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Rea Hagenbuch: A Life of Motion, Responsibility, and Reinvention
The life of Rea Hagenbuch does not unfold as a straight line but as a series of departures—geographical, social, and emotional. His story is not one of inherited stability or predictable success, but of adaptation: a man repeatedly forced to rebuild himself in response to family circumstance, financial collapse, personal failure, and war. Through education, labor, love, and aviation, Hagenbuch continually sought forward motion, as if movement itself were both refuge and redemption.
Origins and Early Family Context
Rea Hagenbuch entered the world under complicated circumstances. It appears he was conceived before his parents were married, a social reality that carried far greater weight in the late nineteenth century than it would today. He also had three older half-brothers, placing him in a blended family structure that may have shaped both his independence and his drive to define himself outside inherited identity.
His father was a man of evident integrity but tragic misfortune. After making a poor stock investment—and, crucially, recommending it to friends—he chose to repay their losses out of his own pocket when the investment collapsed. This act of moral responsibility ruined him financially. The lesson was severe and unmistakable: honor mattered, but it came at a cost. Rea grew up watching the consequences of doing the “right” thing in an unforgiving economic world, an experience that likely influenced his later willingness to shoulder responsibility even when it demanded personal sacrifice.
Education, Athletics, and Expulsion
Hagenbuch attended the Lawrenceville School in New Jersey, one of the most demanding preparatory schools of the era, before entering Princeton University as part of the Class of 1909. Though small in stature—just 5’4”—he distinguished himself athletically, becoming captain of the basketball team. This detail alone speaks volumes: leadership, determination, and the respect of peers earned through effort rather than physical advantage.
Yet his Princeton years ended abruptly. Evidence suggests that he never formally graduated, having been expelled for participation in a beer bust. In the moral climate of the early twentieth century, such an infraction carried heavy consequences. The expulsion likely closed doors and severed him from the social network Princeton graduates relied upon. It also marked the beginning of a recurring pattern in his life: abrupt endings followed by radical reinvention.
Despite this, Hagenbuch was not uneducated or unskilled. He held a teaching credential and worked as a surveyor, practical professions requiring discipline, mathematics, and trustworthiness. These were not the pursuits of a drifter but of a man capable of responsibility, even if he struggled with institutional authority.
Alaska and the Call of the Frontier
After leaving Princeton, Hagenbuch headed west to Alaska, where he worked surveying one of the railroads during a period of rapid expansion and harsh conditions. Alaska offered anonymity, physical challenge, and opportunity—qualities that seem to have drawn him repeatedly throughout his life. Surveying in Alaska required endurance, precision, and independence, reinforcing his identity as a capable man far from the expectations of Eastern society.
By 1910, Hagenbuch was in Seattle, where fortune again turned against him. He was robbed of all his money, an experience that would have stranded many men. Instead, he consulted the local newspaper, found a teaching position in northeastern Nevada, and accepted it because the job would pay his rail fare. This moment reveals both resourcefulness and humility: Hagenbuch was willing to return to teaching not as ambition, but as survival.
Nevada: Teaching, Ranching, and Family Loss
While teaching in Nevada, Hagenbuch began to purchase small ranches and cattle, gradually building an agricultural livelihood. This was not speculation but steady, practical investment—perhaps informed by the financial catastrophe he witnessed in his youth.
Around 1916, he married a local woman and fathered a daughter. The marriage ended in divorce, and the child was given up for adoption, a heartbreaking outcome that must be understood within the social and economic realities of the time. Divorce carried stigma, and single parenthood—especially for women—was often untenable. For Hagenbuch, this episode appears to have marked a deep personal rupture.
Aviation and Escape into War
In 1917, Hagenbuch decided to become a pilot, a choice that likely reflected both idealism and escape. Aviation offered danger, purpose, and distance from unresolved personal pain. You have already documented his training in detail; what matters here is the psychological shift: Hagenbuch moved from land—surveying, ranching—to the air, embracing one of the most dangerous professions of the era.
During training, he crashed and injured his foot, and while recuperating in Devon, England, he met Winifred Jones, the woman who would become your grandmother. The love letters he wrote during their courtship provide a rare emotional counterpoint to his otherwise pragmatic life. They reveal tenderness, hope, and a longing for permanence after years of instability.
Combat with 74 Squadron
Hagenbuch was assigned to No. 74 Squadron of the Royal Flying Corps, flying SE5a fighters, among the most respected aircraft of the war. His time in combat was brief, and he was never credited with an aerial victory—a fact that should not be mistaken for insignificance. Many pilots flew, fought, and died without confirmed kills.
