EPISODE 3: MAX IMMELMANN

Much has been said about “the right stuff” that separates fighter pilots from everybody else.
People have tried to define the fighter pilot archetype as aggressive, type A, and arrogant. They are
supposed to be playboys and hard partiers, and certainly, many fighter pilots have fit that mold. Max
Immelmann wasn’t one of them. Small, quiet, a vegetarian and tee-totaler, not many would expect
Immelmann to be the aviator to strike fear into the hearts of British pilots on the Western front.
Nicknamed the Eagle of Lille, not by the German propaganda machine, but by those very same British
pilots, Immelmann, was not the typical fighter pilot.

Max Immelmann was born into a respectable home in Dresden Germany in 1890. His father
owned a cardboard factory and brought home a good income until he died in 1897. Fatherless at seven
Max turned to his mother Gertrude. She raised Max to not to drink, smoke, or eat meat, traits that
would not exactly make him a natural soldier in the hard drinking German Army. Max’s mother
encouraged his curiosity and Max proved to be a natural engineer, always taking things apart and
putting them back together again. When Max turned 15 he was sent to the military academy in Dresden
at the behest of his grandfather and his career with the military began. While a good student,
Immelmann had no real interest in the military. Studying military tactics always left him “cold”, and all
he really wanted to do was study mechanical engineering. He owned a motorcycle and loved taking it on
long solo rides through the country on Sundays. Immelmann impressed his fellow cadets with displays of
gymnastics and acrobatics but remained somewhat of an outsider. A highlight of his years at the
academy came when they visited several airplane manufacturers. “One seldom sees anything so
splendid, “Immelman wrote, “watching them fly was glorious”. Most pilots have an aha moment. That
moment when they see a fighter jet takeoff or hear the rumble of a jet engine and from then on are
bitten by the bug, by a need to fly. That was Immelmann’s moment. But being a pilot seemed out of
reach as there were exceedingly few opportunities. Knowing he didn’t want to pursue a career in the
military when he graduated, Immelmann turned down a lucrative position as an officer, entered the
reserves, and began to study mechanical engineering at the technical academy in Dresden.

The next couple of years passed in quiet study for Immelmann who thought he had found his
rightful place as an engineering student in Dresden. But When Germany declared war on France in
August of 1914 the war found Immelmann like it found so many other young men across Europe – eager
to get to the front. We can only wonder what the men would have thought if they knew they were
rushing towards calamity and wholesale slaughter. Max found himself waiting for mobilization orders
towards that catastrophe when he saw a public notice that men with technical skills were needed and
could apply to the Aviation Corps to train as pilots. Immelmann and his brother Franz applied at once
but then were again resigned to waiting – though they wouldn’t wait long. On August 18th1914, barely
two weeks into the war, Max received a mobilization order to his old unit the 2nd Railway Regiment and
was off to war, or so he thought.

Immelmann’s initial service was anything but the glorious march to Paris he envisioned as he
was stuck managing a railway line far behind the lines. “Service here is idiotically dull.” Immelmann
wrote, “ I am near spiritual death…it is disgusting to be on garrison duty during the war. “ Immelmann
even volunteered to go to the front with an infantry unit but was ordered to stay at the railway. Today it
can be hard to imagine anyone volunteering to go to the trenches but Immelmann wanted a piece of the
action before the war came to a close before Christmas, or so he thought. The only thing that seems to
have brought happiness to Immelmann at this time was his dog who he brought to the war. Immelmann
was saved from his spiritual death when he was transferred to the Aviation Corps in November to begin
his training as a pilot. He was “drunk with joy” to begin his training.

