Werner Voss' Fokker F.I 103/17 powered by a 110hp Le Rhône 9J, serial number J6247. Due to the controversy of the cowling color (yellow or grayish green), I did some research. There are two schools of thought. One that quotes Sloley of 56 Sq. on P.148 of High In The Empty Blue: "I don't think Richthofen's triplane was "yellow and brown" (they did not know who was flying the Fokker that day), indicating the plane they faced had some yellow, which was especially the nose color of Jasta 10 at the time. The second and most accepted version is from Karl Timm, Voss' mechanic that was interviewed by Alex Imrie (who showed him photos) and said the cowling was "grayish green". Therefore I went with the extra official version based on Karl Timm's account.
Leutnant Werner Voss wearing the “Blue Max", the Knight’s Cross of the Order of the House of Hohenzollern, the Iron Cross and the Pilot’s Badge. [Gustav Liersch & Co.]
Voss' life history:
Werner Voss was born in Krefeld, Germany, on 13 April 1897. His mother, Johanna Mathilde Pastor Voss, was a pious homemaker who raised her children in the Evangelical Lutheran faith. His father Maxmilian owned a dye factory. Werner was soon followed by two brothers; Maxmilian Jr. was born in 1898, and Otto on 22 April 1901. An unusual feature of the Voss household was the presence of two first cousins, Margaret and Katherine. The elder Vosses longed for daughters, so they virtually (if not formally) adopted their nieces. The two nieces were commonly referred to within the family as "daughters" and "sisters".
Werner Voss poses with his family while Manfred von Richthofen takes the picture. Sisters Margret and Katherine are on each side of their mother.
The Voss family home, at 75 Blumenthalstrasse, was a comfortable two-storey house with surrounding grounds. Young Werner was expected to carry on the family trade as he grew into his heritage. However, even before World War I burgeoned, he was already drawn towards patriotic service. When he finished his schooling at Krefeld's Moltke Gymnasium, he joined the Krefeld Militia. In April 1914, disregarding conscription laws, underage Werner Voss joined Ersatz Eskadron 2. As the war erupted, Voss qualified as a motorcyclist and motorcycle mechanic. He received his "Certificate of Graduation" as a motorcyclist on 2 August 1914. Subsequently, his parents would give him a 300 cc (18.3 cid) Vee-twin Wanderer motorcycle for his 18th birthday.
Werner Voss with his "Wanderer" motorcycle, a present from his parents for his 18th birthday. [Greg VanWyngarden]
After Germany entered World War I, he spent August and September 1914 as a civilian volunteer driver for the German military. The Militia Ersatz Eskadron 2 had been set up to feed recruits to Westphalia's 11th Hussar Regiment. On 16 November 1914, Werner Voss became one of those recruits despite still being only 17 years old. On 30 November, the hussar regiment was ordered to combat duty in the Eastern Front. Voss was quickly promoted and earned the Iron Cross. Despite his ascending career, he seemingly got tired of the cavalry war and requested (and received) a transfer to the German Air Service flight training school in August of 1915. The move was not necessarily seen as a radical departure, with the Air Service being an adjunct to the Cavalry during the early stages of the war. On 1 September, he began learning to fly at Egelsberg airfield in his hometown of Krefeld. A gifted natural pilot, Voss flew his first solo flight on 28 September. Following the completion of his training, Voss served as an instructor with FEA7, in Cologne, until February of 1916. But this was a disappointment to him. He managed to get posted as an observer and then he received his pilot's certificate in late May of 1916. Within four months he received his Lieutenant's commission.
