Ullstein contracts regarding MvR’s Autobiography

Translation(s):

Contract

Between Oberleutnant (First Lieutenant) Freiherr Manfred von Richthofen and the company Ullstein & co, Berlin, the following deal has been made:

§1 Mr. von Richthofen transfers the sole and exclusive publishing rights of his work to the company Ullstein the sole and exclusive publishing rights of his work in progress about his flying experiences (the determination of the title remains subject to mutual agreement).

The company Ullstein & Co includes this work in their library „War-Books“.

The company dictates the publishing date of the book.

The assignment of the work to be printed in newspapers and magazines is only allowed with the permission of by the publishing house Ullstein & Co, and only for fragments of the text. If fees are received for such reprints, half of these fees are to be paid to the author. The manuscript should be in the publisher's possession by the end of April this year.

§2 The author will receive a royalty of 8pf (8% of retail price) from each copy sold which is priced at M1 retail. The author is guaranteed a royalty of 8,000 (aight thousand) marks. [Handwritten Note: 10000 Marks, changed with the permission of the company E. v. Salzmann] This guarantee is payable after the approval of censorship is given.

Further billing for copies subject to royalties is made for each calendar year by April 15 of the following year at the latest. Upon request, Ullstein & Co will have the correctness of this bonus statement for the past calendar year confirmed by a court auditor.

§3 If the scope of the work exceeds the space of 256 pages in the format of the war books, the author undertakes to make appropriate cuts or, in the event that he does not make them in time or not in full, grants the publisher approval to have these cuts effected by a personality who seems suitable to them.

§3 Mr. Hauptmann von Salzmann is authorized to agree on the final determination of the text with the publisher.

§4 The publisher is entitled to sell the copyright of the work to foreign-language countries and to grant printing rights to the German text abroad, but is obliged to pay half of the fees received for this to the author.

§5 The author has the right to include his value in a complete edition of his works 10 years after the conclusion of this contract; however, the retail price of the volume in question may not be set below M-,2.

§6 The author is entitled to thirty free copies.

§7 The author grants Berlag Ullstein & Co the right of first refusal for his next 3 works related to the war under the conditions stipulated in this contract. The publisher has to decide no later than 4 weeks after receipt of the manuscript whether he wants to make use of this sales right or not.

Frhr. v. Richthofen, Rittmeister

Power of Attorney

Power of attorney for Mr. Hauptmann a. D. Erich von Salzmann, Berlin W., Weineckestrasse 16.

I hereby authorize Mr. Hauptmann a. D. Erich von Salzmann, to make any changes or improvements that he deems necessary to Ullstein and Co. independently and without consulting me beforehand in matters relating to the book "Der rote Kampfflieger" to be published by his company, as well as represent my own interests towards the company Ullstein & Co. or such persons who come into question with regard to the completion of the book.

Herr von Salzmann is authorized to do everything on my behalf concerning the book, to regulate independently.

Frhr. v. Richthofen

Rittmeister and commander of Jagdstaffel 11

_______

OP/N: Thanks for Ullstein Buchverlage for providing me with those scans.

In August 1918 the first translation into Russian of the memoirs of Manfred von Richthofen (it was published in 2000 copies). The translation was made by the wonderful russian aviator Mikhail Smolyaninov.

Mikhail Smolyaninov (09.27.1890 - 05.20.1919) - Russian pilot, head of the Air Fleet of the Siberian Army, holder of many military awards. Born in the Ryazan province, in a family of hereditary nobles. He graduated from the Orlovsky Cadet Corps, after which he studied at the Mikhailovsky Artillery School. 1913 Mikhail Smolyaninov was sent to the Aviation Department of the Officer Aeronautical School On August 29, 1917, he flew on a Schneider plane to Belgrade. Attached to the British aviation detachment in Serbia. In September 1917, Smolyaninov returned to Russia and served in the White armies of the Eastern Front. Promoted to lieutenant colonel. 04/01/1919 was approved as the head of the Air Fleet of the Siberian Army. In the early morning of May 20, 1919, Mikhail Smolyaninov flew the Albatros. The airplane caught fire for an unknown reason and rolled over in the air. Smolyaninov fell from a height of 600 meters and crashed.

