In their own words... [Archive] - Official Fulqrum Publishing forum

bobbysocks

04-27-2010, 04:25 PM

straffing a 262

On July 24th 1944 the 354th were part of a 3 squadron strafing mission designated to attack the airfield at Lechfeld, near Augsburg, Bavaria, Southern Germany, close to the Messerschmidt factory where 262s were being built. Their job was to destroy jet fighters parked on the airfield before they could be used against allied bombing raids. It seemed that it might be a wasted effort, as solid cloud covered the continent for the whole of the outward flight - until a hole appeared in the cloud near the target.

"One after another, six flights of four dove through the opening in the clouds. It was our turn. So much for the element of surprise. Even the lead flight could expect a warm reception. I turned on the windshield defroster, flipped the gun switch on and followed in a spiraling dive toward that thin ribbon below [the Lech River].

The Mustang seemed to come alive as the airspeed built up rapidly. Gone was the sensation of hanging motionless. We were moving! Streaking down the walls of cloud, my pulse quickened with the excitement of high-speed flight. Below I could see the lead flight level off above the river and head for the target, which was hidden by clouds.

We leveled off just above the trees and headed north, straddling the river. Almost immediately, we were beneath the overcast in a light drizzle that sharply restricted visibility.

With the throttle wide open, doing better than four hundred miles per hour, I was straining to find the airfield in the sunless gloom. I knew the field was west of the river, so if I held this heading...

A large hangar, dead ahead. Big brick buildings to the left. "There it is!"

I pulled up to about three hundred feet to get a better angle to fire the guns and find a good target. This also made us more vulnerable, because now the gunners could see us, and we had to maintain a steady shallow dive to the target - no evasive action; just like flying down somebody's gun barrel.

I spotted a row of hangars on the far side of the field and what looked like Me-262s scattered around in sandbagged revetments. Some were burning, the black oily smoke merging with the low clouds. |I picked out an airplane parked at an angle, half inside a small hangar, and lined it up carefully in my gunsight. There would be only one pass. It had to be good.

I was aware of small white puffs from exploding 20mm shells all around my aircraft. I could hear the soft pop of near misses. I forced myself to concentrate: Keep that pip steady on that airplane!

I squeezed the trigger on the stick. The four .50 calibre machine guns in the wings hammered, jarring the airplane as if it had been hit. Instantly, like a string of firecrackers, orange flashes appeared on the fuselage of the 262; then a small yellow flame licked up around the cockpit and flashed into a bright red-orange explosion as the fuel tank blew up.

Then I saw another airplane parked next to it. I fired a short burst and saw a few hits, but I realised I was getting damn close to that hangar.

I was almost too close. I pulled back on the stick and cleared the hangar roof by inches. As I did, a brilliant flash of light reflected off the clouds to my left, lighting up the whole area. Something had exploded. I banked left a few degrees to avoid flying over the airfield at Landsberg and skimmed the trees until well out of range of the airfield guns. I had seen enough of those for one day. Blue Flight finally caught up with us. They hadn't seen the airfield at all. I felt like saying, "You guys missed all the fun!"

I scanned the engine instruments and checked the plane over for damage. That's when I noticed the large chip in the "bulletproof" windshield. Apparently a shell had hit the windshield on a slant and been deflected off. Somewhere on that strafing run I had been only six inches from having my head blown off.

Red 3 and Red 4 both reported that they could see a few holes in their airplanes but everything seemed to be running all right. I looked to my left. There was no sign of my wingman. "Where's Red 2?" I asked.

"He went in - just off the airfield," answered Red 4 in a faltering voice. I knew they were roommates. I remembered that bright flash.

Of the last four aircraft on that strafing run, the German gunners had shot down one and hit the other three. I signalled both flights into a tight formation, and we started the long climb through the thick overcast.

It was a long and silent trip back to England. I kept staring at that chipped windshield and thinking about Red 2. The difference between life and death had been inches, or perhaps a few miles per hour one way or the other. This was my seventy-fourth mission, and his second.

Last mission for both."

Norman "Bud" Fortier, "An Ace of the Eighth", Presidio Press 2003, pp.233-235.

"the one that got away or perhaps not"

December 31st 1944; The 358th were escorting B17s to Misburg when FW190s were spotted:

"I managed to get right behind one of them. He was in a diving left turn, right in my gunsight. I pressed the trigger. To my consternation, only the right outboard gun fired.

That one gun popped away with no effect until I finally got a hit on his right wingtip. He straightened out and dove straight away from me, centered in my fixed gunsight. A perfect setup but I just couldn't hit him. Chuck Hauver was just off my right wing. He could see that I was having problems. "Let me have him," he said. I slid over to the left and watched him blow the FW out of the sky. Belatedly I turned on the gun heater switch. I felt foolish, frustrated and furious.

Chuck broke off to the right. Just as I turned to join him, I heard my wingman, Johnny Molnar, yell, "Bud! Get this sonofabitch off my ass!"

I racked into a hard left turn and saw Johnny about five hundred yards behind me with a Focke-Wulf about three hundred yards behind him. Molnar was turning that Mustang as tight as he could, and the FW was sticking with him, but it was unable to lead him enough for a shot. I joined the rat race.

Johnny kept yelling at me to "get this sonofabitch off my ass!" and I kept trying to assure him calmly that I would do just that. It wasn't that easy.

With Molnar leading the aerobatic display, we used up quite a bit of sky and soon found ourselves down to about seven thousand feet, just above a layer of clouds. There was neither sky nor airspeed enough left for anything but tight turns, and all three of us were doing the best we could in that department. I lowered a few degrees of wing flaps - I didn't dare look down at how many degrees. "Johnny" - I tried to sound calm but my blood pressure must have been sky-high - "did you lower your flaps a little?"
"Yeah."
"Keep the stick pressure you have now. He's not gaining on you at all but I'm gaining on him." I tried to sound confident.

I could see the vapour trails from the wingtips of the planes in front of me and I knew that my wingtips were producing the same pattern. All three of us were right on the edge of high-speed stalls. My Mustang kept giving me subtle clues, through the control column and the seat bottom, that it would be unwise to tighten the turn much more. If I stalled out of this turn, Molnar would be on his own. Every ten seconds or so, the wings of the 190 became blanketed very briefly with white vapour, an indication that the German pilot knew I was getting in position for a shot, that he was slipping closer to a stall. He couldn't increase his turn enough to get to a shooting position on Johnny and I sensed that he felt he was running out of time.

The 190 pilot pulled it in a little too tightly. Suddenly his plane snapped viciously to the right and spun down into the cloud layer. The FW had a reputation of snap-rolling out of very tight turns. I watched him spin into the clouds. "Man, that was close!" said Johnny as he raised his flaps and eased into his wingman position. It wasn't hot inside my cockpit but I had to wipe the sweat out of my eyes.

The terrain below the overcast was hilly, with some peaks rising to nearly three thousand feet, and I doubt that the German pilot had enough altitude to recover but I'll never know for sure - I wasn't about to follow him into that overcast. I was tempted to claim it as a probable but it was just as likely that he was "one that got away".

Norman "Bud" Fortier, "An Ace of the Eighth", Presidio Press 2003, pp.276-9.

bobbysocks

04-27-2010, 04:28 PM

"It was like a ritual. The last thing each pilot did before climbing into his plane to go off on a mission was to walk a discreet distance to the rear of the plane and take a "nervous pee". Given that there wouldn't be another opportunity to empty the bladder for five or even six hours, this was a prudent thing to do. While it is true that the Mustang was equipped with a "relief tube" (a funnel attached to a rubber hose), it was next to impossible to use because of the layers of clothing and parachute straps in the way. So the ritual was born of necessity.

Aside from being necessary, the nervous pee was a manifestation of underlying tension, which varied a great deal from pilot to pilot. There were a few among us who developed over time an aversion to combat flying. Initially I was unaware of this, naively believing that all fighter pilots were gung-ho. After all, they were all fighter pilots by choice. When push had come to shove, however, a few had found out that they had bitten off more than they could chew. For them it could be tough going. This was a sensitive subject that was never openly discussed - but should fear grab hold of a pilot, he could become a danger to himself and his comrades.

There were various tell-tale signs of aversion to combat flying: early return from missions with an airplane malfunction that could not be duplicated by the mechanics; hanging back when an engagment with enemy aircraft was imminent or in progress; unusual weight loss; heavy drinking; and physical ailments for which the doctor could find no cause.

I knew of only a couple of cases that required direct action. One pilot, after only a few missions, threw in the towel. It was too much for him to handle, he told Vic Warford. Vic didn't want to add to the poor fellow's shame and embarrassment, and was compassionate in dealing with him; he arranged for a transfer to an air transport outfit. The second case was handled in a similar manner.

Others who felt undue stress just toughed it out. I don't know how many there were in the squadron but I suspected that two or three were having a difficult time. I admired them for persevering but knew that this wasn't necessarily in the best interests of the other pilots. Years later one of them confirmed what I had suspected. He told me that he lost thirty pounds then, had recurring nightmares and didn't think he would make it to the end of his tour. He did make it and spent a long period afterward hospitalized for "combat fatigue". In looking back at his record, he was not an effective combat pilot despite his love of flying."

From: George Loving, "Woodbine Red Leader: A P51 Mustang Ace in the Mediterranean Theater

"You know, every time we take off on a combat mission, it is with mixed feelings, because it never turns out to be a pleasure trip. It is so depressing when one realises that our 'comrades from the other side' are far superior to oneself, and to know that when one engages the Viermots [4-motors, German name for B17s and B24s], sooner or later one gets shot down. During the only short period we've been here, our Staffel has already lost two pilots killed and two wounded. One had a hand shot clean off and from the other he lost a couple of fingers. The second injured pilot lost an eye. So, our Staffel, nominally on strength with 12 planes, has only four or five serviceable kites left. In the beginning, the Gruppe operated with 30 to 35 machines. Nowadays, only 10 to 15 can be scrambled at any one time.

On the other hand, we have gained fame here on the Channel coast. Not a single Gruppe has chalked up such great combat results in this theatre, and such a thing is simply impossible without incurring losses. All this results in our frame of mind being that of a lost bunch. We call ourselves 'The Last Knights' and indeed, it is a great thing to see how everyone gets at our adversary and fires doggedly. I do admire my 'Chief' who has already been shot down twice here, who almost always gets back to base with his machine shot up and still rushes in and, with his thick Westphalian skull, approaches his adversaries to point blank range to make sure of the kill. One can only say, 'Hats Off'. I am always satisfied with the hits I register and then make it back home. I must add that there is no choice but to get at them regardless of our losses, in an effort to prevent them from wreaking more destruction than they already do. One feels so impotent and can only watch powerless when facing such an opponent. In Russia, we would have completely destroyed any formation. Over here, any formation destroys us. How can you win! Sometimes, I fly as Schwarm (Flight ) leader. That usually is the task of a very experienced pilot but one has to have this first. I am responsible for the safety of three men, who I lead into combat behind me. How could I ever do that? A hundred or more enemy aircraft in the sky (I am not exaggerating) and I should cover my 4th man's tail? Only the other day, my wingman got shot down. You know, the most sacred commitment for a flight leader is the one to his wingman. I am hanging in the middle of a pulk [German for enemy squadron or formation] with my men behind me, enemy fighters appear, I look around and see my wingman but no angry enemy. When I finally believe to have got away reasonably unscathed, my wingman is gone. I assume he has fled from the scene one way or the other, but when I touch down at base some time later, he is missing. Only that night, whilst I have been reproaching myself severely, one reports that he is in hospital in Aachen. The poor fellow's eye has been removed. Things like that easily get on one's nerves.

Tonight we will celebrate 'Daddy's' birthday. 'Daddy' is our boss. There's only five of us pilots left now. Didn't we have a great time in the early days in Russia when there were still 16 of us. When I think of it, I feel tears welling up in my eyes. I never write such letters, but I have to get these thoughts off my chest and you are the only one I can confide in. Here, we don't discuss such things. The boss only talks about it in ruthless jokes, obviously trying suppress his weaker side and compassion. Still, he can't hide the fact that it has made a deep impression on him too, today he turned 27 but looks 37. It is a privilege to meet such men, who make one keen to get on with the job and who one admires.

But isn't being a fighter pilot a great thing? Speedily dashing through the skies and then plunging into the action. My dear, it makes one's heart shout with joy! Sometimes, it also trembles but only occasionally. Do you know the saying: "Enjoy the war, because the coming Peace will be dreadful!" Every day we repeat this with a sadistic pleasure. The boss is very good at it, which helps him to keep his bunch of men together as best he can."

Unteroffizier Uwe Michels, fighter pilot, II/JG3, 6th Staffel, at Schiphol, writing to his girlfriend Ilse, 11 October 1943. He was KIA one week later.

bobbysocks

04-27-2010, 05:01 PM

"Sometimes for reasons I don't know - probably an unseated gas cap - the P-38 would start syphoning out its gasoline. From the ground it looked like a long plume of mist coming from the wing.

One day as the planes were droning round the field getting into formation for a mission, a group of ground crew members were in the radio shack listening to the conversations of the pilots. Suddenly, they heard this: "Pete, you'll have to abort! You are syphoning fuel!" No answer. Then, a little more urgently, "Pete! Abort! Abort! You are syphoning fuel!" Finally a sheepish voice came on, "Aw Hell. No I'm not. I forgot to go to the bathroom and I'm just taking a leak."

Robert T. Sand, propellor shop, 55th Fighter Group from: "Fighter Command: American Fighters in Original WWII Color", Jeffrey L. Ethell and Robert T. Sand

Because of the losses in P38 units someone at Lockheed thought the pilots didn't know how to fly it so they sent Tony LeVier. As far as I was concerned, he did nothing that I couldn't do or nothing that I hadn't seen around the airfield by our own men. Had it been my choice of what he did, I would have had him fly some two hours at 28,000 feet, then tangle with me at 15,000 feet instantly. Then we would see how well he could fly when he was frozen.

As an example, Bushing, who did not like combat, was up leading the 338th Squadron and had to urinate. Well, by the time you got out of your shoulder harness, the parachute straps and through four more layers of clothes (tank suit, pinks, long johns and shorts) you found your peter was about one half inch long at that altitude. Well anyway, Bushing let go in the relief tube and at that very moment someone hollered, "Bogies on the right!" Bushing turned to the right and madly looked for the bogies and, though it was a false alarm, by the time his heart stopped pumping and he looked back at the dashboard, he could see only frosted instruments.

To be sure things were working properly, he had to take off his gloves and with his fingernails scrape off the frost on the important instruments. When he got back to the field the P38, once it got on the ground, turned into a hot box even in England. So by the time he taxied up to the hard stand and shut down the engines the urine had melted and heated up to probably 110 degrees. By tradition, the crew chief climbed on the aircraft as soon as you killed the engines and opened the canopy. In this case, just as he opened it, he slammed it down when he got a whiff of what was there. Bushing had not noticed it as he had been wearing his oxygen mask."

Chet A. Patterson, P38 pilot, 55th Fighter Group.

(from: "Fighter Command: American Fighters in Original WWII Color" by Jeff Ethell and Robert Sand

[Flight Lieutenant R. B. Hesselyn, MBE, DFC, DFM and bar; born Dunedin, 13 Mar 1920; apprentice machinist; joined RNZAF Nov 1940; prisoner of war, 3 Oct 1943]

[249 Squadron]"Here is an episode related by Hesselyn which may recapture for the reader some of the atmosphere of the air battles in which these men took part. It was an afternoon in mid-April [1942] and heavy raids were falling on the airfields. Pilots on their way to dispersal at Takali had to leap into a crater as bombs screamed down to crash nearby. The raiders passed over and the pilots reached their machines. A few moments later they were ordered off to meet another attack.

"We scrambled at three o'clock, climbing south of the island getting to 26,000 feet with the sun behind us. Wood [Woodhall, the Senior Controller] called up and said: ‘Hello Mac [Norman MacQueen]. There's a big plot building up but its taking time to come south. Keep your present angels and save your gravy. I will tell you when to come in.’ We stooged around until he gave us the word. Then we sailed in ….

Suddenly, glancing behind, I saw four 109s coming down on me. Three of them overshot. The fourth made his turn too wide and I got inside him. I was slightly below when I attacked from 200 yards, firing perhaps 20 feet ahead of him in the hope that his aircraft and my bullets would arrive at that spot simultaneously. They did. I kept on firing as I was determined to make certain of him. He caught fire. Black smoke poured out, he rolled on his back and went into a vertical dive and straight into the drink.

As he crashed it struck me suddenly that there might be something on my tail. In my excitement I had forgotten to look but luckily none of the other 109s had dived down on me. Wood now reported that the 88s were diving on Takali, and I pulled up to 10,000 feet. The next instant the 88s were diving past my nose and the other boys were coming down from above to attack them. I picked out one and went for him and as I pressed my gun button his rear gunner opened fire. I had fired for about a second when my port cannon packed up. Luckily I was travelling fast. This prevented my aircraft from slewing from the recoil of my starboard cannon as I was able to correct with rudder. I concentrated on the 88's starboard motor and wing root and could see my shells hitting. Bits were flying off him and flames began spreading as he continued in his dive; he was well ablaze when he crashed.

Returning to land I had my first experience of being beaten up in the circuit. A great pall of smoke and dust from the bombing was hanging over Takali. I made a couple of dummy runs over the airfield and could see that the landing path was well cratered. Just then I sighted six 109s above at 5,000 feet, waiting to pounce. The other boys were kicking about the circuit waiting to try and get in. I beetled up Imtafa valley, skipped round some windmills at the top and swung down a valley on the other side. Again and again the 109s dived down from above and attacked me. Again and again I thanked my stars that the ‘Spit’ was such a manoeuvreable aircraft. Each time I was attacked I turned violently and their shells and bullets whipped past behind me. It was a nerve-racking business. With all the violent turning and twisting I began to feel very sick. My neck ached from constantly twisting from side to side, looking back and from holding it up while doing tight turns against the extra gravity force. Eventually Mac said that we were to go in and he would cover us.

I started a normal circuit about 300 feet above the airfield, put my wheels and flaps down, did weaving approach and, as my wheels touched ground felt a sigh of relief. I taxied to my pen, forgetting to put up my flaps. All I could do when I got there was to lie back in the cockpit and gasp for breath. The ground crew had to help me out of my aircraft and, dazed and dizzy, I groped my way along the wing out of my pen.

I met Laddie [Lucas] as I was wandering over to dispersal. Both our tunics were soaked with perspiration. We looked up to see how Mac was getting on. He was making his approach about 50 feet up when suddenly two 109s darted out of the sun. Their shooting, however, was poor and whipping up his wheels Mac turned sharply into them. The 109s overshot him, carried on and beat up the aerodrome. Mac made a quick dart, put down his wheels and managed to get in. He landed with two gallons of petrol—at the pace we were using it, sufficient fuel for only another two minutes in the air. I had had five gallons; the others about the same."

bobbysocks

04-28-2010, 04:30 PM

After being processed, three of us were assigned to the 78th Fighter Group 1ocated at Duxford, England. The 78th formerly flew the P47, but now the fighter was the P51, which I had never seen or flown. Our only training in the P51 was to sit in the cockpit and familiarize ourselves with the instruments until we felt comfortable and then take it off.