When reading letters that young pilots from World War 1 wrote to their families they often
mention how safe the flying is. It’s hard to tell whether those pilots are lying to their families, or to
themselves. In one sentence Immelmann would write that being an airman is no more dangerous than
being a railway man, in the next sentence he would describe a terrible crash where everyone was killed.
In either case Immelmann avoided the worst of the accidents and was a natural flyer, he soloed after
only half the normal instruction. One morning as Immelmann and the other students were preparing to
fly, a French plane flew in low over their airfield. Fearing the French plane intended to strafe, all the
students immediately took cover and lay flat on their stomach’s, or at least all the students but
Immelmann. In his words, “the ground was too dirty for him.” Immelmann stood and watched as the
French plane lined up on final and landed at the German airfield. It came as quite a shock to the French
crew when they realized they were not at the French aerodrome of Châlonssur-Marne, but behind the
German lines. Surrendering immediately, the crew was brought to the mess for coffee and breakfast
before being sent off as POW’s. The aircrews of World War 1 fought to keep chivalry alive, at least when
their lives weren’t in danger. Immelmann finished his training shortly thereafter in the Spring of 1915.
However, being sent to the front meant he was definitely going to get his hands dirty.

Immelmann’s first flight over the western front was a revelation. Was this what he had been so
eagerly fighting to get to? He could see every trench and every shell hole. Immelmann wrote to his
family about what it truly “means to have war in one’s country. You don’t see a single town or village. All
have been burnt or shot pieces”. Immelmann would not remain a spectator in this war for long. Already
with a reputation as a gifted flyer Immelmann was transferred to the newly formed Flying Section 62
which received other gifted pilots, most notably Oswald Boelcke. Boelcke had received his wings the day
before Germany mobilized for war and was the most experienced pilot in Staffel. Immelmann and
Boelcke had similar dispositions and bonded immediately over their love of flying. Boelcke also was not
a big drinker and brought a dog to with him to the war. This friendship would grow to a close bond and a
fierce rivalry.

April 1915 found the Imperial German Flying Corps on the back foot. Already outnumbered the
Germans found themselves at a technological disadvantage as well. Rolland Garros had used his
deflector plates to shoot down three German observation planes, Adolphe Pegoud was scoring his first
kills in two seaters, and British Farman’s had the advantage of pusher props and forward firing machine
guns. In May Immelmann was conducting an observation flight over the front when he saw an enemy
Farman biplane approach until it was 200 meters above his own LVG. Immelmann wrote, “Suddenly I
heard the familiar tack tack tack tack…and saw little holes appear in our right wing,” However, even
under fire from Farman Immelmann held course in an almost icy way as so his observer could finish
taking the required photographs. Only when he heard metallic pings of bullets striking his engine did
Immelmann begin to dive away, As he put it “If the brute shoots up my engine, there is nothing more to
be done!” Immelmann was able to dive away and escape the slower Farman. Landing safely, it wasn’t
long before he saw the technological advantage swing in favor of the Germans.

At the end of April Roland Garros had been forced down behind enemy lines and Anthony
Fokker had seen the primitive deflector plates. Understanding at once the true answer to a forward
firing machine gun was an interrupter gear, Fokker was able to create a working interrupter gear in 48
hours and by May was making delivery of the Fokker Eindecker. The Eindecker was a monoplane with
good if not outstanding performance, but most importantly came equipped with a working
synchronization gear and machine gun. The Eindecker was the first true fighter plane, and Fokker
delivered these planes himself to Staffel 62. On delivery the Crown Prince of Bavaria came to see these
new fighters and Immelmann quickly found himself rising in the opinions of people whose opinions
mattered. Fokker offered Immelmann a job at his factory after the war, and the crown Prince would
become a regular acquaintance to both Immelmann and Boelcke. At this point it was generally agreed
that Boelcke was the most experienced and best pilot, and that Immelmann was the second. Therefore,
Boelcke was the first to receive and fly the Eindecker in late May of 1915, with Immelmann not getting
his first instructional flight from Boelcke until July 30th. Although it was Boelcke who was the first to fly
the Eindecker, it was Immelmann who drew first blood just 2 days later.