so was trying to find the manuscript "thought/reflection in the dug-out" aka "the war is not like what people at home imagined" essay by manfred for content and kinda went through rabbit hole of ,,, where is the manuscript?????

so like it first appeared publicly in 1933 in 1933 print of der rote kampfflieger but not the red knight of germany that was published in 1927??? was the manuscript found after the book publishion??? did the family just dont want gibbons to publish it????

i mean there's also "it was fake" considering it first appearance is from 1933 (which is the version göring wrote introduction btw) but like the fucking essay is depressed as hell and doesn't seem very propaganda value material???

personally i think it's real. i just don't see why they would fake this but yeah but my friends look around if any biograpgers cite anything other than 33 book. Will update when update

btw here's the essay from the '33 book :

Ein Heldenleben (A Hero's Life) is an expanded version of Manfred von Richthofen's memoir Der Rote Kampfflieger (The Red Baron). In addition to the autobiography, it includes letters from Manfred to his family (like the 1933 edition) and some chapters that were not included in the book, as well as other comments and anecdotes from people who were close to him. It also includes accounts by his brother Lothar von Richthofen.

Overview:

Visit to the Great Headquarters

My Engagement

A flight in an observation balloon

A day at Staffel 11 (by Lothar von Richthofen)

At Jagdgeschwader Richthofen (by a Dutch reporter)

Richthofen as leader and comrade (by Leutnant Friedrich Wilhelm Lübbert, Jasta 11)

In memory of Richthofen (by v. B.)

An encounter (by Emil August Glogau)

The mother about the boy Manfred

Letter by Leutnant Hans Joachim Wolff to Leutnant Lothar Freiherr von Richthofen

How Richthofen shot down his seventy fifth victory (by Leutnant Lampel)

Richthofen (by Erich von Salzmann): Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

At court for the second time

Letters of Erwin Böhme: Before the war, Erwin Böhme worked as an engineer in East Africa. When the war started he was already 37 years old. This did not stop him and he became a successful fighter pilot, being personally selected by Boelcke to join his fighter squadron. In 1916 he met the daughter of a former business colleague and they fell in love. The following letters are those Böhme wrote to his later fiancée Annamarie during the war days. [Translated are the parts of the letters where Böhme describes his life as a fighter pilot.]

Landres, 24 June 1916

Kowel, 7 July 1916

Kowel, 3 August 1916

Kowel, 15 August 1916

Bertincourt, 11 September 1916

Bertincourt, 21 September 1916

Somme, 4 October 1916

Somme, 18 October 1916

Lagnicourt, 31 October 1916

Lagnicourt, 12 November 1916

Jagdstaffel Boelcke, 12 December 1916

Partenkirchen, 28 January 1917

Jagdstaffel Boelcke, 8 April 1917

Valenciennes, 25 April 1917

Valenciennes, 9 May 1917

Valenciennes, 3 July 1917

Jagdstaffel 29, 16 July 1917

Jagdstaffel 29, 7 August 1917

Jagdstaffel 29, 17 August 1917

18 August 1917

Jagdstaffel Boelcke, 21 September 1917

“With the aces”, 20 October 1917

Rumbeke, 31 October 1917

Back with the aces again, 31 October 1917

4 November 1917, Sunday morning

Jagdstaffel Boelcke, 14 November 1917

Bavikhove, 16 November 1917

Bavikhove, 19 November 1917

27 November 1917

The End

Rudolf Berthold – a man who never let himself be dissuaded from his convictions. A man who, despite the worst injuries always returned to the front as quickly as possible. A man for whom the war was not over, even if it was over for his country. A summary of Bertholds life can be found in the pinned post over @subtile-jagden The following are translated diary entries as well as some of his letters.

