SHRINE TO THE FLIEGERHELDEN
After the First World War, the mother of Manfred and Lothar von Richthofen set up a museum in their honour. Robin Schäfer explores the amazing contents of that museum, examining what happened to the collection at the end of the Second World War.
Manfred von Richthofen was a prolific collector of trophies and souvenirs, with the items incorporated in a museum at the family home immediately after the First World War. We examine the museum’s astonishing contents and explore what might have happened to it all in 1945.
In 1901, Major Albrecht Freiherr von Richthofen and his wife, Kunigunde, bought a villa on Striegauer Straße, Schweidnitz*, in the Prussian province of Silesia when the future ‘Red Baron’, Manfred von Richthofen, was just nine years old and his brother, Lothar, was aged seven.
During the course of the war, Manfred had already become a noted celebrity, the Germans making him a national hero and turning him into a propaganda tool with his name becoming a potent symbol. He was a darling of the media and talked about worldwide - both during and after the war.
Manfred’s brother, Lothar, was also a succesful ace in his own right but lived somewhat in the shadow of his more famous sibling. Unlike Manfred, he survived the war but was killed in July 1922 as the result of a flying accident and buried in the garrison cemetery at Schweidnitz alongside his father, Albrecht, who died in 1920. Today, the cemetery is a public park, the graves all having been lost.
To commemorate Manfred buried first in Bertangles, then Fricourt and later in Berlin - the town planted the ‘Richthofen-oak’ on the Kaiserpromenade, placing a large stone boulder as a memorial. In 1928, the impressive Richthofen memorial site was created, but very little remains today.
Shortly afterwards, the ‘Heldenmutter’, or ‘Mother of Heroes’, decided to create a memorial in
the now empty family villa. This ‘Richthofen Museum’ opened its doors on 29 April 1933, and at the same time Schweidnitz‘s Striegauer Straße was renamed Manfred-von-richthofen Straße.
Leading the inauguration event, Prussian Minister President Hermann Göring, the last CO of Jagdgeschwader Richthofen, had been invited to attend and deliver a speech. When he had to cancel at the last moment, Reichsender Breslau radio station broadcast a recorded speech instead. More speeches were made by the NSDAP Gauleiter and Governor of Silesia, Helmuth Brückner, and Silesian Sa-gruppenführer and President of the Breslau police, Edmund Heines. Also present were a mass of other dignitaries, including many of Richthofen’s former comrades – among them Ernst Udet, Germany’s second highest-scoring ace. Now, the Nazi party had appropriated Manfred von Richthofen for their own nefarious benefit.
Inside the villa, the museum comprised five rooms on the upper floor with a separate entry to a flight of stairs leading directly to the exhibition rooms. The walls of the staircase were decorated with more than 300 deer antlers collected from all corners of the Reich. These were the hunting trophies of Major Albrecht von Richthofen, whose uniform was also on display.
In effect, the rest of the museum was filled with nothing but yet more hunting trophies. Because Manfred and Lothar were just that: hunters.
LOTHAR’S ROOM
Once upstairs, visitors entered a corridor which offered access to five differently themed rooms. The corridor itself was decorated with artefacts from Manfred von Richthofen’s time as Ulan cavalryman, including a shotthrough stirrup, his cavalry sword and a captured Russian cavalry bugle.
The first room of the museum was dedicated to Lothar, the walls decorated with serial numbers from some of the aircraft he had shot down along with photographs, a large portrait of Lothar and other items. The stunning centerpiece, however, was a detailed scale-model of an Albatros D.III fighter displayed in a glass cabinet together with Lothar’s medals, a highly valuable sword of honour gifted by a Swedish ‘fan’ (Pastor Ernst Ålander) to Manfred von Richthofen but ultimately ending up with Lothar after his brother’s death.
The walls, meanwhile, were covered with framed newspaper reports from all over the world, a prominent place being given to a portrait of RFC Captain Albert Ball, VC, killed on 7 May 1917 during a dogfight between machines of Jasta 11 and 56 Squadron, RFC.