On August 1st Immelmann awoke at 4:45 to anti-aircraft fire and saw 10 Entente airplanes
dropping bombs on the aerodrome. Rushing to the airfield Immelmann saw Boelcke who told him that
he intended go after the Entente in his Eindecker. Hopping into the other Eindecker Immelmann started
after Boelcke who was already well ahead and flying alone towards ten enemy aircraft. By the time the
flight reached Douai Immelmann saw two opponents attack Boelcke who went into a steep dive. Not
there soon enough to help Boelcke, Immelmann attacked an enemy two-seater who had broken off
from the flight and proceeded to pepper him from his synchronized machine gun. Although the
synchronization gear worked the machine guns were still very prone to jams. Over the course of a 10-
minute fight Immelmann flew, shot, cleared jams, and reloaded to finally forced the enemy plane down
on the German side of the front. Immelmann landed beside the downed Entente plane and went after
the other pilot. This was either very daring or very stupid as outside of his Eindecker Immelmann was
unarmed. Luckily for him the English pilot offered no resistance. Immelmann wrote about what
followed:

“I called out when still some distance away: ‘Prisoners!’ Then I saw for the first time that there
was only one man in the cockpit. He held up his right hand as a sign that he would offer no resistance, I
went up to him. I shook hands and said:
‘Bon jour, monsieur.’ But he answered in English. ‘
Ah, you are an Englishman?’ ‘
Yes.’
‘You are my prisoner.’ ‘
My arm is broken; you shot very well.

One of Immelmann’s shots had gone through the pilot’s forearm. Amazingly after this life-ordeath battle in the air Immelmann laid the British pilot, William Reid, on the grass and cut away the
clothing around the arm to administer what medical aid he could. As cars began arriving on scene
Immelmann had bystanders call for a doctor and William Reid was brought to a local hospital. Only after
that did the realization that Immelmann had scored his first victory in an Eindecker begin to set in, and
there were congratulations all around. Immelmann took off later than day and flew over the airfield at
St Pol, dropping a note letting the English know that William Reid had survived and was now a POW.

Boelcke scored his first victory in an Eindecker three weeks later which ignited a fierce rivalry for
the two airmen. Though still friends, they battled back and forth to be Germany’s top fighter ace. Fighter
victories are unique in that they can be attributed to an individual, like lethal home runs for your
favorite batter. These victories are tallied and reported to the press and the two airmen quickly gained
notoriety. The duels could also often be seen by hundreds of thousands of soldiers in muck of the
trenches. Those soldiers watched as Immelmann and Boelcke won victory after victory. The late summer
and fall of 1915 became known as the Fokker scourge. The entente had no answer for the Fokker
Eindecker, and no answer for Immelmann and Boelcke. Although other German pilots had the
advantage of flying the Eindecker, it was still Immelmann and Boelcke who were amassing kills. Often
the two would work together, alternating their attacks to bring down the enemy in semi-coordinated
tactics. With no interrupter gear the British and French tried arming big two seaters with multiple
machine guns – a precursor to the flying fortresses of World War 2- and although no match for the
Eindecker though were still extremely dangerous.

“I attacked a big English fighter with two engines and two guns somewhere east of arras”. Immelmann
wrote.” In the course of the fray the fellow shot up my undercarriage, the bracing wires, the oil tank,
petrol tank, engine cowling, and fuselage. I heard the bullets whizzing by and the whistle of various parts
as they flew off but nothing hit me.”

