a powerful searchlight. He appeared at its tip as a mere speck. He coasted down the brilliant pathway, growing steadily larger, until when about a thousand feet from the earth he glided off in to the darkness. It was just a stunt.