He was lucky enough to be assigned as a temporarily member of Boelcke's Jasta 2. It was in Jasta 2 where he became acquainted with Manfred von Richthofen, who soon became a close friend. They would later exchange family visits while on leave, and Richthofen would host the Voss family at his squadron's airfield. The friendship grew from Voss flying as Richthofen's wingman in combat, and disregarded the disparity in their family backgrounds. Training under the leadership of Oswald Boelcke, both young men improved their skills as fighter pilots and Werner scored his first victory on November 27 of 1916. He was only 19 years old. By March of the following year he was the unit's most successful pilot, having claimed twenty-two enemy machines and shortly after was awarded the coveted Blue Max. Voss was a mercurial character and did not really fit the image of the German officer class. He was of a mechanical bent and was quite happy attending to his machine dressed in scruffy clothes.
As a fighter pilot, Voss quickly established a reputation as something of a rival - in terms of combat success - to the legendary Manfred von Richthofen (the 'Red Baron', who freely admitted the competition). Given acting command of Jasta 5, Voss was credited with a further 5 victories and was handed the command of Jasta 29 for just five days, and then Jasta 14. It is said that his quick succession in command of the jastas was due to the fact that he wasn't keen to lead. He was a classic lone wolf who liked to fly alone and wasn't fond of paperwork and bureaucracy. Then Richthofen expressed much interest in having the remarkably successful young pilot transferred to his own "Flying Circus", with the result that Voss was duly attached to the command of Jasta 10. Much of the administration of the unit and duties of the commanding officer fell to Oberleutnant Hans Weigand.
Werner had several personal quirks that he indulged, such as his love for motorbikes and all things mechanical in nature. He and Manfred enjoyed photography together. Werner was also known as a casual dresser while on the ground, but who insisted on dressing his best while flying just in case he was forced to land and might happen to meet some ladies on the ground. Sometimes pilots found it necessary to go to extremes to prove their victories. One such occasion is when Werner Voss felt it was necessary to land and confirm a victory by getting proof. He had no other German flyers to confirm his victory, which had fell behind enemy lines, so he landed his bird, ran out and removed the machine gun from the enemy's plane and run back to his own machine. He returned just in time to get away from advancing British troops and give them a jubilant wave of good-bye!
Jasta 10 operated the Pfalz D.III scout, which Voss disliked and he therefore acquired an Albatros scout for his own use. In late August 1917, the rotary engine F.I prototype was assigned to Voss as his personal aircraft. Originally built with a Motorentfabrik Oberursel Ur.II nine-cylinder rotary engine rated at 110 horsepower (a license-built copy of the French Le Rhône 9J engine), Werner Voss had an actual Le Rhône 9J, serial number J6247, installed to replace the Ur.II. Werner Voss’ triplane, 103/17 (Wn. 1730), was a prototype - Versuch 5, or V5, ordered on 14 July 1917 and accepted by the German Air Force on 16 August. It was sent to Jagdstaffel 10 on 21 August. In his childhood, Voss had flown Japanese fighting kites with his cousins in Krefeld; the decorations on the kites gave him the inspiration to paint the nose cowling of his triplane with two eyes, eyebrows and a moustache. The arrival of the new fighter brought celebrities visiting. On 31 August, Anthony Fokker escorted German Chancellor Georg Michaelis and Major General Ernst von Lossberg to see and film the new triplane. On 9 September, Crown Prince Wilhelm would also visit Jasta 10. Voss was an exceptional pilot and the maneuverability of the Triplane was ideally suited to him. By 23 of September, Voss had brought down a total of forty-eight Allied aircraft, but the strain was beginning to tell and he appeared to be on edge and living on his nerves.
Leutnant Werner Voss with his Fokker F.I triplane, 103/17 powered by a Le Rhône 9J. (This photograph may have been taken by Anthony Fokker).
Norman MacMillan narrates one of the last kills of Werner Voss and gives us a hint of his coldness, driven instincts and stoicism in combat. MacMillan survived the war with nine kills and became a prolific aviation writer. He accounts his fight with Voss and F.I 103/17 as part of his book "Into the Blue". It is not integrally transposed as you can see below:
Next afternoon I led a patrol of seven (...). From 15,000 feet, the weather below us was misty (...). East of Langemarck I saw some 21 enemy planes wheeling through the mist in a wide ellipse, continuously circling, as gulls fly over a cliff. Among them were the new Fokker Triplanes, the others were Albatros Scouts. Combined, they greatly outnumbered us. I could not determine if they had seen us, but, in any case, I decided to attack.