Max Immelmann in letters home to his family

Technological advantage or not the business of air-to-air combat is a dangerous one. It is
assumed that the Immelmann maneuver, a steep climb to an inverted position followed by a half roll
which is a fundamental aerobatic today, was invented by Immelmann to zoom away from attacks from
the slower, bigger airplanes. More likely the real maneuver that Immelmann invented and used was
more like what is called a hammerhead today. Immelmann would enter a nearly pure vertical climb,
then as the plane reached its apex, apply full rudder to reorient the plane to face back towards the
earth, regaining life preserving airspeed. These maneuvers helped Immelmann stay behind his prey and
give him opportunity for follow on attacks. It was these new tactics as well as his stick and rudder skills
Immelmann used to keep himself alive while downing as many enemy planes as possible, sometimes to
gruesome effect. Although sometimes referred to as victories, the more accurate term for downing an
enemy airplane is kill, because the crew rarely survives. Immelmann writes about some pilots trying to
put their hands up and surrender after their planes had to shot to pieces only to watch those planes
nose-dive into the ground from thousands of feet up and turn into funeral pyres of dust and smoking
wreckage. In one instance Immelmann watched as an observer fell from his stricken plane from
hundreds of feet in the air. The observer, probably a young man in his 20’s, was pierced through by the
branches of the tree he fell into. Immelmann’s bullets found engines, fuel, propellers, and bracing wire
as easily as they found, heads, blood, limbs and bone. It’s unclear how Immelmann felt about the death.
He doesn’t talk much about the kills apart from a step-by-step pragmatic recalling of events. Among the
horror of World War 1 the deaths were a drop in bucket, but I can imagine that watching men fall to
their deaths had to influence the young man in his early 20’s. In any case, the vegetarian did not turn
away from the carnage he created, it was his profession.

By January of 1916 Immelmann and Boelcke were tied with 7 kills apiece. This made them the
highest scoring fighter pilots for the Central Powers and Aces by today’s standards. These kills gained
Immelmann and Boelcke fame on both sides of the front. German newspapers wrote poems about the
“Ace Race” between the two pilots and ran articles about every new success, but they became
legitimate celebrities after receiving Germany’s highest honor- The Pour le Merite.

An except from an official German communique on Jan 13 1916 reads, “Lieutenants Boelcke and
Immelmann each shot down an English machine, to the north-east of Turcoing and near Bapaume. In

recognition of their magnificent achievements His Majesty the Emperor has been pleased to confer the
Pour le Mérite Order on these two dauntless officers.” German soldiers remedied the French sounding
name by nicknaming the Pour Le Merite the Blue Max, after Immelmann. This was a time of resurgence
in morale for the German army, Immelmann and Boelcke seemed invincible in their Eindeckers and total
victory seemed just one more offensive away for the German army. In February that offensive seemed
to have been launched by the Germans in the Battle of Verdun. Boelcke was drawn into the battle of the
skies of Verdun, but Immelmann was tasked to defend the airspace near Lille to the north where he
continued to rack up victories, mostly against British pilots. It was these British pilots who gave
Immelmann the moniker “The Eagle of Lille”. After Immelmann landed next to a British pilot he was able
to bring down alive he introduced himself, to which the British pilot responded,

“Well, if I have been
shot down, I am at least glad that Immelmann is my conqueror”.

The time after his appointment to the Pour Le Merit were some of the happiest times in
Immelmann’s life. The small, vegetarian, tee-totaling outsider was suddenly dining with the King and
Crown Prince of Bavaria, getting telegrams from the leaders of the German war efforts, and his personal
batman essentially became a secretary to respond to his many fans. He was the invincible Eagle of Lille
and continued to rack up the kills. However, as the war continued into the spring of 1916 the entente
began employing more advanced tactics and technology. The British especially were learning from their
many encounters with the Eagle and Immelmann was finding himself hard pressed. No longer was he
jumping unsuspecting observation planes but rather he was fighting – usually outnumbered – capable
fighter pilots looking to shoot him down. Immelmann’s letters home became less frequent and his habit
of almost never taking leave began to wear him down as the war dragged on into it’s second year.
Immelmann and Boelcke began experimenting with a new version of the Eindecker with 2 rotary engines
in line and two machine guns. With more horsepower and firepower this was meant as an answer to the
allied air superiority, but the added complexity needed for the interrupter gear was troublesome to say
the least. After one long burst from his Fokker Eindecker in late May, Immelmann’s plane began shaking
uncontrollably. Immelmann cut the engine and saw his machine guns had obliterated half of his
propeller, unbalancing the entire spinning rotary engine. Immelmann was able to make an emergency

landing on the German side of the lines, but it was another close call straining the nerves of a man
who’d been flying and fighting for months.

