The next patrol left a few minutes before 11. Luke is listed as a participant and Joe isn't, but the truth is that Frank was under orders to drop out of the formation and attack the balloon near Boinville, and Joe's touchy Hispano Suiza kept him grounded 15 minutes longer. Flying east in hopes of catching up with the rest of the formation over Verdun, Joe eventually gave up and turned toward a balloon near Etain (Boinville) that he and Luke had been detailed to attack.

When he was still about a mile away, the balloon went up in flames. Luke had gotten there first. Joe turned south towards the drachen at Bois d'Hingry, but Luke was one step ahead of him and had already downed his second balloon of the day, expending only 50 rounds in the process. The anti-aircraft fire where the balloon had been was intense, and Joe knew what that meant. He sped toward the puffs.

Above Rouvrois a plane separated itself from the mist and smoke. It was Luke, his nose down for speed, coming like a bat out of hell with seven Hun planes booming along behind him. Wehner got one, a Fokker, before the Germans realized he was part of the show. It fell off in a spiral, sideslipped, then spun to the ground.

Joe had bested it as part of his original attack manoeuvre, so it was only a matter of seconds before his guns, for once functioning perfectly, were streaming tracers into an Albatross close on Luke's tail. It turned, but soon went into a steep dive and crashed.

Wehner swung in behind Luke and both peaked for the American lines, trusting their lives now to a pair of troublesome 220-horsepower engines. Again, speed saved them, and the German pursuit planes turned back as the Americans crossed the trenches. The Spad may have flown like a brick, but it flew like a brick in a hurry.

But this wasn't luck and a fast fighter. This was something more. Grant continued to lean heavily on Luke, assigning him the full weight of the squadron's balloon-strafing mission and refusing to send the bulk of his force to support Luke's attacks. And Frank - with a little dramatic help from Joe - kept emerging from the furnance.

Frank was growing resentful. He wanted the glory, but he also sensed that Grant was trying to kill him. Despite the squadron's balloon-busting mission, Grant held his other pilots out of the dangerous endeavor. Luke reported it all in 41 words.

"Combat report - September 15, 1918

"I left formation and attacked an enemy balloon at Boigneville in accordance with instructions and destroyed it. I fired 125 rounds. I then attacked another balloon near Bois d'Hingry and fired 50 rounds into it. Two confirmations requested."

Frank rested while his mechanics worked over his No. 26 Spad. He had already flown two exhausting patrols and had two more left to fly.

Shortly before 5 p.m., Wehner, Luke, Nicolson, Hewitt, Rucker, Lennon, Grant, Stout, Hoover, Dawson, Donaldson and White climbed into their Spads and taxied down the grass field.

Luke and Wehner - the squadron operations report say they were flying a voluntary patrol - peeled off from the main body and began snooping for drachen at about 1,500 meters altitude. Somehow the two separated, with Luke returning uneventfully. Joe, on the other hand, shot down a balloon and damn near got killed.

At 17:10 Joe poured 100 rounds of incendiary ammunition into a balloon located northeast of Verdun and southwest of Spincourt. He flamed it, emptying his ammo belts, and turned for home. But there was one problem: a neat little formation of five Fokkers and Albatrosses cutting him off with a good pursuit angle. Again, it was a race, but this time Joe was out of ammo and didn't have position. His story might well have ended here but for the intervention of some French Spads that engaged the Germans over Chambley and gave Joe the break he needed.

That's a full day, but Luke and Joe had one more patrol to fly - and this time Frank intended to test out a theory. Luke had observed that the Germans kept a fairly constant fighter cap on their balloons during the day when allied patrols were heaviest, but left them bobbing unprotected in the evenings when the Spads and Camels returned to their bases. In those days, without instrumentation, daylight was the ultimate arbiter - and the Germans knew allied pilots would run for home at twilight so as not to land in a treeline by mistake.

Luke's idea, backed by Hartney, was to fly that dusk hour in search of drachen. If he found one, it would be vulnerable and he would have the advantage. To get home, Frank would navigate by compass and landmarks, buzzing the field to alert the ground crew. The enlisted men, positioned on the Rembercourt landing field, would run out and light flares, painting the field and allowing the pilot to drop out of the sky without killing himself.