Rocking my wings as the signal for attack, I dived at one of the triplanes, closed right in and, as my bullets flew, saw him dropping below his own formation. The Hun formation was so strong that I knew it would be courting disaster to follow him through it (...). I lost sight of that triplane in the haze as I pulled up from among the Huns to gain breathing space to review the situation, for the Camels had split up when I dived (...). But I saw that one of my formation who had followed me closely had done exactly what I knew was tactically wrong. While engrossed in shooting at an Albatros he had passed into the Huns' level. Instantly a Fokker Triplane had pounced upon his tail. Now he was in mortal peril.
My gaze concentrated on this one Camel, B6236, flown by McMaking, who was no novice (...) and he had a score of four to his credit. A burst of bullets made him swerve away from the Albatros he had attacked. I saw the triplane curve in behind his tail and dived instantly at it. Before my sights were centered, I fired a brief burst, because I knew most Huns reacted to the warning sound of bullets flying near them. This fellow, however, was of a different breed. He looked round at me and I saw his black-leather helmeted and begoggled face above his left shoulder as he swerved slightly to one side then looked ahead again and followed the Camel's tail. I think McMaking must have been wounded by the triplane's first burst of fire, because he did not use his Camel to maneuver as he might have done. He went down straight in a steepish dive, with no attempt at evasion. I increased speed and pulled closer to the triplane. I was now below the main Hun formation and I heard the splatter of Hun bullets rattling round my ears. Glancing back and upward I saw two Albatros coming down upon me, but above them, Moody, in another little Camel, was treating them just the same and driving them off. Now I was almost dead upon the buff-colored triplane's tail. Its pilot looked round again. Possibly the sound of the bullets his comrades aimed at me had alerted him. I was close enough to see (and almost read the expression in) his keen blue-grey eyes behind his goggle glasses and as much of his face as was left uncovered: nose, mouth, chin and shape of cheek. Had I been able to meet them, I could have picked him out from among his fellow pilots. He saw I was dead on his tail and instantly banked and curved to the right while he looked at me just as my bullets spewed forth. My tracers passed close over his central left wing, just outside his cockpit and in line with his head, missing it by inches because of his outward swerve. When my brief burst ceased he looked ahead again. He was a clever pilot. I saw McMaking's Camel still below him, falling steeply in a gentle curve. If he were already badly wounded (as I believe) why did his opponent not leave him to his fate and turn to duel with me? We were at an advantageous height for the Fokker Triplane for both climb and maneuver (...). I was now alone, our odds were even, and we were on his side of the lines, an advantage to him. (...).
 Another mention of yellow in Voss's plane. Although, when VanWyngarden quotes MacMillan, he says "three triplanes". In his book, MacMillan says triplanes in the plural, which might be an inconsistence, since in theory there were only the F.I's 102/17 and 103/17 at the front, flown by Voss and Richthofen / Wolff. So combat reports are not always consistent with reality.
