Roosevelt, Quentin

[Velvet 1]

I was just reading up on the American Aces bios in BHAH. Not an actual ace bu interesting stuff...

 

"Roosevelt, Quentin

United States

 

Quentin Roosevelt was the youngest and favorite son of President Theodore Roosevelt. Born on November 19, 1897 in Washington, Quentin was only three years old when his father became president, and he grew up in the White House. By far the favorite of all of President Roosevelt's children, Quentin was also the most rambunctious. Amongst Quentin's many misadventures with the "White House Gang" (a name assigned by T.R. to Quentin and his friends), Quentin carved a baseball diamond on the White House lawn, fired spitballs at official presidential portraits, and threw snowballs from the roof at unsuspecting Secret Service agents. He quickly became known for his humorous and sometimes philosophical remarks. To a reporter trying to trap the boy into giving information about his father, Quentin admitted, "I see him occasionally, but I know nothing of his family life." The family soon learned to keep him quiet during dinner when important guests were present. Family and friends agreed that Quentin had many of his father's positive qualities and few of the negative ones.

With American entry into World War I, Quentin thought his mechanical skills would be useful to the Army. Encouraged by his father, he dropped out of Harvard to join the USAS. With his poor (Roosevelt) vision, he was forced to memorize the eye chart so that he could pass the physical exam.

Finally sent to France, Lt. Roosevelt first helped in setting up the main USAS training base at Issoudun as a supply officer. He then became a flight instructor. On June 17th, 1918 he was posted to Toul as a pursuit pilot with the 95th Aero, part of the 1st Pursuit Group.

On July 5, during his initial foray into combat, Roosevelt got his first taste of excitement. His Nieuport 28’s engine malfunctioned, and he came close enough to a German fighter to see the red stripes around its fuselage. “I’m free to confess I was scared blue,” he wrote home. “I was behind the formation and he had all the altitude. So I pushed on the stick, prayed for motor, and watched out of the corner of my eye to see his elevators go down, and have his tracers shooting by me. However, for some reason, he didn’t attack, instead he took a few general shots at the lot and then swung back to his formation.”

On July 10, Roosevelt claimed his first victory:

"I was out on high patrol with the rest of my squadron when we got broken up due to a mistake in the formation. I dropped into a turn of a vrille (twisting, like the tendril of a vine)—these planes have so little surface that at five thousand you can’t do much with them. When I got straightened out I couldn’t spot my crowd anywhere, so…I decided to fool around a little before going home, as I was just over the lines. I turned and circled for five minutes or so, and then suddenly…I saw three planes in formation. At first I thought they were Boche, but as they paid little attention to me I finally decided to chase them, thinking they were part of my crowd, so I started after them at full speed. I thought at the time it was a little strange…that they should be going almost straight into Germany, but I had plenty of gas so I kept on.

They had been going absolutely straight and I was nearly in formation when the leader did a turn, and I saw to my horror that they had white tails with black crosses on them. Still I was so near by them that I thought I might pull up a little and take a crack at them. I had altitude on them, and what was more they hadn’t seen me, so I pulled up, put my sights on the end man, and let go. I saw my tracers going all around him, but for some reason he never even turned, until all of a sudden his tail came up and he went down in a vrille. I wanted to follow him but the other two had started around after me, so I had to cut and run."

Just four days later, he was himself shot down behind German lines at Chamery, near Coulonges-en-Tardenois. Eyewitness Lieutenant Edward Buford Jr. recorded the details of that engagement in a letter:

"Four of us were out on an early patrol and we had just crossed the lines looking for Boche observation machines, when we ran into seven Fokker Chasse planes. They had the altitude and the advantage of the sun on us. It was very cloudy and there was a strong wind blowing us farther across the lines all the time. The leader of our formation turned and tried to get back out, but they attacked before we reached the lines, and in a few seconds had completely broken up our formation and the fight developed in a general free-for-all. I tried to keep an eye on all of our fellows but we were hopelessly separated and out-numbered nearly two to one. About a half a mile away I saw one of our planes with three Boche on him, and he seemed to be having a pretty hard time with them, so I shook the two I was maneuvering with and tried to get over to him, but before I could reach them, [his] machine turned over on its back and plunged down out of control. I realized it was too late to be of any assistance….

I waited around about ten minutes to see if I could pick up any of our fellows, but they had disappeared, so I came on home, dodging from one cloud to another for fear of running into another Boche formation. Of course, at the time of the fight I did not know who the pilot was I had seen go down, but as Quentin did not come back, it must have been him. His loss was one of the severest blows we have ever had in the squadron, but he certainly died fighting."

Funeral services held by the Germans were witnessed by an American Officer. He thus describes the scene:

“In a hollow square about the open grave were assembled approximately one thousand German soldiers, standing stiffly in regular lines. They were dressed in field gray uniforms, wore steel helmets, and carried rifles. Near the grave was a smashed plane, and beside it was a small group of officers, one of whom was speaking to the men. “I did not pass close enough to hear what he was saying; we were prisoners and did have the privilege of lingering, even for such an occasion as this. At the time I did not know who was being buried, but the guards informed me later. The funeral certainly was elaborate. I was told afterward by Germans that they paid Lieut. Roosevelt such honor not only because he was a gallant aviator, who died fighting bravely against odds, but because he was the son of Colonel Roosevelt whom they esteemed as one of the greatest Americans.”

After his grave came under Allied control, thousands of American soldiers visited it to pay their respects. His resting place became a shrine and an inspiration to his comrades in arms.

Quentin's death was a great personal loss to Teddy, who understood quite well that he had encouraged his son's entry into the War. It is said that he never fully recovered from Quentin's death. Within six months, Theodore himself would be dead.

Eddie Rickenbacker, in his memoirs described Roosevelt's character as soldier and pilot in the following words:

"As President Roosevelt's son he had rather a difficult task to fit himself in with the democratic style of living which is necessary in the intimate life of an aviation camp. Every one who met him for the first time expected him to have the airs and superciliousness of a spoiled boy. This notion was quickly lost after the first glimpse one had of Quentin. Gay, hearty and absolutely square in everything he said or did, Quentin Roosevelt was one of the most popular fellows in the group. We loved him purely for his own natural self.

He was reckless to such a degree that his commanding officers had to caution him repeatedly about the senselessness of his lack of caution. His bravery was so notorious that we all knew he would either achieve some great spectacular success or be killed in the attempt. Even the pilots in his own flight would beg him to conserve himself and wait for a fair opportunity for a victory. But Quentin would merely laugh away all serious advice.""

[Herr Prop-Wasche 7]

Thank you for that, Velvet.

 

Again, death is the great Leveler. Whether born into privilege or from humble beginnings, we all owe a debt of gratitude to all who flew and died in service to their country during the Great War.