June of 1916 found the Eagle of Lille with 16 confirmed kills and one of the leading Ace’s of the
war. It also found him exhausted with frayed nerves and no end in sight as the German’s were bleeding
as badly as the French in the trenches of Verdun. On the evening of the 18th Immelmann took off around
dusk with members of his Staffel to attack 4 F.E. 2Bs. What exactly followed is still disputed through the
fog of war and time. What is known is that the 4 British F.E. 2B’s were part of number 25 Squadron of
the RFC and were tasked to photograph German infantry and artillery positions along the front. The
large bi-plane two-seater- known as Fees – were slow moving recon planes but had each been armed
with 2 machine guns which – combined with the mutual support of the 4 ship – made them dangerous
prey. Thousands of Germans turned their eyes to the sky and watched as the four Eindeckers attacked
the F.E.2B’s. One German observer later wrote:

“The tiny, swift Fokkers were like swallows compared with the big, lumbering, sure flying
double-deckers. There was an increased liveliness aloft as the Fokkers overtook the biplanes and
swooped down upon them with frightful speed. Amid a mad rattle of five machine guns our hearts
stood still. Now the Fokkers have reached the enemy, and they have turned themselves loose again.
Then they pounce with fresh strength on the [British ] biplanes, which are now flying in confused circles.
One of the Fokkers singled out his prey and he doesn’t leave him. While the big biplane only seeks to fly
lower or higher, the Fokker cuts off the escape each time. Suddenly the big machine reels. ‘Hurrah; he’s
hit!’ is roared from a thousand throats.”

Spectator’s account of the battle from The Eagle of Lille

The crowd had just watch Immelmann score his 17th and last kill as the Eagle of Lille, downing
J.R.B Savage of RFC 25 who was killed in the action. The “confused circles” the German saw the F.E.2B’s
flying were actually a Lufbery, a maneuver used where each plane flies part of the same circle to defend
each other from attack. As Immelmann climbed in his patented Immelmann maneuver he climbed into
that fog of war and time and the controversy over what happens begins. The RFC claims that the gunner
of the F.E 2 B that was behind Savage in Luft berry spotted Immelmann, and aiming his machine gun
waited until the apex of the climb when Immelmann was hovering in midair, purely vertical, then
opened fire. Corporal James H. Waller claimed he saw his bullets striking Immelmann’s engine and
propeller. To this day the Luftwaffe claims that Immelmann’s prop, as it had weeks earlier, sheared off
due to a faulty interrupter gear. What’s not disputed is what happened next and was seen by observers
on the ground. The following passage was quoted in the New York Times – a testament to the celebrity
that Immelmann had gained.

“I was watching closely, and noticed that the Fokker, too, was making curious tumbling motions,
righting itself like an animal mortally wounded, then fluttering down, first slowly, then faster. A sudden
jerk brings the machine again to a horizontal position. Thank God, I think, and breathe easier, when
suddenly the Fokker overturns completely, the tail falls away, one of the wings flutters off, and, with an
uncanny whistling sound, the machine precipitates from 6,000 feet earthward and strikes with a dull
thud.”

Spectator who saw Max Immelmann’s last fight

German soldiers rushed to the downed Fokker and pulled the pilot from inside. Noting the Pour
Le Merit, they knew it could only be Boelcke or Immelmann. The initials M.I. on his uniform silenced any
doubts. The Eagle Lillie, Max Immelmann, was killed on June 18, 1916. He was 25 years old. He was
buried in his home city of Dresden.