Before mobilization It is getting serious! First challenges Emergency landing Important reconnaissance flights during the advance The most beautiful day of my life! Finally a pilot! Buddecke, the dear comrade! Feldfliegerabteilung 23 End of 1915 Single seater fighter unit Vaux and the first victories An unfortunate day for Berthold Back to the unit Jasta 4, the Pour le mérite and a new challenge Beginning of 1917 Finally off to Flanders End of 1918: Ceasefire and revolution 1919 / 1920: Uncertainties, Soldier´s Councils and the Last Fight

Ernst Jünger was a passionate diarist. During his time in the First World War, he filled 14 diaries. Based on these entries, he wrote his popular book Storms of Steel. The diary entries provide additional information, funny stories and reveal his true feelings during this turbulent time.

First experiences Officer Candidate and Relocation First Cannonade First wound Back at the front Days at the front and stories from old friends Quéant Friendly contact with the enemy New year, same situtation A love affair Officer training course Back in the trenches and dangerous patrols Mine warfare and gas attacks An English prisoner and a funeral Summer 1916 Battle of the Somme Part 1 A short break from fighting and another injuriy Wartime conditions Another injury

Sacred and Sanctified | Steve Murphy x m!reader (🍋)

Anonymous asked: "Would you lie if you said you cared about me?" And "I‘m trying to work, can you not?" for our boy Steef Murf x male reader?

I feel like he’d struggle with coming to terms with his queerness at first, so he hooks up with the reader to sort of test it out. Only problem is they work together and they’re both catching feelings for each other. Steve just kind of struggles to express those feelings a bit more than the reader.

summary: you and Steve have always gotten along, but when he starts to explore his sexuality, the relationship between you starts to change. 

tws: anal sex, swearing, religious imagery, biting, spanking, choking, smoking, praise 

word count: 2002

You and Steve had always gotten along well, even before you had joined him and his partner - Javier - in Columbia, you had always gotten along well; a professional at dealing with exotic animals, you were asked by the DEA to aid with the Escobar case, specifically, and you were brought in to work directly with Steve and Javier - but while they spent most of their days chasing drug dealers and going on wild goose chases, you often spent the time working with local exotic dealers and seeing if there was anything trafficked that might have helped with their case. Ball pythons didn’t mean shit, you were told to go after the bigger and more obvious of exotic animals - still, you kept one of them. He was a yellow-y colour with brown and black splodges, around three foot long and weighing almost an entire kilogram, you kept that little ball python the very second that you had found him; naming him ‘Der Rote Kampfflieger’, after an axis fighter pilot from the first world war. He was a friendly little thing, often slithering onto your arm when you sat on your bed to go through case files. He was your pride and joy, really.

But around two weeks after you had gotten him, you got a somewhat troubling phone call from Steve, who had begged you to see him in the middle of the night, and while you thought it was probably just him finding something in a photograph or in one of the many files, something didn’t sit quite right with you if you were honest. Some shit smelled differently than others, and this didn’t smell right. Still, you let him come over and you let him sit with your ball python on his arm as he gently ran his fingers up and down the animal’s thick body while it sat there quite happily. 

“I think I might be queer,” Steve said after some time, watching you make yourself coffee and grab the packet of cigarettes that you kept in the cupboard. He swallowed thickly, hands starting to shake. “Did you hear me?”

You nodded, scratching your shoulder for a second before you finally turned to him and shrugged. “Yeah, I heard you… you don’t think it’s gonna be a problem with me or something, do you?”

He rested his hand on the middle third of the python’s body, trying not to smile when it flicked its tongue against his skin, tickling him a little. “I dunno, I don’t even know if I am.” 

You chucked the cigarettes on the table, and picked the python back up before taking it back to its tank, making sure to lock the glass before you gestured for Steve to follow you out onto the balcony; you lit two cigarettes, and handed one to him before you cleared your throat and looked at him. “Are you attracted to men?”

“I, I think so,” he said quietly, thinking of all those times that he had checked out your ass, focused more on your bare biceps than whatever animal you were holding, how he would swallow thickly and feel hot under the collar whenever your shirt was soaked in sweat and you were smoking a cigarette. He thought of all the times when he had looked at you for a little longer than he should have, and how when he saw you and Javier laughing together and getting a little physical whilst messing around that he had felt such awful jealousy, such disgusting and vile jealousy that made him want to tear you apart. Maybe he was attracted to men. 