The primary mission of the 78th was to escort the bombers into Germany, protecting them from enemy aircraft. After the bombers reached their target and were safely on their way back to their bases, we would remain and strafe enemy air fields, trains, German convoys, tanks - anything of the enemy that moved before returning to our base in Duxford, England. While escorting them to their targets, if any of the bombers werewounded by flack or enemy airplanes, but yet still able to fly, the flight leader of one of our flights of four would have one P51 on each side of the bomber plane escort the plane back to its base in England or to wherever it could land in friendly territory. We were known as their "little friends." I had this assignment once and I can't tell you how happy the pilots, bombardiers and gunners were to have us protect them. We flew close enough to see their faces.

It was my 18th flight into Germany on April 16, 1945. Our mission this day was to fly to the vicinity of Pilzen and Prague in search of air fields where the Germans had parked a number of their planes to hide them for lack of fuel to fly them and we were to destroy them, whether in air or on the ground. The 78th Fighter Group that day destroyed 135 German planes. You will note in the Squadron minutes that they gave me credit for one.

After reaching the area, the squadron broke into flights of four to search and destroy. Our flight had just strafed an airfield near "Marianbad." As I made my pass, I noticed a plane that had not been destroyed. I called on my radio to my Flight leader, Captain Hart, told him I had seen a plane we didn't get and that we should make another pass. He replied, "No, we've had enough. Let's get back to home base." This was the flight leader's last mission before returning to the U.S.A. (Our base was at Duxford, just outside of Cambridge, England). I replied that I was going down to get that plane and he said, "Go ahead. Get low. Get on the deck. They are shooting at us. We will rendezvous at 5,000 feet."

When I approached the city, I flew down the street at an altitude less than the height of some of the buildings to reach the airfield. My altitude was perhaps 50 feet. A bullet went through my canopy. The Plexiglas shattered and a piece of the Plexiglas hit my sunglasses, which broke them. While trying to remove my helmet and oxygen mask, so that I could take off the sunglasses and scrape the glass away from my eyes, I approached the airfield. There was a tall communication pole, possibly 250 to 300 feet in height, that was supported by guy wires. I pulled back on the stick and banked my P51, but I hit the communication pole about l0 feet from the top.

The pole broke off, smashing and tearing off my canopy and causing most of my instruments to become inoperable. The pole hit me on the head forcing pieces of the canopy into my scalp and forehead causing blood to run down my face and eyes, making it difficult to see. At the time I hit the pole, the plane was traveling at top speed -- approximately 450 mph.

The propeller was so damaged that it would not pull the plane. One wing was partially separated from the fuselage by about 8 inches. The other wing tip was shattered and I was pulling about ten feet of pole as one of the guy wires attached to the pole was wrapped around the tail of my plane.

I could only keep the plane flying right side up by cross-controlling. I didn't have enough altitude to bail out. I was flying over valleys and hillsides. To keep the plane in the air, I was flying at an attitude of a three point landing, so it was difficult to see ahead of the airplane. I was probably three hundred feet from the floor of the valley when the plane crash landed on the ground of a sloping hillside that had trees on it. I thought it would never stop hitting trees and demolishing more of the plane. The plane was also on fire before crash landing. There was gas on the floor of the cockpit.

I was unable to get out of the plane easily, as I had my G suit hooked in and each time I tried to raise myself, the G suit connection pulled me back down. After a couple of tries, I had enough brains to disconnect it. We were always to destroy our gun sight - it automatically centered on another plane and you didn't have to lead the plane to shoot it down. My gunsight was smashed by the pole. I didn't have to destroy it. I pulled out my .45 revolver, put a shell in the chamber and got out of the plane.

Not 100 feet away was an army soldier and an officer in a Jeep. The driver had his rifle pointed and me and said, "Hands up." My hands went up and the pistol flew out of my hands at the same time. I thought they might be Russians, so I waved my identity, at the same time asking, "Are you Ruskys?". We wore an American flag with writing in Russian so they would know we were not the enemy. They let me know very fast they were not Russians.

I was put in the front seat of the Jeep with the driver. The officer kept his gun on me. We drove a little ways and stopped. There were two or three civilians that had come up to the road -- I think they were farmers. We stopped and they talked with my captors. They started hitting me with the handles of their pitch forks. The officer could not control them, so we drove off.

We stopped at a city. The people gathered around. I was left in the Jeep with the driver. The officer went to what I believe was their headquarters. Somebody got a rope and they were going to hang me. The officer, along with others, came out with rifles and told the crowd to disperse. The officer and driver drove me out of the town to save me from hanging.

Other events that I experienced was being interrogated at several German headquarters and being stripped of my clothes, which were given back to me, but not my flight jacket, watch, ring or wallet. However, I was finally put in a dungeon, moved to a hospital in Tirschenreuth, Bavaria The Germans treated me very well and I demanded it as an officer. They respected rank.

The hospital was full of wounded German soldiers. I was put in a private room with two other German officers. The doctor at the hospital spoke perfect English. He had graduated from our Harvard Medical School. In fact the S.S. officer in charge of the area that I was in tried to put me with a group of other prisoners who were going through the town, but the doctor would not let me go advising the S.S. officer that I was too ill to travel.

After being liberated by the 90th Recon of the 3rd Army, I made my way back to Paris by bicycle, motorcycle, jeeps and airplanes. I arrived finally in Paris and was back under the good old 8th Air Force who in turn put me up in a hotel and arranged my trip back to England.

Because I was a repatriated Prisoner of War, I was shipped back to the U.S.A. I was slated to train in jets and head for the Pacific Theater at the time the war with Japan ended. "

Capt. Fred R. Swauger

Air Force Reserve Retired

"During the lengthy haul from our San Severo base across Italy and out over the Mediterranean, I trimmed my plane to fly hands off. And since our squadron and group was spread out in extended formation, I fumbled my big Zeiss camera from under my seat, unfolded it, slid the lens bellows forward to infinity focus and took several shots of our formations against the clouds. As we approached the French coast, we caught up with our designated bomber groups. I decided that vigilance took precedent over photography and managed to place the opened camera somewhere in my cockpit.

The haze of a summer noon made visibility less then perfect and it was difficult to make out the results of the bombs bursting 25,000 feet below us. I can't remember any radio chatter from our Playboy Squadron fighters, but apparently the Hun was up and about because an Me-109 popped up out of the haze not 50 feet from my right wingtip. We stared at each other in complete astonishment as I fumbled for my camera. Just as I raised it to snap his picture, he shoved the nose of his plane straight down and black smoke poured from his engine being fire-walled into full emergency boost. I dropped the camera somewhere in the cockpit and started down after him. But he was long gone and invisible in the haze. As quickly as possible I retrieved my camera, folded it up and stowed it back where I hoped it wouldn't jam any of my controls. Never again did I attempt anything so foolish. Later I asked my three other flight members if they had seen the enemy fighter. The reply was negative. I was lucky not to have become a casualty.

The date was April 28, 1944, and was my seventh mission as a fighter pilot with the 31st Fighter Group of the 15th Army Air force. The target was Piombino in the northwest of Italy and as usual I was flying as a wingman to my element leader, a boyish looking ex-Spitfire pilot named Junior Rostrom. As usual, we were providing escort to heavy bombers and were on our way back to base after an uneventful trip. As we neared the Adriatic on the East coast, the radio suddenly came to life announcing that enemy fighters were in the air from the numerous bases around the German stronghold at Ancona. With his experienced eyes Junior picked out a diving Me-109 and latched on behind although not yet in firing range. I was about 500 yards behind and slightly higher with my head on a constant swivel since I saw no other members of our flight or our squadron although the radio was busy with chatter indicating other contacts.

Everything seemed clear around us as Rostrom closed on his target. It was then that I spotted two Me-109's slanting down on me from my right. I was breaking into them as I punched my throttle radio button and told Junior I was leaving him. I'll never know whether he heard me or not. I had a fair amount of speed from our dive and as I turned up and around into the two Me's aiming for me, they sheared away into a climbing turn to port. With my speed and full throttle I rapidly closed on the inside wingman and fired from about 300 yards and all four of my .50s seemed to register. The German ship slowed quickly as black smoke and white coolant poured out in a blinding cloud. I kept firing until I couldn't wait any longer and broke sharply to starboard just in time to meet the other Me-109 who had been closing on me.

I didn't fire because my four-G turn had grayed my vision but I kept turning, easing enough for my vision to come back and found myself about 40 degrees angled off his right rear. He wasn't turning as sharply as I was and the angle decreased as I opened fire. Luckily I scored hits almost immediately and he slowed pouring coolant smoke as I slid through the smoke trail to his left. I was probably not more than fifty yards from him when his canopy came whizzing past me. I waited a few seconds getting the closest look I'd had at a 109 in my short tour. Impatiently I squeezed the trigger again just as a black clad figure climbed out on the left wing. It appeared as if he'd stepped right into my line of fire and I stopped firing. The figure slid off the wing of his ship trailing a long black tether. I watched fascinated as the strap yanked his parachute open. I had not known that the enemy had "static" lines to open their chutes. In fact, that was the first and only time that I actually saw one in action.

Realizing suddenly that I was alone in a hostile environment, a mild panic set in and I never looked to see if the German pilot was hanging limp from his shroud lines so I never knew if he'd stepped into one of my bullets or not. I headed for the Adriatic coast at a good rate of speed while I called on my radio for my element leader. The airwaves were as silent as the clear blue sky. Reaching the coast near Ancona Point I headed south sliding downhill all the time as I looked at the pastel colored houses climbing the cliffs along the seashore. Calling fruitlessly for my leader, I seemed to be the last or one of the last landing on our metal strip at San Severo, an occurrence that happened not infrequently during the rest of my tour. While elated at scoring my first victories my happiness was tempered with a sense of guilt that I had lost my leader. I drank a little more than usual that night with Prybilo, who had been Jr. Rostrom's best friend.

I was credited with one destroyed and one probably destroyed."

Extract from Robert E. Riddle, 31st Fighter Group memoir: http://www.31stfightergroup.com/31stRefere...les/Riddle.html

bobbysocks

04-28-2010, 04:37 PM

Australian Sergeant Pilot Paul Brennan, 249 Squadron:

[4th May 1942]"Almos [Pilot Officer Fred Almos] and Linny [Pilot Officer Ossie Linton] were rather slow getting off the ground and when the fighter sweep came in we were only at 8,000 feet. The Huns caught us as we headed up sun, a little south of Gozo. The 109s were everywhere. Linny and I were at once separated from Mac and Almos. The two of us mixed it with eight 109s in a Hell of a dog-fight. We went into violent steep turns, dived down and pulled up again at them. But the Hun fighters came at us from every direction - from the beam, underneath, astern and head-on. We were separated in a twinkling. The last I saw of Linny was when he was in a vertical dive, skidding and twisting like blazes, with four 109s hotly pursuing him. It seemed to me as if I had been throwing my aircraft about for an hour, although probably it was less than five minutes, when a Hun blundered. He made a belly attack on me, missed and overshot. He pulled straight up ahead of me. He was a sitting target. I gave him four seconds. He went into a spin, pouring glycol. During the next few minutes, by manoeuvring violently, I succeded in shaking off the other 109s.

I called up Linny and learning he was over Ta-Kali, joined him there. Woody [Group Captain A. B. Woodhall, Senior Controller] reported that some 109s, low down, were off the harbour and we went out to meet them. As we crossed the coast, however, Almos called up that Mac was in trouble and wanted to land. Followed by Linny, I turned back to give Mac cover. We were approaching Ta-Kali when I saw him. He was gliding across the aerodrome at 5,000 feet and seemed to be under control. As I watched his aircraft gave a sudden lurch, side-slipped about 1,000 feet, and then seemed to come under control again. I did not like the look of things. I called up: 'Mac, if you're not okay, for God's sake bale out. I will cover you.' There was no reply. A couple of seconds later his aircraft gave another lurch, went into a vertical dive and crashed at Naxxar, a mile from the aerodrome. Almos and Linny landed while I covered them in but it was some time before I was able to get in myself.

Everybody was down in the dumps over Mac. We felt his loss very keenly. He was one of the finest pilots and had shot down at least eight Huns. He had been one of the first Spitfire pilots awarded the DFC for operations over Malta and he had richly earned his gong. At the time of his death he was acting CO of the squadron but neither that nor the fact that I was merely a sergeant-pilot had prevented us from being the best of cobbers. We had made many plans against our return to England."

"The Japanese aircraft were considerably more manoeuvrable than ours were. If we got down and mixed it with them at low altitude we were in trouble because we couldn't accelerate away from them unless we had a bit of height to dive away and they could run rings round us. The Japs at that stage were flying fixed-undercarriage monoplanes called Army 97s. They were extremely light and, for their weight, had very powerful engines but not much in the way of gunfire. They also didn't have any armour plating behind them. If you got a good squirt at them they used to fold up.

They really worked, those Japs. One Jap that I shot down had deliberately crash-landed, trying to dive into a revetment with a Blenheim there. We got the whole aircraft and body and everything else - he'd got 27 bullets in him and he was still flying that thing around the airfield looking for a target. They always used to try to dive into something. That was what we were up against. We also had to deal with an appalling lack of facilities - no spares, no tools, no equipment. Sometimes, to get an engine out, we wheeled a plane under a palm tree, pulled the tree down, tied it to the engine and slowly released it. Often we cannibalised one aircraft to keep others going.

When we made our first advance against the Japanese down the Arakan border with Burma, I flew to a recently repaired airfield at Cox's Bazaar to test its suitability for operations. On the return journey I had to refuel at Chittagong, which had only emergency fuel supplies on it. The refuelling party were in the process of finishing their job, and I was in the cockpit waiting to start up, when I noticed a number of fighter aircraft appear from behind a cloud - about 27 in all. I knew they must be Japanese because we didn't have that many aircraft in the place.

Being without radar cover or any other warning was always a hazard, and here it was in large lumps! I started my engine, yelled to the ground crew to get under cover, and then had to taxi a long way to get to the end of the runway. I opened up but long before I was airborne the bullets were flying and kicking up the dust around me. I got up in the air and immediately began to jink and skid to make myself an awkward target. I was helped by my own fury with myself for having been stupid enough to take off into such a suicidal position! However, luck was with me again and I led the Japs on my tail up the river at absolutely nought feet between the river boats, finally working my way up into the hills and leading them away from their own base at Akyab. Eventually they had to break off - I suppose their fuel was getting low. I thought I saw one of them crash behind me but that was never confirmed. I really lost a lot of weight on that sortie."

Frank Carey quoted in: "Forgotten Voices of the Second World War", Max Arthur, Ebury Press/IWM 2004.

"Gp Captain Frank Carey One of the highest scoring British fighter pilots of the 1939-45 War; entered the RAF in 1927 as a 15-year-old apprentice; earned 25 kills in the Battle of Britain and in Burma; was awarded the US Silver Star and appointed CBE in 1960; retired from the RAF in '62 and joined Rolls-Royce as its aero division representative in Australia, New Zealand and Fiji; retired to Britain in '74; died Dec. 6, 2004, aged 92.

http://www.battleofbritain.net/bobhsoc/obit-carey.html Obituary"

"Mechili was still in enemy hands and on the 18th I flew down the track once again to check on the situation with Masher as my cover... It was a long haul down the desert track and when I arrived at Mechili, being unfamiliar with the area, I blundered on the German landing ground. It was marked on my map and I had planned to give it a wide berth, but the country was so featureless that I couldn't check my position accurately. The field was crammed with aircraft of all kinds.

A twin-engined Me 110 was on the approach with its wheels down, a perfect sitter. I was at about the same height, 600 feet and so close that it would have been easy to shoot it down. We seem to have been unrecognised as British planes and there was no anti-aircraft fire. Mechili had been over a hundred miles behind the lines for the past six months and, apart from a few sneaky reconnaissance sorties, the people there had not seen much invasion of their airspace. The recent fighter sweeps and bomber attacks had all been concentrated in the Gazala region where the ground fighting was taking place.

"I'm going to get this one", I shouted to Masher.

Get close. One burst. Then disappear, I mutter to myself. I was almost within range, tense as a drum, leaning forward against my straps to peer through the sight.

"Three MEs overhead", Masher's voice crackled, spoiling my dreams.

I looked up. They were 3000 feet above us in loose line astern formation.

I cursed and turned steeply away, diving to ground level, watching with increasing bitterness as the fighters flew blandly north, ignoring us. Another thirty seconds and I could have pressed the tit on my spade stick and blown the Messerschmitt out of the sky.

Why didn't I hang on for a few extra ticks and finish the job? I was disgusted with myself. If the MEs had peeled off to attack us, it would have been a different matter. But they weren't even looking at us.

Ray Hudson would have shot the bugger down, I grumbled to myself, as I headed east along the Trigh Capuzzo toward the safety of our own lines. He'd have escaped in the confusion and chalked another one up. I've become too timid. A clapped out recce boy, an escape artist, a Houdini of the airways, a counter of tanks and transport for the army. It was my last chance. Damn those German fighters!

I glanced back at Masher's Hurricane, weaving steadily behind my tail. I pressed my speak button.

"Damn those German fighters", I said.

Masher didn't reply."

From: Wing Commander Geoffrey Morley-Mower DFC, AFC, "Messerschmitt Roulette: The Western Desert 1941-2", Phalanx Books 1993.

bobbysocks

04-28-2010, 04:46 PM

and last for the week....a really good story of uncommon compassion and chivalry from a Luftwaffe ace to the crew of a B17. its a long read with both sides of the story. the story is copyrighted so as to not subject this forum or myself to possible infringement i will simply post the link. but it is worth the time to read.

http://www.aviationartstore.com/chivalry_in_the_air.htm

Rambo Rich 360

04-28-2010, 05:13 PM

Wow! Great stuff there Bobbysocks. Thank you for posting.

winny

04-28-2010, 07:44 PM

Yeah, good stuff as usual Dale..

Is the guy in your avatar pic your Father? Just noticed it.

bobbysocks

04-28-2010, 07:47 PM

thanks, i find the stuff facinating and hope others do. i even found some russian stuff...

yeah...that's me dad. my favorite pic of him from back then.

winny

04-28-2010, 07:50 PM

thanks, i find the stuff facinating and hope others do. i even found some russian stuff...

yeah...that's me dad. my favorite pic of him from back then.

What's your dads name?

The russian stuff would go down well on here :)

bobbysocks

04-28-2010, 08:14 PM

Dale E. Karger 357th fighter group 364th squadron. yeah i figured there is enough russian fans here. but found a lot of brit, aussie, and nz stuff from early in the war. what i like about these stories is the humanity aspect. you read where they laughed, cried, were scared as hell, and felt sorry....things we tend to over look.

bobbysocks

04-28-2010, 08:20 PM

ok one more for the soviet boys here.

