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FACT: The Red Barons plane was not solid red.
FACT: The rest of his squadron took to adding red on their planes also.
FACT: He had suffered a head wound in the weeks prior to the event claiming he was shot down.
FACT: He would never follow the enemy over their own territory. To do so would mean if he was shot down the family would never recover his body. Which is what did take place with the pilot who was shot down.
FACT: No memorial was ever built for the greatest pilot to fly, after the war was over, or during the time between the two wars. Not until after WW11 did the family build a memorial. That's not because it is not decent to build a memorial to a living man, it's unlucky.
Maybe the above facts will make it easier for you to believe the story of this man I am about to disclose to you after all these years. I tell it now because
I am getting old and don't want to take it to my grave. And because I think he deserves that much.
The Red Baron Story
The year was 1942 when we moved to Deep Cove in the summer to live. Dad was now overseas with the Princes Pats Regiment. The house we moved into had a name, which impressed me greatly as I had never lived in a house that had a name. It was called 'Deep Water Lodge", and was on the road just up from the Cove and across from the small park that took up the tip of land as you entered the Cove. I had turned 14 that spring. It was a tall house with a top floor bedroom for me. The first time I had ever had my own room. The house came fully furnished and even had a piano. And a fireplace! We'd lived in hovels and rooms most of my life, so this was a bit of heaven. When I went outside to explore the backyard, Mom told me I was not to disturb the owner who lived in a cottage at the back of the property. So I was careful not to make any noise as I surveyed the small back yard. It led to a basement, which I had also been told not to enter. Since there was little of interest to be seen I left and went down to the pier to explore there. It jutted out into the cove and soon became a place I knew well. It rented 'kickers' and canoes really cheap as there were not a lot of people coming to the Cove during wartime. People didn't have the gas.
I soon made close friends with three boys from the cove and we either spent our time canoeing up the inlet or taking a kicker over to the other side of the inlet where a small cliff was covered in strawberries. One time we ventured around the end and came upon a hidden flotilla of PT boats belonging to the Military. We spent days trying to figure out why they were there instead of doing patrol duty up the coast. We got nowhere of course. I mention these events so that you understand how I became close to the man who owned or managed the boats we used. He was very old but nice to us. We got the boats really cheap.
Not long after we had moved in I was playing catch in the back yard with my little brother when the owner came out of his cottage and stood in the doorway watching us. He was tall and thin with grey hair and very old. I asked if we were bothering him and he just shook his head, smiled and said no. Then he went back in. From time to time as I played with Warren he would come to the door and watch and smile. Never talk. But then mother told us one suppertime that he had made Pickled cabbage for me. I had never had it before and went nuts over it. So from then on we got pickled cabbage. Then one day as I was playing catch with Warren and he was standing in the doorway, he asked me where my father was. I told him he was in England fighting the war. He asked me if I
had ever heard of the 'RED BARRON" from the last war. Since I was an avid reader from the age of 11 and read anything I could find, I answered, yes. Then he came out with the information that he was the 'RED BARRON'. He must have realized what he had given away because he immediately stepped back and closed the door. Now normally anyone hearing that would think he was off his rocker. But there was something strange about the way he said it that made me believe him.
I could not let it alone. I mulled it over for a long time and decided not to tell Mom what he had said. I must admit that I had a problem with it. My father was overseas, my brother was now working on freighters taking food to England, and two uncles were on destroyers at sea. Should I turn him in? What was I to do? But there was another side to my father�s wartime career that needs explaining that altered my outlook on this war.