“Do you wanna fuck men?” You asked, and such a question he had expected to hear from Javier, not you. “Steve?”

“I wanna try it,” he admitted. “Yeah.”

You smiled, taking his hand and tilting your head to the side. “Do you wanna try it with me?”

Steve could only nod in response, letting you pull him in close as his breath hitched in his throat and his gaze dropped to your lips for a moment, swallowing thickly as he brought one hand to your throat, daring to wrap his hand around it as he refused to wait and crashed his lips against yours; you smiled, lacing your other hand in his hair and letting go of his hand, daring to grab his belt as you kept him so fucking close. Fuck, his kiss was like no other, and you couldn’t help but to moan when he dared to back you up against the doors, pressing you against them as he dared to slip his tongue between your lips, just to hear those fucking precious moans once more.  

It was like something divine had struck Steve, if he was honest, the feeling of something other than lust growing in his stomach as he took charge, putting pressure on your throat and planting his forearm beside your head, cold glass so good against his hot skin; it was as if he had never experienced anything holy before this. Before the feeling of your lips on his and your jagged breaths mixing with his own, his hands shaking just a little. All his sins had been forgiven, repented for, with just one kiss. You were a fucking Saint. 

A fucking Saint. 

When you pulled away, Steve felt the weight of his sins come crashing down upon his shoulders, and he sighed as he licked his lips, just to savour the taste of yours; he didn't want to touch you again, for fear that his touch would shatter you. Corrupt you. Make you unholy. But he yearned to go down on his knees for you, to pray to you and to pray that you would take away all of his sins once more; just one more kiss to rid him of every sin he had ever committed. 

“Steve,” you whispered, and he couldn’t ignore the way that his name sounded like the most sacred of prayers coming from your mouth, like it had suddenly become sanctified just because it had come from your lips. “Do you wanna go through with this?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied softly, “really, I’m sure - I want to, if you do.” 

You moaned softly against the pillow as Steve pounded into you, your ass covered in handprints and bite marks, skin littered with the imprint of his teeth from the shoulders down, so fucking close as Steve dared to praise you; he wanted to worship you, to make you feel as holy as he knew that you were, he wanted to make you his, to claim you as his own personal deity. To give you that divinity he knew you deserved. To bless and possess you as much as he could; when he finally pushed you over the edge, he couldn’t help it - you called his name like it was the most sacred thing in the world, like you had never experienced something so holy and so divine in your life. Steve couldn’t help it as he came right after you, hearing you call his name like that was too much, and when he started to fuck his cum into your ass, he couldn’t ignore the way that you squirmed and moaned his name again so softly, asking him to keep going until he really was finished; until he had to pull out and he rounded the bed, kneeling beside you and clearing his throat. 

“That, uhm, that wasn’t too rough, was it?”

“Nah,” you chuckled, licking your lips and smiling at him. “How’d you find your first experiment?”

Steve shrugged, leaving you for a moment to go and run the shower, but when he came back, he sighed. “Can we do it again?” 

You nodded, humming softly. “Yeah, of course.” 

It went on like that for a while, Steve using you as his own personal experiment to test whether or not he really was queer, and while he knew after the second night together that he really was, there was something new for him to tackle: his feelings for you. 

You, so holy and so blessed, able to sanctify him with just a smile; and he was just a lowly sinner begging for a piece of your divinity. For you to cleanse him of every sin he had ever committed. To make him a Saint even though he knew that with every touch he offered, you would slowly become corrupted, unholy. Because of him. 

Long nights at the office together after everybody had left, going through files and files and stacks of photographs, started to feel more and more like he was attending prayer within a holy building; to be sat beside such a Saint, with his hand on your thigh, able to hear the soft sighs coming from the back of your throat as you grew more and more tired. When you leaned against him, half-asleep and hardly able to keep your eyes open, Steve couldn’t help but to stiffen up a little, growling softly under his breath as he clenched his jaw; to have such a Saint so close to him, pressed against his side as he tried to focus on his work, tried to focus on getting the long night through with… but he couldn’t ignore you. 

“I’m trying to work, can you not?”

