Berserker

World War I was an ugly conflict. Fought mostly in the trenches, it was so horrific that it changed the global rules of engagement, particularly around the treatment of prisoners and the use of chemical weapons. But above the rolling battlefields of northern France were the first fighter pilots in human history — guinea pigs in an experiment in aerial warfare. Many of these young men became celebrities, earning headlines and putting a heroic face on a war that was otherwise too disturbing to contemplate.

Among these was a young man named Albert Ball, VC. At age 18, Albert became part of the Royal Flying Corps, joining the ranks of other young pilots charged with carrying out the war effort in aircraft made of wood and canvas. To the trench soldiers, it was an enviable position, staying up in the skies, away from the ugliness of it all. Pilots were nicknamed "glamour boys" by their colleagues and countrymen, though there was little that was glamorous about the plight of a teenage pilot during World War I.

More than half of Britain's air casualties occurred during training or routine non-combat flights. Only a decade or so out from the Wright Brothers’ first flight, aviation was still in its infancy, treacherous even without the dangers of enemy pilots, mechanical failure or anti-aircraft artillery.

Ball would become a central figure in the air war. Britain's first celebrated national “ace,” he went on to record 44 confirmed victories in only 18 months before vanishing in a storm and crashing on the German side of the Hindenburg Line at just 20 years old. Having earned the respect of an enemy nation home to aces like Manfred von Richthofen, also known as the Red Baron, Ball was given a full military burial.

On the airfield, Ball was an eccentric loner. He lived in a hut he constructed for himself and tended a vegetable garden where he’d plant spring onions sent by his father. He would often practice violin at night by the light of a red flare, playing along with Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony No. 8, which he spun on a Gramophone as the war raged on in the distance.

In letters to his father, Albert shared his conflicted feelings about fame and his duty to kill. He warned him not to let his younger brother join the war, and in his final letter home, lamented that he hoped the war ended soon and that he was beginning to feel “like a murderer.”

His eccentricity came through in his combat style. Albert refused to wear goggles or a helmet, complaining that they impaired his line of sight. He preferred to fly alone and developed a technique of sneaking up under opponents and shooting them from below. His colleagues commented that Albert seemed to go into a trance-like state during combat, earning him the nickname “Berserker.”

“Berserker” is my attempt to tell Albert Ball’s story in a way that showcases his complexity as a human being. Every detail aims for historical accuracy, from the planes he flew to the model of Gramophone he (likely) owned at the time.

The piece is set to Schubert’s unfinished symphony, which serves as a poignant soundtrack to a life characterized by such contrast and cut so short.

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