I could never have written this before now, but with people getting sick and tired of wars and killing I am proud of my fathers attitude towards it. He joined to feed us. At the beginning of this war it was the worst time of the depression. He had four kids and a wife to feed let alone himself. The Army would pay his family and him. That meant food and clothing for us. He was an expert gunsmith as his family had the first and largest machine shop in town. He was a jack-of-all-trades. And he was smart. So the first thing he did was read the army regulations and memorize them. We never knew what his rank was all the time he was in the war as he went from corporal to the highest rank you can get to without becoming an officer and a gentleman, as the saying goes. The army kept asking him to become an officer and he kept turning them down. He didn't like being in parades so he was busted to private, then they needed his expertise so up he would go to higher rank. At one time he caught a spy on the train to the Capital because he recognized the shape of the carrying case he was holding. He got a medal for that and a promotion. When he went to England it was to be in charge of all the small arms under a certain bore. But before he left he taught my brother and I how to shoot and set up a rifle range in the basement of the house we were living in at the time and left us with enough ammo to start our own war! I was 12 and my brother was 13.
Dad made us see war for what it really was, a stupid thing. Only the rich made a profit on it, the poor lost their lives. And so I pondered on what to do with our Landlord. I liked this house and how we lived. So I decided to ask an expert on what to do. That expert was the boatman who was so kind to us and who knew everyone in town for the simple reason he grew up in Deep Cove and knew all about it.
Fortunately it was a slow day and so he could give me his undivided attention. He sat silent for quite awhile and then he said that I was not to say anything about it to anyone. I was better off not to mention it ever again. It was the way he said it that made me think the man really was the 'Red Barron'. But I liked this man and so I said that I would keep it to myself.
With summer coming on and swimming and boating keeping me occupied I forgot about the landlord, or rather let him be. However the next event led to the complete proof of his identity. I took my mother for a canoe ride up the inlet! That doesn't sound like much, I know but what happened would have far reaching consequences. It was still just the end of May and so all the summer homes on the shores of the Indian Arm Inlet were still empty of their owners. And Mother insisted on my stopping at their wharves so she could "Take a little "Look see" at the cute little cottages and see how the other half lived. Reluctantly and with a bit of fear I did what she asked. You just did not go against my Mothers demands! So we stopped at cottage after cottage where she peered through windows and walked around looking at the property.
All the while I bit my nails and watched the inlet for signs of people. After awhile I finally made her realize that it was a long way back to the Cove and we had better get going. When we finally got back home I swore to myself that I'd never take her on a canoe trip again! Little did I know what I had started. A week later she wanted to go for a walk around to the other side of the Cove where we had never been yet. There was an unpaved road that curved around the other side and I had to admit it was an interesting walk. It was lined with small and large cottages that were mostly on the waterside of the road and nestled in the trees. There did not seem to be any life in them that I could see. Again it was the summer people who owned them I guessed as it was what would be called prime real estate as they had water front property. We finally came to the end of the road where a weird surprise was waiting for us. A huge metal fence that was padlocked blocked off the road, but we could see what was beyond it. The road continued for about half a city block and at the end, hugging the cliff was the burnt out shell of a huge Chalet type building overlooking the cliff and the Cove. It had once been a Swiss or German type chalet hotel and dining room I found out later.
By now mother was highly frustrated that she could not get around the huge gate to get in and explore, not that she didn't try hard. I refused to cooperate when she wanted me to climb the gate. She finally gave up and we headed back down the road with me silently heaving a sigh of relief. There were one or two cottages with life in them but most were silent and dark beneath the huge cedars and trees. We were passing one huge cottage that sat far back from the road when Mother stopped and turned into the drive. I asked her what she was doing and she replied that she only wanted to peek in the windows for a minute. There was no stopping her at all. She wandered around to the right side of the cottage and peered into all the windows as she went. I stood there not knowing what to do but nervous as can be. Then she came back and went to the front door and bent down and lifted the welcome matt. To my surprise she took up a key!