Norman MacMillan touches on the delicate subject of strafing and intentional killing - which happened on both ends of the front. Werner Voss is known to have strafed enemy airplanes four times on the ground, twice over German territory. Although the context of these actions is unknown, in one occasion he strafed a recon two-seater that had landed in allied territory and was apparently trying to recover the photo plates. Moreover, Voss' determination to apparently kill McMaking appears not to be mentioned by historians. VanWyngarden especially quotes MacMillan's dogfight with Voss in his book (Fokker Dr I Aces of World War I) but leaves this part aside. Perhaps so because it was in the midst of a combat and Voss ended up alone and outnumbered, so we cannot rule out that he wanted to make sure that McMaking would not turn back on him if he decided to deal with MacMillan. MacMillan also makes an apparently upset remark that I won't quote, questioning if Voss, in cold blood, just wanted another confirmed kill in his belt, but part of the book was written at the time or shortly after, so it might be just in anger and frustration for not being able to help his mate. And he continues the account with a trilling end and an interesting twist afterwards:
All the time we fell downward, losing height rapidly, fighting earthward along a pathway inclined at 60 degrees, rushing through the misty air towards the ground behind the German lines. In my desire to shake that triplane off the Camel's tail I had each time fired a trifle earlier than I might otherwise have done. Each time I had missed a vital spot, but not by much. Damn him! I thought: I'll get him next time. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a solitary RE8 heading towards us, possibly believing we were all friendly scouts and that he could safely venture east, for the Fokker Triplane had already been mistaken for the Sopwith Triplane (...).
I followed the swerving triplane down until I came squarely on his tail. Before I could fire, he squirmed out of my sights once more. Again I registered on him, dead. His head did not look round at me this time. Instead, his angle of dive suddenly steepened. It seemed as if I had got him. I increased my dive almost to a vertical, barely twenty feet behind him. Suddenly I saw the RE8 about to pass between the triplane and my Camel. Its pilot, evidently realizing his mistake, vainly strove to turn away (...). There was no time for more as I yanked the stick hard into my stomach and flashed between the RE8's wings and tailplane as my gallant little Camel answered to the pull. By a miracle we missed a collision; by another miracle my Camel survived the strain. I blacked out momentarily. When my vision returned I saw I was spinning inverted from the top of a loop. My Camel fell out sideways when I checked the spin (...) I turned and scanned the air space (...). The triplane and the Camel had both vanished. How could they have disappeared so quickly unless both went down?
(...) Our patrol time was finished and we returned to our airfield in formation. (...) That night he [McMaking] was posted missing and later reported killed. I never knew his end because of the RE8's stupid intervention at a critical moment for my follow-up and further action; for I would have followed that triplane to the ground if need be and who knows which of us would have survived in 45 Squadron's one and only close engagement with Fokker Triplanes?
Several decades passed before I saw photographs in which I recognized beyond all doubt the face of the pilot of the triplane I had followed down east of Langemarck. One photograph showed him standing before his triplane in rough working uniform, looking to his left. In the other he was seated in his cockpit wearing flying cap and raised goggles, and again his head was turned to the left. There were the facial outlines I remembered, the same turning of the head, the same eyes. He was Werner Voss, leader of Jasta 10 in Richthofen's Circus. McMaking was his 47th victim.
I would have liked to have met Voss to discuss the most extraordinary aerial encounter in my experience: to know why he did not engage me, why his dive steepened when I last saw his triplane, making me believe it had been hit. Was the maneuver a ruse, feigned for that reason; or was it made to put the RE8 between us, or to avoid a collision with the RE8? And I would have liked to have known the final fate of poor McMaking (...). But 'he who lives by the sword shall perish by the sword'. Twelve days after our encounter, Voss shot down his 48th and last victim in the morning. That evening, just before he was due to go on leave, Voss himself fell at Wieltje, near Frezenberg, a short distance within our lines, but who flew the avenging sword is another of the unsolved mysteries of the first war in the air. Few aces who fell were killed by aces.
Voss and Anthony Fokker at Schwerin-Görries airfield, located 180 kilometers northwest of Berlin. The airfield was opened on 22 June 1913. By the end of the year, Anthony Fokker brought his "Fokker-Flugzeugwerken" to Schwerin. This is the location where, during World War I, the famous (or notorious) Fokker fighters were built for the German Air Force. Werner Voss flew the prototype D.VI 1661 (later to become the Fokker F.I and subsequently Dr.1) in Schwerin, when he found the flight characteristics outstanding, particularly with regard to the aircraft's climb rate and maneuverability, probably one of the reasons, together with MvR favorable opinion, that it went into production. Fokker built about 2000 of his planes and his plant employed up to 1,200 people. After World War I was lost, Germany (and therefore Fokker) was forced to close the aircraft plant. Fokker managed to escape to Amsterdam, along with 200 aircraft and 400 aircraft engines, which he used as a starting capital for his new aircraft business.