A 9th AF Group, identified as the 357th Fighter Group, was located at an airbase designated R-85 near Neubilburg, on the outskirts of Munich, Germany. This Group had been transferred out of the 8th AF into the 9th, to serve as a part of the Occupational Forces. The move from Leiston, England to Germany was made shortly after the surrender of The Third Reich in mid-1945. The 357th was equipped with P-51 planes.

On afternoon, without announcement, a strange aircraft approached R-85 to land. Capt. (Earl Duke) Botti, the control tower operator, attempted radio contact with it's pilot, but to no avail. As the plane passed the control tower, Earl Duke saw the Red Star on its fuselage and he realized that he had a problem on his hands. He immediately contacted Major Hunt for advice. The plane, a Yak 9, stopped down near the hanger area and a Jeep and an emergency vehicle closed off its escape. The battery was removed from the Russian plane and the pilot was placed under Base Arrest until Higher Headquarters could be contacted from instructions. The pilot may have been lost, low on fuel, or in an act of desertion or sent there for intelligence purposes by Russian Higher Command. There were many questions awaiting answers.

Each day one of our pilots were assigned to accompany the Russian pilot and to closely watch on his behavior and to prevent him from entering areas important to Base Operations.

An interpreter was located so some communication could be carried on with the Russian. Many questions were asked but little information was learned.

I was not on Base at the time of this excitement. I departed early the next morning on another duty assignment for the A-4 section. Most of my information had to come from others who were more directly involved in the events of the next few weeks. Lt. Lawrence Westphal of the 364th FS related to me the following, "We had a brief encounter with several replacement pilots who had recently transferred into the 357th from the ATC and had been flying C-47s. They were to be checked out in P-51s. Late one afternoon three or four of these ATC boys were watching a pilot above wring-out a P-51, I think the pilot doing the wringing was Major Bockay. Soon the replacement pilot and his escort joined the crowd. One of the replacement pilots, remarked, 'That looks to me like a good way to bust ones butt.' Immediately, thru an interpreter, the Russian Pilot replied, "What's the matter, you afraid to die?"

Lt. G. A. Robinson of the 362nd FS told me that he had two tours with the Russian. He learned that the Russian claimed to have a total of forty flying hours and only nine of actual combat. One time just at Retreat time, they were walking across the drill field and heard the Bugler blowing Taps; the Russian began to smile and finally broke out into a laugh at the sound of the Bugle. Lt. Robinson asked the interpreter, "Why such a strange reaction?" The Russian pilot only shook his head but gave no reply. This made Lt. Robinson wonder if the Russian Pilot had lost his marbles.

Finally word came down from Higher Headquarters to release the Russian. In refueling his plane and checking it over, it was discovered that most of the air, held in a compression tank in the fuselage, had leaked out. This was necessary to raise and lower the two main landing wheels. Capt Robert Lynch of the 469th Squadron and two of his men were called in to correct the problem. However, they found that their tools and fittings would not function with the metric connections of the Yak and no repair could be made.

Lt. Westphal asked me if I was on the flight line when the Russian took-off? I replied that I was away from the base at the time, he said, "You missed a good show, when the Yak left the runway one wheel was dangling and the other was only three quarters of the way up. He did a 180 and came back very low and did three rolls very low on the deck. I'm sure I would not attempt such a trick with one wheel hanging down like that."

The Yak turned toward the east and soon faded out of sight. That was the last known about the Russian Pilot however, many of our boys wondered what kind of a reception he received when he reached his home base.

Davedog74

04-29-2010, 12:47 PM

this is a great thread,words from people who done it for real

raf combat reports seem to have no emotion
this is part of eric lock's report from september 14th 1940 ,flying from raf hornchurch ON HIS OWN on a spotter patrol.at 32.000 ft eric observes 12 109s below him at 25.000ft, allways the hunter .......

i attacked the last section of the formation,which were flying in a diamond shape.i was just about to close in,when i was attacked from above by some 109s .they pealed off from about 3,000 feet above and carried out a head on attack on me.i waited till one of them was in range,and gave him a long burst of fire.he passed a few feet above me i carried out a sharp turn to the right and saw him in flames.just then i was attacked again from head on.i waited till he was at point blank range.i saw my bullets go into the enemy aircraft ,and as he was about to go beneath me i gave me him another burst .
i then saw more enemy aircraft coming down on me ,so i half rolled and dived through the clouds.i had just passed through the clouds when i saw someone who had bailed out,i followed him down to the ground. i saw some of our troops rush up to him,and he appeared to be holding up his arms.i flew low over the field and he waved back.this was afterwards confirmed by the police.

i wonder how many 109s eric actually tangled with that day?

bobbysocks

04-29-2010, 04:05 PM

combat reports were very ...as Jack Webb used to say in the series Dragnet "just the facts, Mam." its their reminiscings ( sp ) from interviews or books where they let their hair down and convey feelings. it always amazed me how these guys would jump a numerically superior enemy without hesitation.

bobbysocks

04-29-2010, 04:16 PM

desert rescue

This incident happened on 21 December 1942, 150 miles south of Cirte, while Bobby Gibbes was leading six Kittyhawks on a reconnaissance over Hun, an Italian aerodrome.

Sergeant "Stuka" Bee's aircraft was set on fire by the aerodrome defence gunfire and at the same time, Pilot Officer Rex Bayly called up to say that his motor had been hit and that he was carrying out a forced landing. As Sergeant Bee had a lot of speed from his dive and was flaming badly, I advised him to climb up and bail out instead of trying to belly land his aircraft at high speed. He mightn't have heard me, or perhaps was badly wounded or even dead, as his speed had not decreased when he hit the ground. His aircraft rolled up into a ball, an inferno of flames. He didn't have a chance.

I circled and watched the Italians, showing great courage, send out an ambulance in an attempt to save him, but the outcome was obvious. It was later confirmed that he had been killed.

In the meantime, Rex Bayly crash landed his aircraft nearly a mile from the aerodrome, and on coming to a stop, called up on his radio to say that he was O.K. His aircraft did not burn. I asked him what the area was like for a landing to pick him up, and ordered the other three aircraft to keep me covered and to stop any ground forces coming out after him. He told me that the area was impossible, and asked me to leave him, but I flew down to look for myself. I found a suitable area about 3 miles further out and advised Bayly that I was landing, and to get weaving out to me.

I was nervous about this landing, in case shrapnel might have damaged my tyres, as on my first run through the aerodrome, my initial burst set an aircraft on fire. I had then flown across the aerodrome and fired from low level and at close range at a Savoia 79. It must have been loaded with ammunition as it blew up, hurling debris 500 feet into the air. I was too close to it to do anything about avoiding the blast and flew straight through the centre of the explosion at nought feet. On passing through, my aircraft dropped its nose, despite pulling my stick back, and for a terrifying moment, I thought that my tail plane had been blown off. On clearing the concussion area, I regained control, missing the ground by a matter of only a few feet. Quite a number of small holes had been punched right through my wings from below, but my aircraft appeared to be quite serviceable.

I touched down rather carefully in order to check that my tyres had not been punctured, and then taxied by a devious route for about a mile or more until I was stopped from getting closer to Bayly by a deep wadi. Realizing that I would have a long wait, and being in a state of sheer funk, I proceeded to take off my belly tank to lighten the aircraft. The weight of the partially full tank created great difficulty, and I needed all my strength in pulling it from below the aircraft and dragging it clear. I was not sure that I would be able to find my way back to the area where I had landed, so I stepped out the maximum run into wind from my present position. In all, I had just 300 yards before the ground dipped away into a wadi. I tied my handkerchief onto a small camel's thorn bush to mark the point of aim, and the limit of my available take off-run, and then returned to my aircraft, CV-V, and waited.

My aircraft continued to circle overhead, carrying out an occasional dive towards the town in order to discourage any attempt to pick us up. After what seemed like an age, sitting within gun range of Hun, Bayly at last appeared, puffing, and sweating profusely. He still managed a smile and a greeting.

I tossed away my parachute and Bayly climbed into the cockpit. I climbed in after him and using him as my seat, I proceeded to start my motor. It was with great relief that we heard the engine fire, and opening my throttle beyond all normal limits, I stood on the brakes until I had obtained full power, and then released them, and, as we surged forward, I extended a little flap. My handkerchief rushed up at an alarming rate, and we had not reached flying speed as we passed over it and down the slope of the wadi. Hauling the stick back a small fraction, I managed to ease the aircraft into the air, but we hit the other side of the wadi with a terrific thud. We were flung back into the air, still not really flying, and to my horror, I saw my port wheel rolling back below the trailing edge of the wing, in the dust stream. The next ridge loomed up and it looked as if it was to be curtains for us, as I could never clear it. I deliberately dropped my starboard wing to take the bounce on my remaining wheel, and eased the stick back just enough to avoid flicking. To my great relief we cleared the ridge and were flying.

Retracting my undercart and the small amount of take off flap, we climbed up. I was shaking like a leaf and tried to talk to Bayly but noise would not permit. The remaining three aircraft formed up alongside me and we hared for home, praying the while that we would not be intercepted by enemy fighters, who should by now, have been alerted. Luck remained with us, and we didn't see any enemy aircraft.

On nearing Marble Arch, I asked Squadron Leader Watt to fly beneath my aircraft to confirm that I had really lost a wheel and had not imagined it. He confirmed that my wheel had gone, but that the starboard wheel and undercart appeared to be intact. I then had to make up my mind as to whether to carry out a belly landing, thus damaging my aircraft further, or to try to attempt a one wheel landing, which I thought I could do. We were at the time very short of aircraft and every machine counted.

The latter, of course, could be dangerous, so before making a final decision, I wrote a message on my map asking Bayly if he minded if I carried out a one wheel landing. He read my message and nodded his agreement.

Calling up our ground control, I asked them to have an ambulance standing by, and told them that I intended coming in cross wind with my port wing up wind. Control queried my decision but accepted it.

I made a landing on my starboard wheel, keeping my wing up with aileron and, as I lost speed, I turned the aircraft slowly to the left throwing the weight out. When I neared a complete wing stall, I kicked on hard port rudder and the aircraft turned further to port. Luck was with me and the aircraft remained balanced until it lost almost all speed. The port oleo leg suddenly touched the ground, and the machine completed a ground loop. The port flap was slightly damaged as was the wingtip. The propeller and the rest of the aircraft sustained no further damage. The port undercart was changed, the flap repaired, the holes patched up and the aircraft was flying again on the 27th of the month, only six days after Hun.

Every enemy aircraft on Hun was either destroyed or damaged. Six aircraft and one glider were burnt, and five other aircraft were badly damaged. The bag included two JU52s, two Savoia 795, one JU88, one Messerschmitt 110, one CR42, one HS126 and two gliders. I was later to be awarded the DSO and this operation was mentioned as having a bearing on the award.

From Manston:

Johnny Kent, CO 92 Squadron, which was on "soul-destroying convoy patrol work"
from Manston, Kent from January-February 1941:

"On one of these patrols the formation leader was startled to see one of the ships explode; his first thought was that it must have struck a mine but then, to his amazement, he saw one lone Stuka low on the water heading for France. He and the other three dived to the attack and the German pilot, seeing the Spitfires after him, turned and made for Manston - presumably to give himself up, as he had no hope of survival in a fight.

The night before this episode some of the officers had been saying that if they brought down a German in one piece the thing to do would be to take him to the Mess and entertain him before bundling him off to a POW camp. I did not feel that there was any place for the chivalry displayed in the First World War and I gave the boys a little lecture on the reasons they were there, this boiled down to first defending the country and secondly to killing as many of the enemy as possible - and they had better get that firmly into their heads. They learned their lesson very well.

Having been on the first patrol of the morning, I had been back to the Mess for breakfast and was just returning to Dispersal when I heard gunfire. I stopped the car and got out to stare in amazement at the sight of one lone Stuka weaving madly in an attempt to avoid the attentions of four Spitfires. All five were coming straight towards me and it occurred to me that I was in the line of fire so I hid behind a vehicle that was handy. Then I saw a notice on it reading '100 Octane' - it was one of the refuelling bowsers. So I darted back to my car! Just as I reached it the Stuka reached the edge of the airfield almost directly above me at about a hundred feet. Here he was headed off by one of the Spitfires and I could clearly see both gunner and pilot in their cockpits with the De Wilde ammunition bursting around them.

The Spitfire overshot and pulled away and the German made another desperate attempt to land and turned violently to port but at this instant Pilot Officer Folkes, in my aeroplane, flashed past me and gave a short burst with the cannons. I can still hear the 'thump-thump-thump' of them followed by the terrific 'whoosh' as the Stuka blew up and crashed just outside the boundary of the airfield.

My words had been taken rather too literally as it would have been better to let him land; at that time we did not possess an intact Stuka and it would have been very useful, particularly in setting at rest the minds of those vociferous Members of Parliament who complained so long and so loudly about the fact that the RAF had no comparable dive-bomber and in so doing gave the Stuka an importance it did not deserve - certainly not in attacks on England.

The German crew, both of whom were killed, were a very brave, if foolhardy, pair. They had come over alone from their base in Belgium, bombed and sunk the ship right under the noses of the fighters while they must have known that their chances of getting home were practically non-existent."

From Johnny Kent, "One of the Few", Tempus Press 2000.

Tony Bartley, an officer in 92 Squadron, gives another view of the same incident:

"A week later [than January 10th] two sections of our team shot up a Ju87 who had been attacking one of our ships, a fishing trawler off Ramsgate. The pilot knew that his only escape route was to force land on our airfield and made a desperate attempt to do so. Sammy Saunders called off his section when he realised the scenario but suddenly a Spitfire zeroed in and shot the Junkers' wing off with a burst of cannon fire. We were horrified to see the enemy dive into the ground and burst into flames. Outraged that anyone could have shot a practically sitting bird. Not cricket. The culprit, a sergeant pilot, was less sympathetic. The Adjutant told us later that his wife and child had been killed in an air raid, the previous month."

From: Tony Bartley, "Smoke Trails in the Sky", Crecy Publishing 1997.

bobbysocks

04-29-2010, 04:18 PM

James MacLachlan, 261 Squadron, diary for 16 February 1941, on Malta:

"At about 9.15 we were ordered to scramble, and climbed to 20,000 feet. We were still climbing over Luqa when six Me 109s screamed down on us out of the sun. We immediately broke away and formed a rather wide circle. Just as I took my place in the circle I saw four more Messerschmitts coming down out of the sun. I turned back under them and they all overshot me. I looked round very carefully, but could see nothing, so turned back on to the tail of the nearest Hun who was chasing some Hurricanes in front of him. We were all turning gently to port, so I cut the corner and was slowly closing in on the Hun. I was determined to get him, and must have been concentrating so intently on his movements that, like a fool, I forgot to look in the mirror until it was too late. Suddenly there was a crash in my cockpit - bits and pieces seemed to fly everywhere.

Instinctively I went into a steep spiral dive, furiously angry that I had been beaten at my own game. My left arm was dripping with blood, and when I tried to raise it only the top part moved, the rest hung limply by my side. Everything happened so quickly that I have no very clear recollection of what actually took place. I remember opening my hood, disconnecting my oxygen and R/T connections and standing up in the cockpit. The next thing I saw was my kite diving away from me, the roar of its engine gradually fading as it plunged earthwards. It was a marvellous feeling to be safely out of it; everything seemed so quiet and peaceful. I could hear the roar of engines above me and distinctly heard one burst of cannon fire. I could not see what was happening as I was falling upside down and my legs obscured all view of the aircraft above me. My arm was beginning to hurt pretty badly, so I decided to pull my chute right away in case I fainted from loss of blood. I reached round for my ripcord but could not find it. For some unknown reason I thought my chute must have been torn off me while I was getting out of my kite and almost gave up making any further efforts to save myself. I remember thinking that the whole process of being shot down, and being killed, seemed very much simpler and less horrible than I had always imagined. There was just going to be a big thud when I hit the deck and all would be over - my arm would stop hurting and no more 109s could make dirty passes at me behind my back.

I think I must have been gradually going off into a faint when suddenly I thought of Mother reading the telegram saying that I had been killed in action. I made one last effort to see if my parachute was still there and to my amazement and relief found that it had not been torn off after all. With anoter suprheme effort I reached round and pulled the rip cord. There was a sickening lurch as my chute opened and my harness tightened round me so that I could hardly breathe. I felt horribly ill and faint. Blood from my arm came streaming back into my face, in spite of the fact that I was holding the stump as tightly as I could. I could only breathe with the utmost difficulty and my arm hurt like Hell. I could see Malta spread out like a map 15,000 ft below me and I longed to be down there - just to lie still and die peacefully. I was woken from this stupor by the roar of an engine and naturally thought some bloodthirsty Gerry had come to finish me off. I don't think I really minded what happened; certainly the thought of a few more cannon shells flying past me didn't exactly cheer me up. To my joy, however, I saw that my escort was a Hurricane piloted, as I learned later, by Eric Taylor.He ahd quite rightly decided that he could do no good by playing with the Huns at 20,000 ft, so came down to see that none of them got me.

For what seemed like hours I hung there, apparently motionless, with Malta still as far away as ever. Once or twice I started swinging very badly, but as I was using my only hand to stop myself bleeding to death, I was unable to do anything about it. At about 1,500 ft I opened my eyes again, and to my joy saw that I was very much lower down. For a little while I was afraid I was going to land in the middle of a town, but I mercifully drifted to the edge of this. For the last 100 ft I seemed to drop out of the sky - the flat roof of a house came rushing up at me, and just as I was about to land on it, it dodged to one side and I ended up in a little patch of green wheat. I hit the ground with a terrific thud, rolled over once or twice, and then lay back intending to die quietly. This, however, was not to be.

Scarcely had I got myself comfortable and closed my eyes, when I heard the sound of people running. I hurriedly tried to think up some famous last words to give my public but never had a chance to utter them. I was surrounded by a crowd of shouting, gesticulating Malts, who pulled at my parachute, lifted my head and drove me so furious that I had to give up the dying idea in order to concentrate completely on kicking every Malt who came within range. From what the pongos [army] told me after I believe I registered some rather effective shots.

Eventually two very dim army stretcher-bearers arrived with a first-aid outfit. I told them to put a tourniquet on my arm and give me some morphia, whereupon one of them started to bandage my wrist and the other went off to ask what morphia was. In the end I got them to give me the first-aid outfit and fixed myself up. At last a doctor arrived who actually knew what to do. He put me on a stretcher, had me carried about half a mile across fields to an ambulance, which in turn took me down to the local advanced field dressing station. Here they filled me with morphia, gave me ether, and put my arm in a rough splint. When I came round they gave me a large tot of whisky, another injection of morphia and sent me off to Imtarfa as drunk as a lord. When I eventually arrived at the hospital I was feeling in the best of spirits and apparently shook the sisters by asking them to have a drink with me."