In October 1918, while attempting to attack a German observation balloon, Hagenbuch flew too low and was hit by ground fire. His aircraft was disabled, and he was captured. Balloon attacks were among the most dangerous missions in the air war, heavily defended by anti-aircraft guns and fighters. His willingness to attempt such an attack reflects courage rather than recklessness.
Release, Marriage, and Final Reinvention
In November 1918, Hagenbuch was released and returned to Winifred Jones, offering marriage. Her father responded with skepticism, instructing him to return to America, settle his affairs, and then come back—likely assuming he would never return.
But Hagenbuch did.
Unable to secure passage due to wartime conditions, he worked as a coal stoker aboard a ship to earn his way back to England. This act encapsulates his character: when blocked by circumstance, he accepted physical labor without complaint to reach his goal.
He married Winifred Jones, brought her back to America, and settled into ranch life, where they raised two daughters and cattle. After years of motion, risk, and upheaval, Hagenbuch chose stability—not inherited, but earned.
Conclusion
Rea Hagenbuch’s life defies simple classification. He was not a celebrated ace, nor a flawless academic, nor a consistently fortunate man. Instead, he was resilient, adaptive, and deeply human. His story reflects the experience of many men of his generation—caught between old social structures and a rapidly changing world, forced repeatedly to start over.
In the end, his greatest legacy was not in the air, but on the land: a family built after failure, a life rebuilt after war, and a character shaped by responsibility rather than acclaim.
29 November , 2023
From my 100 years ago today threads on the other Forum:
11 Killed in Action/Died of Wounds:
21-Apr-1918 - Lieut Sydney Claude Hamilton Begbie (Pow; dow 22-Apr-18) - S.E.5a D281 - last seen at 13,000 feet near Armentières going down in flames on patrol
08-May-1918 - Lieut Ronald Ernest Bright (Kia) - S.E.5a B8373 - last seen in dogfight with 10 E.A. east of Zillebeke on patrol; Vzfw Erich Buder, Jasta 26, 2nd victory [west of Becelaere at 08:37/09:37] ?
08-May-1918 - Lieut Philip James Stuart-Smith (Kia) - S.E.5a C1078 - last seen in dogfight with 10 E.A. east of Zillebeke on patrol; Vzfw Fritz Classen, Jasta 26, 3rd victory [Zillebeker See at 08:40/09:40] ?
12-May-1918 - Lieut Henry Eric Dolan (Kia) - S.E.5a B7733 - last seen 4 miles east of Dickebusch Lake fighting on OP; an S.E.5 seen to crash near Wulverghem; Ltn Raven Frhr von Barnekow, Jasta 20, 1st victory [Dickebusch at 18:10/19:10]
17-May-1918 - Lieut Leigh Morphew Nixon (Kia) - S.E.5a C6404 - last seen over Estaires on patrol; an S.E.5 was seen to go down in flames over La Gorgue 5 minutes later; Gefr Marat Schumm, Jasta 52, 3rd victory [Le Parc at 09:45/10:45] ?
17-May-1918 - 2nd Lieut Lambert Francis Barton (Kia) - S.E.5a C1854 - hit by A.A. and crashed in flames at Sheet 36a.Q.26.c [Riez-du Vinage] on patrol
01-Jun-1918 - Capt William Jameson Cairns MC (Kia) - S.E.5a C6443 - last seen in dogfight north-east of Estaires on patrol; Ltn d R Paul Billik, Jasta 52, 19th victory [east of Merville at 16:40/17:40]
09-Jul-1918 - Lieut Andrew John Battel (Kia) - S.E.5a C1950 - last seen engaged with E.A. over Neuve Eglise on OP; Ltn Joachim von Busse, Jasta 20, 5th victory [south-west of Dickebusch at 09:25/10:25]
12-Jul-1918 - Lieut Frederick James Church (Kia) - S.E.5a D6908 - last seen over Warneton on patrol; Ltn Joachim von Busse, Jasta 20, 6th victory [north of Bailleul at 08:55/09:55]
01-Oct-1918 - Lieut Albert Montague Sanderson (Kia) - S.E.5a F5464 - missing on patrol; Ltn d R Carl Degelow, Jasta 40, 20th victory [Menin, no time] ?