Voss' mechanics, Gefreiter Rueser and Flieger Karl Timm, with Fokker F1 103/17.
During the day of Voss' last flight, having just returned from leave, early in the morning he had shot down a DH4 (A76433) from 57 Squadron which was bombing Hooglede. The crew, 2nd Lieutenant S L J Bramley and 2nd Lieutenant John Matthew De Lacey, were both killed in the crash. It was to be his last confirmed victory. Just before Werner landed, brothers Max and Otto Voss arrived at Jasta 10 for a visit. They were both now in the German military. Otto was a 19-year-old army leutnant bucking for an opportunity to become a flier like his elder brother. Max Jr. was a 16-year-old sergeant. The young ace was fatigued and told his brothers he was eagerly anticipating more time off. He ate lunch with his brothers—soup, black bread, coffee, and cake. His brothers noted his haggard appearance, apparent in his final photographs. After the meal, the three Voss brothers posed before Werner's camera, which was equipped with a timed shutter release. Then Voss was scheduled for another patrol.
Early afternoon of September 23, 1917. Werner Voss (center) with his two elder brothers Otto and Max in front of a yellow-nosed Pfalz D.III at Jasta 10 airfield at Marke. His brothers later recalled how tired of the war their brother was, and how he was eagerly anticipating his coming leave, due to start that day. [VanWyngarden]
That evening, 23 September 1917, he took off for his last patrol from Jasta 10 at Marke airfield, part of the Markebeeke complex in Courtrai, Belgium, for what was later considered one of the most epic air battles of the war. There was considerable British air activity with the Ypres offensive still grinding away below in the mud of Passchendaele. At about 18:25h, Voss dived on the rearmost S.E.5as of a two-flight patrol of 60 Squadron and shot them about. Before the other part of the patrol could join in, another flight of S.E.5as joined the fray. The dogfight developed over Poelkapelle, and the scouts were from the renowned British 56 Squadron B Flight comprised of such luminaries as James McCudden and Arthur Rhys-Davids. All seven pilots in B Flight were accredited aces, each flying an S.E.5a. Commander Major James McCudden is quoted by saying the following of Werner Voss's engagement that day: "Strangely, I was the only pilot who saw the triple-decker shatter on the ground. Even Rhys-Davids, who delivered the last shots, did not see him crash. As long as I live, my admiration for this flyer shall never cease. For ten minutes he alone held seven of us at bay, and kept hitting all of us. The flying skills of the German were masterly, his boldness extraordinary. We all agreed this evening that the enemy flyer must have been one of the best. Was it Richthofen, Wolff or Voss? He fell within our lines. Through radio we heard that he was salvage from the crash".
Unfortunately "salvaged" did not mean that he was pulled out alive. Ironically we go back to the strafing and intentional killing, when Rhys-Davids controversially strafed Voss three times after he was hit for the first time and stopped its defensive maneuvers and began to glide toward the west in a slow and gentle manner. He would add: "The aircraft made a slow right hand turn, wing down. I couldn’t see the pilots head, as it seemed to be low in the cockpit". Two of the strafing (when Davids emptied his whole drum of Lewis and had time to reload again) was when Werner Voss' F.I had its engine apparently off and gliding to perhaps prevent a fire. The combat was so furious that Rhys-Davids' strafing might have been just a reflex, a survival instinct under such stress (mentioned down below by Thomas Crean and Alex Revell). Or that Voss had caused such havoc upon the 56 Squadron B Flight, in such a vexatious way, that he had to be put down. Although Davids later expressed a wish that he had been able to bring Voss down alive. Davids also shot down Carl Menckhoff when the latter flew to Voss' aid.