[quoted in Antony Rogers, "Battle over Malta: Aircraft Losses and Crash Sites 1940-42", Sutton Publishing 2000]

prologue:

"James Archibald Findlay MacLachlan - known as "Jay" to his family, "Mac" to his friends and tagged "One-Armed Mac" by the press - is a true hero of World War II. Having lost his arm following combat over Malta, he was fitted with an artificial limb and continued to fight - way beyond the call of duty. It was perhaps inevitable that he would lose his life in action but along the way this modest man inspired other amputees who wanted to get back into the war. Mac flew Fairey Battle light bombers during the Battle of France, winning his first DFC. He then retrained on fighters and flew Hurricanes towards the end of the Battle of Britain. Having volunteered to go overseas, he led a formation of six Hurricanes from the deck of the aircraft carrier HMS Argus to the besieged island of Malta. Here, following several weeks of intense air combat during which he accounted for eight Italian and German aircraft, he was shot down by one of the Luftwaffe's top fighter aces, Oblt Joachim Muncheberg. Severely wounded in the left arm, he nonetheless parachuted over the island and was rushed to hospital. The arm could not be saved. However, within 16 days of the amputation, he persuaded his CO to allow him to fly a Magister two-seater, initially accompanied by another pilot, before going solo! On his return to England, where he was fitted with an artificial arm, Mac was soon given command of No1 Squadron equipped with Hurricane IICs for night intruder operations. By the end of 1942 he had accounted for five German night bombers and had been awarded the DSO and a Bar to his DFC, plus the Czech Military Cross. Following a six-month goodwill trip to the United States, where he was feted as a fighter pilot hero wherever he went, he returned to operations with the Air Fighting Development Unit. In company with Geoffrey Page, he participated in the destruction of six Luftwaffe training aircraft in one single sortie; but, on his next mission, his Mustang was hit by ground fire when crossing the French coast and crash-landed, with Mac critically injured. Taken prisoner, he died in captivity on 31 July 1943. Based on his diaries and letters, this is Mac's story, mainly told in his own words."

Dont visit the prisoners:

"When we shot the Germans and Italians down, we used to go and see them in hospital at Imtarfa - but one day I stopped the squadron from doing it. It was at the beginning of July [1942] and I was nearing the end of my time with the squadron. There was a raid and Woodhall was controlling it. He'd talked this raid through, giving us a brilliant running commentary. There were three Italian bombers in a tight V formation, with a great beehive of fighter escorts - about 80 plus Me109s and Macchi 202s - and the whole idea was that the bombers were decoys. There were ten of us - I had a four, Raoul Daddo-Langlois had a four and the New Zealander, Jack Rae, was leading his pair of two. We were flying in line-abreast, as we always did. Woodhall had got us into this marvellous position, up-sun, and at about 26,000 feet. I had pushed the thing up another 2000 because you never lost anything by having excess height. Bader always had this piece of doggerel that he used to recite, "He who has the sun creates surprise. He who has the height controls the battle. He who gets in close shoots them down."

We were now about 5,000 or 6,000 feet above these fellows, so I said to my guys, "Look we've got bags of height - we've got the sun but there are a lot of 109s about, so we'll go straight through the lot of them and have a go at the three bombers. After that, we go straight down to the deck." We went steaming into these bloody things. I had a go at the bomber on the left and saw it disintegrate, going down in flames. I saw Raoul's go falling away, and then Jack came through and knocked out the bomber in the middle. All three of them went down in flames, then I said, "Now roll on to your backs, fellers, and go down to the deck. There are far too many 109s about to stay and mix it." So we went down and landed at Takali.

The next day, I took two or three of the fellows who had been flying that day, plus one of the chaps from Headquarters who could speak Italian, to the hospital where all the Italians who had baled out were in bed. I walked across to the bed on the left of the ward and there was this good-looking young Italian with his arm all bandaged up. The interpreter said to him, "This is the CO of the squadron which shot your aeroplanes down, and these are some of the rest of the squadron." And this young Italian, who couldn't speak English, held up his hand and said, through the interpreter, "I have lost my hand." It made me feel terrible. Then the interpreter asked him, "What did you do in peacetime?" and the boy just said, "I was a professional violinist." I said to the chaps, "I'm going out now", and I waited for them until they had finished talking to the Italians. Then I said to them, "Look here, we are never going to visit these wounded prisoners in hospital again when there is an emotive injury or wound. It is so terrible and bad for morale. I can't stand it." For weeks after, long after I'd come back from Malta, I used to wake up in the middle of the night, thinking about it. It was a dreadful thing, because I had no feeling of hate for these people."

Squadron Leader "Laddie" Lucas, 249 Squadron (Later Wing Commander, CBE, DSO, DFC), quoted in "Forgotten Voices of the Second World War", Random House/Imperial War Museum 2004.

The young wounded Italian was the only survivor of his crew.

bobbysocks

04-30-2010, 04:31 PM

B17 stuff

Account of Maneuvers: B-17 (42-39957) Halberstadt, Germany on 11 JANUARY
1944.

1st Lt. JOHN W. RAEDEKE US Army Air Corp sends.....

Took off at 0745 o'clock with a load of 2300 gallons of gasoline, 6000
pounds of bombs, full load of ammunition, and the usual weight of men and
equipment. Everything on plane was in perfect working order. Joined the
group formation at 1010 and flew into target without incident but was forced
to use 2400 R.P.M. and 40" HG at times. Dropped our bombs at 11:52 o'clock,
everything still in good shape.

At 1200 o'clock we were hit by fighters which stayed with us for one hour
and fifty minutes. They attacked us from 5-7 o'clock position at first and
gradually as more enemy fighters joined they attacked us from 3-9 o'clock
positions. We were flying "Tail End Charlie", #7 position. The fighters
created much excitement among the squadron, resulting in more power being
applied to the engines. We were forced to use 2500 R.P.M. and 40"-46" almost
continuously.

About 1245 o'clock more enemy fighters joined the attack and finally we
were
being attacked from all positions on the clock, high and low. The plane was
vibrating and pitching unbelievably as a result of all guns firing, fighting
prop-wash, and evading collision with our own as well as enemy planes. Enemy
fighters would come through our formation from 1200 o'clock position, level
in groups of 20-40 at one time all shooting. The sky in front. of us was a
solid mass of exploding 20 M.M. shells, flak, rockets, burning aircraft, and
more enemy fighters. B-17's were going down in flames every 15 minutes and
enemy fighters seemed to explode or go down in smoke like flies dropping out
of the sky.

The "Luftwaffe" attacked us in ME 109's, ME 210's, FW 190's, JU 88's, and
some we couldn't identify. The enemy fighters made suicidal attacks at us
continuously, coming into about fifty feet before turning away. It seemed
that the greater part of the attack was aimed at our ship, perhaps for the
following reason. Our ship was the only one in the group that was not firing
tracer bullets and they apparently thought we had no guns or were out of
ammunition.

The heaviest assault and the one that damaged us happened as follows. At
approximately 1330 o'clock we were attacked by another group of enemy
fighters numbering about forty which came at us again from 1200 o'clock
position, level in formation pattern. Again, we saw that solid wall of
exploding shells and fighters. This time we were flying #3 position in the
second element of the lead squadron. As they came in the top turret gunner
of our ship nailed a FW 190 which burst into flames, nosed up and to its
left, thus colliding with the B-17 flying #2 position of the second element
on our right. Immediately upon colliding this B-17 burst into flames,
started into a loop but fell off on its left wing and across our tail. We
were really hit and we had "Had It". At the time we were thus stricken we
were using a full power setting of 2500 R.P.M. and 40"-46" Hg. Our I.A.S.
was approximately 165 M.P.H. and our altitude was 19,000 feet.

Immediately upon being hit by the falling B-17 we were nosed up and went
into a loop. Confusion, no less, and embarrassment. Pilot called crew at
once and ordered them to prepare to bail out. Response was instantaneous and
miraculously proficient. Not one crew member grew frantic or lost his head,
so to speak. All stood ready at their stations to abandon the ship. The
action of the Pilot regarding the handling of the ship was as follows. As
quickly as we were hit we engaged the A.F.C.E. which was set up for level
flying. Full power was applied with throttle and both Pilot and Co-Pilot
began the struggle with the manual controls.

It was noted at once that the rudder control was out because the rudder
pedals could not be moved. In only a fraction of a second the ship had
completed a beautiful loop and was now merrily spinning toward the ground,
with five enemy fighters following on the tail. Although the spin seemed
flat and rather slow it was vicious and we were losing altitude fast. As
soon as we had completed the loop and had fallen into a spin the Pilot,
having full confidence in a prayer, recalled the crew members and ordered
them to stand by for a little while longer.

"Guts" discipline, and confidence in their Pilot was certainly displayed by
the crew by the fact that they stayed with the ship. To return to the spin
and its final recovery. When the ship fell into a spin the Pilot after
determining its direction applied full inside throttle, retarded the other
two, used only aileron A.F.C.E. control, and applied it in full opposite
position, rolled elevator trim-tab fully forward, and in addition both
pilots applied full forward position on control column, plus full opposite
aileron. After making at least two or three complete 360-degree turns, the
ship finally swept into a clean dive at an angle of approximately 45 degrees
from level.

The I.A.S. at this time was approximately 280 M.P.H. The altitude was
approximately 12,000 feet. Power setting was reduced to about 2/3. At this
point it was noted that one enemy fighter was still following on our tail,
therefore seeing a solid undercast below we nosed the ship down and applied
additional power. We were heading for cloud cover at an angle of
approximately 75 degrees to 80 degrees from the level at a speed of about
400 M.P.H. indicated. All this while the aileron was clutched into A.F.C.E.
and was holding wings level. The elevators were controlled entirely by the
trim tab.

At 6000 feet we began easing back the elevator trim tab and slowly started
to level out. Finally leveled off in the clouds at 4000 feet, trimmed the
ship, and engaged elevator clutch of A.F.C.E. Disengaged this every few
seconds to re-trim ship, kept it perfectly level and flying smoothly. The
I.A.S. after leveling off in the clouds was still around 340 M.P.H. but was
dropping off quite rapidly until it reached 200 M.P.H. Maintained an I.A.S.
of 190-200 M.P.H. from then on with a power setting of 2100 R.P.M. and 31"
Hg.

Checked all engine instruments immediately after leveling off and found
everything functioning normally, except the Pilot's directional gyro which
apparently had tumbled. Flew in the cloud cover for about ten (10) minutes
then came out above to check for more enemy fighters. Saw one fighter after
several minutes at five (5) O'clock position high so we ducked back into the
clouds for about ten minutes longer. Came out again and found everything
clear.

Rode the top of the clouds all the way back across the North Sea. The point
where we first entered the cloud cover was about thirty (30) minutes flying
time (at our speed) from the enemy sea coast. An interesting point which
occurred was that we came out of our spin and dive on a heading of 270
degrees which fortunately was our heading home. Immediately after we had
leveled off in the clouds each crew member reported into the Co-Pilot that
he was back at his station and manning his guns. No particular excitement or
scare was apparent for the crew members started a merry chatter over the
interphone.

During the violent maneuvers of the loop the left waist gunner, S/Sgt.
Warren Carson, was thrown about in the waist of the ship resulting in a
fractured leg. However, he did remain at his guns until the chances of more
enemy attacks was nil. After we were well out over the North Sea the injured
waist gunner was moved to the radio room where he was treated and made
comfortable by the Bombardier who went back to assist.

At this time also the Co-Pilot went to the rear of the ship to examine the
Control cables and make a general survey of the damage to the tail section.
He reported that about 1/3 of the left horizontal stabilizer and elevator
were off and that almost the entire vertical stabilizer and rudder had been
sheared off but that all control cables were O.K. However, the ship was
functioning quite normally except for the fact that we had to make turns
with aileron only. It also seemed to fly quite smoothly in spite of the
missing vertical stabilizer and rudder. It was therefore decided by the
pilot that a normal landing could be attempted.

Reaching the English coast we headed for our home field but the weather had
closed in and the ceiling was getting lower as we neared our field.
'Finally, we were forced to fly at tree-top heights in order to stay out of
the clouds, thus getting lost. All radio equipment was out and we were not
sure where the field was. Finally it began to rain, besides our other
trouble, so we decided to land at the first field we found. Pilot ordered
all crew members to radio room to prepare for crash landing. However, the
Navigator volunteered to remain in the nose of the ship to direct the Pilot
and Co-Pilot in their approach to the field and a final landing.

The landing was accomplished in the normal manner, taking advantage of a
slightly longer approach. Picked the longest runway which suited the wind
direction but still had to contend with a cross wind. With the aid of the
Navigator's directions we made a low approach to the runway, correcting for
draft by holding the windward wing low and holding it straight by jockeying
the throttles. "No, your wrong", we greased it on.

Made a perfect landing. After setting it on the ground it was noted that
the
right tire was flat However, this did not trouble us because the ship was
stalled out at low speed and slowed down immediately by use of brakes. It
was noted that the ship was almost dry of fuel. Positively no stress was
placed on the ship in landing. It was a landing as any normal landing would
be.

We now know from experience that a B-17 will loop, spin, pull out of a dive
when indicating 400 M.P.H., fly without a rudder and very little horizontal
stabilizer, and will land normally without a rudder and a flat tire added.
The "guts", courage, and confidence displayed by the crew of this mission is
highly commendable. The navigator displayed extreme courage when he
volunteered to remain in the nose to direct the Pilot in landing in almost
zero weather. The Co-Pilot deserves special commendation for his capable
assistance in maneuvering this ship, guarding the engine, his careful survey
of the damage, his assistance in determining the possibility of a safe
landing and finally his reassuring words to the crew over the interphone
during the homeward journey.

The gunners shot down nine (9) enemy aircraft and claimed to have damaged
at
least ten (10) more.

PILOT 1st Lt. JOHN W. RAEDEKE CO-PILOT 2nd Lt. JOHN E. URBAN

bobbysocks

04-30-2010, 04:38 PM

THE MOST UNBELIEVABLE LANDING OF A B-17
by George Ureke, Lt. Colonel USAF (Ret.)

Flying a bombing mission out of Foggia, Italy, off of Tortorella US Army Air Field in Italy, during W.W.ll, our B-17 caught one Hell of a lot of flack. All four engines were still running, but ALL flight instruments failed. We had no airspeed indicator. Since we were returning from the bombing mission in formation we didn't really need flight instruments except for the approach and landing. When we arrived over the base at Tortorella, we peeled off, flying the landing pattern in trail formation. How to plan my approach with no air speed indicator? An idea came to me. We II drop behind the ship in front of us, so that on the final approach, we can establish a rate of closure to ensure that our approach would be above stall speed.

Well, in the morning, when we took off, the steel mat runway was covered with three inches of slimy mud.. It had been raining for weeks. Airplanes, taking off and landing just pushed the steel mat deeper into the mud. Every time an airplane took off or landed, more and more slimy mud had pushed up on top of the steel mat. So as we approached the mud-covered runway, there were three or four inches of slippery slime on top of the mat. But we were not worried (about coming in "hot"), until I called for flaps. Kenneth D. Goodwin, our copilot, replied, "We don't have any. They're not coming down". - And it was too late to crank them down by hand.

We weren't about to go around again without an airspeed indicator. Due to the "hot" approach speed we didn't touch down until we were half-way down the field. The airplane in front of us made a normal landing and turned off at a taxi-strip about five- hundred feet short of the end of the runway. That pilot managed to land short enough to turn to the left onto that first taxi strip. As he turned, he looked out his left window and saw that we were halfway down the field before we touched down. He turned to his co-pilot and says, "Look out that right window. George is going to crash into the gully at the end of the runway." (Several British bombers had hit that gully in the past, and they blew up).

We finally got the plane on the mud and I hit the brakes. no brakes! (in a B-17, the pilot and co-pilot can look out their window and see the wheel on their side). Every time I touched the brakes, the wheels would stop, lock, and we'd hydroplane over the mud. I had one choice, something we'd normally try to avoid. "Ground-loop" I pulled No. 3 and 4 engines all the way back. I pushed No. 1 and 2 throttles forward to take- off power, I called for "boosters" and started tapping the right brake (trying to ground loop to the right, and let centrifugal force tip the left wing into the ground). We'd damage the airplane but avoid crashing into the gully.

Normally, the plane would turn and leave the runway. But it was so slimy, the wheels had no friction to make it turn. The plane just kept sliding forward. No. 1 and 2 engines at full take-off power caused the airplane to spin around while sliding straight down the runway. As it approached 180 degrees, I pushed number 3 and 4 throttles full forward. Now we had "take off" power on all four engines. There we were, going backwards, toward the end of the runway with all four engines at full take-off power.

Well, we stopped right on the very end of the runway and immediately started to taxi back to the taxiway we just passed while we were sliding backwards.

You can imagine how scared our navigator, James W. Collier, and the bombardier, Lowell E. Clifton, were. Sitting in the nose of the airplane, as it approached the end of the runway and began to spin. This maneuver is one that I'm sure had never been done previously nor will it ever be done again. It isn't something anyone would want to practice. I can only say that on that landing, Ken Goodwin and I were both co-pilots. God was flying the airplane on that landing, which is why I call it the most unforgettable landing in a B-17.

And, you know, we never heard from anybody. Nobody ever came to ask what had caused us to land backward. All the medals we got were for far lesser accomplishments. That's why I say, it was God who made that most unbelievable landing in a B-17.

bobbysocks

04-30-2010, 04:45 PM

lancaster stuff

first this....newscaster edward r murrow goes on a bombing raid in a 'caster...and gives an account. 20 mins long actual broadcast.

http://www.otr.com/orch_hell.shtml

Here's a strange story about what happened to a Lancaster...

When something went wrong on take-off it could mean disaster for an aircraft laden with high-explosive and incendiary bombs.
In April 1944, P/O Jimmy Griffiths and his crew arrived at Elsham Wolds to join 576 Squadron as 'new boys'. To their dismay, they were allocated the oldest Lancaster on the station.

One week and three operations later, their Flight Commander, whose posting to PFF had just come through, yielded to their protests and let them have his new Lanc BIII, LM527 UL-U2. It was a decision which very nearly cost the crew their lives.

Following the abortive take-off described below, the young Scots skipper and his crew reverted to their original BIII, ED888 UL-M2, in which they went on to complete their tour. Indeed this veteran Lanc was later to become Bomber Command's top-scoring 'heavy', with 140 operational sorties to its credit.

Briefing was over, final checks had been made on the aircraft and the crews were relaxing in the few minutes left before take-off time, on a lovely spring evening, April 30, 1944 - target Maintenon.

I was thrilled at the prospect of flying one of the latest Lancasters, so much superior to old M2, the veteran aircraft I had flown on my first three operations. The runway in use was the shortest one on the 'drome and necessitated revving up aginst the brakes, almost to full power, before take-off, similar to the method employed on aircraft carriers.