While Lothar von Richthofen had been forced to land with a shot-up fuel tank, Albert Ball had crashed to his death in S.E.5 (A4850). Lothar was credited with the victory over Ball, although claimed to have shot down a Sopwith Triplane and not an S.E.5. This, however, is not inexplicable as the
S.E.5 had only arrived at the front in April and was unknown to the Germans at this time. Misidentifications like this are not uncommon in air combat, however unlikely such a mistake might seem. On the same day, in fact, Werner Voss had shot down an S.E.5 and initially identified the strange aircraft as a: ‘Sopwith with radial engine’. However, no effort has ever seemingly been made to discredit the claim because of this misidentifaction.
Far greater efforts have been made in recent decades, however, to establish the claim that Ball had not been killed by Lothar but instead lost orientation after entering cloud. Inverting his S.E.5, he emerged from cloud too low to recover and crashed fatally. This, then, is the alternative version of his demise. The further claim is that the victory was credited to Lothar for propaganda reasons. To do so, the Germans twisted the truth and faked evidence. But whatever happened in the skies north of Douai that fateful day, R H Kiernan, author of Ball’s first biography in 1933, interviewed witnesses and accessed German records. He came to a clear conclusion:
‘If, finding they had killed Captain Ball, did the Germans twist the facts for propaganda purposes, so that one of their best men could be said to have killed the great Englishman? This has sometimes been put forward, but anyone who knows the German method of giving credit for victories, and the scrupulous honesty of their Air Service casualty figures published during the War, will not accept it.
German admitted crashes always tallied exactly enough with those known to RFC HQ. In fact, on the whole, the Germans were somewhat more open regarding their losses than were the high powers of the RFC – which, rightly, tried to conceal losses behind the British lines, where the enemy could not be sure of a success.
It is extremely unlikely that the Germans deliberately cooked the account of Ball´s death, and there is little doubt that the younger Richthofen was Ball´s opponent on that evening.’
As victor, Lothar von Richthofen was given a fuel inlet manifold and one of the Vickers machine guns of Ball’s S.E.5 as trophies, both of which were prominently displayed in the museum room dedicated to his memory. Interestingly, both items were holed by machine gun bullets.
Possibly the most moving and unusual memento in Lothar’s room, though, was a letter written by Albert Ball’s father, the later Mayor of Nottingham, to Kunigunde Freifrau von Richthofen on 29 March 1933:
‘Dear Madam, Mr. Kiernan of Birmingham has asked me to forward you a picture of my late son, Capt. Albert Ball VC.
I have great pleasure in sending under separate cover my boy’s picture, and should be glad if you would return the compliment by sending me one of your brave boy.
We have both something to be very proud of in knowing that our boys did the best they possibly could for their country, but wars in my opinion serve a useless purpose and I sincerely hope the day is not far distant when better feelings will exist amongst the nations of the World, so wars may be no more.
Appreciating the wonderful work done by your boy.’
That these warm words were written to honour the man who Albert Ball (senior) thought responsible for his son’s death makes them all the more powerful.
MANFRED’S ROOM
The second room was dedicated to Manfred, who, during the war, had already begun to send trophies to Schweidnitz to decorate the walls of his personal room. After a while, it was bursting at the seams with cut out serial numbers, national insignia and other parts of aircraft he had brought down. Many successful fighter pilots acquired souvenirs from the machines they claimed, but Richthofen became especially well-known for almost obsessively following this practice; he amassed them, not only at home but also in his personal quarters in France.
After his death, and to create the museum, his mother moved all his trophies and associated items into the room(s) dedicated to him. They were crammed with parts of more than 20 enemy aircraft, portrait photographs and framed documents. On the polished floorboards in the centre of the room stood a table made from propeller blades. On it was displayed the flying helmet which Richthofen had worn when shot down and wounded in the head on 6 July 1917.
From the ceiling above hung one of Richthofen’s favourite items: a chandelier made from a Gnome rotary engine which had illuminated his private quarters at Jasta 11’s airfield at Roucourt.
A cabinet in the corner of the room held Richthofen’s famous silver victory cups, custom made for him to mark each victory and engraved by a jeweller in Berlin with the date and details of each victory. For each 10th victory, a larger cup was made. Richthofen discontinued the practice after his 60th victory when silver became scarce and that which was available was required for the war effort. A photograph taken during the construction of the museum
shows the cups neatly assembled on a table, while one wall was decorated with Fritz Reusing’s painting of Richthofen (see page 18).