“Not what?” You asked with a raised brow, your voice almost slurring softly as you got up and stretched, a yawn escaping you as you shook your head. 

“Lean against me like that,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “It’s distracting.” 

Purposefully, you draped yourself across his lap, looking at him with a cheeky smile as he shook his head again, still clenching his jaw; but then you smiled, and suddenly Steve couldn’t deny that you were absolutely the most holy person in the world. “Is this any better?”

Steve glared at you for a moment, but the second that you laced your fingers with his, pulling his hand onto your chest, his breath hitched in his throat, and he couldn’t deny that you really were, above all else, a Saint. His glare softened, and he ran his other hand down his face. “Slightly… are you comfortable?”

“Incredibly,” you grinned. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” he swallowed thickly, his heart thundering in his chest. “Would, uh, would you lie if you said you cared about me? I mean, if someone asked you if you cared… would you lie?”

“No,” you shook your head, bringing his hand to your lips and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles as you hummed softly. “No, I wouldn’t lie - would you?”

“I…” he shrugged. “It’s…” 

“You don’t have to say it,” you started, “really, you don’t have to say a damn thing. You don’t. It’s… we can just keep messing around and not say a damn thing, if that’s… what you want.” 

Who could he fool? Every time he had sat down with Connie since that first night, she had told him that he really, really needed to figure out how he felt for you and if he wanted a relationship then he would have to tell you; she sat him down every time she visited him to make damn sure that he wasn’t going to mess with your feelings, as although she loved him dearly and truly and deeply - she knew he was struggling with the situation, and she knew that if he wasn’t careful, he would end up leading you on, and she didn’t want that for anyone. Sure, she would support him as much as she could, but she couldn’t tell you how he felt - that had to be him, entirely him. 

“It’s not what I want,” Steve grumbled hesitantly. “I want… I want more than just messing around, but… I don’t know how to… shit.” 

“Take your time,” you told him softly. “Please, Steve, take your time, but… just let me know one thing, please?”

“Anything.” 

“Do you want this to be just you and me?”

“Yeah,” he bit his bottom lip. “I do.” 

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

i think my favourite part of my copy of "der rote kampfflieger" is that it has the hardcover exterior of the 1928 edition but inside its the 1933 version,,

i guess i get the best of both worlds since the '28 version has a killer cover and the '33 version is actually fun to read.

Ein Heldenleben (A Hero's Life) is an expanded version of Manfred von Richthofen's memoir Der Rote Kampfflieger (The Red Baron). In addition to the autobiography, it includes letters from Manfred to his family (like the 1933 edition) and some chapters that were not included in the book, as well as other comments and anecdotes from people who were close to him. It also includes accounts by his brother Lothar von Richthofen. A Hero's Life is incredibly hard to get hold of as only a very limited amount was printed and rarely is an owner willing to sell it. The wonderful @tintenspion was able to purchase an edition and was generous enough to scan and upload it so that more people could have access to its contents.

I have taken it upon myself to translate (parts of) chapters so that non-German speakers can have the opportunity to read it. Since I don't want the translations to clog up my feed, I've set up this blog for them: @squadron-goals. I will post the chapters there. I will also integrate them into the master list at the top of this blog and will inform you here when I post a new translation.

lars- me: someone: mentions der Rote Kampfflieger me:

My new book😁

I died when I saw this on Ebay. Instantly bought. Its so rare, I thought I would never get to own a copy myself.

The spine is broken but I see if I can get someone to restore it.

Der Rote Kampfflieger 1917, Ein Heldenleben and Der Rote Kampfflieger 1933 is the ultimate Manfred von Richthofen trilogy. (Link to my post about the three versions)

Turning history into film: The Red Baron

Film: Der Rote Baron (2008) Photograph: Manfred von Richthofen inside his all-red Fokker Dr.I Triplane (1917-8)

thoughts on manfred von richthofen ?

Oh gosh this is an ask I never expected to get, but I’m happy to oblige (and please forgive any typos--I’m still not used to typing with fake nails).