Voss and his Fokker F.I 103/17 fell to the ground at Plum Farm, north of Frezenberg and just inside Allied lines on no man's land (see attachment below). With the battle still raging in the area, British ‘Tommies’ led by Lt. Kiegan then buried Ltn. Voss where he fell. Unlike his friend von Richthofen, who was KIA on 21 Apr of 1918, Werner Voss would be laid to rest without a coffin and without military honors, exactly in the same manner as all soldiers are buried in battle. His grave was later though to be lost in the fierce turmoil of war, but German War Graves records show that he is buried in the Kameradengrab at Langemark and his name is commemorated on panel number 63. Rhys-Davids also went missing on 27 October 1917, having earned a DSO, MC and Bar and has no known grave but is commemorated on the Arras Memorial. Weigand only survived another two days and was shot down in flames, probably by 56 Squadron.
The death of Werner Voss marked the end of an era, the end of the "lone wolf" pilots and greatly affected his family and co-pilots, and especially his friend, Manfred von Richthofen.
 Markebeeke today is an oasis amid the expanding industrialization of this part of Belgium and is trapped between the very large railway yards of the town of Courtrai to the south and the River Lys to the north. The aerodrome consisted of two fields: one north of the railway track called Markebeeke, and the other to the south of the line at Marke. The most distinguishing feature of the area is the Castle de Bethune, an elegant building sitting in attractive parkland. [Airfields and Airmen: Ypres by Michael O'Connor] At the end of the post there is a map / scheme of Markebeeke and Marke airfields.
Carl Menckhoff never mentioned the dogfight in which Voss was killed (and he has a book / memoir from the war), and his participation - although mentioned by the 56 Squadron - is questioned.
Apparently Anthony Fokker in the cockpit of Fokker F.I 102/17, sided by General-Major Von Lossberg and Manfred von Richthofen at Jasta 11 in Markebeeke, Belgium. The Fokker 102/17 was one of the first two F.Is sent to the front, this one assigned to Ricthofen and Wolff. The other, Fokker F.I 103/17, was assigned to Werner Voss at Jasta 10. Kurt Wolff would be shot down in the 102/17 by a Sopwith Camel flown by Norman McGregor four days after he started flying it, when Ricthofen was on leave.
Regarding the last fight of Voss, below are some interesting remarks:
He initially left with two wingmen, both flying Pfalzes D.III from Jasta 10. When Werner opened the throttle on his 110hp Triplane, it had just a little bit more get up and go than his mates had on their Pfalzes, and so as Ltn. Rüdenberg and Ltn. Bellen fell farther and farther behind, they were unable to cover Voss tail when he started the tango with 60 Sqdn. After he tagged two of their aircraft, Mac and the boys from 56 Sqdn. jumped into the fray. [Thomas Crean]
It is said he had some wild drinking the evening before, but the mission he was killed in took place in the evening of the next day. So did he suffer from a hangover, was he still drunk, was he tired, did he sleep before, etc, etc? Pure Bunk. Time constraints rule it out. Get from Berlin, Germany, to Marke, Belgium, for his morning patrol after a wee hour of the morning blitz with booze, knocked down his 48th victory - do a victory roll over the field - meet and greet his two brothers and do a photo op, and go up on an evening patrol at 6pm or something, play tag with 60 and 56 Sqdn for 10 minutes before being shot down? I don't think so. [Thomas Crean]
I read somewhere, cant think where, that when Rhys-Davids landed he was so excited as to what he had just survived, that when they asked him what went on, he stuttered until his CO gave him a couple of sips of brandy to calm him down. [Thomas Crean]
Having just described the departure of the red nosed Albatros (supposedly Carl Menckhoff), Grp Cpt. Geoffrey Hilton Bowman of the 56 Sqdn goes on: "This left Voss alone in the middle of six of us, which did not deter him in the slightest. At that altitude he had a much better rate of climb, or rather zoom, than we had and frequently he was the highest machine of the seven and could have turned east and got away had he wished to, but he was not that type and always came down on us again. (...) Our elation was not nearly as great as you might have imagined. Rhys-Davids, I think, was genuinely upset". [High in the Empty Blue' by Alex Revell]
List of damaged S.E.5a from the B flight in the battle.
