WAR

aeroplane was lying upside down on the ground, Rochling still strapped in his seat.
Rochling was shaken up but not hurt in the crack-up, and he was groggy from
his bullet wounds. He was fumbling for his cigarette lighter to fire the aeroplane.
Since he was still strapped in, it was fortunate that he couldn't find the lighter.
Theobald and Rochling were split up. Rochling received excellent care and
m* trW^y* " IM' was exchanged after the signing of the treaty of Brest-Litovsk. Theobald was
IP* ^flPHK 1 sent to a r '
P
soncr or war camp near Moscow. Transferred somewhat later
to another camp, he escaped during the disorders attendant on the Revolution
and made his way back to German territory by hopping freights. There were
few railroads in western Russia but he knew them all, having flown over them
many times. On February 15, 1918, he returned to Fl. Abt. 31 to the general
§ amazement of his comrades, all of whom had supposed him dead.
There was a rule that one who had escaped from capture was permanently
relieved of duty at the Front, and Theobald was accordingly posted to the
I
Geschwaderschule at Paderborn as an instructor in aerial gunnery and photography.
In the spring of 1918 Fl. Abt. 31 was transferred to the Western Front,
&* being based at an aerodrome at Puxieux in the St-Mihiel salient, a few miles
Cavalier: Club, weS £ f Metz. Hauptmann Bohnstedt was desperate for experienced men, for the
'
^liegerabteilung 31 at Slonim, .
. /
summer, 1917. At left,
game cm the Western Front was immeasurably rougher than it had ever been on
Rochling; to his the Eastern, and he asked Theobald if he wanted to volunteer to return to the
ac
'
°
' squadron. Bored with his teaching job, Theobald accepted the invitation and
reported to Puxieux at the beginning of August.
Missions, as before in Fl. Abt. 31 , were mostly photographic reconnaissance,
inspired by the necessity of keeping a
watch on the build-up of American forces,
but Allied air opposition made a big difference. The only way the German
two-seaters could operate with reasonable safety was to go singly, or at most in
pairs, make one photographing pass and come back fast. It was rare that fighters
could be spared for escort.
Shortly after returning to the squadron, Theobald was sent out with a
new pilot to photograph some American positions flanking the salient. They
got their pictures and were returning home at a medium altitude when suddenly
a single-seater rushed in from the side. Theobald was looking around to
guard against a surprise attack, but between the time that he had scanned
that piece of sky and returned to search it again, a dark gray Nieuport 28
had materialized out of nowhere. The aeroplane didn't fire, but rolled slightly to
one side, flashed under the D.F.W.'s tail and was gone. Theobald hadn't had
time to fire. Why the Nieuport didn't fire, we'll never know.
Theobald had still had one good look at the Nieuport as it crossed behind
him. The insignia painted on its side had brought back to him, in this incongruous
place, the memory of a Christmas from his childhood at Sengerhof. His father.
Baron Heinrich, was a collector. He collected for the fun of collecting and
never concerned himself with the value or purpose of his collections which
sometimes lacked both. Once, he had brought home a china figurine of Uncle
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