Hero of the Angry Sky. David S. Ingalls
on the other. Submarine attacks on civilian passenger liners such as the Lusitania almost caused a diplomatic rupture between the United States and Germany. The British blockade, protested only mildly by the Wilson government, diverted most trade to England and Western Europe, and a growing tide of orders for war materials engendered further support for the Allies. So did the ever-increasing flow of loans from major American investment banks such as J. P. Morgan.
Whether favoring or opposing active participation in Europe’s seemingly endless war, many citizens demanded their government prepare for possible involvement in the struggle, if only to defend national interests and American soil in case of a German victory. As David Kennedy noted, the outbreak of war “summoned into being . . . a sizable array of preparedness lobbies.”19 Some called for universal military training (conscription) and expansion of both the army and the navy. Former army chief of staff Leonard Wood, ex-president Theodore Roosevelt, and previous secretaries of war Elihu Root and Henry Stimson were only the most prominent among thousands of citizens who campaigned for such action. Leading bankers, industrialists, lawyers, academics, and politicians advocated a strongly Anglophile diplomatic and military policy, and a great mosaic of organizations took up the call.20
Citizen training camps conducted at Plattsburgh, New York, and elsewhere reflected the growing clamor for preparedness. College students and faculty members, recent graduates, young businessmen, and teaching masters from a score of eastern preparatory schools spent their summers drilling, camping, and learning to fire weapons. Another outgrowth of the preparedness movement, the National Defense Act of 1916, doubled the size of the army (to 240,000) and authorized a tremendous expansion of the battle fleet, though none of its provisions would be fully implemented for several years and thus would have little impact on the current crisis in Europe.21
Whatever their individual motivations, many young Americans, both men and women, took dramatic action to support the Allies. Thousands journeyed to Europe to drive ambulances, serve with the Red Cross, or perform varied volunteer duties. Others enlisted in the French Foreign Legion and eventually transferred to the aviation forces, forming what ultimately became the Lafayette Flying Corps. Still more traveled to Canada to join the British army or the Royal Flying Corps (RFC). Students at colleges such as Harvard, Princeton, and Yale formed quasi-military units and flying clubs, preparing for the day Uncle Sam might call on them.22
Even before Ingalls arrived in New Haven in September 1916, talk of war and preparedness monopolized much of the academic community’s attention, with the discussion by no means one-sided. Author George Pierson noted, “Yale was far from rising as one man to the support of Belgium and the Triple Entente.” Even as former president Taft called for strict neutrality, scholar George Adams declaimed, “Germany must be defeated in this war.” Initially, though very few students or faculty members favored the Central powers, equally small numbers advocated direct American involvement. Nonetheless, relief efforts to aid the Allies commenced almost immediately, and by 1915, many graduates called on the university to be more active in preparing for possible American involvement. Significantly, Yale president Arthur Hadley seemed “enthralled and excited by the preparedness movement,” and he praised military training for students.23
As early as April 1915, Hadley called for national preparedness, and later that year, he declared military training should have a place on college campuses. Addressing Yale alumni in Cleveland, he argued that the best way to keep the peace was to prepare for war. After visiting Plattsburgh in August 1915 and speaking with General Wood, Hadley in the fall announced plans to establish a field artillery battery on campus, and more than 1,000 undergraduates rushed to volunteer for the 486 available places. The faculty eventually voted to establish a Reserve Officers’ Training Corps unit, a proposal backed overwhelmingly (1,112 to 288) by the student body. The National Security League sponsored mass demonstrations, and preparedness and interventionist speakers including Henry Stimson and Adm. Bradley Fiske addressed undergraduates. In the winter of 1916–17, after years of urging neutrality, William Howard Taft admitted that war could no longer be avoided.