That was the idea, anyway. But while Luke had Hartney's support, Grant was in a power struggle with the major and would have nothing of it. So Luke set out to prove his idea. Grant's dusk tree-top patrol (listed as Lyman, Roberts, Rucker, Clapp, Vasconcells, Wehner and Luke flying between 500 and 1,000 meters altitude) departed at 18:50.

But Frank didn't depart with the rest of the patrol. He waited for it to leave, then waited a while longer. As twilight neared he took off and went balloon hunting, searching for artillery flashes on the allied side of the lines that might indicate an airborne observer.

He followed the flashes and got his balloon. Landing would be another matter.

"Patrolled to observe enemy activity. Left a little after formation, expecting to find it on the lines. On arriving there I could not find formation but saw artillery firing on both sides. Also saw a light at about 500 metres. At first I thought it was an observation machine, but on nearing it I found that it was a Hun balloon, so I attacked and destroyed it. I was Archied with white fire and machine guns were very active. Returned very low. Saw thousands of small lights in the woods north of Verdun. On account of darkness coming on I lost my way and landed in a French wheatfield at Agers about 21:30. Balloon went down at 19:50."

Luke returned by motorcycle at 12:45 p.m. on the 16th to an airdrome that buzzed with his exploits. An American balloon had seen his third drachen flaming. The squadron gave Luke credit before he arrived to claim it, but again there was no assurance that the son of a bitch wasn't already dead. Instead, he may well have been partying his ass off with the Cigognes - France's elite fighter squadrons. Frank Jr. was rumored to seek any excuse to "force-land" at their aerodromes.

Luke and Wehner were now concentrating only on balloons, and Grant, fuming at his loss of control over the situation, nevertheless had to admit their success. Each time Luke left formation Grant stormed to Hartney and demanded a courts martial for him. It seemed that both Luke and Wehner often deliberately waited to leave the ground well after their assigned patrol had taken off.

But the two German-American outcasts didn't give a rat's ass for Grant's peevish control tantrums. These days - from Sept.14 through Sept. 17 - were their moment. Frank had downed five balloons in three days; Joe had bagged two balloons and four fighters. On Sept. 12 they had been outcasts with only one disputed victory between them. By the night of Sept. 15 they were both were six-kill aces, and their partnership/friendly competition had vaulted them to the top of the American victory charts. Frank's victories between Sept. 12 and Sept. 15 earned him the Distinguished Flying Cross.

But despite his good traits, Frank Luke was still a deadly cocktail of childlike naitivity and macho fanaticism, hard-wired for his own self-destruction.

Warned of the need for caution, Luke would respond: "What's the matter? Afraid?"

Or this story: Late one afternoon, when his flight was returning from patrol, he swung out of formation and turned back toward the lines. He landed a few minutes later.

"What in God's name did you turn back for?"

"It was such a fucking wonderful show in the half dark I didn't want to miss it. Damn, it sure was pretty to watch those rockets and flares and the artillery flashing way off. I turned back to get another look at it while I had the chance."

Sept. 16

By the end of the day on Sept. 16, the St. Mihiel offensive would be over. American and French troops advancing from Watronville in the north to Pont-A-Mousson in the south had driven the Germans back more than 10 miles, re-establishing the center of the German lines north of St. Benoit on the shore of the three-fingered lake Etang de Lachuaussee.

Strategically, St. Mihiel was not a classic rout. The Germans were already in the process of trading the salient for security, and would have gladly relinquished the ground peacefully. But tactically it was a success. By hitting the Germans hard in the midst of their otherwise orderly withdrawal, American forces turned a tactical retreat into a chaotic cluster-fuck in which Germany attempted to both defend its positions and vacate them at the same time.

By the morning of the 16th, the German command was consolidating its position along a new, more defensible line and the Allied advance slowed to a stop, content with wiping out the salient. Meanwhile, German balloon companies were feeling decidedly skittish after the losses of the previous four days. In poor weather, Joe and Frank patrolled again, but at the first sight of approaching fighters the Germans winched down their low-flying balloons near Boinville. This happened to the two prowling balloon busters on two separate patrols on the 16th.

