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he American pilots that flew in the Great War — “The
War to End All Wars” but would unfortunately become
World War I — were a diverse and eclectic group of
characters. Their motivations for going to France to
combat “The Hun” were many and varied, but one of the true
characters in the aerial conflict was a young man by the name of
Elliott White Springs.
Born to some wealth (his father was a well-known manufacturer to textiles in South Carolina), the young Springs enjoyed a
life of privilege. His parents put him in the Culver Military
Academy and when he graduated from that institution, attended
Princeton University.
Against a great deal of public opposition, the USA entered
the war on 6 April 1917. Springs was 20-years-old and enjoying
life as a student playboy at Princeton. Those around him regarded the young man as every inch a southern gentleman descended from southern gentlemen. He was handsome, lazily athletic,
and literary. He also wrote poetry and no one that looked at him
would realize he was tough — very tough.
His father, Col. Leroy Springs, had set a very demanding pattern for his son. Elliot had thus grown up with
the conviction that if he failed at anything he attempted he would not
only be failing himself but all
those that believed in
him. It was a
heavy load to carry
on his shoulders and he
thought about responsibility
quite a bit. His father wrote him
lengthy letters that were devoid of humor
but filled with how he “expected great
things” from his son. Elliot began to dread the
arrival of the postman and soon developed an
aversion to “the doing of great things.”
With America’s entry, the young men at
Princeton were joining the Navy or drilling on campus for
T
entry into the Army. Princeton made the announcement that a
“flying school” was going to be set up courtesy of money from
Princeton alumni. When the project became a reality in June,
Elliot was the first to sign up. Two-months were spent in classrooms learning the theory of flight and then Elliot and a few
other students were shipped off to Mineola, Long Island, where
they were all given the rank of sergeant. Other partly-informed
and misinformed young men were already at that location and
eager to climb into a fighter cockpit and “darken the skies over
Europe” as the politicians were spouting.
However, there was one problem: No airplanes. The
American government was establishing a flying field in Foggia,
Italy, so the students were sent to classes on how to speak and
write Italian along with the distressing news that flight training
would take place in Italy!
Springs soon discovered that his fellow students had zero
knowledge of the military or military training so he used what he
had learned at Culver to advantage — ordering them to do this or
that and he quickly discovered, to his surprise, that they obeyed.
The school soon had a few new officers assigned but Elliot
found out that they also knew little of military matters. He
developed various plans and projects (usually all for his benefit)
and when one of the officers came up with a weak objection,
Elliot would firmly quote Rule 115 or 124 from an imaginary
manual he had created and what little resolve the officers had
quickly melted and Elliot really began
enjoying military life.
However, it was soon time for deployment and Springs (now the
“top” sergeant) marched his rookies aboard the RMS Carmania
on 17 September 1917 for the trip to Europe. The first port was
in England where they were surprised to learn that they were
going no further. So much for the Italian lessons! They were
going to be trained in England by the English.
They started out in thoroughly obsolete Farmans and then
moved to Avros. Springs and his two best pals — John
McGavock Grider and Larry Callahan — did well in the classes
and soon graduated to Sopwith Pups, a true fighting aircraft.
They then went to gunnery school and Springs became a first
lieutenant on 25 March 1918 while Grider and Callahan
received their commissions a couple days later, but it was clear
that Springs would be the one always in command.
Springs had met the great Canadian ace Maj. Billy Bishop at
gunnery school and left an impression on the veteran pilot. Bishop
would later write, “About the middle of April, I got wind of what I
considered to be a prize. At a training camp nearby were three
Americans who had just learned to fly — Springs, Callahan, and
Grider were their names. They were known throughout the camp
as ‘The Three Musketeers’ and they had a reputation of being —
all of them — wonderful pilots. In fact, the first time they flew
along, each one of them, one after the other, looped, did a spin
and some other stunts that the trained pilots are accustomed to do.
This, of course, made their reputation. They were anxious to go to
France with my squadron — and I applied for them.”
The Three Musketeers were now part of a squadron —
No. 85 Squadron, Royal Air Force. On 22 May 1918,
they headed
out across the English Channel
with their SE.5a fighters. There
was probably not another
squadron in the
Happy to be alive — Elliot White
Springs after nosing over a Sopwith
Camel somewhere in France.
Aggressive and dynamic, World War I
ace Elliot White Springs brought his
combat-honed skills back home and
they came in very useful when he took
over his father’s company.
RAF as cosmopolitan as that of No. 85.
Six pilots were from Canada,
two from Australia, two from
New Zealand, two from Scotland, one from Ireland,
one from South Africa, six from England, and three
from the United States. Once in France, there was
more training to do but Springs rebelled at what he
viewed as overcautious actions on the part of Bishop.
The commander was very strict on this point — telling
the pilots they needed two weeks of combat training
before facing the Germans. Springs was a reckless romantic — not just dreaming of adventure but seeking it.
Bishop, however, went directly into action and shot down
a two-seater on 29 May and then another a few days later.
This made Springs and his fellows chafe even more.
Patrick Nightingale displays the Kingcobra’s clean
lines during a 2015 photo flight.
COBRA
for
the ACE
FULL HISTORY OF THE PALM
SPRINGS AIR MUSEUM’S BELL P-63A
BY MICHAEL O’LEARY
AND JOE SCHEIL
30 WARBIRDS INTERNATIONAL/June 2017
warbirdsintlnow.com 31