Saturday, Feb. 14, 2004
As required by Yahoo!, I'm making an update to prevent the death of this site, although in truth I'm not sure if there's much reason to keep it going. I began trying to tell this story in 1995, so the bulk of my research is now nine years old. A lot has changed in nine years.
I knew nothing about the subject, really, when I began. Within a couple of years I had corresponded with some very learned people and produced this website (for those of you making your first visit, this site is basically a 150-page history, published online). Over the years, interesting people have found me via this site, and I have learned little bits of things and added some to the general body of knowledge on the 27th.
This isn't where my career is taking me, though. After 12 years of newspaper editing I have finally ditched that gig and gone back to reporting. I have a second career now in fiction, and it shows signs of promise. As much as I am drawn to this material, I can't see myself doing anything significant with or to it in the foreseeable future. There just isn't the time.
Daniel Conover
During the summer and fall of 1918, American aviators in France found themselves at the forefront of two major offensives. Among these were the pilots of the 27th Pursuit Squadron, remembered to history (when it's remembered at all) as "Eagle Squadron" or more commonly "The Balloon Busters." Although a distinguished combat unit, it was by no means the war's best. Nor was its situation unique.
But its dramatic story has intrigued me since I first read it as
a kid: In September 1918, a maverick pilot from Arizona named
2nd Lt. Frank Luke Jr.
blazed a fiery trail across the skies of
France, destroying at least 18 German observation balloons and
aircraft between
Sept. 12 and
Sept. 29. At the beginning, he was
a squadron outcast -
disliked and suspect. At his death on
Sept. 29 he was America's
top ace, surpassed only later by
Capt.
Eddie Rickenbacker.
But there is more to the story. Luke's legendary two-week run would never have happened without the partnership of a remarkable friend: 1st Lt. Joseph Wehner of Everett, Mass. A German-American who had been arrested during flight training on suspicion of espionage, Wehner was - like Luke - a blue-collar kid and a star athlete. Unlike Luke, he was an educated, sophisticated world traveler. Their personalities could not have been more different.
Together, the two outcasts terrorized the German balloon line from Sept. 12 to Sept. 18, when Wehner was shot down while trying to protect Luke from German fighters. After his friend's death, Luke's life took a fatal turn. He would later go AWOL with his Spad XIII, and his final, Medal-of-Honor-winning sortie took place after his commanding officer had issued orders for his arrest.
What makes the 27th interesting to me are the personalities at work behind its story. Since November 1995 I have been trying to understand what happened to the 27th during the summer and fall of 1918 - but also why things turned out the way they did.
The idea behind this site is passive research: by putting it up and publicizing it, I hope to generate comments, suggestions, and new information. It will be, by definition, a continual work in progress, and since I have a demanding full-time job, that work will sometimes proceed altogether too slowly. At some point soon, however, I hope to publish the results in book form.
Visitors are encouraged to browse and enjoy, but also to contribute. Repeat visitors should check the site guide for the latest updates, revisions and additions.
since Jan. 22, 2001
© 1997 Daniel Conover
conover@postandcourier.com