Landing at Rembercourt after their afternoon patrol, Luke went to Hartney and Lt. Romer Shawhan, the group operations officer, to pitch his idea for a dusk patrol again. Only this time he knew where the targets were.

"How would it be if we left the airdrome just in time to get these balloons at dusk, when their observers are taking a last look at our troop movements? Wehner can get one about 7:10, I'll get another about 7:20, and between us, we ought to get the third about 7:30. Just start burning flares and shooting rockets here on the drome about that time and wel'll get back all right."

The records aren't clear on this, and none of the sources are the really reliable, but here's what I think happened. Hartney had previously mentioned the dusk balloon-busting idea to Mitchell, and saw an opportunity for showmanship. According to Hartney, Mitchell called around 2 p.m. to ask if the show was still going on. Hartney said it would be going off as planned, although they would be substituting balloons at Reville and Romagne.

"Then you want us over, don't you?" Mitchell asked.

"Yes sir, I certainly do." Hartney said. "But get here at six o'clock and don't be late. The action takes place at 6:58 and 6:59, and we've got a grandstand.

Mitchell - accompanied by colonels Milling and Sherman, and IG T.I. Donaldson - arrived early in Mitchell's Benz and clumped into Hartney's rough-hewned headquarters. Hartney called Luke into the operations office.

"Poor Frank was quite flabbergasted as he came before the general in his untidy uniform and cloth puttees," Hartney would later write. "He was bashful and silent. Col. Milling, a great diplomat, soon had him at ease. And Luke put forth his plan, worthy of a veteran flying general. In his Arizona twang he explained part of it:

"Tonight heinie's going to replace those two balloons near Boinville. They're going to keep a constant patrol up there and they think I'm going over to try and pick them off and then they'll jump me. Not me, no sirree. Wehner and I are going to try out our dusk stuff on them together and if you gentlemen will come back here just about dusk, Maj. Hartney will give you the exact time when they are going to burn up."

That's the kind of sporting event American officers have always enjoyed, and sportsman Eddie Rickenbacker remembers it clearly.

"Just about dusk on Sept. 16, Luke left the major's headquarters and walked over to his machine. As he came out of the door he pointed out the two German observation balloons to the east of our field, both of which could be seen with the naked eye. They were suspended in the sky about two miles back of the Boche lines and were perhaps four miles apart.

"Keep your eyes on these two balloons," said Frank as he passed us. "You will see that first one there go up in flares exactly at 7:15 and the other will do likewise at 7:19."

"We had little idea he would really get either of them, but we all gathered together out in the open as the time grew near and kept our eyes glued to the distant specks in the sky."

Hartney has vivid memories of the evening, too:

" I want you to recollect the most dramatic stage play you ever saw and mentally compare it with this show put on, with human lives at stake, by lieutenants Luke and Wehner of the hastily thrown-together United States Air Service.

"We had a spot of coffee, then, looking at our wrist watches, sauntered slowly out in the evening shadows to the brow of a nearby hill. Slowly the hands on our watches crept up to zero hour. Darkness was beginning to fall and a strange sort of peace, broken only by the distant rumbling of artillery, was settling over the countryside.

"Mitchell murmured, 'Col. Barnes is going to do a little extra shooting tonight with his artillery and his gunflashes will probably make the balloon line more active.' This was proved correct almost immediately. To the accompaniment of the increasing roar of the good colonel's guns the balloons slowly but surely rose higher and higher, as their observers reported ... on Col. Barnes guns..."

Mitchell was talking about how impossible it all was and Grant was counting down the seconds when a tongue of flame shot into the sky over by Spincourt .

"There goes the first one!" Hartney shouted.

"By God, there she goes!" yelled Mitchell. For once in his life the general lost his poise and danced up and in his excitement as a burst of red and yellow fire shot up from the second balloon.

"It was true! A tremendous flare of flame lighted up the horizon. We all glanced at our watches. It was exactly on the dot!

