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The Road to Murvaux
An Unmarked Memorial on the Road to Murvaux
The Story of Frank Luke, Jr.
by Stephen Skinner
This article originally appeared in various publications and web
sites around the world in the summer of 2000 as part of the fundraising effort to restore the memorial to Frank Luke. The
original version ended with a plea for donations. The article was a success and the entire amount was raised for the restoration
(see "Frank Luke Memorial Restored" on Archives page). This version appears with new, previously unpublished photos of Luke's
landing site.
It gets dark earlier in September.
The days are shorter and the nights are cooler in northwestern France,
especially in the heart of the valley that rests between the looming hills of the area's most underrated landmark - a beautiful,
rolling ridge called the Cote St. Germain. The faint ripple of rushing water can be heard on a quiet evening, but you have
to look hard to find the source. Hidden by brush and weeds, a tiny stream splits the valley in half and makes it's way toward
the village of Murvaux. The stream is clear and icy cold, and supplies the cattle and sheep that pasture in the adjacent hills.
It's so well hidden that it's almost invisible from the road. Only the locals even know it's there, and very few of them still
remember what happened on it's banks. On September 29, 1918, the greatest fighter pilot America had ever known lay beside
this little stream in a pool of his own blood, dazed, nearly dead, and listening for the sound of stomping boots.
| The field where Frank Luke died. |
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| Large hill is the Cote St. Germain, Milly Creek runs along the line of trees just below landing site |
2Lt. Frank Luke, Jr. of the 27th Aero Squadron had been a terrible thorn
in the side of the invading German army. In his SPAD XIII fighter he had shot down 14 enemy observation balloons and 4 airplanes.
He had disrupted the intelligence efforts of the entire German balloon corps along the St. Mihiel front. The commander of
the 1st Pursuit Group, Major Harold Hartney, had called him the perfect combination of marksmanship and courage. Luke had
that defiant, uniquely American brand of courage, and he had it by the bucketload. Of course, there were other great aces
on both sides of the conflict who scored more aerial victories... but none of them did it in a combat career spanning only
17 days. And none of them departed in such a blaze of glory.
Frank was born in Arizona, one of Frank, Sr. and Otillia Luke's nine
children. He grew up in the Salt River Valley outside of Phoenix, lettering on his high school baseball, football and basketball
teams and winning bare-knuckle prizefights. When America joined the Great War in the spring of 1917, Luke went through flight
training and arrived on the Western Front in July of the following year. The reception by his squadron mates was cold after
he claimed to have shot down a German fighter - with no witnesses - in his very first combat. His commanding officer disliked
his cavalier attitude, and his only real friend, 1Lt. Joe Wehner, was killed in combat on September 18th. Depressed after
Wehner's death, Frank returned early from a seven-day leave in Paris. He wrote home often, but carefully avoided telling his
mother that he was now serving smack in the middle of America's hottest combat zone. By the 29th of September, 1918, Frank
had raised his score to 15, and though still unpopular among his squadron mates, nobody doubted him anymore.
Balloon busting in World War I was considered a team sport. Surrounded
by a ring of heavy anti-aircraft batteries, balloons were among the most important and dangerous trophies of war. Two full
flights of 5 fighters were often used to attack a single balloon. At least one full flight was preferred. When absolutely
necessary the job could be pulled off by two or three experienced pilots. But never less than two. Never. It was suicide.
Especially after dark.
It was nearly 7 o'clock that evening when a distraught 21-year old kid
from Phoenix borrowed one of the unit's newly-delivered SPAD fighters and took off - alone - in the direction of the German
balloon line. The first glimmer of light in the sky was seen a few minutes later near Liny-devant-Dun. Pierced by white-hot
incendiary ammunition from Frank Luke's twin Vickers machine guns, a German observation balloon burned, then exploded before
crashing to the ground. Minutes later, amidst a hail of deadly anti-aircraft fire, another flicker appeared against the horizon.