05-Oct-1918 - Lieut Frank Edgar Bond (Pow) - S.E.5a D6922 - last seen 3 miles south-east of Roulers on patrol
7 Prisoners of War:
12-Jun-1918 - 2nd Lieut George Frederick Thompson (Pow) - S.E.5a C6497 - last seen at 15,000 feet in spin north-west of Armentières on OP
15-Jul-1918 - 2nd Lieut Robert Hector Gray (Pow) - S.E.5a D6910 - last seen over Roulers in combat on patrol
19-Jul-1918 - Lieut Alexander M Roberts (Pow) - S.E.5a E5948 - last seen over Menin on patrol; Ltn d R Josef Carl Peter Jacobs, Jasta 7, 24th victory [Moorslede at 08:30/09:30] ?
21-Sep-1918 - Capt Sydney Carlin (Pow) - S.E.5a D6958 - last seen west of Lille in combat on patrol; Uffz Siegfried Westphal, Jasta 29, 2nd victory [east of La Bassée at 18:45/18:45] ?
01-Oct-1918 - 2nd Lieut Rea Isaiah Hagenbuch (Pow) - S.E.5a E1272 - missing on OP
09-Oct-1918 - Lieut William Edward Bardgett (Pow) - S.E.5a D6976 - missing on patrol
26-Oct-1918 - 2nd Lieut Murdo Maclean (Pow) - S.E.5a E3942 - last seen 1,500 feet in combat over Cordes at 13:45/14:45 on OP
3 Killed in accidents:
08-May-1918 - Lieut Charles Edwin Lloyd Skedden (Killed) - S.E.5a C6445 - broke up at 1,000 feet and burst into flames on hitting ground during patrol
25-May-1918 - 2nd Lieut Henry Eyre O'Hara (Killed) - S.E.5a C6483 - stalled on turn downwind and spun into ground catching fire during practice
07-Jun-1918 - 2nd Lieut Frederick Leslie Cuff Link (Killed) - S.E.5a C6491 - stalled at 100 feet and crashed on line patrol
Graeme
TED HARWOOD WROTE "I recently found this letter to my great-grandmother in The Morning Press, Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania · Friday, November 01, 1918
Dear Mrs. Hagenbuch:
Before this letter reaches you, you will no doubt have had official information to the effect that your son Lieut. R. I. Hagenbuch, late with this squadron, is missing from patrol since Oct. 1st. He was last seen diving down at a hostile kite balloon, which he had orders to attack, and he was then lost to sight, being close to the ground.
No news has come through yet of him, and all we can do is to wait and hope that he has landed safely in the German lines.
We feel his loss very much indeed, as he was just the type of fighting pilot we need so badly. His great friend Lieut. Garver is writing to you also.
Directly definite news comes to hand, I will inform you immediately. His belongings are being packed up and will be sent off tomorrow.
I am,
Yours sincerely,
K. L. CALDWELL.
Major.
tvharwood is offline "
"The more information that I get, the more confused I become. Here is what I have pieced together so far. The orders regarding Turnberry conflict with the other dates.
23 August 1918
Special Orders No. 155. Relieved of duty at Up Avon and will proceed to Turnberry, School of Aerial Gunnery
24 August 1918
Embarked (Casualty Form)
25 August 1918
Letter to Winnie,
Waiting to move in the general direction of Fritzland in 1 hour.
25 August 1918
Stationed at No. 1 A.S.D. Pool Pilots Range (Lumbres)
29 August 1918
Special Orders No.161. Relieved of duty at Turnberry. Proceed via London to Boulogne, France. Report to Commanding Officer R.A.F. for Assignment to duty in connection with Aviation.
01 September 1918
Posted to 74 Squadron (Casualty Form)
02 September 1918
Shorty arrived at 74 Squadron (Garver Diary)"
Fragments of a Squadron: Memory, Friendship, and the Rediscovery of 74 Squadron
History often survives not through official reports or victory tallies, but through fragments—letters folded into drawers, names half-remembered, and journals written in moments of fatigue or fear. The story of my grandfather, Rea Hagenbuch, his close friend John Garver, and their time together in No. 74 Squadron of the Royal Flying Corps is one such fragmentary history, pieced together across generations. What makes it powerful is not only the danger they faced in the air, but the human continuity that endured long after the guns fell silent.
Rea Hagenbuch joined 74 Squadron on September 2, at a moment when the squadron was already becoming legendary. Known as the “Tiger Squadron,” 74 was composed of skilled and aggressive pilots, many of them Americans flying under British command before the U.S. Air Service was fully operational at the front. These men were young, highly trained, and keenly aware that survival was never guaranteed. Hagenbuch’s time with the squadron would be brief but intense: less than a month later, on October 1, he was shot down and captured, abruptly ending his combat career.