"The expectancy of our gaze toward the second Hun balloon may be imagined. It had grown too dusk to distinguish the balloon itself, but we knew the exact point in the horizon where it hung. Not a word was spoken as we glanced at our watches and then at the eastern skyline.Almost on the second our watching group yelled simultaneously. A small blaze first lit up the point at which we were staring. Almost instantaneously another gigantic burst of flame announced that the second balloon had been destroyed! It was a most spectacular exhibition.

"We all stood by on the aerodrome in front of Luke's hangar until 15 minutes later we heard through the darkness the hum of his returning engine. His mechanics were shooting up red Very lights to indicate to him the location of our field. With one small circuit of the aerodrome he shut off his engine and made a perfect landing just in front of our group. Laughing and well pleased with his success, Luke jumped out and came running over to us to recieve our heartiest congratulations. Within half an hour Frank Luke had destroyed a hundred thousand dollars worth of enemy property! He had returned absolutely unscratched."

Hall says Mitchell immediately promised to arrange for a mobile searchlight battery to help night landings. Corps HQ described the event as "a unique air maneouvre by pilots under its command."

The first balloon had been the easiest. It swung low over Reville and each gave it a long burst from both guns. It flamed immediately and they headed for the balloon at Romagne. Luke got the Romagne drachen alone, while Joe swung off to attack the third at Mangiennes. Over Romagne, Frank dove through schrapnel as the ground crews lowered the bag. He burned it and dropped it on them.

Afterward he formed up with Joe again, but left him to strafe a supply train on the way back. American anti-aircraft gunners opened up on both of them as they returned in the gathering darkness.

After the Sept. 16 patrol, all the troops knew about Luke. In a very real sense, the twilight patrol that burned three German balloons was the exclamation point on America's first great European victory. Doughboys in their new trenches (the night before they would have been German defenses) could look up and watch their watchers descend in flames as two American planes danced above them.

For Mitchell, who would later get the dates wrong, claim to have watched from his own headquarters and take credit for the idea, it must have been a perfect end to a perfect day. Modern historians have criticized the air service's role in St. Mihiel, but the proof is always in the results. No matter how imperfect its performance, Mitchell's unified air command had applied great force to the German air service, outnumbering it and rendering it impotent. First Army had advanced without harassment from the air or reliable observation by the enemy. His ideas had been vindicated, and now, three brilliant explosions, like fireworks on the 4th of July, celebrated his personal achievement.

Heroes
With Mitchell and Hartney now celebrating the glorious achievements and fighting spirit of Frank Luke, Ack Grant must have been in a piss-poor mood by the morning of Sept. 17. That little insubordinate asshole Luke was in desparate need of a courts-martial, but the son of a bitch also happened to be America's top fighter pilot. That meant newspapers and photographers and rear-echelon officers smiling and nosing about Rembercourt. Grant could feel it coming. His skin itched with the thought of it.

The 17th of September was to be a breather, a day of rest. The five-day St. Mihiel offensive had ended on a glorious note with the three-balloon command performance by Frank and Joe. Now everyone was tired. The squadron mounted only two uneventful patrols. Luke had the day off, though Wehner still had a 5 p.m. patrol to fly.

But the two heroes of the hour were in no mood to lie around their Rembercourt tents all day sleeping. They were going souvenir hunting in the old German salient.

Luke's war-born desire was to capture a German airplane with its machine guns intact. He wanted them, not only because they would serve as mementoes of combat in the air, but for other reasons as well.

"You can't tell. Maybe there'll be another revolution in Mexico and we'll need 'em down in Arizona. Maybe I'll start one myself when I get back."

Transportation had been scarce ever since the 27th left Saints, but Frank and Joe - perhaps on the strength of their performance the night before - apparently had little trouble coming up with a car. They drove up into the battlefield cleared by the advancing 1st Army and found guns behind the front wall of what once had been a home. Now it housed a half-dozen dead Germans and a pair of machine guns. No roof.

Frank loaded the guns into the car and returned to Rembercourt, where he and Joe spent the afternoon cleaning and polishing them. Then Frank packed them in crates and shipped them back to Paris to be held for him.

He never got around to picking them up.