Paul Lockwood: WWI Archives
DElving into Family Papers on Memorial Day
I have posted before about Paul Lorenzo Lockwood’s time at the front during World War I (Paul sent many letters home to his wife Clara, which you can read about here). This Memorial Day, I wanted to look again into the cache of Paul’s papers, saved for years by the family inside his military trunk. The trunk itself is painted with the following words, worn but still legible on its lid: “Lt. P.L. Lockwood Stamford Conn. U.S.A.”
Paul Lorenzo Lockwood’s military trunk, used during World War I
These days most of his papers have been transferred to archival folders and boxes, stored apart from the trunk. With the volume of family papers and photographs we have, I prioritize safe storage, and don’t always make my way back to reading documents until time has passed. This weekend seemed like the right time to revisit Paul’s military papers.
Paul worked as a confirmation officer during part of the War, tracking downed planes—sometimes behind enemy lines—to confirm pilots’ “kills” and learn more about opposing side’s technology. Paul’s papers include documents outlining soldiers’ sightings of downed planes and balloons, memoranda which Paul presumably used to complete his confirmations. They make the task vividly present, and you can view them in this gallery.
Paul’s role brought him into close proximity with the pilots who fought for the Allies. A particular list of “downs” in his papers includes American flying aces Eddie Rickenbacker, Fritz Wehner, William Brotherton, Edgar Taylor, Frank Luke, Reed McKinley Chambers, Ted Curtis, Les Holden, and Donald Hudson, among others. Sadly, another document starkly illustrates the scale of the loss of such men during the Great War:
Paul used a leather satchel to carry maps of the front lines with him as he doggedly tracked down reports of downed planes and balloons. By the time this satchel made its way to me, it also contained a number of photographs from Paul’s time at the front. Paul saved two unidentified group portraits, a postcard snapshot of pilots and planes, and an image of a train car, labeled the “First New England Electric Motorcar.” Other images are more grim, preserving the realities of war: a panorama of the German front line, Paul himself pictured in an “American graveyard,” a photo of a grave destroyed by “a big gas shell,” and an eerie, unexplained photograph capturing the moment in which an advancing soldier has been shot. I have wondered many times what Paul felt about that last photograph, and what his reasons were for saving it.
I’ll end this Memorial Day post by sharing one of the documents that I find very moving. It is a report submitted by a Lt. Col. R. H. Peck, describing an anonymous American pilot who appeared unexpectedly to singlehandedly defend the 2d Battalion of the 47th Infantry from an attack by eight enemy pilots. As Peck notes, “The moral effect of the aviator was great on our troops and aided the officers in rallying the men and, thereby, permitting an orderly withdrawal.” It’s a reminder of how many men and women did their best to help others as they put one foot in front of the other to make it to the end of the War, and how many unacknowledged heroes there were. I wonder if Paul ever managed to help identify this pilot?
