[legendsport]

April 1, 1918 - Epiez, France:

Yes, it had been nearly a year since the United States had entered the war and yes, it took that long for the formerly isolationist nation to get its proverbial ducks in a row and be able to, as the generals say, properly "prosecute" the war.

General Pershing's American Expeditionary Force was ready and it was given its own sector of the very static, and oh so deadly, "Zone of Advance" (more general speak for what everyone else simply called the Western Front, or given that the Russians had given up, just "the Front"). So the doughboys had their trenches to man and the flyboys... well, they had their own spot of French soil too. Tucked between two French armies, the AEF was getting its first taste of warfare in the 20th Century.

The 94th Aero Squadron had a new commander - a French-born son of American parents who had never lived in the U.S. and had served in both the French Foreign Legion and the French Aéronautique Militaire: Major John W.F.M. Huffer. Major Huffer took over in March and found he had inherited a squadron of rascals that included several automobile racers like Bill Merlon... and Jimmy Barrell. Barrell had waged a quiet and ultimately successful campaign to get into Lt. Colonel Billy Mitchell's good graces. He had also been surreptitiously trained to fly by Bill Merlon. So when Mitchell discovered this in January, he said, "Well, hell, if you can fly then you shall fly." Mitchell used his connections with Pershing to have Sgt. Barrell commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant and assigned to the 94th. And though Major Huffer had his doubts upon learning this in March, he quickly learned that Jimmy Barrell was in fact a talented pilot. "He's a natural," explained Merlon to the Major when the latter had expressed his disbelief.

Unfortunately for Huffer, Merlon and the over-eager Barrell, rain kept the 94th grounded for most of their week in Epiez. On the 7th of April they were moved to the Croix de Metz Aerodrome in the new American zone of the front and assigned to work with the French Eighth Army. In so doing, they became the first American pursuit squadron to fly combat missions.

On April 10th, a bit of a stir occurred at the aerodrome when a Sopwith Scout landed. The British plane, better known as the "Pup" was reknowned among the fliers on both sides of the front for its maneuverability, a byproduct of its light weight and comparitively large wings. But it was also becoming outdated as technology advanced apace in the crucible of war. Jimmy had heard that the replacement for the Pup, the Sopwith Camel, would be debuting with the Royal Flying Corps shortly.

The British pilot had pursued the enemy south out of the British area and into the French before becoming dangerously low on fuel and so had landed at Croix de Metz. The Americans were all too happy to help and Jimmy decided to chat up the Brit, who actually turned out to be a Canadian named Jack Blaney.

After getting a walkaround of the Sopwith, which Jimmy saw was woefully underpowered compared to the Nieuports the Americans & French were flying (not to mention the Fokkers the Germans were flying). "The Camel's something else entirely," Blaney told Jimmy when the latter mentioned this.

Once he'd finished prying information about the Camel out of Blaney, Jimmy told him, "My brother's living in Canada right now."

Blaney smiled and asked with a chuckle, "Trying to dodge the draft, was he?"

Jimmy laughed, "Naw, Jack's no coward. He's been in Canada for years. He's a hockey player."

Blaney was surprised by this and asked, "Hockey, you say? What's his name, again?"

"Jack Barrell. Though I hear that a lot of people call him 'Jock' for some reason."

Blaney slapped Jimmy on the back and said, "How about that! I actually know your brother, sport."

It was Jimmy's turn to be surprised and he replied, "Really? How?"

"I play hockey too! I've played against your brother - he's a few years younger than I am, but he's a fine player."

Jimmy didn't really know what to say to that. Blaney laughed again and said, "It's a strange world we live in, isn't it, Lieutenant Barrell?"

Jimmy agreed that it certainly was and decided he needed to write Jack a letter.


When the weather had finally cleared, the active patrols began for the 94th out of Toul (they'd been relocated again), and they were flying over a sector that stretched from Saint Mihiel to Pont a Mousson. On Sunday the 14th, an alert came in and Huffer told Merlon to grab a wingman and "see to it."

Jimmy was playing cards with three of the other guys when Merlon came into the room. "Jimmy get your butt out to the field. We've got an alert."

Jimmy leapt to his feet with a grin. "Ah, the exuberance of youth," Merlon cracked as Jimmy grabbed his goggles and headed for the door.

Seeing his plane, with its freshly painted "Hat in the Ring" logo made Jimmy's heart race even faster. He got the propeller spinning and climbed into the cockpit as Merlon did the same. The pair were airborne in their Nieuport 28s just a few minutes later, winging east towards the front.

Jimmy was the first to see the enemy, having spotted two specks through the broken clouds. He motioned to Bill and pointed. Merlon saw them as well, and nodded. They climbed and angled for position, knowing the German pilots would soon spot them as well, if they hadn't already.

Merlon had taught Jimmy the necessity of finding an advantageous position and to his credit, young Lt. Barrell was a quick study. Now they both put their training to work, positioning themselves to best use sun, cloud and altitude to gain an edge on the enemy.

Each pilot engaged their own opponent and Jimmy's jangling nerves steadied a bit once he was fully committed to the fight. That he might fail never crossed his mind - like his brothers he had a supreme confidence in his abilities and though he had never seriously participated in sports as he siblings did, he did possess some measure of Joe's dogged belligerence, Rollie's ability to quickly visualize angles and strategies, Jack's quick reflexes, (and though he didn't yet know it, the brilliant eyesight of several of his younger brothers) and his father's unflappable nature. He knew none of this, of course, but he nevertheless used all these tools and his own love of speed, recklessness and sense of derring-do to surprise his German opponent who had likely never seen anyone fly like Jimmy Barrell did.

Though he twice nearly stalled his Nieuport, Jimmy weaved, Immelmanned, barrell-rolled and ultimately worked his way to a good firing position. Without conscious thought, he pressed the trigger on his machine gun and stitched the tail of the Fokker he was tailing. The German plane was grievously wounded and Jimmy circled as he watched it crash to the ground. He saw the pilot scramble out of the smoking wreck and felt a bit of relief that he hadn't actually killed the guy. He banked and headed toward Bill, who was tangling with his opponent off to the north.

Jimmy saw the bright sparks of the firing of Merlon's gun and a trail of smoke erupt on the second Fokker. It too crash landed - on the Allied side of the lines. Jimmy was too far away to see if the pilot escaped.

He waggled his wings in salute of Bill and then joined up as they turned for home.

Back in Toul, he and Merlon were toasted as the first American pilots to down an enemy aircraft. Not all the news was good though - a second alert resulted in the 94th's first casualty later that day.