ROBERT W. RENNIE DEPARTMENT OF HISTORY THE UNIVERSITY OF TENNESSEE, KNOXVILLE Imaging Aviation: Photography and Identity among German Aviators of the First World War Writing in the decade following the First World War, Walter Benjamin suggested that modernity was constructed by a series of “shock experiences.”1 As other historians have noted, the mechanics of photography - the snap of a mechanical shutter and the pop of a flashbulb replicate in tactile form the psychological trauma to which Benjamin eluded. Photography, however, did more than merely embody modernity; it facilitated a conversation that transcended the shock by providing a medium through which to make sense of it. The camera, as employed during the First World War, occupies a unique place: it is the only technological innovation whose execution serves as a weapon of war as well as a mode of defining identity and creating memory. Photography fundamentally influenced aviation in Germany during the First World War in three ways: First, photography fueled aviation’s development by transforming aerial reconnaissance into a systematized method of gathering intelligence with portable aerial photography. Second, it provided the impetus for the invention of a machine that could protect friendly observation aircraft and destroy those of the enemy. Finally, photography influenced the way the air war was perceived at home, and created the popular narrative of the Fliegerheld. As a result, the camera shaped a new kind of warfare while simultaneously rendering it knowable to a German population struggling to make sense of a war filled with unprecedented violence and unfathomable loss. 1 Dan Magilow, The Photography of Crisis: The Photo Essays of Weimar Germany. (The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2012), 12. 1 The early development of aviation was characterized by the question of practical application. The machines created in the decade prior to the First World War were too frail for most military duties. Futurists, writers, and aviation designers all imagined a time when aviation’s technological progression would revolutionize aerial warfare. Until that time, however, observation of the enemy was the paramount purpose of aviation in the years before the First World War. Charles Gibbs-Smith noted that, “in 1909 powered aviation came of age. The airplane became technically mature and established in the public mind.”2 This new-found maturity proved itself two years later during French military maneuvers during the fall of 1911, when a powered flight successfully located enemy positions from a distance of 60 kilometers.3 In the aftermath of France’s military maneuvers, each of the war’s future belligerent powers engaged in a veritable arm’s race to procure new machines and press them into service. The complicated relationship between the German general staff and aerial observers became apparent during the opening weeks of the First World War, as both sides relied on aerial observation to note the rapid movement of enemy troops. Rudolf Berthold, a German observer and future fighter pilot, reported the “relentless” advance of his fellow infantrymen as they pursued the French Army in August 1914. Positive reports of offensive action were generally met with ready belief by his superiors. The “relentless” German advance, however, came to a swift end at the Battle of the Marne. Berthold observed French reinforcements staging to attack a growing gap in the German line, which would ultimately stall out their advance.4 Berthold’s observation of arguably the first negative news of the war was met with disbelief among the general staff. In spite of Berthold’s detailed notes, and the fact that his previous reports were 2 John Morrow, The Great War in the Air. (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1993), 10. Morrow, 15. 4 Rudolf Berthold. Persönliches Kriegstagebuch 1914-1920 (manuscript), (Bundesarchiv Militärarchiv, Freiburg), 16. 3 2 accepted wholesale, German intelligence simply would not trust the report. Berthold’s notes in his journal, “I fumed with rage. At my urging, another aeroplane was sent out; it completely confirmed my observations. I could not keep still and flew yet again: my second report gave an even clearer picture. Ever more Frenchmen had poured into the gap between the 1st and 2nd Armies ... In my third report I stated: “The opposition has passed through and is already behind our lines.”5 Berthold’s observations, and those made by his comrades in the Fliegertruppe were noted by hand, and relied on ocular reconnaissance. Had Berthold possessed aerial photographic equipment in 1914, it is doubtful that the general staff would have dismissed his findings. Aerial photography had been attempted well before the First World War, but its development into a device small and light enough to transport aloft transpired during the conflict.6 The photographic device in question was called the Maschinengewehrkamera, or “machine gun camera,” developed by German inventor Oskar Messter and constructed by the Ernemann company in Dresden.7 