Time to go - always a tense moment - and we are soon lined up on the runway making the last quick cockpit check. "Rich mixture", "Propellers in fine pitch", "Flaps up", "Fuel gauges OK". Ready to go! Throttles are opened slowly against the brakes until the aircraft throbs with power, straining and vibrating until the brakes can barely hold her. brakes are released and we leap forward. Keep straight by use of throttles and rudder and ease the control column forward to bring the tail up. "Full power!" the engineer takes over the throttles and opens them fully, locking them in that position. The tail is now off the ground, giving full control on the rudders for keeping straight, and the airspeed indicator is creeping slowly up towards the take-off speed.

Something's wrong! We are nearing the end of the runway and haven't yet reached take-off speed. We should be airborne by now! A glance at the instruments shows that, whilst all four engines are running smoothly, they are not giving maximum power. Too late to stop - the fence at the end of the runway is right under our nose - speed is dangerously low.

I yank back on the stick and the aircraft labours painfully off the ground. We are on the point of stalling and I have to level out, praying that I'll miss the small hill beyond the fence. I have just time to shout "Wheels up!" when - Crash!!!

The aircraft shudders violently; the nose kicks up at a dangerous angle and I instinctively push the stick forward to avoid stalling. I ease the stick back quickly, flying a matter of inches above the ground which, providentially, is sloping downards. I nurse the aircraft along, still hugging the grass. The speed slowly increases beyond the danger mark and very gradually the altimeter needle creeps away from ZERO in answer to a slight backwards pressure on the stick.

I start to breathe again, brushing the perspiration from my brow and feel a cold chill up my spine as I think of the load of high explosive bombs beneath my feet hanging on their inadequate-looking hooks. "A fine start to an operation," I was thinking; but more was to follow.

We were climbing very slowly and I realised from the sluggishness of the controls that all was not well. Charlie Bint, the bomb aimer, climbed down into his compartment in the nose and was able to inform me that the starboard wheel had not fully retracted! It must have taken the full force of impact into the hill. No amount of pumping would budge it either up or down, and I knew we would not be able to continue the mission as it was taking too much power and consequently too much fuel to overcome the drag of the damaged wheel.

I flew east, still climbing very slowly, meaning to jettison the bombload in the North Sea and return to make an emergency landing.

One hour after take-off we had reached 9000 feet and were circling a few miles east of Grimsby, the North Sea looking cold and deserted underneath. I depressed the lever which should have opened the bomb doors but no red warining light appeared! This was serious. I dived steeply and pulled out quickly in the hope of shaking the doors open, but to no avail. The flight engineer reported that the tank for the hydraulic fluid was completely dry. It was obvious that in our attempts to retract the damaged wheel we had pumped all the fluid into the atmospshere through a broken pipeline.

There was no alternative but to return to base for instructions. It was safe to break radio silence now that the rest of the squadron had been on their way for almost two hours. The WAAF radio telephonist lost no time at all in passing my message to the Flying Control Officer and very soon I was talking to the Station Engineering Officer and finally to the 'old man' himself.

We were ordered to make further experiments, but when we had tried everything it was finally apparent that we were saddled with a bomber fully laden with bombs which couldn't be released and a damaged undercarriage which would make landing a hazardous affair not to be contemplated when our bombload was enough to blow an aerodrome to pieces!

"Stand by," I was ordered and we circled round, wondering how long it would take them to reach a decision. Tommy Atherton, the navigator, brought me a cup of coffee out of his Thermos flask and we had a quiet crew conference. "What do you think they'll decide, Skip?" - this from Taffy, one of the gunners.

I spoke the thought that had been in my mind since the bomb doors had refused to budge. "How would you like to join the Caterpilliar Club?" (This is a Club consisting of airmen who have baled out to save their lives.) There was a bit of joking, but it sounded rather forced and I called up the 'drome to ask them to speed up their decision.

"Reduce height to 5000 feet and stand by!" I knew then that I had correctly assumed what the order would be - we were coming down to a level where a parachute wouldn't drift too far from the 'drome!

I reported again at 5000 feet and the next instruction produced a stir of activity. "Fly upwind and order crew to bale out one at a time. Remain at controls and stand by." The crew needed no second bidding. Through they filed - two gunners, wireless operator, navigator, and engineer, filling the confined space of the cockpit, their parachutes fixed firmly across their chests. Charlie was already in his compartment in the nose, opening the escape hatch in the floor. As they stepped quietly out of my sight to take their turn at jumping, each one shook my hand vigorously as he passed.

In a very short time I was left alone, and very much alone I felt. The roar of the engines seemed to grow louder, the controls seemed heavier and the aircraft seemed suddenly to be larger, more powerful, more sinister. "All out," I advised control.

"Circle and stand by," I was ordered. Then folled the loneliest few minutes of my life and I was glad to hear 'the voice' again. "Fly across the 'drome on an exact course of 080 degrees. Engage automatic pilot ('George'). When exact height and course being maintained - bale out!"

I welcomed the opportunity of having something to occupy my attention and spent quite a long time adjusting the controls until the aircraft was flying 'hands off' at exactly 5000 feet on an exact course of 080 degrees. I engaged the automatic pilot, made a few final adjustments and then, as the 'drome appeared ahead, I hurried down into the bomb aimers compartment where the escape hatch lay open, almost invitingly.

I was glad that I had taken the precaution of having my parachute hooked on before the crew had gone and, with a final quick check, I crouched beside the hatch, my hand already clutching the steel handle of the rip-cord. I sat on the edge of the hole and let my legs dangle. The rush of air immediately forced them against the underside of the aircraft and I allowed myself to roll out into space, head first.

I did four complete somersaults, seeing the four exhaust pipes of the aircraft glowing each time I turned over. I was counting one, two, three, four at each somersault and suddenly thought I must be near the ground. I pulled the ripcord handle and it came away so easily that I remember gazing at my hand, which was still holding the handle, and thinking, "It hasn't worked!" Before I could feel any panic there was a rush of silk past my face, followed by a not too violent jerk and I found myself dangling comfortably under the silken canopy.

I felt a surge of absoulte exhilaration and was grinning like a fool. I wish I could describe the feeling of power, of remoteness, of unreality, of sheer exuberance I felt. No wonder our paratroops are such grand fighters!

There was no rush of air to indicate downward speed and it came quite a shock, on looking down, to see a field rushing up to meet me out of the darkness and a few scattered houses taking shape around it. I had hardly time to brace myself when I hit the ground, heels first, travelling backward. I sat down with a bump, rolled over in a backwards somersault and pressed the release catch to prevent being hauled along the ground. There was no need: the parachute flopped lazily over me and I lay still for a few moments, not beliving this was reality.

I bundled the parachute under my arm and trudged across the field in unwieldy flying boots towards a large house about fifty yards distant. Fortunately there was a telephone in the house and the old couple, whom I eventually wakened, plied me with questions and cups of tea until the car arrived from the 'drome.

All the crew had reported safe landings and some had already been picked up by the time I returned. There were many theories put forward regarding the part failure of the engines and it was finally decided that they must have been running on 'hot' air, a device used under icing conditions, which reduced the amount of power to each engine.

All this time the aircraft was flying steadily onwards towards enemy territory and we learned later that the Observer Corps had plotted its journey more than half-way across the North Sea, maintaining the height and course I had set.

The Duty Naviagtor who had given me the course computed that the fuel supply would last until the aircraft was somewhere in the Hamburg area. We can only guess the outcome.

Before abandoning the aircraft I had switched on every available light, and I often wonder what the Luftwaffe and the German AA gunners must have thought when they saw a large bomber approaching from the direction of England, lit up like a Christmas tree, flying steadily on a fixed course and blithely ignoring flak, searchlights and fighter attacks.

I like to think that 'George', guided by his saintly namesake, would point the aircraft in its final dive towards some important military objective, the destruction of which may have contributed in some way to the dramatic collapse of the Reich war machine which was soon to follow.

bobbysocks

05-02-2010, 05:41 PM

some 262 stories....and part of the story is from 3 different perspectives.

first is an interview with Edward Haydon who was there when LW ace Nowotny ( 258 victories ) went down.

AH: Describe the events of November 8, 1944.

Haydon: Well, we had just finished a bad skirmish with a lot of German fighters, up in the middle part of Germany, and it was time to go home. I was at around 30,000 feet with the rest of the flight, watching for enemy fighters, which came up regularly. Since they were concentrating on the bombers, we were not expecting any trouble, and I was just daydreaming, thinking about what a bad day it had been. I was just glancing over the side when I saw this 262 jet below me at about 10,000 feet. Since there were not a lot of German planes around, I broke the loose formation after calling him out. I dropped the nose and slipped a bit, and I watched the jet as I descended, never taking my eyes off of him. My aircraft was faster than that of my leader, Captain Merle Allen, so I closed faster. I made almost no adjustments to get squarely on his tail, and he took no evasive action whatsoever, but stayed on that vector. I noticed that the 262 was not going as fast as it should have been, that there was a problem. I should not have been able to close on him so quickly. Well, the jet dropped to the deck on that same heading and leveled off, making no corrections, with me closing in with an altitude advantage. I was almost ready to fire, waiting to close in and shoot this sitting duck. Suddenly, off my right wing at great altitude I saw two Mustangs from the 20th Fighter Group that had arrived late but were diving, converting their altitude into speed. They were way out of range when the lead P-51 fired – I saw the tracers fall short as much as 60 percent to the target – and there was no way he could have hit it. That pilot was Captain Ernest Fiebelkorn, as I later discovered.

AH: What happened then?

Haydon: Well, the Germans were alerted, and I knew what was coming. So I called to the flight to break hard right and away to avoid the flak while I went hard left to the deck, which was safe to some degree because the larger guns could not depress elevation to hit you. They could only shoot below the horizon with small arms, but I slipped in anyways. Suddenly I flew into everything they had.

AH: Where was Nowotny?

Haydon: The jet pilot was good. He knew what he was doing. In case he had anyone on his tail, he would lure them into the flak zone, so he could drop to the flak-free zone and land. No one would have voluntarily flown through that to get down to the jet. But see, I was already below this height at his level and made the turn. I still had plenty of speed, and I thought for sure I would never see the jet again. I turned no more than 20 to 50 degrees, because I was receiving no fire, and rolled level. I was just trying to scoot across the field and either find a place to hide or rejoin the group. Well, directly in front of me appeared this 262 again, slowing down as if on a downwind leg, 180 degrees from his previous position, and he did not see me. I chopped the throttle, cutting power, sliding back to the right a bit. Remember that when you cut power on a propeller-driven plane, you lose speed quickly. I ended up in the perfect position, and let her drift right onto him, just like shooting a student out of the traffic pattern.

AH: What was your distance from Nowotny at that time?

Haydon: Below 200 yards and closing quickly, since he was slowing down. I was going faster, but I did not observe my airspeed, probably 300 knots or less and falling.

AH: What was your altitude?

Haydon: About 100 feet or so – I was right on him.

AH: Did you think he might have set her down in time?

Haydon: Well, he may have lost the other engine I don’t know, but it was at this time he saw me. I was so close I could see right into the cockpit; I could see his face clearly.

AH: Describe what you saw.

Haydon: Well, the moment he saw me had a startled look on his face. It was totally animated, as if he thought, “I have really screwed up.” He thrashed around in the cockpit, as the jet appeared to stall. Then he suddenly snapped right in, falling no more than a half rotation to the left, and I was so enchanted with what was happening I never fired a shot, which would have given me the kill by myself. I thought about that a lot later, knowing that if I had fire, the gun camera would have recorded it, but Merle was watching from higher altitude. The jet snap-rolled right in, with me following close behind, and I pulled up as he crashed into the ground. I thought that I had sufficiently stated [in my report] that I had run him into the ground without firing a shot, but I ended up sharing the kill with Fiebelkorn, who had earlier pulled up and away. He saw the jet crash and got credit for a half kill.

AH: So he claimed the kill?

Haydon: I don’t think he claimed it, but others saw the action and reported it. He was not even in the neighborhood. I am perfectly convinced that had I not arrived on the scene, Nowotny would have landed the jet. Even if he lost hydraulics, he could have landed on the nacelles, and the plane would have probably flown again the next day. Once in the late 1940s somebody handed me a Stars and Stripes or Air Force Times where someone had written that I had shot down the sixth 262 in the war, which I don’t think is correct. That was the first time it ever came up.

AH: How did you happen to become a prisoner of war?

Haydon: It was January 1945. On January 14 I shot up a couple of planes on the ground. On January 20 we ran into some 262s near Munich, and we got busted up pretty good trying to catch them. My flight included, I think, Dale Karger, who was in a Luftbery [circling formation] with a 262. The jet had higher speed, but the Mustang had a tighter turning radius. Each plane was trying to gain on the other without success. Well, I winged over and entered the chase, but from the opposite direction head on. I passed within inches of the 262, canopy to canopy, and this happened twice. I thought that it was crazy, but that I might hit him, bringing him down by guns or ramming him, and I might be able to bail out afterward. It was a stupid thought, and I woke up smartly after the second pass, but there was nothing I could do. I saw another 262 probably heading for home and decided he was going to get away. I firewalled the throttle and dropped altitude, and there was no flak at all. I closed with him, using altitude for speed, and opened fire. I was getting good strikes as he went in for a landing, with me screaming down on him at about 500 knots. He was touching down, and I had to pull up or crash.

AH: Did you ever get the probable or kill?

Haydon: No, I never got the chance, and the best I could have claimed was a damaged or probably anyway. As I pulled up from the airfield, something shook my aircraft – like something had punched it. Instantly I had fire in the cockpit, and smoke was pouring in, so I pulled straight up, using the high airspeed to gain altitude, and rolled the bird over and went out over the right side. Now I had another problem. My shoulder straps had become entangled around my waist somehow, pinning me to the plane, which was still trimmed for 450 to 500 mph. It nosed over and headed right for the ground, and here I was stuck to the side, but I was still not feeling panic.

AH: What was going through your mind?

Haydon: I was discussing this mentally, and I figured that due to the slipstream and pressure there was no way I was going to get loose, unless I broke loose from the stress. In fact, I decided at that time to go ahead and accept death. It was the most serene, inviting and calm decision or feeling I have ever had in my life. I felt that the war was over, and there was absolutely peace and there would be no more problems. All this time the plane was winding up, gathering speed and headed for the ground. Suddenly, I was able to sit up sufficiently against the force of the wind, and I broke free. I smacked the tail of the airplane with my back, a glancing blow as I few by, which put me in a spin. Without thinking, I pulled the ripcord on the parachute. I was then thinking that I would have a nice gentle trip down when I looked around and saw snow, sky, snow, sky and so on. I realized I had not pulled the cord out far enough, and that I was tumbling. The parachute was still in the container. I found the wire, and I can tell you that I pulled that sucker out by the root. I had no slowed down from the great speed imparted to me by the aircraft. The opening was violent, which stopped my tumble. However, I was thrown into a swing, which placed my body parallel to the ground, and I saw a telephone phone with two wires under me, then smacked face first right into the snow. I was stunned and not sure if I could move, but in minutes some Germans were there, and they were very excited.

AH: You had given them quite an airshow.

Haydon: Yes, I think they were amazed I was alive. They helped me up and wanted to know where my pistol was. The shoulder holster was empty, as was the sheath for my boot knife. I'’ sure they were ripped away during the adventure. Anyway, I was taken into the commander’s office by two German officers. They treated me as a gentleman warrior who was not a combatant but their prison. They did not interrogate me; they were just concerned how I felt. They gave me medical treatment, since I had burns on my face, eyes, hands and so forth. After this was all over they handed me over to a very young escort, an SS trooper. It was his job to get me to the main interrogation camp, which I think was Oberwesel. We went to the Bahnhof to begin this trip of several days. We finally pulled into Stuttgart, which had just only hours before been heavily bomber. The civilians were angry, as well as the troops from the front who were there. They had me backed up against the wall, and being a good old Southern boy, I saw a lynching coming. There was no way out, either. I figured that if this was it, I would stand my ground. Well, that 14- or 15- year old SS soldier lifted his Schmeisser, slammed a magazine into it and fired over the heads of the crowd. This dispersed the crowd, which consisted of not only soldiers but also old men, women and children. Here I was, an American airman, the reason for their misery. Well that SS trooper saved my life. He ad orders to follow, and despite his personal feelings he carried out those orders – that was discipline. He finally delivered me to Stalag Luft 13B, near Nuremberg. The city was wiped off the map by our bombings by the Eighth Air Force from England and Fifteenth Air Force from Italy, with the British bombing by night. It was hit pretty regularly.

AH: You had a pretty eventful journey as a POW.

Haydon: Yes, and it was not over yet. I was later placed in a camp farther to the east, which we then had to evacuate because the Russians were coming. We crossed the Danube at a bridge that Waffen SS troops were rigging for detonation with what looked to be 500-pound bombs and mines. We had to walk across, but before that we milled around while they decided our fate. The Volkssturm leader in charge of us convinced the SS men to let us cross. This was a nervous time for me. Now let me tell you, these SS soldiers were tough, hardened veterans. They were different from the rest. They had a mission to destroy that bridge and it must have been important, as there were many senior officers present. Then the situation got serious. Our guards began throwing their weapons over into the river, with us and them standing on top of tons of explosives, while the SS troops were watching. I knew we were done for. The SS would have been justified in dropping the plunger on us, and I don’t know why they didn’t. Well, after a couple of more days we were abandoned by our guards and left to ourselves. Later we saw General George S. Patton riding by on his tank at the head of a column, and he liberated us. That was on April 20, 1945.

AH: I understand there were some problems associated with your coming back from the dead, so to speak. Tell us about that.

Haydon: Well, when I was shot down, the other members of the flight saw my plane crash but did not see a parachute. The Germans returned my dog tags via the Red Cross, and I was labeled “missing in action” until the tags were received. Then the War Department classified me as “killed in action.” The word was that I had died of my wounds. I was awarded a posthumous Purple Heart, and they informed my wife that I was dead. They stopped all allotments and pay, and were going to pay her my serviceman’s life insurance. However, she knew that I was alive, since she received a letter from me – actually just a card from the POW camp. We still have that card today. She took it to the base and told them she was sure I was alive, because in it I talked about other people in the camp who were known to be POWs as well. They decided that I was still alive, although the governor was not informed, and he issued a death certificate in my honor.

AH: Why did you decide to stay in the military?

Haydon: Well, I had the chance to acquire a large ranch from a friend of mine in Montana, but I decided to stay in and get a regular commission. I went to military schools for tactics and strategy, then to the War College, and afterward I was given command of a Convair F-102 squadron at Goose Bay, Labrador. I retired about 30 years of service.

AH: Who were some of the notable personalities you knew?

Haydon: Well, Robin Olds and I are good friends, and I was also friends with the late Lt. Gen. John C. Meyer, who was my boss for a while – two guys with totally opposite personalities.

AH: Did you ever pursue any data on the pilots of the planes you fought against during the war?

Haydon: No I never did, like the 262 I was shooting up when I was shot down on January 20, 1945.

AH: That was Major Theodor Weissenberger, commander of Jagdgeschwader 7.