A third room was filled with hunting trophies, including the massive head of a Bison which Manfred shot while hunting as guest of the Prince of Pless. It was displayed alongside photos of Russian and German delegates at the Brest-litovsk peace negotiations, while the fourth room had walls covered with framed and signed portrait photographs of most of the leading German fighter aces.
A QUESTION OF MEDALS
Without doubt the most important room of the museum was one that was all but a shrine. The room’s centrepiece was dominated by the marker cross taken from Manfred’s grave at Fricourt. Usually, it was surrounded by flowers and a wreath lay at its foot. A cabinet held the zinc plate once affixed to his coffin, along with photos of the grave which were dropped by the British over
German lines along with pictures of the burial ceremony in Bertangles.
The same cabinet also held a black velvet cushion on which all the awards of the ‘Red Baron’ were displayed, although the Pour le Merite (Blue Max) may well be a Zweitstück, or a ‘second piece’ jeweller’s copy. Most recipients of high awards had these made for everyday wear. In the case of Richthofen’s Pour le Merite, it is not known for certain what became of it.
On the morning of 21 April 1918, the weather at first looked so miserable that there was a possibility there would be no flying on that day and that Richthofen might get to go back to bed instead. Consequently, he donned his flying gear over his grey silk pyjamas. Not wearing a uniform, it is obvious that he would not have worn his Pour le Merite. Indeed, the same is true when it comes to his Iron Cross 1st Class (EK1) and 2nd Class (EK2). But what might really have happened to the Blue Max?
On 6 August 1917, Eduard Ritter von Dostler of Jasta 6 was awarded the Pour le Merite which was celebrated in the Jasta’s officer club. As Dostler’s medal hadn’t arrived, Manfred von Richthofen, as CO of Jagdgeschwader Nr. 1 (of which Jasta 6 was part), took off his own Pour le Merite and decorated Dostler with it. Previously, it seems to have been accepted that this would only have been a symbolic gesture and that Dostler would have immediately handed the award back. Or did he?
On 21 August 1917, Dostler was shot down and crashed to his death at Sint Juliaan, Flanders. Recently, a letter written by Lt. Carl Heinrich Hertz of Jasta 4 on 9 September 1917, has surfaced. And it sheds light on the fate of Richthofen’s Pour le Merite:
‘Yesterday, I buried Hauptman Hartmann [CO of Jasta 28, KIA 3 September 1917, NE of Diksmuide] On the return flight I had a Pour le Merite in my pocket which belonged to Voß and which he had lent to Leutnant Müller. I was twice careful, with the thick blanket of clouds, not to fly over to the English with this treasure. Like Dostler, who stayed on the English side with the
Pour le Merite he had borrowed from Richthofen.’
As we have no way of knowing which Pour Le Merite Richthofen had given to Dostler, the medal in Schweidnitz could also be the actual award piece. We will never know.
On 9 May 1917, General der Infanterie Karl Ritter von Fasbender, CO Bavarian I Reserve Corps, submitted a proposal to decorate Manfred von Richthofen with the Knight’s Cross of the Bavarian Military Max Joseph Order. His proposal was rejected by the Orders Chancery of the Royal Bavarian War Ministry in that it did not view Freiherr von Richthofen’s performance as measuring up to the ‘exceptional deeds’ required for a non-bavarian national to receive the coveted order. Instead, according to surviving documentation, he received the usual award for an officer of his rank: 4th Class with Swords of the Bavarian Military Merit Order.
On the medal bar displayed at the museum, however, we clearly see the 4th Class with Crown and Swords.
Even though there is no surviving documentation, there is no reason to believe that the bar was incorrectly ‘upgraded’ at some point after 1918, it being quite possible that Manfred von Richthofen received this higher class of the Bavarian award at a later date.
The question remains, though: where did all of these treasures end up?
PLUNDERED BY THE RED ARMY?
This is not the place to elaborate on countless stories and theories developed and published by militaria dealers, auction houses, forgers, historians, museums and enthusiasts to ‘explain’ the fate of the Schweidnitz Museum collection. Neither do we intend to create any kind of ‘provenance’ for items supposedly originating from the museum.