The balloon near Brieve's Farm in Doulcon went down in a funnel of black smoke and flame. Then, unbelievably, a third fireball
appeared over Milly-devant-Dun, just down the road from Murvaux. Luke had done more than the impossible - he had single-handedly
ripped a gaping 5-mile hole in the German balloon line. Under heavy anti-aircraft fire, he flew down the dirt road that connects
Dun to Milly (today's D102) then further east to Murvaux, still barely 50 feet off the ground. As he turned for home a single
German shell crashed through the cockpit, penetrated the right side of Frank's chest and exited just under the left shoulder
blade. Though Murvaux was heavily occupied by enemy troops, Luke had little choice... bleeding profusely, he glided down into
the valley beneath the Cote St. Germain and managed to land his SPAD on the slopes near the stream in the middle of the valley.
Frank staggered from the cockpit and fell to the ground. It was nearly dark now and he was seriously wounded, trapped far
behind enemy lines and armed only with his .45 caliber Colt 1911A pistol. He could hear the ticking of hot metal from his
SPAD's engine. He could hear the shouts of German troops approaching and the faint trickle of a small stream only 50 yards
away. Frank crawled toward the water as his life slowly ebbed away... he made it to the thick bushes lining the stream, but
German troops easily tracked him by the profuse trail of blood leading from his SPAD. They grew closer and shouted demands
for his surrender. It was almost completely dark now. Gasping for breath while he drowned in his own blood, Frank Luke summoned
his last ounce of strength and slowly rose to his feet.
| The author standing where Luke's SPAD stopped |
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| Photo taken from the edge of Milly Creek where Luke crawled for water |
The Germans had wanted to take him alive and were under orders to do
so if possible. But they didn't know Frank. This was a man who fought bare-knuckle prizefights. This was a man with uncommon
courage and one of the best aerial marksmen in France. A man who represented the last generation of America's old west, with
an attitude to match. A man who had watched his best friend die ten days before. This was 2Lt. Frank Luke, Jr. of the United
States Air Service's 27th Aero Squadron, America's top fighter ace. If they were hoping to find someone who would surrender,
they were coming after the wrong man.
Hopelessly outnumbered and saturated with blood from the inch-wide hole
through his chest, Frank drew his pistol and in one final act of defiance, he opened fire. It was over very quickly. Whether
he died from his previous wound or from the fire of German troops on the ground has been debated for decades. His parents
received notification four months later that their son's body had been found. They also learned that he would posthumously
receive the highest decoration that his nation can bestow for "courage above and beyond the call of duty," the Medal of Honor.
On today's tourist maps, the D102
that runs through the valley is marked as a scenic route, twisting south of Dun-sur-Meuse and winding through a series of
breathtaking hills, rivers and forests. If you go there to see the monument commemorating the heroism of Frank Luke, you should
know in advance that it's been stripped of it's engraved plaque by thieves. Though the monument still stands, there's not
a single word on it to indicate who Frank Luke was or how he sacrificed his life in the liberation of France. The monument
is just west of town and sits only yards off the D102; you can't miss it. In a tiny village like Murvaux you can park
on the side of the road and no one will care. The owners of the house beside Frank's monument plant flowers there every spring
and carefully trim the grass around what is now considered an old relic of a forgotten war. But when you go, be sure and get
there before 7 pm, especially if you make your trip in the fall.
It gets dark earlier in September.
| The now-restored monument to Frank Luke, Jr. |
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| Photo taken immediately after plaque restoration, 11/2000 |
Today, 700 yards north of the spot where he died, a monument stands
in memory of Frank Luke's heroism. But for decades it's been impossible to identify because the monument's engraved plaque
is missing. And since the monument was erected privately, there is no one to replace the plaque and no one to even remember
what it said. No government is responsible for it and no funds exist for it's maintenance.
Two years ago the Great War Aviation Memorial Committee's 350 members,
representing more than 20 countries, petitioned for the replacement of the plaque on Luke's monument. After consulting scores
of American and French officials, researching the precise wording of the original plaque and finding a contractor to erect
it, we are ready to act. With the full blessing and authority of the American Battle Monuments Commission, the Meuse-Argonne
Cemetery and the mayor of the town of Murvaux, the plaque will be restored to Frank Luke's monument and unveiled on November
18th, 2000... all we have to do is pay for it.
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