Truthfully, I think he’s a facinating historical figure.  I’ll preface this by saying that despite the fact that I’m a historian, I generally tend to stick to things pre- the Austro-Prussian War (I have a few degrees and I generally tend to muck around more in the classica/late antiquity/medieval/transitional medieval-to-early-modern- early modern periods), but I have also always had a strange little connection to the First World War (I suspect the reason but it is something that I can never really confirm--regardless, it is the exception; I have almost no interest in WW2 even with my knowledge of it).

Richthofen is one of those historical figures I wish people focused on more beyond the “amazing flying ace” or general soldier aspect in general.  Obviously his flying career was more than impressive, and he was a national icon for a reason, but beyond that I just find him endlessly facinating as a person.  He shows evidence of being a very pragmatic man who did what he thought had to be done, and he compartmentalised accordingly (and in many ways he exemplified the old “Prussian Virtues”, which makes sense when you consider what his education would have been).  One of his first biographers described him as having „eine augenscheinlich zunehmende, brutale Gefühlskälte“ (essentially a brutal callousness or coldness), and he himself when asked to describe things often reported with a distant frankness that people who have never been involved in a combat situation would condemn anyone for, but (and this is speculation, obviously) I think leaving it at this is an over-simplification and does a disservice not just to him but to other soldiers who would have served during that war.

I like his pragmatism and more taciturn nature.  I read somewhere once that he said he liked to “fly, not kill,” even if he enjoyed the thrill of the hunt so to speak, though take that with a grain of salt as I do not have a source readily handy (and my Kindle is dead so I cannot fact-check the heavily censored book he actually wrote).  I think to do the sort of thing he had to do and to do it as well as he did there has to be a degree of distance and separation, and I think that sort of isolation likely only increased as his celebrity status did.  I think he was more than aware of what he represented and did what he could to uphold it because he felt that was his duty, but I would note that he did so without--to my knowledge, at least--indulging in mindless hatred/etc towards the men he fought.  I think there’s ample evidence to suggest that he respected his opponents, and it says something about him too that his opponents respected him.  I think in many ways he embodied a lot of the “old ways” (that is, the old Prussian military/etc maxims--again, this makes sense considering that would have been his education from a very young age), and I think that also played a part in why he was hailed as he was by his side.

Please note that I don’t say this to romanticise him--I make it a point not to romanticise historical figures.  But I think he was also probably lonely.  This is an unprofessional speculation on my part, but I can’t help but think it nonetheless.  “It’s lonely at the top” is no less true for how often it’s repeated, and he knew he had an image and a reputation to uphold not just for his sake but for everyone else’s.  I’ve seen old archive footage of him though, and I spend so much time studying people who long predated moving footage that it’s strange to see him smile.  Strange, but nice, and you can see a difference in how he moves in the more formal settings versus the others.  Going back to his love of flying, I think that is undeniable, and there is one section where he talks (excitedly) about the planes and the future of flying and what might be achieved in the coming years and it makes me smile even though I know said book was heavily edited and censors.

“Du lachst gewiß, lieber Leser, ich auch, aber ob unsere Kinder lachen werden, ist noch nicht [185]heraus. Man hätte auch gelacht, wenn einer vor fünfzig Jahren erzählt hätte, er würde über Berlin hinwegfliegen. Ich sehe noch Zeppelin, wie er im Jahre 1910 zum ersten Male nach Berlin kam, und jetzt guckt die Berliner Range kaum noch nach oben, wenn so ein Ding durch die Luft braust.

Außer diesen Riesenflugzeugen und dem Ding für Jagdflieger gibt es nun noch eine unzählige Menge von anderen in jeder Größe. Man ist noch lange nicht am Ende der Erfindungen. Wer weiß, was wir in einem Jahr verwenden werden, um uns in den blauen Äther zu bohren!”

It’s cute.  I like it.