By now I was really nervous. I pleaded with her to leave the place alone but she said she wasn't going to do anything wrong, just look! I followed her in hoping I could stop her from doing anything that was damaging. It was finished on the inside in the manner of a Swiss chalet that I had seen pictures of in the National Geographic�s. There was a large open area with a large round table in the middle and comfortable seats here and there. Nothing too fancy thank heavens! Off she went to inspect the kitchen. I could hear her opening cupboards and doors but I was rooted to the spot in terror! I think I had the idea that if I guarded the door nothing would happen! I looked around and noticed that there were stairs leading to some kind of a sleeping loft as there were beds up there. A couple of doors led out of the area I was in. I noticed that on the round table in front of me there was a vase and a book with a pen beside it, but I ignored it.
Mom came out of the kitchen with her face all smiles! Seems that she didn't think much of the dishes they had! What in heavens name did she think was going to be in a summer cottage! Royal Dalton dinnerware! Then she saw the book on the table and eagerly went to it and opened it up. And in doing so changed my life forever. It turned out to be a guest book. Even Mother was shocked by what she saw! "Look! Look!" she yelled at me! She was reading the guest list. I went and took it from her and starting reading. I now have to admit that her excitement was not without reason as I scanned the pages. I was an avid reader and read anything and everything. One of the greatest joys of my young life was when mother was given all of Grandfather Betsworth's National Geographic books. I read all of them from cover to cover. And anything else I could get my hands on, and I wasn't fussy about the content. What I was looking at in the pages of this guest book were names I had read about in magazines or in old papers. Famous people and some I didn't know. But many of the names carried titles. I saw movie stars names on the pages! Then I came to the last three or four pages and my heart did a nosedive. There in black and white was the signed signature of Prince Edward. And a comment, as they had all written some little nicety about their visit. I looked at the date. It was before he became king! Of course it was! I told myself how stupid of me. It said 'Prince". Not king! There were Barons and Earls, and plain names with no title that I did not recognize. By now Mother had moved on to the loft and was looking down at me. I kept reading out names to her in my excitement. So much time has gone by now that I no longer remember the names of the Movie stars or the other titled people. Only the name of the man who was to become king of England for a short time!
It took my back to an earlier experience when I was only about 8 years old and I was walking home from school and came across one of my classmates. He was crying his eyes out and I asked him what was wrong? His father was in the army and they were here on some assignment and he was being sent back to England and leaving them here. It turned out the old king had died and He had to go back for the funeral, leaving him and his mother here in Canada.
As I thought about it, while standing there with the book in my hand, I realized that this book had to be fairly old. There were only about four more pages after Prince Edwards name. I looked at the dates on them. They went to 1939-I think. I'm not too sure about that now because of the time elapsed. They might have ended earlier but I can't say for certain. Mother was terribly impressed and wanted to take the book with us went we left. I talked her out of it and have regretted it ever since as you will understand later. But somewhere in this world that book still exists. no one would throw away such a piece of history.
We finally left and walked home in silence. Mom happy she had seen a home that the famous had lived in, and me thinking about those names in that book and wondering what they had been doing in this tiny cove. What did it all mean? I knew I had just touched a great mystery and I was thinking of the Red Baron and wondering if he had been there in that house. What was the connection? I had looked for his name after the shock had eased up but it wasn't there in the book. I had to talk to the boatman again!
It was two days of nail biting before I could manage a walk down to the dock. I had to sit patiently for half an hour before he had time to talk to me. I had decided to go at it carefully by mentioning our walk to the end of the road and seeing the burnt hotel. He sat nodding his head silently for a few seconds before telling me that it had been owned and staffed by Germans and after the war started they figured that locals had done it in retaliation. He sounded ashamed of the event, which made it a little hard for me to bring up the next problem. I finally got around to explaining my Mothers behaviour to him, but by now he had met my Mother in the village, so he just clucked and nodded his head. He was a bit startled by our finding the key under the matt to get in as he mentioned that it had been empty for awhile now, but then mentioned that he was not sure if one of the neighbors was being paid to keep it clean and kept up.
