Dominion, Volume 11, Issue 81, 29 December 1917, Page 7

Francis Alexander Lukschewitz aka Luks (1892 – 1970)

WITH THE FOREIGN LEGION

SYDNEY MAN'S AMAZING ADVENTURES

STORY OF FRANCIS LUKS

Man of adventure, traveller, aviation pilot, member of the Foreign. Legion, Francis Luks, a one-time Richmond boy, has just returned to Australia. In an interesting chat he spoke freely of his adventures. He was still clad in the blue French uniform in which he had seen service, and it strikingly set off his trim figure. His name was originally Lukschewitz, his father having been a Finn, who at one time was well known on the Australian coast as the commander of a ship, the California, which traded between Australian ports and San Francisco. The commander of the California was killed in the San Francisco earthquake. Luks's mother, a woman of Scottish birth, still lives in Richmond..

Francis Luks was born in Burwood, a suburb of Sydney, but spent his boyhood in Richmond. Like Mr. Frank Tudor, M.H.R., he is an "old Boy" of the Central State School of that suburb. He returns to Australia much disappointed, because, after acquiring the distinction of a brevet in the Bleriot monoplane chasse school at the Aeroplane Camp d'Avord in France, he met with an accident, and was compelled to accept his discharge and return to Australia. However, he is rapidly recovering his health, and will go back to France as soon as he is able. He was refused admission to the British Forces, and made his way to Russia, but the similarity of the names Austria and Australia caused him to be arrested as a spy, and Sir George Buchanan, British Ambassador at Petrograd, befriended him.

In the Foreign Legion.

His efforts to take part in the war were variously thwarted till he gained admission to the famous Foreign Legion, "the best fighting force," as he says, "of tho French Army." "The Legion," he added, "was 43,000 strong at the beginning of the war. It is now only 3000. While I was a member, it was decorated with the Croix de Guerre and the Medaille Militaire. Each soldier of the Legion is entitled to wear the midget decoration. Here is mine. "I was the only Australian in the Legion. My greatest friend in it was a grandson of General Grant. He was formerly Charge d'Affaires for Guatemala. Though he was much older than I, we were like brothers. The Legion saw service on Gallipoli, at Verdun, Arras, on tho Somme, and in the Champagne - wherever the fighting was thickest. At one time, we were sent to the Swiss border because it was believed the Germans were going to break through Switzerland.

"In the Legion were many well known Americans. Hall and Rockwell I knew, and many more. Most are dead. But a few, like me, left the Legion, and went into the flying service. Before I went to Russia I was an aviator mechanic in France, and had a good testimonial from the Daricq-Vickers Aviation Company. So when I left the Foreign Legion I was accepted as a flying mechanic at Bron, where we had heavy work with the 'planes that were defending France from raids.

Monopole Chasse Pilot.

"I had another try, and was made a pilot of one of the slow bombardment machines. This was at the Camp d'Avord. That is where the Wrights made their first flight in Europe. The authorities called for volunteers for piloting the Bleriot chasse monoplanes, and I was accepted. It is the only flying service for which they ask for volunteers. "The average life of a Chasse pilot is about six weeks. There were three killed every week at the Camp d'Avord. Most men, if they are not killed, lose their nerve after a time, and are sent hack to the trenches. Also, if you destroy three machines you are sent to the trenches. Machines are costly. About £2000 is the cost of training each Bleriot pilot.

"One of my friends in the Lafayette, or Franco-American, Flying Corps, with which I was stationed, was Horace Sever, engineer, formerly of the Canadian North-West Mounted Police. He went to Mexico, and was captured by Villa. He told me many tales of the cruelties of Villa, whose chief hostility was towards the Church. Villa would kill the priests wherever he went and blow up the churches. Sever escaped from Villa, came to France, and joined the flying corps. He was in hospital recovering from an accident, when I left.

"Some of the experiences of the pilots were marvellous. One of them struck a high-pitched tiled roof, which he went clean through. Then he fell a great depth to a pile of flour bags, and was found unhurt, with his machine in pieces all round him.

"Another man, when the wing of his machine, built without stays, snapped off, fell from a great height. Knowing that nothing could be done, he shut his eyes, being determined to die with them shut, and was not so much as scratched, though he was shaken for a time. It was wonderful that the deaths were not more frequent.

"For my part, I was firing a very fast machine when I fell. The seal was not rightly placed and when a strap gave way I involuntarily pulled the joystick, The machine dived down and I could not quite save it from hitting the ground with its nose. If 1 had been 50ft higher I should have righted it in time. Twenty feet lower, I should probably have been killed. However, my right leg was very badly hurt — I am lame still — and I suffered from internal bleeding. The Comte de Chavanne Dalmassy, who was in charge of the camp, gave me my discharge, as he said, with regret, I should not have been discharged, but that I am an Australian, and was wishing to return to Australia. Speaking of the Comte, it is astonishing how many of the French nobility have distinguished themselves in the air.

Not Downhearted.

"After my accident I was in hospital at Lyons when the first lot of English soldiers who were prisoners of war were exchanged. There were a few Australians with them. The others were men from the first battle of Ypres. They were in a sad state, but not downhearted — not a bit. It was not till I got to Singapore that I had my first meal of white bread. It was better than cake. Even at the Hotel Ritz, in Paris, white bread is not to be had, and everyone a millionaire or not, has to eat the coarse, dark bread. I wonder if you have heard of 'A Corner of Blighty.' It is in the Place Vendome. Miss. Butler, who is called the Mother of the Australians, runs it. She was a good mother to me. All Australians are welcomed. Rank is dropped once you enter. The officer bits beside the aviator or the private, as an equal. Miss Butler takes the men all over the historical scenes of Paris in chars-a-banc, and sees that their ten days' leave is happily spent. She is all right.

"By the way, you may have heard stories about Maurice Gaillaux, the aviator who was in Australia some years ago. They are wicked slanders. Gaillaux, one of the most brilliant aviators who ever flew, spent three years in the most perilous service of all, that of testing flying machines. As a flier, he was a wonder, and it was extraordinary that he lived for long. But at last he was killed at his work.

"When I was at Port Said I met crowds of soldiers who were then awaiting the second battle of Gaza. There were Australians of the Fourth Light Horse. I saw many other Australians, veterans of the first Australian drafts, all keen on seeing the war through, but all clear that they were entitled to a spell, and to a run home. I met some of the unpaid men of The Honourable Artillery, a splendid force, but if I told you everything I saw I should never finish.

"When I landed, my only brother who was wounded on Gallipoli and again in France, and was then discharged, met me. I was delighted to meet him, though I saw at once that his soldiering days, were done.