The camera is a fascinating remnant of material culture created during the First World War primarily because the device looks little like any civilian camera produced during the period. Instead, the Maschinengewehrkamera resembles the German-made MG08 machine gun. Two wooden handles flank either side of the rear of the camera, with a long cylindrical tube extending down the “barrel” of the lens.8 The trigger button, used to shoot film rather than ammunition, is placed in the exact location as on the MG08. Even the “sights” used for hitting a target are replicated exactly on the camera.9 The design of the Maschinengewehrkamera reflects the military realities facing observation crews by 1916. Rear5 Berthold, 16. Previous attempts at aerial photography occurred in the 1850’s when French photographers took aerial photographs from a tethered balloon. 7 Wilhelm Füßl, “Luftbildfotografie im Ersten Weltkrieg,” Visual History: Online-Nachschlagewerk für die historische Bildforschung, accessed September 15, 2014, https://www.visualhistory.de/2014/03/11/luftbildfotografie-im-ersten-weltkrieg/ 8 Ibid. 9 Ibid. 6 3 seat observers, assigned to air crews operating multi-seat reconnaissance aircraft would have experience in operating the MG08. The design of the camera simplifies the transfer of skills from firing at aerial targets to shooting film at ground units. The clarity and fidelity of the images produced by the Maschinengewehrkamera are remarkable, even in our era of high-resolution satellite imaging. By 1916, the Western Front had transformed into a static battlefield, and proved to be an ideal ground for the regular photographing of enemy positions. Of course, this type of mapping was unlike anything German field commanders trained in the nineteenth century had ever seen. The battlefield moved from a largely two dimensional plane into a three dimensional space mapped from above with an unprecedented level of detail and fidelity. To aid in deciphering aerial photographic reconnaissance, every patrol submitted their glass plates along with written summaries for each photograph to better explain their interpretation of the images to the general staff. A series of photographs archived by FA296 and Bayern Schlasta 31 illustrate enemy front line positions in exacting detail.10 Front line entrenchments are photographed in high resolution and clearly show the complex maze of trench fortifications. “Thinness” and “thickness” are noted in the observation reports, illustrating the relative vulnerability of troops in relation to their opponents.11 Even the depth of extended fortifications on both the friendly and enemy side of the lines are written in precise notation. If enemy troops had dug their trench deeper, or begun work on a new network of connective dugouts - which expanded across the Western Front like a living membrane - the details were recorded both on film and on paper. An examination of documents from FA296 and Bayern Schlasta 31 show that these patrols were flown, weather permitting, roughly every twenty-four hours, providing as close to “real time” 10 Squadron Records and Correspondence of Bayern Schlasta 31. (Munich: Bayern Hauptstaatsarchiv Militärarchiv), Finding Aid: (WK) 2128. 11 Ibid. 4 intelligence as possible. This information would have been passed immediately to the squadron’s Commanding Officer who, in the case of another unit, 304b (a squadron assigned to Palestine in 1918), appended his own report with notations on the findings of his men, before sending it up the chain of command.12 These reports, which were filed by observation flights every day, served as the life blood of information for the generals tasked with directing the wider war on the Western Front. The air war, then, was defined entirely in response to aerial observation; military necessity demanded a continuous flow of intelligence on enemy positions, and measures were needed to prevent the enemy from obtaining similar information.13 The subsequent development of aviation in the early stages of the war, sought to build machines that would protect friendly observation aircraft, and destroy those of the enemy.14 The Fokker Eindecker was not the world’s first fighter aircraft, but it was the most effective machine designed to destroy enemy aircraft.15 Pilots on all sides of the Western Front had attempted various means to attach offensive weapons to airplanes, with wildly varying results. The Eindecker, however, perfected the mechanism needed to fire a machine gun through a spinning propeller without destroying it. It has been regarded in military and aviation history as 12 Squadron Records of F.A. 304b Pascha. (Munich: Bayern Hauptstaatsarchiv Militärarchiv). 13 The First World War is well documented for serving as the testing ground for almost all types of modern military aviation. Aerial bombing began as early as 1915 and large bombers raided London during the war. With the advent of “wireless” radios, aircraft also ranged artillery on enemy positions. It is the observation of the enemy, however, that hastened the rapid development of aviation in the early stages of the war, and was largely responsible for the advent of the scout or fighter aircraft. 