Then he started to tell me about the wealthy and famous. They used to come in their big yachts and tie up off the shore of this cottage. The drinking and drugs and the men in white ties, tails and top hats getting drunk out of their minds and falling off the yachts. Along with the beautiful women and a steady stream of rich and powerful from all over the world. Then he told me who owned the house. I knew him! So did Mom! I cannot remember his name now but I knew all about him. Or thought I did. But he was a Jew! This was so confusing to me. Weren't the Germans the enemies of the Jews? Yet there were many German names in that book.
The man who owned the cottage was the owner of a newspaper store that was located at the foot of Granville ST. And the end of Water St. and was opposite the Canadian Pacific Pier and Train station. You could get papers from all over the world at his shop and some comic books, which is how I knew him from before we moved from the city. But He hadn't been in the store for quite awhile. When you asked for him he was out of town. I could not understand how this shopkeeper could know all these great people! His store wasn't even
a huge one or fancy! Now I was really confused. This was getting too much for me. And I had been warned by my friend to keep my mouth shut and I wouldn't have any problems.
As I walked home that day I thought deeply about what he had said about leaving it alone and getting on with my life. He was right about that. I did leave it alone. Life went on and summer went by and my life went on. I started grade nine that fall and life became miserable. The poverty I lived with did not go over well with the children of the rich where I went to school. It came to a head in the spring and I refused to go back to that school. I went to work for my Grandfather at a dollar and day and my keep. But over the last years of the war I never forgot the Red Barons story and so I would from time to time pick up bits and pieces of information.
I finally found the reason the cottage was left as it was in Deep Cove. The Jew that had owned it apparently went back to Europe to try and get people out and disappeared. No one seemed to know what happened to him. At least that was what I was told. Naturally I kept thinking of that book and regretting that I hadn't taken it. The only time in my life I contemplated theft!
What I did do was work out the why and how Baron Von Richtofen would have come to Deep Cove. It would have gone back to the first years after World War 1. As I mentioned in the beginning of this story, he had been wounded in the head before that other flyer followed the French pilot over the dividing line into French territory. Instead of claiming he was still alive it would have been the perfect excuse for his family to let the story be accepted so he could be kept alive. If they won the war then maybe he could be resurrected. When they didn't win they were in a bind. The family was too rich and important to admit that he had lived through it after such a big deal had been made about his death. People forget that the British Royal family was still connected to their German roots. With their help I am sure he was resettled into an out of the way, small community way across the huge country of Canada. A new name, a comfortable 'chalet' and he was all set.
So what was Deep Cove like after the First World War? Well, Vancouver was not a large city at that time. Not many people had cars. To get to Deep Cove you had to take a bus if you didn't have a car. It was off the beaten track unless you lived there or worked in one of the few stores. It was more a stop off for people who had boats and the rich who had cottages up the Inlet. And it was not called "Deep Cove" for nothing. It could take large boats! So that visitors to him would not even have to stop in Vancouver if they came by yacht! And strangely enough someone built a huge chalet for dinning and it was staffed after the war by Germans. And the excuse for the visit was this strange little Jew who owned a small Newspaper store that stocked papers from all over the world and who was a traveler to all the countries those papers came from. So of course he had an excuse for why he knew so many famous and rich people who came to visit him and party at his cottage. And maybe pay a visit to this famous pilot who was living incognito in this perfect setting for partying and drugs. Oh yes! It was a great drug centre! I should know as I worked at the Ice Cream Parlour for a week until it was raided for drugs.
I have a hunch that a close look at who owned the "Deep water Lodge", which was the name of the 'cottage' we lived in, and still bears that name, would find some strange facts about the owner. If he died during or after the war then I am sure that his body would not have been buried in Canada but would have been shipped back to the family in Germany. And it was not until after the Second World War that his family finally built a beautiful memorial to him at last.
I would like them to know that I was proud to know him and loved his red pickled cabbage! And yes, I did try to say goodbye to him when I left deep cove. I knocked on his door but he didn't answer it. So I yelled to him that I was leaving then turned and left.