Voss managed to hit every SE5 in B Flight. Some of the planes received extensive damage as described in Aces & Aeroplanes 1. McCudden's statement that Voss 'had put some bullets through all our machines' was understating the case. The havoc that Voss had caused had been considerable.
Muspratt force-landed at No. 1 Squadron's aerodrome with a bullet in his radiator; Chidlaw-Roberts' SE was considerably shot about, although he managed to return to St Marie Cappel, and Maybery's machine was hit in the upper right hand longeron and badly damaged, necessitating its return to 1AD. Hamersley managed to land his badly damaged SE at No. 29 Squadron's aerodrome at Poperinghe. In the brief flurry of the first encounter, Voss had shot through the machine's bottom left hand engine bearer, two top planes and the centre section, spars, ribs, rudder and kingpost, the water jacket on the right hand side of the engine, radiator, propeller, CC gear, generator and oil pipes, and had put 'numerous holes in the fabric'. The aeroplane was a write-off and was eventually sent to 1AD. Cronyn's SE5a had also been considerably damaged, and he was lucky to be able to return to his aerodrome at Estree Blanche. Cronyn later wrote to his father: "After Mess I went up to the hangar to have a look at my machine. It was a write-off and no mistake. The right lower longeron had a bullet hole through it, while the left lower was nearly cut in two, either by "Archie" or bullets, but there was only about a quarter of an inch thickness left in one place, while about 18 inches further along three bullets had cut right through. The main spars were shot through, and one of the ribs of the tailplane was fractured by the only bullet he had got into me while on or nearly on my tail. There were also several other bullet holes in wings and fuselage. Besides these few details, the machine was all OK! It was a miracle he didn't hit me in the engine. As a matter of fact he got one in my prop. I went to bed as soon as I had a good look over the machine, but could hardly sleep a wink. I just lay in bed perspiring, though it was quite a cold night."
3 flights went up with Voss for the evening patrol [Thomas Crean]:
First Evening Flight Group:
1. Ltn.d.R. Werner Voss flying - F.I 103/17 triplane – Ser No. 103/17
2. Ltn.d.R. Gustav S. Bellen flying – Pfalz D.III – Ser No. 4169/17
3. Ltn.d.R. Friedrich Rüdenberg flying – Pfalz D.III – Ser No. 1379/17
First Evening Flight, Second Group:
1. Oblt Ernst Weigand
2. Ltn.d.R. Max Kühn
First Evening Flight, Third Group:
1. Ltn.d.R. Erich Löwenhardt
2. Ltn.d.R. Alois Heldmann
The bio was a mixed patch from all the credits below.
Thomas Crean (The Aerodrome).
Graeme (The Aerodrome).
Fokker Dr I Aces of World War I (Norman Franks, Greg VanWyngarden).
High in the Empty Blue, by Alex Revell.
Airfields and Airmen: Ypres (by Michael O'Connor).
And here is the link of how the last flight of Voss went down according to Thomas Crean, with details of the maneuvers he performed, the accounts of the pilots of the 56 Sqdn and more (I recommend the reading). His book "Lieutenant der Reserve Werner Voss and the Pilots of Jasta 10" is highly recommended. He's regarded as one of the most knowledgeable writers on Voss and his unit. But if you want to buy it, contact him at The Aerodrome and get the CD version. The photos are bigger, and the layout of the printed book was not made by a professional, so it does not have a pattern. In general, people say the CD is the way to go (I don't have neither version).