The generally accepted version of events is that, faced with the imminent fall of Schweidnitz to the Red Army in 1945, Baroness von Richthofen, her daughter Ilse and servants just had time to pack the most necessary belongings before evacuating the town and heading west. The museum is said to have been plundered by Red Army troops, its more valuable contents - including the famous silver victory cups – then being brought to Russia where they possibly remain in the vaults of the Hermitage in St. Petersburg (or elsewhere) until this day. This story has been ‘confirmed’ many times by members of the Richthofen family and it has become ‘common knowledge’. Yet no researcher has seemingly looked at the history of Schweidnitz in 1945. And that throws up some very interesting points which may tell another story.
The order to evacuate Schweidnitz was given on 13 February 1945, and this was still ongoing on 17 February when a Soviet air-raid caused severe casualties among refugees assembled at the railway station. The town was more or less abandoned after 20 February, except for about 300 mostly male essential workers and some desperate souls who decided to stay.
However, Kunigunde von Richthofen claimed, in post-war interviews, that she had to flee Schweidnitz in January, and at a time when sounds of fighting could be heard and there were no more trains leaving Schweidnitz. That is certainly incorrect, and so there is a good chance that someone had got the dates mixed up.
On 12 January, the Red Army unleashed its hammer-blow offensive against Heeresgruppe Mitte from the Baranov bridgehead. It was not until seven days later, on 19 January, that the first refugee columns flooded west through Schweidnitz, many refugees finding shelter for a night or two in local houses, being fed and watered by resident families. The sounds of artillery fire could be heard from the direction of Breslau, but even at this point there was no ‘immediate’ threat. In fact, the first Soviet troops only entered Schweidnitz on 8 May. The essential workers and last Wehrmacht troops had moved out in an organised manner on 6/7 May after blowing up most of the infrastructure and holding a mass in the church.
If the Richthofens had to leave in a hurry (between 13 to 20 February), then it should not have stopped them throwing the more valuable possessions of the Richthofen brothers into a suitcase before leaving. While rudders, serial numbers, the engine chandelier and machine guns were almost certainly left behind, it is hard to believe that medal bars, victory cups and silverware, family letters, photos and other more easily portable items were left to potentially fall into the hands of the Red Army.
EXISTENCE KEPT SECRET?
The author is extremely doubtful about the provenance of ‘real’ and ‘genuine’ Manfred von Richthofen items in museums and private collections which are said to have been acquired, directly or indirectly, from members of the Richthofen family. This includes what are supposedly ‘Richthofen’s medals’ in the San Diego Air and Space Museum as well as several small victory cups now held in
private collections. There is no solid provenance and nothing to prove they are the real thing.
The same doubt applies to a number of other objects which were supposedly ‘formerly owned by Manfred von Richthofen’: silverware, cigarette cases, various awards, cigars, stationery etc. Every now and then, such items turn up in international auction houses. On the other hand, though, it is hard to believe that Kunigunde von Richthofen didn’t take any such objects when she had to flee the family home in Schweidnitz.
Maybe the most compelling evidence that the family fled with at least some of Manfred’s possessions can be found in the German Federal
Archive, Koblenz, which holds a framed portrait drawing of Manfred von Richthofen. It is described as being 54 x 42 cm and in a glazed frame. This was donated to the archive by Generalmajor Hans-wilhelm von Bornstaedt of the Luftwaffe of the Bundeswehr in 1982. He, in turn, had received it from Ilse von Richthofen, Manfred’s sister, who stated she had taken it from the Schweidnitz Museum before her flight. It follows, then, that if there was time to take a large framed drawing from the wall and carry it away as a refugee, then can we believe that there was no time to unlock two cabinets and pack the valuable medals and victory cups?
On the other hand, if the valuable items were saved, then why hide them over all these years – whoever has them? And where are they now? The notion that the Richthofen family decided to keep the existence of these items secret to avoid harassment by collectors - as suggested by some researchers - can surely be filed in the same drawer with the story that Reichsmarschall Hermann Göring had the contents of the museum saved and shipped out just before the arrival of the Red Army.
The truth might well lie somewhere between the two versions, but that leaves a lot of investigative work to be done. Perhaps a task for a new generation of historians and researchers? Somewhere, the truth is out there!