Haydon: I would like to know the names of the flak battery commander that nailed me and the officer who interrogated me.

bobbysocks

05-02-2010, 05:56 PM

Jan 20's mission....
On January 20th 1945, I was Red Flight leader and my wingman was Ernest Tiede. Lt Ed Haydon was my Element lead and his wingman was Lt Roland Wright,Lt Dale Karger was leading White Flight. I have forgotten what the original mission was, but about the time that we were to return home, we engaged 2 Me-262's near Brunswick(Germany). It appeared that one 262 pilot was checking the other one out in the jet.
They did not run away, but seemed to want to engage in a fight. We were at about 20,000 feet and the 262's split......one went down to about 18,000 feet and the other stayed at 22,000 feet. Both flew in a large lazy circle, one opposite the other with me and the flight in the middle.It looked to me that the upper jet was waiting for me to attack the lower one, I called Lt Karger to turn back as if he were going home and climb back to attack the high jet while we circled. Lt Karger and his flight did just that and the upper 262 never saw them return, they shot him down with out any trouble and then Lt Kargers flight headed for home.When the upper 262 was eliminated, the remaining jet headed down for home in a hurry. I rolled over, split S'ed and went to full power.In no time, I hit compressibility with loss of all control at speeds in excess of 650 mph. After finally getting control I pulled out in a wide sweeping arc and pulled up behind the jet for a perfect shot at 6 o'clock. Unfortunatly, I was out of trim and my tracers went right over the top of his canopy. He hit the throttle and left me in a cloud of kerosene exhaust as if I were standing still. My flight had caught up with me so we headed for Lechfeld airbase, this we thought would be were he was heading and maybe we would catch him on landing. We flew over Lechfeld at about 6,000 Ft, there were about 100 262's nose to tail parked on the inactive side of the field, this meant they were out of fuel, no pilots or both. We were not sure which way the jet would approach the runway, so Lt Tiede and myself cruised toward the South end.Lt Haydon and Lt Wright spotted him coming in from the North, so Lt Haydon went for the jet, but he was to high and made an easy target for the flak gunners. He was hit and on the R/T said he was on fire, he pulled up to 400 Ft and bailed out and landed on the airfield, he became a P.O.W. Lt Roland Wright, following Haydon, was at very low level and the flak missed him but he did not miss the 262, he shot it down on its approach to the field.

Bob Wink's 262

The very next day saw Winks achieve acedom in rare fashion. “We were on a sweep over southern Germany, in the Munich area,” he recalled. “The 364th Squadron was over to take pictures of a 262 airfield. Pete Peterson had a camera in his P-51 and we were flying escort. The Eighth Air Force had orders not to strafe those airfields—it had incurred too many losses. I was flying along when I saw a plane doing slow rolls on the deck, over patches of snow—it was an Me-262. I was following what he was doing and called him in to Peterson, who responded with an order to ‘Go down and get him.’ At that point the bogey was going back toward the airfield. I dropped my two tanks, cut my engine and went into a straight dive with 5 degrees of flaps. I was at about a 60-degree angle when I came at the jet and fired 240 rounds of .50-caliber into his cockpit and wing root. The German flipped over, caught on fire and banged in. Pete confirmed it.”

The identity of Winks’ quarry has only recently come to light. Although Schöngau was put under alert because of the Mustangs’ presence in its vicinity, Fähnrich (cadet trainee) Rudolf Rhode, either took off or was already airborne when Winks caught him. “We observed Me-262s taxiing toward protective abutments all over that airfield,” Winks recalled. “Whoever was piloting the Me-262 that I shot down must have had a military rank high enough to have been able to countermand the ‘alert.’ Or so I have always thought.” Killed at age 19, Rhode was buried in Schwabstadl, near Lechfeld. In regard to the trainee status of his last victim, Winks remarked: “I denied the Luftwaffe an Me-262 aircraft, and a pilot from attacking our bombers. That is what I was hired and trained to do. Speaking, perhaps, for both sides of the conflict...what a terrible waste of men, and the world’s wealth.”

No sooner had Winks shot down the jet then the anti-aircraft guns defending Schöngau airbase cut loose, literally with a vengeance. “Boy,” Winks said, “did they have flak coming at me! I went straight into the heavens and suddenly I realized that my engine had lost power, it was only wind milling. When I dropped my auxiliary fuel tanks, I had failed to turn the fuel selector switch on to the internal fuel tanks. I corrected the switch, and the speed gained in my dive on the Me-262 plus the speed of the wing milling prop sucked out any airlock in my fuel lines, and the engine roared back into full power and got me out of there, f-a-s-t!”

bobbysocks

05-02-2010, 06:25 PM

a few random words from LW pilot Hans Busch...

Hans stated that he was definitely not a fighter pilot, but rather a bomber pilot in the Me-262. Hitler's ridiculous utilization of many of these advanced aircraft as "bombers" proved futile, as this aircraft had no bomb sight at all and carried only a tiny ordnance load. Bombing with a 262 was totally a blind, hit or miss proposition, no technology involved.

Hans related an amusing story regarding routine fueling operations in the Me-262. An obvious late-war shortage of men to perform ground operation duties resulted in a number of German women assisting in these activities. One activity was the refueling of the advanced Me-262 jets. One day, Hans was having his Me-262 refueled (as he sat in the cockpit) by a particularly attractive, blonde, buxom, young Luftwaffe airwoman. The airwoman, per prescribed procedure, began the fueling of the aircraft with the forward fuselage tank and, at the same time, Hans and young airwoman making eyes at each other. When the forward fuselage tank was full, aforementioned blonde, buxom airwoman proceded to transfer the fueling hose nozzle to the rear fuselage tank, and due to not shutting off the fuel flow, soaked the following items in noxious German WWII jet fuel in this order: front fuselage, windscreen, Hans, rear cockpit, canopy and rear fuselage, all in one, smooth, fluid motion. Not one change in the airwoman's cheerful expression was noted by Hans during this wayward procedure.

Apparently, according to Hans, this German jet fuel was terribly noxious. You simply threw away any clothes that came in contact with it. Interestingly, Hans stated that there was NEVER a shortage of jet fuel, just a shortage of aircraft and pilots. Whatever hydrocarbon fuel cracking process being used by the Germans in late war (whether synthetic, coal-derived fuels or conventional), the process or processes yielded an abundant quantity of jet-suitable fuel.

Hans once experienced a right engine failure upon take-off. He was still on the runway, but had already past the "point of no return." He was veering to the right towards a building and had to make the decision whether to go through the building or over it. Hans chose to go over it, although he didn't have enough speed to maintain flight. He yanked the jet over the building, just clearing it, but the aircraft stalled, dropping the left wing. The jet impacted the ground really hard in a horrendous crash and cartwheeled through many revolutions. Parts of the aircraft were strewn over hundreds of yards. Basically, just the little cockpit section remained in one piece. Damage to Hans? Just a knocked-up kneecap; he was back on flight status in just a few weeks. The "meat wagon" arrived at the crash site, fully expecting to pick up the pieces of Hans. No such luck, Hans even insisted on sitting in the front seat of the meat wagon for the ride back. He attributes his survival to the fact that the Me-262 had a very strong cockpit section that was designed to be suitable for pressurization at a future date.

As with most all WWII tricycle landing gear aircraft, the nose wheel on the Me-262 was not at all steerable, but rather was just castoring. This proved problematical in some instances (U.S. P-38s, P-39s and P-63s shared in this problem). If the nose wheel on the Me-262 got cocked too much during ground maneuvering, the nose wheel had to be straightend out first or damage could occur from further taxiing.

This apparently occurred frequently in the Me-262. Hans related that he occasionally encountered this problem and had to climb out of the cockpit, engines running, and manually pull and pry the nose wheel back into alignment himself before proceeding!

and finally Hans Mutke story of white 3

"In the afternoon of April 24th I walked to the Me 262 that stood about 3km away from the airfield. In a barrack I met a few displaced persons hanging around, hands in their pockets and looking at me curiously. I called the 3 soldiers, but all the efforts to start the Me262 were in vain. So we decided to try it again next morning. In the morning of April 25th we succeeded in starting the Me. It was a high risk, because I didn't know, where the plane had come from and how long it had been standing there. We found out, that the fuel tanks were almost empty. We towed the Me262 to the gas station. In order to reduce the time of filling the fuel tanks, the pumps attendant put 2 fuel hoses into the plane, one in each of the 2 fuel tanks. I was sitting on the plane observing the sky. Suddenly 25-30 American Marauders approached the airfield."

"I shouted to the pump attendant and he pulled out the 2 hoses. I started the engines and tried to take off. For a fraction of seconds I could avoid running into a few bomb funnels before my Me262 took off finally. I accelerated to 500-600-700-800 km/h. When the enemy bombers saw, that I was in the air, they turned away into the clouds heading southwest for the Bodensee-Lake. In the meantime I found that the 262 was loaded with ammunition and I tried to follow the Marauders. So I flew over the clouds, but I couldn't find them. Finally I had time to study the Me 262. I found out I had not enough fuel to reach Bad Aibling. What should I do? I was over French occupied territory north of the Bodensee. I didn't want to become a prisoner of the French. Parachuting was a high risk at all. To ground the Me 262 was almost impossible because of the low hanging engines that would surely hit the ground and make the plane overturn. So I decided to go down on the Bodensee-Lake. "

" When I reached the Bodensee I thought I could try to land somewhere in Switzerland. But I didn't know Switzerland or towns there, nor had I a map. Switzerland was for me "terraincognita". When I reached the south coast of the Bodensee - the border to Switzerland- the fuel needle showed "0". In a distance of about 70km I saw a big town. That was Zürich, but at that time I didn't know it. I thought there should be an airfield at an big town. Otherwise I had to drop my Me into the Lake. I feared, the engines could fail each moment. There was another problem. I was over neutral territory, flying at a speed of 800-900km/h. My 262 could be mistaken for a V1 or V2 and be shot at by anti-aircraft guns. Ahead I saw the airfield of Dubendorf. At that time the landing strip was 800-900m long. This was too short. If I stopped the engines at the moment I was to touch down I had chance. Later the commander of the airfield told me, they thought a lost V1 or V2 was just coming. I feared Swiss antiaircraft guns would try to shoot me down. I climbed to 3000m and far away from the airfield I went down to 20m and flew over the airfield at full speed, so that the Swiss couldn't fire at me. I headed eastward, climbed vertically and made a turn of 180°. To make the Swiss realize there was an aircraft in the air, I lowered the undercarriage. When I slowed down to 260km/h 4 Swiss Morane fighters followed me and directed me to the landing strip. But I couldn't land the way they wanted me to do. I thought, they would open fire when I didn't do what they signaled me. In order to have a long runway I landed diagonally on the field. Like a madman I stepped on the brakes. About 30m in front of the American bomber-planes, that stood in the corner of the airfield, my Me 262 came to a stop."

(Author's note: Those were interned American bomber planes having made emergency landings in Switzerland.)

"A few cars came up to me among them a truck with a machine gun and 2 soldiers who elang to the gun because the ground was uneven. They signaled me to follow them and directed me to the tower where about 60-80 soldiers were waiting. One of the soldiers shouted a command where upon the others made a circle around the 262. I didn't know, what to do. I looked at pointed guns and waited, what would happen. I thought I would never again see my Me262. So I took my personal belongings and cleared the cockpit a little bit. In the meantime more and more people were coming up to see, what was going on. I stayed on the cockpit and waited for somebody to ask me to get out of my 262. But nobody did come. So I was waiting at lease for 5 minutes before I opened the cockpit and jumped to the ground. Now a captain came up to me, saluted and said to me "Come on, Mr. Courache." A big black car took us away, all the others followed."

Cadet Mutke was brought to the officers mess, they tried to make him drunken, to tell them his "secrets". Next day first lieutenant Locher continued the interrogation. It's understandable that Mutke gave a few false information's. Mutke was interned in the hotel "Frütsch" in Luzern after the procedure and the reason of his landing in Switzerland were cleared up. There were about 15-20 men interned at the same place. Later on for a short time he was brought to the hotel "Schweitzerhof", where he was to give advices to Swiss airforce personal to various matters. So he had to instruct the chief of the technical department Col. Högger how to fly the Me 262. Mutke urged Col. Högger not to fly the Me 262, because the runway was too short for a safe touch down. Col. Högger replied, he had flown all the confiscated aircrafts without a manual. The only long enough and firmed up runway for a Me 262 in Switzerland was in Bern. Therefore Col. Högger intended to bring the Me to Bern to test it there. The Swiss Parliament however didn't allow it, because Genf was near the French border and the Swiss authorities didn't want to risk a border violation with German aircraft. In Oct. 45 Mutke was transferred to Weesur at the lake Walensee. >From now on he was treated as an interned civilian. In Zürich and Bern the continued studying medicine for 2 1/2 years, which he began in Germany before his military service. In the following years he lived in Argentina and Bolivia, where he was employed by the Bolivian airlines and piloted D-3 Dakota planes. Later on Mutke returned to Germany. Now he lives in Germany and works as a gynecologist in Munich. He has a rank as a senior medical officer of the German Bundeswehr. The Me 262 was for the Swiss a desirable testing object. They found out, that in the fuel tanks were only 80 l fuel, enough for 3 minutes. After the Me had undergone various tests they placed it in a hangar. In 1957 the Me 262 was handed over to the Deutsches Museum in Munich, as a Contribution to the reconstruction of the aviation exhibition, that was destroyed during the war. For many years the Me 262 was shown with wrong colors. Not before 1984 the Me262 got the original colors of 1945, when the aviation exhibition was extended and located in a new hall.

scottyvt4

05-02-2010, 07:24 PM

Mosquito/bristol baufighter sorties

http://www.scotshistoryonline.co.uk/sorties.html

Mosquito jet encounters

An Me262 Attack
Lts. Richard M. Kenny/Arnold V. Kuehn (NS712) left 13 January for a Bluestocking weather reconnaissance flight over Germany.

Kenny: At 1516 while south of Berlin at 30,000 feet, I turned west and then decided to make a 360 degree orbit to obtain a better visual inspection of the Berlin area. As I made the turn, we spotted two Me262s approximately 4 to 5 miles behind and below the Mosquito. There was a low cloud layer extending westward from the Hanover area. I could not outrun the jet aircraft, so I prepared to make a dash for the clouds.

Just before starting my dive, I made another turn for a quick check of the rear, and to my surprise, there was an Me262 on my tail with his four nose guns flashing. The jet was quickly closing in at 500 mph, so I immediately applied full throttle and dove for the cloud layer. During the steepest part of the dive, we had a true ground speed well over 450 mph. The jet continued following close behind, repeatedly firing.

I rolled the Mosquito on its back, as if going into a `split-ess', and instead of heading straight down, I rolled over off my back, then jinking, turning from one side to the other, and then climbing. I avoided flying straight or making any turns to prevent him from obtaining a deflection shot. The jet did not fire any tracer rounds during his alternate passes, closing in from four to five hundred yards before firing. The jet kept firing below me and the cannon shells were exploding far in front of the Mosquito, as if they were time-fused rounds.

The '262 made repeated attacks from all quarters but I evaded his every move by weaving and performing extremely violent `corkscrew turns'. The attack began at 30,000 feet and wound down to 12,000 feet before the jet broke off his pursuit, either because of ammunition shortage or low fuel. The encountered lasted from 1516 to 1525 hours with the jet continually on my tail firing at me.

The Me262 then pulled along side on my right at a distance. The Luftwaffe pilot waved his hand, then turned around and headed for the Berlin area. The second '262 never made a pass and always remained off to the side, several hundred yards away.

The cloud tops near Hanover were at 12,000 feet and I continued the flight to England flying just above the clouds. Watton was closed due to inclement weather so I landed at Bradwell Bay at 1745. The RAF crews servicing the Mosquito claimed the wrong type of spark plugs were installed in the engines! That is one mission I will never forget.

A second account of multiple encounters with Me262s
Lt. Richard Geary flew the 21 January mission to the Politz Oil Refinery at Stettin, Poland with Lt. Floyd Mann as navigator.

They had been on standby for this particular mission waiting for the weather to clear. The operations room had an enormous map that covered 25 feet or better of one wall. The missions for the day, the next day or when weather permitted, were represented by colored yarn. A different color for each mission was stretched from Watton to the target area. The yarn for the Politz mission went all the way from one end of the map to the other. Geary recalls aircrew members asking, 'Who the hell is going to fly that mission?'

It was a cold winter morning when an orderly awakened Geary at 0400. The weather had cleared and the mission proceeded as scheduled. Geary went to the flight line and then to the parachute room to meet his navigator Floyd Mann.

Watton was covered with a thin layer of snow as they took off at 0920 in NS569. Prior arrangements were made to rendezvous at 0925 with four P-51s from 20th FG at 18,000 feet over Cromer. They would provide escort to Stettin and return.

The Mosquito met the fighter escort as planned; but now heavily loaded with l,000 gallons of fuel, flew at a severe speed disadvantage. Geary attempted to maintain economical cruising speed but outpaced the P-51s and was forced to throttle-back to continue flying formation with them. The Mustangs had long-range drop tanks and were also fully loaded. Once involved with enemy action, they would jettison their tanks, and therefore, were attempting to conserve and obtain maximum range from their fuel supply. This exacerbated the problem. It was a very-long flight to the Polish border, and on three occasions Geary throttled-back and did not receive the mileage planned.

The formation started out on a tough and difficult daylight mission. They flew across the North Sea, around the Frisian Islands, past Heligoland and over the neck of Denmark. While flying near Kiel at 1048 they encountered heavy flak as predicated, accurate for their altitude of 25,000 feet but not direction. A P-51 piloted by Lt. C.L. Huey developed engine trouble and returned to base.

After crossing Denmark, the four-plane formation flew over the Baltic Sea to avoid further flak areas. The sky was clear blue with unlimited visibility for miles around. Geary could see the long sinuous outline of the Swedish coast to the North. One Mustang flew 50 yards off on each wing, and the third lagged 100 yards behind and slightly higher. The P-51 pilots were Lts. Einhaus, Reynolds and King.

The formation flew along the German coast line to the Elbe River then turned southward towards Stettin and the Politz Oil Refinery. A large number of enemy aircraft, possibly seventy, were observed to their left several miles away flying parallel to the American formation.

Richard Geary recalls the events: A young `eager-beaver' P-51 pilot with a southern drawl broke radio silence and blurted, `Are we going to jump them?'

The flight leader replied, `No. Our obligation is to look after Big Boy'.

The young pilot responded, `If they jump us, we can sure give them hell.'

This display of bravado in such a dangerous situation was comforting. I wondered if the Germans on the ground heard the conversation. If so, did they marvel that someone was `cocky' enough to take on seventy airplanes?

At 1135 the alerted enemy defensive positions fired flak at us like you wouldn't believe. Their pattern included barrage flak, normally reserved for bomber formations, as well as predicted flak. In barrage flak, the antiaircraft guns fired at one time in a pattern. In predicated flak, antiaircraft guns aimed at and specifically followed a flight.