14 The popular misconception that early aviators were more likely to exchange a friendly wave than gunfire has largely been dis-proven. Rudolf Berthold noted that his commanding officer, Vogel von Falckenstein and his observer were killed in January 1915 after a French observation plane, armed with a carbine and a pistol, opened fire on the German pair, killing Falckenstein with several well-aimed shots. Reuters, which picked up the story, contested that the German aviator was bent on “ramming his adversary” in combat. 15 Roland Garros is credited for creating the first reliable method of firing a machine gun through the propeller arc by mounting steel wedges onto the blades. Garros crashed behind enemy lines and his aircraft fell into the hands of Antony Fokker who designed the subsequent Eindecker monoplane. 5 a seminal moment in the development of air power; one whose advantages were so obvious from its inception that aviators flocked to pilot one of the nimble new machines. Its initial reception, however, was far more complicated. The aircraft was limited in its production numbers and it was dispersed to various units in the Fliegertruppe in quantities of only one or two machines. The Eindecker also presented a perplexing tactical dilemma. There were not enough of them to fly in formation, and the proprietary technology housed under the Eindecker’s cowling posed a security risk, one which relegated the new “attack” plane to flying sorties behind friendly lines. The scout aircraft changed German conceptions of “offensive” warfare, from attacking ground troops to primarily attacking other aircraft. But not all pilots were convinced. Rudolf Berthold turned down the opportunity to take one of the Fokker monoplanes for himself. Differing conceptions of “offensive” and “defensive” warfare ultimately informed Berthold’s decision, and it was not an isolated one. His close friend and fellow pilot, Hans Joachim Buddecke was assigned to an Eindecker only because “scarcely anyone else wanted” one.16 The technological disparity between the Eindecker and Berthold’s assigned machine, an AEG G.II could not be more different. Berthold’s lumbering aircraft was almost 30 feet long and weighed 5,434 pounds. The G.II was not a fighter and yet Berthold insisted that his machine was the better offensive weapon: “For months we have flown the Grosskampfflugzeug, which we call the “Big Barge.” It has two engines that together produce 300 horsepower. It has places for two to three observers, two machine guns and can carry a bomb-load of 200 kilograms. I have flown it in combat and it is well suited.”17 For Berthold, offensive warfare was not about destroying other aircraft. Ranging artillery, spotting troop formations, and dropping bombs of their own, was the “real” work of an aviator. Not everyone shared Berthold’s hesitation, however. His old 16 17 Hans Buddecke, El Schahin (Der Jagdfalke): Aus meinem Fliegerleben . (Berlin: Scherl, 1918), 43. Berthold, 37. 6 comrade from flight school, Oswald Boelcke, would make headlines and win national acclaim that summer by downing enemy aircraft over the German lines. Within Boelcke’s rise to fame as one of Germany’s “new” fighter pilots lies an understanding of a much “older” form of warfare. The arrival of the Eindecker in the spring of 1915 coincided with a Western Front that had long solidified into a stagnant conflict of fortified trenches that would move little over the next three and a half years. Battles, which once played out over the course of a few days, mutated into protracted struggles which slaughtered hundreds of thousands for no appreciable gain. The battlefield then, no longer resembled anything knowable to most Europeans.18 And while aviation had always fascinated German culture, the exploits of the Fliegertruppen des deutschen Kaiserreiches did not explode in the national press until the rise of Oswald Boelcke and Max Immelmann. In other words, a large part of their popularity coincided with a new narrative created in the skies over the Western Front, one which described the return of an older and knowable type of warfare: the short, violent, and decisive engagement with a clear victor. The photograph, this time in the form of the Sanke postcard, reinforced this narrative at home. W. Sanke & Company was an established photographic firm at the end of the nineteenth century that specialized in “Landschaftsphotograph, Stereoskopfabrik, Kunsthandlung.”19 In particular, Sanke advertised “Postkartenvertrieb,” or “postcard sales.” The company capitalized on German interest in aviation before the First World War and responded to popular demand for Sanke cards showcasing the new Kampfflieger of 1915. The pilots photographed for Sanke’s cards are almost universally single-seat scout pilots like Boelcke - reconnaissance crews were 18 Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau and Annette Becker contest that the type of war on the Western Front, that of static trench warfare, became increasingly unknowable to the population of Europe. 