But to understand those weeks in France, one must begin much earlier—at the Ohio State School of Aeronautics.
Training, Brotherhood, and the Making of Airmen
Hagenbuch and John Garver trained together from the very beginning. Like many American volunteers, they entered aviation not with romantic illusions, but with determination sharpened by discipline. The Ohio State School of Aeronautics was a crucible—physically demanding, intellectually taxing, and psychologically sobering. It forged pilots not only through flight training but through shared endurance. In that environment, friendships were not casual; they were functional, emotional, and often lifesaving.
Garver and Hagenbuch were together through training, deployment, and the early days of squadron life, forming a bond that extended well beyond professional association. When they reached 74 Squadron in late August and early September, they entered a world of constant readiness. Patrols were flown daily. Losses were frequent. Aircraft were unreliable, weather unpredictable, and the enemy highly skilled. The war in the air was still evolving, and pilots learned quickly—or they did not live long.
Garver’s diary, covering August 28 through October 27, captures this period from within, offering a rare contemporaneous record of squadron life. Unlike postwar memoirs, diaries written in real time lack polish but gain authenticity. They reveal what mattered day to day: fatigue, weather, tension before patrols, frustration with equipment, and the quiet reckoning with mortality that followed every mission.
September 1918: The Air War Intensifies
By September, the war had entered its final and most violent phase. Allied forces were advancing on multiple fronts, and the air war intensified accordingly. For 74 Squadron, this meant relentless operational tempo. Patrols over the lines were dangerous not only because of German fighters, but because of ground fire and mechanical failure. A single hit to an engine or fuel line could mean death—or capture.
On October 1, Hagenbuch’s luck ran out. He was shot down and captured, a fate shared by many pilots who survived aerial combat only to face imprisonment. Capture removed him from the immediate dangers of the front but imposed its own hardships: uncertainty, separation, and the long psychological toll of confinement. His story from that point forward followed a different trajectory from Garver’s, one shaped by endurance rather than action.
Garver, meanwhile, remained with the squadron until late October, before being transferred to an American unit. His diary continues through this transition, offering a closing window into 74 Squadron at a time when many of its original members were gone—killed, wounded, or reassigned. The diary becomes not just a personal document, but a quiet obituary for a particular moment in the war.
A Diary Lost, Found, and Returned to History
For decades, Garver’s diary existed only as rumor and partial quotation. An old newspaper article, discovered years later, preserved a few excerpts—just enough to suggest that something far more substantial once existed. That article became a thread, and following it required patience, persistence, and faith in the value of ordinary history.
After nearly a year of searching, Garver’s grandson was finally located. Even then, the diary did not surface immediately. Two more years passed before a scanned copy was shared. That delay is itself part of the story. Historical artifacts often survive not because they are valued, but because they are forgotten and spared destruction. When they reemerge, they demand interpretation, context, and care.
The diary’s survival transforms Hagenbuch’s story as well. Where official records might list dates and outcomes, Garver’s writing restores texture—daily life, emotional undercurrents, and the shared experience of men who did not yet know whether they would survive the week. Through Garver’s eyes, Hagenbuch reenters the historical record not as a statistic, but as a presence.
War, Return, and the Continuity of Life
Garver went home in early December, his war effectively over. Hagenbuch, after capture and release, returned later—and stayed for another month or so, not for military reasons, but for something profoundly human: to win over the woman who would become his wife. That detail reframes everything that came before it. The story does not end with combat or capture; it ends with courtship, persistence, and continuity.
This is perhaps the most important lesson embedded in the diary and in the rediscovery of it. War interrupts lives, but it does not define them entirely. The same man who flew combat patrols over France and survived being shot down later chose patience, affection, and commitment. The same generation that learned to live with loss also learned how to build families and futures.
Conclusion: Why These Stories Matter
The story of Rea Hagenbuch, John Garver, and 74 Squadron survives today because someone cared enough to ask, to search, and to wait. Garver’s diary bridges the gap between official history and lived experience, between squadron legend and individual memory. It reminds us that history is not only written by commanders and chroniclers, but by young men scribbling thoughts at the end of exhausting days.
In preserving and revisiting these fragments, we do more than honor the past—we restore its humanity. And in doing so, we ensure that the lives behind the uniforms are not lost to time, but continue to speak, quietly and truthfully, across generations.
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