The intense flak was accurate at 27,000 feet. I was diving and corkscrewing at close to 400 mph and the flight leader was yelling over the radio that the predicted flak was right on my tail. Bursts trailed me by 150 feet or less. I dropped from 27,000 to 24,000 feet before getting some relief.
As we approached the refinery complex through all this flak, I instructed Lt. Mann to enter the nose and use the bombsight to take the necessary photographs. He discovered that a portable oxygen bottle required to enter the nose for photography had not been provided.

To make the best of our situation, I attempted to take photographs myself. I turned on the intervalometer which automatically started taking photos at timed intervals, then attempted to lineup the Mosquito with the refinery. I intermittently dipped the nose to note my position in relation to the target until it disappeared from my sight.

Unfortunately, the pictures stopped at the door to the refinery. We did obtain coverage of Ganserin-Janonitz, northeast of Politz and they served some value as targets of opportunity.
I started to climb back up to altitude leaving behind the heavy flak that followed us. At 1150 the young Mustang pilot with the drawl shouted, `Look at the SOB climb'.

I looked out to my left side and saw this object streaking up from the ground. There it was, an Me262 climbing like a `bat out of hell'. This was the first jet I had seen.

The fighters maneuvered in position to protect me. They wanted to position themselves with one Mustang below, one behind and one above me. I did not like this situation and attempted to fly below all three P-51s, using them as a shield.

The Me262 appeared head-on and began orbiting to get on my tail. I did not make a run for it, but remained with the fighters so they would have a chance at the jet. I looked back and all I could see was a small dot coming up fast. As I straightened my head again, the flight leader yelled, `Break 28,' my call sign.

I immediately placed the Mosquito in a steep bank and almost on its back. The flight leader yelled again with an urgency in his voice as if within any second I was to be blown out of the sky. The tone of his voice excited my navigator who also yelled, `Break, Dick, break'.

I was doing close to 400 mph in a left-breaking dive, a customary maneuver. What else was there to do? I had no chance to look back. In a flurry of desperation, I slammed on opposite rudder and aileron. The Mosquito cartwheeled 180 degrees across the sky in the opposite direction. I don't know what kind of maneuver this was, and it is a miracle the aircraft did not disintegrate. God must have been on my side. I didn't even have my lap belt on.

Dust flew up from the floor, emergency maps came off the wall and loose material floated in the cockpit. The Me262 hurtled directly over me, seemingly a few feet from the cockpit canopy. There was just one big flash of silver chrome as the uncamouflaged jet shot by. He had me in his sights but my unexpected action put us on a collision course. Instead of shooting at me, the jet pilot had to use all his talents to avoid a midair collision. That both the German pilot and myself lived through the encounter, I credit to his reflexes.

I lost visual contact with the jet and Mustangs at that moment but remained in radio contact with the escort pilots. I leveled off, pushed the throttles wide-open and headed for home. After experiencing the superior speed of the jet, I questioned if I would make it back. All manner of options went through my mind. And then I realized I would never make it home with the throttles wide open.

I was now east of Berlin, flying northwest at 27,000 feet when some strange looking objects appeared in the distance ahead. I could see four-black specks leaving intermittent contrails as they climbed swiftly toward me. After surviving the first attack, I dreaded being part of any further engagement. I called the fighters and they assured me they would be along quickly. I didn't know how far back they were.

The four objects streaked closer and closer, head on--four Me262 fighters. They swiftly flew past on my right at a distance of perhaps 50 yards. I didn't make a break for I was almost certain one of them would have tailed me. Assuming they would transfer attention to the fighters, I radioed the Mustangs to warn them. They acknowledged my call and that was the last I heard from my fighter escort.

Germany was covered with snow and enveloped by an immense blue dome of clear sky overhead. The atmosphere was crystal clear and immaculate, and ours the only contrail in the sky. Such weather was unbelievable! Fortunately, a towering range of clouds appeared as we approached Belgium. Two-single contrails we assumed to be fighters, approached us but we lost them in the clouds.

Now low on fuel, Mann provided a course for the shortest safe distance across the North Sea to England. Geary, now at 24,000 feet and turned towards the Schelde Estuary area of Belgium to reach Allied lines for safety. He radioed a `May Day' and received a vector to Calais. The fuel gauges read almost empty but he maintained altitude crossing the English Channel to Cromer. Throttling back even further, he banked for Watton and landed at 1410 with less than five minutes fuel remaining. The mission lasted five hours and fifty minutes. Both men expressed appreciation to be safely home.

According to the 77 Squadron, 20th FG debriefing report, the Me262 combat engagements ensued from 1140 to 1200. One of four Me262s attacked the formation over Politz, where the Mustangs chased the attacker and engaged the others in a dog fight. Meanwhile, the Mosquito now heading west on a withdrawal course encountered another four Me262s and radioed a warning to the Mustangs.

Lowell Einhous, the P-51 escort flight leader recalls the second encounter: While climbing for altitude we encountered the other four '262s flying our type of formation at our approximate altitude. We clashed with the jets in several 360 degree turns, firing at them on several occasions. Apparently the firing was without effect, and the jets broke off the engagement. While returning home north of Berlin, a single Me262 flew parallel to us while four others flew further south but none attacked.

We experienced trouble maintaining speed with the Mosquito because of our drop tanks. The distance covered required that we carry extra fuel. The Mosquito pilot says the mission was five hours and fifty minutes. The P-51 escort was airborne considerably longer than that. We were also short of fuel because of our engagement with the (eight) Me262s and because of trying to stay with the Mosquito. Though we encountered (thirteen) '262s, we did not shoot anything down that day. We tried but to no avail. Even so, someone from Watton called later and congratulated us for a job well done and for the safe return of the Mosquito crew.

Derived from Norman Malayney's copyright manuscript on the 25th BG history.
Courtesy Norman Malayney, March 2004.

bobbysocks

05-03-2010, 04:49 PM

The following passage is just one of many exciting extracts from the marvellous stories about 3 Squadron's people and their adventures contained in "YOU LIVE BUT ONCE", the classic autobiography of Wing Commander R.H. (Bobby) Gibbes, DSO, DFC and Bar.

This incident happened on 21 December 1942, 150 miles south of Cirte, while Bobby Gibbes was leading six Kittyhawks on a reconnaissance over Hun, an Italian aerodrome.

Sergeant "Stuka" Bee's aircraft was set on fire by the aerodrome defence gunfire and at the same time, Pilot Officer Rex Bayly called up to say that his motor had been hit and that he was carrying out a forced landing. As Sergeant Bee had a lot of speed from his dive and was flaming badly, I advised him to climb up and bail out instead of trying to belly land his aircraft at high speed. He mightn't have heard me, or perhaps was badly wounded or even dead, as his speed had not decreased when he hit the ground. His aircraft rolled up into a ball, an inferno of flames. He didn't have a chance.

I circled and watched the Italians, showing great courage, send out an ambulance in an attempt to save him, but the outcome was obvious. It was later confirmed that he had been killed.

In the meantime, Rex Bayly crash landed his aircraft nearly a mile from the aerodrome, and on coming to a stop, called up on his radio to say that he was O.K. His aircraft did not burn. I asked him what the area was like for a landing to pick him up, and ordered the other three aircraft to keep me covered and to stop any ground forces coming out after him. He told me that the area was impossible, and asked me to leave him, but I flew down to look for myself. I found a suitable area about 3 miles further out and advised Bayly that I was landing, and to get weaving out to me.

I was nervous about this landing, in case shrapnel might have damaged my tyres, as on my first run through the aerodrome, my initial burst set an aircraft on fire. I had then flown across the aerodrome and fired from low level and at close range at a Savoia 79. It must have been loaded with ammunition as it blew up, hurling debris 500 feet into the air. I was too close to it to do anything about avoiding the blast and flew straight through the centre of the explosion at nought feet. On passing through, my aircraft dropped its nose, despite pulling my stick back, and for a terrifying moment, I thought that my tail plane had been blown off. On clearing the concussion area, I regained control, missing the ground by a matter of only a few feet. Quite a number of small holes had been punched right through my wings from below, but my aircraft appeared to be quite serviceable.

I touched down rather carefully in order to check that my tyres had not been punctured, and then taxied by a devious route for about a mile or more until I was stopped from getting closer to Bayly by a deep wadi. Realizing that I would have a long wait, and being in a state of sheer funk, I proceeded to take off my belly tank to lighten the aircraft. The weight of the partially full tank created great difficulty, and I needed all my strength in pulling it from below the aircraft and dragging it clear. I was not sure that I would be able to find my way back to the area where I had landed, so I stepped out the maximum run into wind from my present position. In all, I had just 300 yards before the ground dipped away into a wadi. I tied my handkerchief onto a small camel's thorn bush to mark the point of aim, and the limit of my available take off-run, and then returned to my aircraft, CV-V, and waited.

My aircraft continued to circle overhead, carrying out an occasional dive towards the town in order to discourage any attempt to pick us up. After what seemed like an age, sitting within gun range of Hun, Bayly at last appeared, puffing, and sweating profusely. He still managed a smile and a greeting.

I tossed away my parachute and Bayly climbed into the cockpit. I climbed in after him and using him as my seat, I proceeded to start my motor. It was with great relief that we heard the engine fire, and opening my throttle beyond all normal limits, I stood on the brakes until I had obtained full power, and then released them, and, as we surged forward, I extended a little flap. My handkerchief rushed up at an alarming rate, and we had not reached flying speed as we passed over it and down the slope of the wadi. Hauling the stick back a small fraction, I managed to ease the aircraft into the air, but we hit the other side of the wadi with a terrific thud. We were flung back into the air, still not really flying, and to my horror, I saw my port wheel rolling back below the trailing edge of the wing, in the dust stream. The next ridge loomed up and it looked as if it was to be curtains for us, as I could never clear it. I deliberately dropped my starboard wing to take the bounce on my remaining wheel, and eased the stick back just enough to avoid flicking. To my great relief we cleared the ridge and were flying.

Retracting my undercart and the small amount of take off flap, we climbed up. I was shaking like a leaf and tried to talk to Bayly but noise would not permit. The remaining three aircraft formed up alongside me and we hared for home, praying the while that we would not be intercepted by enemy fighters, who should by now, have been alerted. Luck remained with us, and we didn't see any enemy aircraft.

On nearing Marble Arch, I asked Squadron Leader Watt to fly beneath my aircraft to confirm that I had really lost a wheel and had not imagined it. He confirmed that my wheel had gone, but that the starboard wheel and undercart appeared to be intact. I then had to make up my mind as to whether to carry out a belly landing, thus damaging my aircraft further, or to try to attempt a one wheel landing, which I thought I could do. We were at the time very short of aircraft and every machine counted.

The latter, of course, could be dangerous, so before making a final decision, I wrote a message on my map asking Bayly if he minded if I carried out a one wheel landing. He read my message and nodded his agreement.

Calling up our ground control, I asked them to have an ambulance standing by, and told them that I intended coming in cross wind with my port wing up wind. Control queried my decision but accepted it.

I made a landing on my starboard wheel, keeping my wing up with aileron and, as I lost speed, I turned the aircraft slowly to the left throwing the weight out. When I neared a complete wing stall, I kicked on hard port rudder and the aircraft turned further to port. Luck was with me and the aircraft remained balanced until it lost almost all speed. The port oleo leg suddenly touched the ground, and the machine completed a ground loop. The port flap was slightly damaged as was the wingtip. The propeller and the rest of the aircraft sustained no further damage. The port undercart was changed, the flap repaired, the holes patched up and the aircraft was flying again on the 27th of the month, only six days after Hun.

Every enemy aircraft on Hun was either destroyed or damaged. Six aircraft and one glider were burnt, and five other aircraft were badly damaged. The bag included two JU52s, two Savoia 795, one JU88, one Messerschmitt 110, one CR42, one HS126 and two gliders. I was later to be awarded the DSO and this operation was mentioned as having a bearing on the award.

From: Johnnie Johnson, "Wing Leader", 1956

In March 1943 Johnnie Johnson had taken over command of the Canadian Wing at Kenley (403 and 416 Squadrons) equipped with the then new Spitfire 9:

"Some three weeks passed and we had only flown together on two or three occasions. Once, well inside France, we saw a large gaggle of Focke-Wulfs in the far distance, but our petrol was running low and we had to return without firing a shot. My Canadians flew extremely well and their air discipline was excellent, better I thought than the average mixed squadron. But we wanted a full-blooded scrap with the Abbeville boys to weld the wing together. Our opportunity arrived on a Saturday afternoon in early April [1943].
We were having lunch when the Tannoy announced that the wing would come to readiness in one hour's time. I walked over to the ops. block to study the details so that I could brief the wing. It was only a small show, but far better than idling away the afternoon on the ground. Crow was to lead his squadron of Typhoons across the Channel at low level, dive-bomb the Abbeville airfield and then withdraw at a high rate of knots. Our job was to climb over France as the Typhoons came out and knock down any Messerschmitts or Focke-Wulfs flushed by the bombing. It was a simple little operation, just Crow's squadron and my wing. What really appealed to me was that we were operating in a free-lance role and were not confined to any particular area. The weather was perfect and we were to operate under the control of a new radar station in Kent which was rapidly acquiring a reputation for excellent long-distance controlling. It was a week-end, and there always seemed to be a stronger enemy reaction on Saturdays and Sundays than any other day.
I telephoned Squadron Leader Hunter, the senior controller of the new radar station, outlined my tactics and agreed that he would not break radio silence unless he had an enemy plot on his scopes.
Crossing the French coast just south of Le Touquet, I caught a glimpse of Crow's Typhoons well below and heading back towards England. Our superchargers cut in at 19,000 feet with
an unpleasant thump and die engines surged and we eased back our throttles. At 24,000 feet I levelled out and Bolton's squadron drew abreast of me in the finger-four formation. Ford's squadron were just beginning to make condensation trails and these could be seen from a great distance and would betray our position. But before I could call him he dropped his squadron a few hundred feet and the twelve conspicuous thin white banners ceased.
Hunter broke the silence:
"Greycap from Grass-seed.1 Twenty plus bandits climbing up inland. Steer 140."
"O.K., Grass-seed," I acknowledged. "Any height on the bandits?"
"Well below you, Greycap. They are approaching the coast and I'll try and bring you out of the sun. Continue on 140."
This was perfect teamwork between controller and wing leader. It was the first time we had worked with Hunter: he seemed to have something of Woodhall's ability to put his information across in a quiet, reassuring manner. The whole intricate mechanics of long-range radar interception seemed to be working perfectly. Suddenly I was brimming with confidence, for I knew that Hunter and I would pull this one off.
"Greycap. Bandits have crossed below you at 15,000 feet. Port on to 310. Buster."
"O.K., Grass-seed. Port on to 310," I replied.
"Greycap. Bandits now seven miles ahead. 5000 feet below. Gate."
I put the Spitfires into a shallow dive and scanned the area ahead. The sky seemed empty.
"Greycap. Another strong formation of bandits behind you. About five to eight miles. Exercise caution."
Here were the makings of a perfect shambles! We were almost on top of the first enemy formation with another gaggle not far behind. How far? Hunter had said between five and eight miles, but the radar was scanning at its maximum range and five miles could be one mile - or ten. Should I call the whole tiling off and set course for Dungeness now? The decision was mine. For a moment it seemed as if we were suspended and motionless in the high sky, with the Canadians clustered around me waiting for an order.
Then I saw our quarry. One bunk of twelve 190s just below us and a mile ahead, and a further ten 190s well out on the starboard side. It was too golden an opportunity to miss. Height, sun and surprise in our favour and I had to take a chance on how far behind the other enemy formation was.
"Greycap to wing. Twenty-plus Huns below from twelve to three o'clock. Syd, I'm taking the left-hand bunch. Come down and take the right-hand gaggle. Get in!"
I turned slightly to get directly behind the 190s and remembered to make the turn slow and easy so that our wingmen could keep well up. I put the nose down and had to fight back an instinct to slam die throttle wide open. We had to hit these brutes together.
My own 190 was flying on the extreme port side of the enemy formation. We came down on their tails in a long, slanting dive. Before I opened fire, I looked to the starboard, saw Bolton's boys fanning out alongside and Ford's arrowhead of Spitfires falling down on their prey about three miles away. The attack was coordinated, and my task of leading the wing was temporarily, suspended. Now it was up to the individual pilots to select their opponents and smack them down. I missed the 190 with my first short burst and steadied the gun platform with coarse stick and rudder. I fired again and hit him on the wing root and just behind the cockpit. The spot harmonization paid off and the cannon shells thudded into him in a deadly concentration of winking explosions. He started to burn, but before he fell on to his back I gave him another long burst. Then I broke away in a steep climbing turn and searched the sky behind. Still nothing there. Below me another 190 was falling in flames, and on the starboard a parachute had opened into full bloom. Hunter was still concerned for our safety:
"Greycap. Withdraw. Strong force of bandits approaching. Almost on top of you."
I spoke to the wing:
"All Greycap aircraft. Get out now! We won't re-form. And keep a sharp look-out behind!"
The pilots didn't need telling twice: we poured across the Channel at high speed in pairs and fours. My section was the first to land and when I climbed out of the cockpit I was met by a small posse of officers, for the good word that we had bounced the 190s soon spread. I lit a cigarette and counted the Spits as they joined the circuit over Kenley. Sixteen down, four on the circuit - twenty. A singleton - twenty-one. A long pause and a pair - twenty-three. One to come. It seemed very important that he should swing in over Caterham and land. But we had waited too long: he was either missing or at some other airfield.
The pilots walked into the briefing room still excited and full of the fight. We totted up the score with the Spies listening silently and ever ready to reduce a claim from a destroyed to a damaged or, if they had the chance, to nothing at all! The total came to six 190s destroyed for the loss of one of our pilots, who, we could only surmise, must have been clobbered by a 190 after our first attack.
I was delighted with our effort. The controlling had been superb and the Canadians had flown really well. I made out my report, called the radar station and thanked Hunter, and checked with our operations room for any news of our missing pilot. They had no information.
The next morning Syd Ford walked into my office. He laid a pair of blue Canada shoulder-flashes on my desk and said: "The boys would like you to wear these. After all, we're a Canadian wing and we've got to convert you. Better start this way."
"Thanks, Syd," I replied. "I'll get them sewn on today."
A simple gesture, but for me it had a deep significance. The flashes were sewn on and two years were to elapse before it was time to take them down. "

bobbysocks

05-03-2010, 04:50 PM

From: Johnny Johnson, "Wing Leader", 1956

"We had been in Normandy well over three weeks, but the German bastion at Caen still held firm and prevented our ground forces from breaking out into the open country south of the city. Our fighter-bombers and light bombers of the Second Tactical Air Force had attacked enemy strongpoints on the outskirts of Caen many times, but the well-disciplined, tough German troops continued to put up a most stubborn and effective resistance. Early in July it was decided, despite some stern opposition in high quarters, to reduce enemy ground opposition by saturating them with a heavy attack by Lancasters of Bomber Command. Would the fiasco of Cassino in Italy, when the bombing attacks had created impassable obstacles to our own advance, be repeated at Caen? Was not the condemnation to death of many innocent French civilians unnecessary and a basic contradiction of the very principles we fought for? Would not the heavy bombers be more suitably employed in their strategic role of reducing the industrial might of Germany? Despite the various military and moral considerations, and the conflict of opinion amongst our most experienced air commanders, the decision was made to attack Caen.