In many ways though I think he exemplifies the merging of old and new, though, I suppose.  He was a soldier trained and raised in the old ways who was then thrust into a new form of war the likes of which no one was prepared for, but despite his death, he also showed a willingness to adapt and perservere.  He did what he had to do to and he did it with an efficiency that as someone who appreciates the difficulty of constantly adapting I can appreciate.  I think it’s a shame that most of the attention paid to him is paid in the “look at all the people he killed, so cool!” way that a lot of WWI fanboys tend to look at an fetishise, especially in the English-speaking world.  I watched the film Der rote Baron and while I enjoyed much of it, I did not enjoy the awkwardly shoehorned-in romance.  It seemed disingenuous and just... not like him.  Evidently, his remaining family (descendants of his siblings) agreed.  Still, I would love more media on him in the future, whether novels or non-fiction or films, because at the end of the day I think he’s a very interesting historical figure worthy of study, beyond the propaganda both from his own side and from the opposing one.  I will stop here, as this is getting very long, but god, I could probably go on for days, and my nattering about his upbringing vs. the types of challenges/etc he would have faced in this new sort of combat just.  History is a palimpsest; I’ll leave it at that.

My one final note is this: he clearly liked dogs, which, as a dog person, well.  Good on him.

let's talk about new animation for sabaton - the red baron woohoo

,,,,, many people on suicide watch rn.

....😐

UM. GIRL. Whoever write for the animator def forgot to tell him that this is a quote from boelcke to manfred on a train omg not manfred to whoever this is on a plane omg. This incident is literally iconic how do you mess this up omgggggg

STOP TAKING THIS QUOTE OUT OF CONTEXT IM SO TIREDDDDDDDDDDD

the ACTUAL context of this quote is him is him talking about Boelcke's death (see below) (this is from floyd gibbons - the red knight of germany)

iirc dont quote me on this "The Red Baron" is not a contempory nickname of him at all. Ppl just called him Richthofen lol. The French did called him Le diable rouge tho. Also Der Rote Kampfflieger is his autobiography name so that's also contemporary. I cannot find the sources on that rn i read it a while ago but yall i swear

ok so i just find out tumblr have picture limits so yall will have to take my words from now

Ok the song is a banger we know that, the video is essentially 2008 movie but 3d let b real

ah yes the "dug-out" essay ,,, he was in his depressed era

Ok but let's b real that entire essay is sad as hell he's clearly going through it

i avoid reading abt his death so looooool girl i dont know now

now there are debate on wether he died BEFORE or AFTER landing bc if he died BEFORE then he wouldn't have last word moment so

yeah that's pretty much it lol these are details nobody give a fuck but im mentally ill and nerd leave me alone

An encounter (by Emil August Glogau)

When I took the morning train from Frankfurt to Berlin at the end of September, a young Uhlan officer nimbly jumped onto the departing train in Gotha, threw his hunting rifle into the luggage net of the compartment I was sitting in, pulled his coat collar up over his chin, made himself comfortable in his seat and was immediately asleep. At the station I had bought the recently published “Der Rote Kampfflieger” but I had put it right into the luggage net next to my buttered breads because I had more interest in my sleeping neighbour. How can someone fall asleep so easily? Who is able to train their will in such a way that the boundary between wakefulness and sleep can be crossed so easily? This young man must have a strong energy, I thought to myself, but his clean-shaven schoolboy face gave a different impression. Didn´t the blond youth look around out of good-natured blue eyes when he boarded the train? How deliberate and determined were his movements, how powerful his grasp of the rifle? The square head and strong jawline belonged to a eastern German Junker. But how did the lines of resignation from the cheekbone to the chin fit into this motionless face? Had the war dug the furrows in this young lieutenant's face? Only then do I see the two stars on his epaulettes. Rittmeister? Rittmeister at twenty, twenty-four at the most? Well – entered in Gotha - Thuringian principalities - flashes of awards under his coat collar - a prince, then. Then the eyes opened as suddenly as they had closed before, focused on my luggage net and shone as if they say saw something that made him very happy. The „prince“ seemed to be hungry, I thought, maybe you can offer him one of your breads? „Is there a dining car?“ he asked. „Unfortunately not, but may I offer you a buttered bread, I caught your look and was hesitating whether or not to offer”. He then laughed out loud, blushed like a first-time published author, took a bite of my bread and replied, "Oh no, I looked at the book. I get such a kick out of the fact that every traveler buys one of these things. You see..." - pointing to the people waiting at the railway station in Weimar - all "red fighter pilots”. I beginn to understand, reach for the book, open the cover and now know that I am sitting face to face with the red fighter pilot himself, Manfred Freiherr von Richthofen. „Have you read it already?“ he asked me. I denied. „Well, better leave it! Because I cannot write, I can only fly and shoot and run my mouth a little about whatever comes to mind“. And so he then told me, with eloquent lips that have now closed forever, about his adventures in the skies until we arrived in Berlin. I could fill a book with it, but this book is already filled by himself, but I wish I had the ability to give an account of the boyish freshness of this famous daredevil, the bubbly mentality of this child of nature and the soldierly simplicity of this Silesian nobleman. “I´m just a fighter pilot,” he said, “but Boelcke, he was a hero.” He buttoned his coat so that the people wouldn´t stare at his Pour le mérite. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a telegram. “Look, isn´t it nice of the Kaiser, he telegraphs to congratulate me on my sixtieths victory: ‘Now rest for a while.’ I was invited on a hunt at Schloss Reinhardsbrunn by the Herzog von Koburg-Gotha, and now I´ll meet up with my brother Lothar in Berlin. Sadly, Moritz isn´t with me. Moritz? That's my Great Dane, he has to be with me everywhere. Sometimes I even take him up in the air. Do you know Berlin? Yes? Great! Then you have to show us around a bit, we don´t know it and have no acquaintances there. Just once, I visited the Kaiser but he isn´t there now.