19 Lance Bronnenkant, The Imperial German Eagles in World War I: Their Postcards and Pictures. (Atglen, Schiffer Military History, 2006), 8. 7 not featured. The choice of the fighter pilot speaks to the resonance that the Kampfflieger held with Sanke’s largely pro-war audience.20 The iconography featured in Sanke’s images contributed to the popular perception of fighter pilots; stoic, hyper-masculine, dedicated to duty, and embodying the identities of a good aristocratic background. Uniforms were immaculately worn. Medals were of visual importance to Sanke cards, with each award highly polished and prominent in each portrait.21 Late war images, produced at the Front rather than in the studio, feature grimly determined aviators, staring with cold eyes and a scowling visage. Despite having published over 600 images, Sanke cards embody a handful of recycled tropes: masculine camaraderie, stoic temperament, control over one’s emotions, mastery over one’s machine and ultimately, one’s destiny. Even death failed to terminate the narrative of Sanke’s Fliegerhelden. Sanke portraits of dead German aviators were recycled throughout the war, with a notable shift in terminology. While living, the caption “Unser erfolgreicher Kampf-Flieger,” “Our Successful Combat Pilot,” appears on most of the pilot images.22 In death, their title changed to “Unser Flieger-held,” “our flying hero.”23 The transition in distinction elucidates much about attitudes towards the death of a German combat pilot. Even aviators with few victories received the new moniker. The change in title denotes an air of martyrdom, in dying a heroic, sacrificial death for the Fatherland.24 In that moment, fallen German aviators embodied the image that photography had helped create. 20 Postcards also provide a practical use outside of photography. Further investigation into what drove consumption of these postcards is needed and will be explored in my dissertation. 21 The awarding of new medals often warranted a re-issuing of previous cards. Again, this attention to military decorum indicates that the purchasing audience would be familiar with the detailed minutia of often complicated award procedures. Given the logistical difficulties of bringing a combat pilot back for a new portrait, the new medals were often added in by an artist who edited the original image by hand, and a new portrait using the edited photograph was issued. 22 Bronnenkant, 95. 23 Bronnenkant, 9. 24 Newspaper obituaries share this terminological distinction. One German pilot, Ernst Heß, who died in December of 1917, had his obituary republished over a dozen times between the end of the year and the following autumn. Each time, Heß is denoted with the new title Flieger-held upon the announcement of his passing. 8 And though it bared little resemblance to the realities on the Western Front, that narrative remained persistent well into the 1920s and 30s. The photographic camera transformed the evolution of military aviation in the First World War. Aerial observation, which already proved its worth in the first weeks of the conflict, was revolutionized by the technological evolution of the camera into a portable device. In its wake, new systems of knowledge were constructed around the acquisition, processing, and understanding of military intelligence gathered in the air. The camera further fueled a technological arms race to produce superior military aircraft and provided the impetus for the creation of the fighter plane; a machine that could protect friendly observation aircraft and destroy those of the enemy. Photography also revolutionized the air war at home, utterly transforming popular conceptions of what this new breed of Kampfflieger was, what he represented, and what traits he embodied. The observers tasked with the dangerous daily work of mapping the static Western Front into a knowable space were ignored. In their place, the stoic, masculine, and aristocratic Fliegerheld dominated popular imagination. Images only served to reinforce this narrative. As a result, the camera transformed a new and terrifying form of warfare into something old and knowable, and created a relatable kind of fighting in the midst of a war of incomprehensible loss. 9 BIBLIOGRAPHY Benjamin, Walter. Selected Writings, Volume 2, 1927-1934. The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, Cambridge: 1999. Berthold, Rudolf. Persönliches Kriegstagebuch 1914-1920 (manuscript), Bundesarchiv Militärarchiv, Freiburg, n.d. (File MSG 2/10722). Buddecke, Hans. El Schahin (Der Jagdfalke): aus meinem Fliegerleben. Berlin: Scherl, 1918. Bronnenkant, Lance. The Imperial German Eagles in World War I: Their Postcards and Pictures, Atglen, Schiffer Military History, 2006. Fotos d. Bayern Feldflug Abt 1b. Munich: Deutsches Museum Archive. (File: LR-02121). Fritzsche, Peter. A Nation of Fliers: German Aviation and the Popular Imagination. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992. 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