It was in this environment that two dozen Yale students and recent alumni coalesced in 1916–17 to create an aerial defense squadron. The First Yale Unit began as the brainchild of F. Trubee Davison. After his freshman year at college, Davison spent the summer of 1915 in war-torn Paris driving an ambulance. During those months, he met many prominent participants in the effort, including several combat fliers. He first envisioned organizing a volunteer ambulance unit at Yale but later determined to establish an aviation detachment instead. This concept dovetailed with contemporary proposals by John Hayes Hammond Jr., of the Aero Club of America, and Rear Admiral Robert Peary to create a series of aerial coastal patrol groups to protect American shores in case of war.24
By the spring of 1916, Davison had enlisted the support of several young comrades, including Harry Davison, Robert Lovett, Artemus “Di” Gates, Erl Gould, and John Vorys. Riding the wave of preparedness enthusiasm, he also gained the backing of influential private benefactors. Davison approached the Navy Department concerning his scheme and received modest encouragement, though no official support. Nonetheless, in July 1916, the fledgling group commenced training at aviation enthusiast Rodman Wanamaker’s Trans-Oceanic seaplane facility at Port Washington, New York, under the tutelage of pioneer flier David McCulloch.25 Of the dozen college boys who trained that summer, three soloed. Some of them also participated in naval reserve exercises.
Encouraged by the group’s successes, Davison and his mates increased their efforts to gain additional recruits after classes resumed at Yale—among them David Ingalls, just arrived in New Haven and still only seventeen—while intensifying discussions with the navy. In late winter 1917, when entry into the European war seemed inevitable, members of the group, now grown to more than two dozen volunteers, made plans to leave school and enlist. They did so with the support of President Hadley and Dean of Students Frederick Jones. On March 24, 1917, the Yale fliers traveled to New London, Connecticut, to complete the process. A few days later, they boarded a train to Palm Beach, Florida, to initiate instruction.
Commencement of unrestricted submarine warfare the previous winter had pushed the reluctant administration past the breaking point, and even as Ingalls and the rest of the Yalies begin training in Florida, President Wilson addressed Congress, asking for a declaration of war against Germany. The navy and its infant aviation arm would soon be called upon to do their part to defeat the U-boat scourge. The need was huge, the dangers great, and the threat mortal. In the first half of 1917, shipping losses to enemy submarines surged to intolerable levels, reaching nearly nine hundred thousand tons in April. Continued losses of that magnitude would quickly bring Britain to its knees. But in the opening days of hostilities, American naval aviation could not challenge the U-boat. Total flying resources consisted of a few dozen obsolete and obsolescent training aircraft; a lone underpowered, overweight dirigible; two balloons; a single understaffed and underfunded training facility at Pensacola, Florida; two score fliers (but none who had seen combat); and a few hundred enlisted ratings. The navy possessed neither aviation doctrine nor plans. No blueprints for wartime expansion existed, either for personnel or equipment.
Although the navy made modest technical progress in the years after the first fragile airplane took off from an anchored warship in 1910, it still lagged woefully behind the European combatants. In 1916, its three lonely assistant naval attachés posted to Berlin, Paris, and London supplied limited, circumscribed information about conditions in the war zone. A single lieutenant in the offices of the Aid for Material on the staff of the Chief of Naval Operations handled aviation affairs in Washington. A simple description of naval aviation activities in Europe reflects the degree to which the navy fell behind its future allies and enemies.26
By the spring of 1917, Britain’s Royal Naval Air Service (RNAS) operated a growing number of coastal bases stretching from Scotland to the south coast of England and Dunkirk in France, and in April 1917, it initiated the “spider web” antisubmarine patrols over the North Sea. The Royal Navy’s air arm also employed several land-based squadrons on the Western Front, carrying out patrol, reconnaissance, and bombing missions; its aircraft inventory included modern Sopwith Camels and Triplanes, Handley Page heavy bombers, and huge Curtiss-derived Felixstowe flying boats. The RNAS also possessed a large fleet of SS-type airships, along with a well-developed network of training facilities. Kite balloons