By the way, a nice thing happened to me once: I was driving with a lady, like we are now, and I gave here a lift in my pre-ordered car when there was a great shortage of cars. Of course, I had my shotgun with me, as always, because there's nothing like a hunting, is there? The lady had two sons as volunteers in the field and made mocking remarks: Of course, you officers, you have time for hunting while my brave boys have to lie in the trenches'. I told her: 'I always hunt, I do nothing else, day and night'. She replied that it was a scandal that I was proud of it. When we reached her house and before I drove off, I called after her: 'I hope you will soon read again about my hunting successes. I am Manfred von Richthofen.' You should have seen her face." We arrived in Berlin; when we said goodbye, he asked me if I could take some time off around Christmas. He would be taking a long holiday and he could meet me then. “Ah no,” he interrupted himself, “I can´t promise that… Well, you know, I´m probably due now. After all, the English have put out a huge bounty on my head for a long time." He clicked his heels together and waved at me again from the crowd. For me, it was to be his last greeting. Now he has moved into Valhalla.

noodles

top row: Ace Janoušek (Corporal) on the left, he's a wild type confirmed male bull snake. Fox Mulder (Special Agent) on the right, he's an orange confirmed male corn snake who is currently in blue.

middle: Gallipoli (Baroness), she is a pewter confirmed female ball python & is gravid atm.

bottom row: Der Rote Kampfflieger/Red Baron (Captain, Baron) on the left, he is a pastel het albino confirmed male ball python & the father of Gallipoli's children. Kaiju (Godzilla if he's being a cunt) on the right, he is an albino confirmed male checkered garter snake.

Manfred von Richthofen about Oswald Boelcke

"... I did not dare to ask him to be taken on. I did not feel bored by the fighting in Russia. On the contrary, we made extensive and interesting flights. We bombed the Russians at their stations. Still, the idea of fighting again on the Western Front attracted me. There is nothing finer for a young cavalry officer than the chase of the air.

The next morning Boelcke was to leave us. Quite early somebody knocked at my door and before me stood the great man with the Ordre pour le Mérite. I knew him, as I have previously mentioned, but still I had never imagined that he came to look me up in order to ask me to become his pupil. I almost fell upon his neck when he inquired whether I cared to go with him to the Somme.

Three days later I sat in the railway train and traveled through the whole of Germany straight away to the new field of my activity. At last my greatest wish was fulfilled. From now onwards began the finest time of my life.

At that time I did not dare to hope that I should be as successful as I have been. When I left my quarters in the East a good friend of mine called out after me: "See that you do not come back without the Ordre pour le Mérite." ..."

Taken from Manfred's autobiography - Der rote Kampfflieger.