Late one fine July evening, as the sun dropped to the western horizon, the attack began. Although Spitfires provided a target-cover force for the hundreds of Lancasters and Halifaxes, our presence was un necessary, for the Luftwaffe did not react to the attack. As the bombers made their run-in from the sea, I positioned my Spitfire to the west of the town so that I could watch the progress of the attack from a down-sun position. Our own ground troops had been withdrawn to a line some distance from the target area so that they would be in little danger of bombs which fell short of the targets. We had been told that all the targets were contained in an area approximately two miles in length and just short of a mile in depth. But well before the smoke and debris from the first bombs which hung over Caen in the calm evening sky had obstructed the scene from our view, it was quite apparent that a number of bombs had fallen well outside the target area. As I watched the terrible destruction wrought on this French city I could not help but wonder whether we were using a sledgehammer to crack a nut. We were all aware of the military necessity to break the enemy at Caen so that our ground troops could eventually deploy into open country. But we were not so sure that this object could only be achieved by the wholesale destruction of Caen and the death of a great number of its inhabitants. Some of the bombs were fused to explode up to six hours after the attack, so that there would not be too large a time-lag before the ground forces went in early the next morning. Flying low on the fringe of the attack, I distinctly saw a German tank thrown into the air, like a child's toy, and turning over and over before it fell to the ground.

Instead of turning to the north to set course for England after dropping its load, one of the Lancasters came down in a fairly steep dive towards the strongly defended enemy-held territory south of the city. I watched this manoeuvre in some amazement as the Lancaster would soon find itself a solitary target for the German flak. Perhaps the aircraft had had its controls shot away or damaged and could only fly in this fashion. But wait, the bomber has now levelled out and is still flying due south only a few feet above the main Caen-Falaise road. Amazed, I watch its antics. What the Hell is the pilot up to? I soon discover the object of the low-level flight. This road, which is one of the enemy's main supply routes, is packed here and there with stationary tanks, armoured cars and vehicles. As it sweeps down the road, both front and rear turrets of the bomber are in action and the gunners are firing long bursts into the enemy vehicles. There is a considerable amount of light flak, but the pilot obviously scorns this small stuff, since he is accustomed to a nightly barrage of heavy flak over the industrial cities of Germany. For him this affair is a bit of a lark, and like a schoolboy away from the vigilance of his prefect he is making the most of his freedom. Now the Lancaster carries out a slow wide turn to re-trace its flight northwards to Caen. Majestically, it ploughs along over the straight road with rear and front guns blazing away. Enemy drivers and crews abandon their vehicles as the Lancaster pounds along and dive for the shelter of the hedgerows. But what is this? Another Lancaster has appeared on the scene and is carrying out similar tactics. The first Lancaster is flying north. The second is steaming south. Both are over the centre of the highway and both avoid each other with a careful little swerve. Speechless, I watch the role of fighter-bomber being carried out, and most effectively, by the four-engined heavies. But now it is all over. The original glamour boy has climbed away to the north for his homeward journey and the second is pulling up from his strafing run. I fly alongside the Lancaster as it settles down for the flight back to Lincolnshire and wave to the gay adventurers inside. We have seen two bomber missions this evening which will never be recorded in any official log! Long after the war I discovered that the pilot of the first bomber was an ex-bricklayer from Scotland called 'Jock' Shaw. At the time of my story he was the proud captain of his own Lancaster, and was to win the D.F.C. and bar. Later he served as my adjutant.

Two days after the bomber attack, Caen was in British hands. We decided to drive there and see the results of the bombardment at close quarters. The streets were still choked with rubble and we had the greatest difficulty in manoeuvring the versatile jeep past blocks of stone and gaping craters. We had been told that the original plan to send an armoured column through Caen on the morning following the attack had to be abandoned. We could fully understand the-reason. Bulldozers struggled to clear the blocked roads, and we had to stop the jeep and continue our journey on foot. Here and there fires still raged: pathetic groups of silent French folk struggled with the debris in a forlorn attempt to find the bodies of some of their friends and relatives. A sickening stench of death pervaded, and the people to whom we spoke said that few Germans were killed as there were no enemy positions in the bombed area. We had seen the destruction wrought by the Luftwaffe on London, Sheffield, Coventry, Liverpool and Manchester; but those scenes paled when compared to the magnitude of this disaster. We thought that the French had been made to suffer without sufficient justification. We cut short our visit, made our way back to the nearby beach, where we lay in the sunshine and swam in the stained waters in an endeavour to forget the broken bodies, the shattered homes and the brooding despair which lay heavily on Caen."

________________________

"Breakthrough! Finally the beachhead burst at its seams, and the Americans broke through to the west, followed later by the British and Polish forces who were up against the main German armoured divisions at Caen.

What are one's remembered impressions of this history-making breakout? Hundreds of burning vehicles that we had strafed and set on fire in the famous Falaise gap? Red Crosses tied across lifeless German tanks? The group of arrogant German soldiers sitting outside on the farmhouse steps, playing cards as their trucks burnt? I stopped their game with a few hundred rounds of bullets, and their arrogance disappeared rapidly. Wildly waving peasant children welcoming the conquerors little knowing what it was all about?

Probably as pilots we saw more than most but what we did see wasn't very attractive. Then I met the man who will haunt me until my dying day.

Including ground-strafing, dive bombing and air-to-air fights, I had probably by now killed several hundred people, but from the air it was completely impersonal and made no mental impact. This man was different.

I was out on another "cannon test" which was the usual thinly veiled excuse to look for trouble. None of the aircraft in the air had the slightest smell of the Luftwaffe, so I confined my searchings to objects on the ground many miles behind the enemy front. Suddenly I saw him!

His motorbike had caused a small cloud of dust to arise, giving away his position. Like a kestrel hawk pouncing, I wheeled my Spitfire and streaked towards the ground.

By now my man had stopped on the corner of a hairpin bend, and as the range closed rapidly, I guessed he was studying a map. His military camouflaged bike and his grey-green uniform spelt him out as a despatch rider, and therefore a legitimate military target. As I placed the orange reflected dot of my gunsight on the centre of his body, he looked up straight at me, and knew the moment of truth had arrived.

As I stabbed the gun button he threw up his left arm as if to shield his face from the impact. I cursed him with all my soul for making such a pathetic human gesture, and loathed myself as I saw man and bike disappear in a torrent of bullets.

I returned straight to base and found it difficult to talk to anyone for several days.

I can still see his face and the raised arm."

Wing Commander Geoffrey Page, DSO, OBE, DFC and Bar, "Shot Down in Flames", Grub Street reprint 1999, pp.149-150.

bobbysocks

05-03-2010, 04:52 PM

"WE began to carry out low-level flights over France. These
operations were known by the code name Rhubarb. The idea
was to take full advantage of low cloud and poor visibility and
slip sections of Spitfires across the coast and then let-down
below the cloud to search for opportunity targets, rolling-stock,
locomotives, aircraft on the ground, staff cars, enemy troops and
the like. They were usually arranged on a voluntary basis and a
few pilots seemed to prefer this type of individual, low-level work
to the clean, exhilarating team work of the dog-fight. But the
great majority of fighter pilots thought privately that the dividends
yielded by the numerous Rhubarb operations fell far short
of the cost in valuable aircraft and trained pilots.
First of all we had to contend with the weather. Usually the
cloud base was less than 1000 feet when we slipped our two
Spitfires into its concealing vapour. During the next few minutes
all our thoughts were concentrated on the likely height of the
cloud base over France. Our let-downs from the cloud were
usually made over reasonably flat countryside, but here and there
small hills rose a few hundred feet and presented serious hazards.
If we weren't in the clear when the altimeter recorded 500 feet,
then we climbed back into the cloud and called the show off.
So it was difficult to be cool and calculating when making our
let-downs on Rhubarb flights. Perhaps two of us had flown in
cloud, in tight formation, for a distance of fifty miles at 2000 feet.
Time to descend, for we are over the target area—or should be
if we have steered an accurate course and the wind hasn't changed.
We ease the throttle back and put the Spitfires into a gentle dive.
The engine note changes, but it seems strangely loud in the cloud
and the stick trembles in your hand. You flash a grin of encouragement
at your wingman who is only a few feet away, his
eyes and hands attuned to every movement of your Spitfire,
for if he loses you in this bumpy, swirling greyness there is
not enough height for him to make the difficult transition to
instrument flight. You ease her down slowly. Are we slightly
off course? Will the ground be higher than where we planned to
break out? And the flak? 600 feet on the altimeter and you
catch a sudden glimpse of a wet sombre landscape of
hedged fields and copses. Then you are at the bottom of a
sort of inverted bowl, whose translucent sides of falling rain
seem dangerously confining.
Then there was the light flak. Gibbs told us that once beyond
the heavily defended coastal belt we should be lightly opposed
from the ground, but it always seemed as if the enemy gunners
were ready and waiting. Airfields were always extremely well
defended and it was a dangerous business to try and make more
than one fast, low-level attack. Straight in and out was the only
method on these occasions.
The Germans prepared unpleasant counter-measures against
these low-level attacks. Here and there decoy targets were
established, and these sometimes took the form of stationary
locomotives heavily armoured and surrounded by numerous,
well-camouflaged light flak guns, arranged to provide a deadly
concentration of fire against air attack. Many pilots received the
shock of their lives when they streaked down upon what they
imagined to be a sitting duck.
Usually our Rhubarb efforts yielded little more than a staff car
(or was it a French civilian vehicle?) or some target ineffectively
sprayed with the puny bullets of our machine guns. Whenever
we went after bigger game on the airfields we took some bad
knocks, and our first losses were from such operations. The
engines of our Spitfires were cooled by a liquid called glycol,
which was held in a small tank just below the spinner. This
glycol tank and radiator were always exposed to ground fire,
and one machine-gun bullet through either meant that the
engine caught fire or seized up within a matter of minutes.
I loathed those Rhubarbs with a deep, dark hatred. Apart
from the flak, the hazards of making a let-down over unknown
territory and with no accurate knowledge of the cloud base
seemed far too great a risk for the damage we inflicted. During
the following three summers hundreds of fighter pilots were lost
on either small or mass Rhubarb operations. Towards the end of
1943, when I finished this tour of ops. and held an
appointment of some authority at 11 Group, my strong views
on this subject were given a sympathetic hearing and Rhubarbs
were discontinued over France, except on very special
occasions."

from: Johnny Johnson, "Wing Leader", 1956

scottyvt4

05-03-2010, 06:01 PM

more a facts and figs on a fighter ace for the luftwaffe ace ..........................

Walter Nowotny
German Luftwaffe Ace, Fw 190 and Me 262 pilot
JG 54 and Kommando Nowotny

One of the highest scoring German aces (an Austrian, actually) almost ended his flying career very early.
Flying a Bf 109 in July 19, 1941, he had shot down three Polikarpov I-153 biplanes (his first three kills), when he went down too. He ditched his Messerchmitt in the Gulf of Riga and clambered into his one-man survival raft. With no food or drink, he paddled southwards, towards land that he estimated to be about 40 miles away. A couple German fighters flew overhead, but didn't notice his Mauser pistol shots. Sunburn set in, waves splashed into his dinghy, and he became exausted from his paddling.

On his second night adrift, two Soviet destroyers passed close by, but didn't notice him either. He was somewhat heartened by the evidently-German artillery fire directed at the Russian warships. But by the second day, he became nearly suicidal, and even began writing a "farewell message." He fell asleep, and when he awoke on the third day, the currents had brought him close to shore. He paddled towards it, landed, and collapsed on the sandy beach. He awoke in a bed; two Latvian auxiliaries (collaborators?) had rescued him.

For many months, JG 54 remained at Krasnogvardeisk, as the northern front settled into a stalemate around besieged Leningrad.

Messerschmitt Bf 109
Nowotny achieved over 50 victories in this airplanes, from July 1941 through early 1943. He was appointed Staffelkapitän of 1./JG 54 on 25 October 1942.
Focke Wulf 190
In January and February of 1943, JG 54 transitioned to the Fw 190, a rugged aircraft that Nowotny and many othe experten would fly with great success. In August, Nowotny added 49 victories to his score and was promoted to Gruppenkommandeur of 1./JG 54. Heady stuff for a 22-year-old. But he hadn't yet been awarded the "Oak Leaves," and showed distinct signs of "throat-ache;" despite the fact that he had passed the 120-victory threshhold - no "Oak Leaves."
But he continued to excel in the air. On September 1, 1943 he downed ten Russian aircraft. On a morning bomber escort mission, he destroyed four attacking Soviet fighters. He noticed another group, and promptly got two of those. As the dogfight carried him 180 km over Russian lines, he closed in on a seventh victim, only to have his cannon jam. he closed in ever closer and finished it off with his machine guns. He made good his return by flying on the deck, right thru the flak thrown up from a large town. That afternoon, on another sortie, he got three more during an in-and-out duel in the clouds.

A few days later, he received his long-awaited Oak Leaves. "The Swords" followed three weeks later, awarded to him at a ceremony at Hitler's headquarters.

By September 14, his score stood at 203, just behind the Luftwaffe leader (Hans Phillipp?). At midday, on a clear, perfect day, Soviet bombers and their fighter escorts approached. Nowotny led his 4-plane Schwarm on a Freie Jagd (literally "free hunt," or in Allied aviation jargon, a "fighter sweep"). Soon, evryone in the ops room heard over the loudspeaker his radio call that he had achieved his 204th. He was then the top Luftwaffe experte. He kept flying and fighting and shooting down Soviet planes. Before the end of September, he had reached a total of 235. On afternoon, while patrolling south of Velikiye Luki, he shot down 3 of a group of 14 Airacobras. The next day, in the same area, a flight of 6 Airacobras fled as soon as they sighted the Fw 190's; perhaps they were survivors from the previous day's mission. Only two escaped.

Then he had a day ruined by jammed guns and an out-of-service aircraft. The following day, his aerial rampage continued: two P-40s, a P-39, and an LaGG-3. Nowotny was doing his part to reduce the American Lend-Lease equipment sent to Russia.

The Diamonds
On October 15, 1943, he destroyed a Curtiss P-40 - his 250th victory. He was the first pilot ever to achieve such a score. Back at his base, a wild celebration ensued. Nowotny took off to Vilna to celebrate in style. His wingman "Quax" Schnörrer stayed at the base and, with other pilots, got riotously drunk. Then General von Greim telephoned, to say that the Führer wanted to speak to Nowotny, to congratulate him personally. Understanding the situation, General Greim passed on the information that Nowotny was at the Ria Bar in Vilna, confident that Hitler's telephone operators wouldn't be able to get through to the partying Nowotny. But they did. Nowotny, stewed to the gills, surrounded by young lovelies in a noisy bar, managed to get through the conversation with the Führer. He had been awarded the "Diamonds," the Reich's highest military honor. The next day, von Greim, Schnörrer, and Nowotny flew to Hitler's HQ in East Prussia, for Nowotny to receive his "Diamonds."

But October, 1943 marked the end of Nowotny's famous schwarm (flgiht of four planes). Toni Döbele (96 victories) was killed. Lt. Karl "Quax" Schnörrer (35) was badly injured in a crash and hospitalized for a long time. Nowotny himself was made into a superhero by Goebbels propaganda machine and was withdrawn from the front.

Training Assignments
His career was temporarily halted because he was assigned command of the Schulegeschwader 101 (SJG 101). This was a training unit for new pilots, and was based in Palau. Even though it was an unpopular assignment for the veteran pilots, Nowotny once again brilliantly succeded, earning a reputation as a first class instructor.
Me 262 Jet
On September 26, 1944, he was appointed CO of Kommando Nowotny, the world's first jet fighter unit, based at Achmer and Hesepe
Kommando Nowotny became operational on the 3rd of October and claimed their first kill, a B-24, on October 7th. Nowotny began the practice of using prop-driven conventional fighters as cover against the roaming Allied fighters during the takeoffs and landings of the Me 262. The Me 262 was especially vulnerable as the turbojet's relatively low thrust resulted in slow acceleration. It took some time for the jet to get up to speed. But once there, no Allied aircraft could touch it.

November 8, 1944
Adolph Galland, Luftwaffe General of Fighters, visited Achmer for an inspection. Nowotny was going to give Galland his pilots' flight reports. A flight of B-17 bombers was reported, so the unit took off, about six jets in the first wave, then another. The Fw-190Ds were waiting on the runway cover their return of the jets. Galland was in the operations shack, monitoring the pilots' radio transmissions. Several bombers were called out as shot down, and Nowotny radioed that he was approaching. The flight leader on the ground, Hans Dortenmann, requested permission to take off to assist, but Nowotny said no, to wait. The defensive anti-aircraft battery opened fire on a few P-51 Mustangs that approached the field, but they were chased away. The jets were coming in.
One Me-262 had been shot down, and Nowotny reported an engine failure before making a garbled transmission referring to “burning”. Galland watched Nowi's approach, heard the sound of a jet engine, and saw his Me 262 A-1a (W.Nr. 110 400) “White 8” dive vertically out of the clouds and crash at Epe, 2.5 kilometres east of Hesepe. The explosions rocked the air, and only a column of black smoke rose from behind the trees. The wreckage was Nowotny's plane. After sifting through it, the only salvageable things found were his left hand and pieces of his Diamonds decoration.

The unit was disbanded shortly after Nowotny's death. It had claimed 22 aircraft with a loss of 26 Me 262s, eight of which were due to accidents and mechanical failures.

scottyvt4

05-03-2010, 06:11 PM

Recollections of a Corsair Pilot
By C. R. Cartledge

In March 1944 came my posting to the new 1842 Squadron of Corsairs to be formed up at Brunswick, Maine, USA. This new and powerful fighter aircraft was immediately distinguishable by its cranked "gull" wings. From head on, with its radial engine, it had an aggressive appearance, but was fast and nimble, its long and horizontal nose giving it an unmistakable profile. It was faster than the Hurricane on which I had trained and was very responsive and manoeuvrable, with formidable fire power.
For a crisis it could go into water injection mode for those extra knots, the water tank giving ten minutes of boost.

We spent two months working up the squadron under Lt. Cdr. (A) Tony Garland, RNVR, and by June we were ready to complete our preparations by a trip[ down to Norfolk, Virginia, where we achieved the standard three successful landings on a US carrier. The Corsair was particularly tricky to deck-land due to its long, straight nose, which blotted out the pilot's vision ahead when the aircraft was adopting the landing position with flaps down. The final approach had to be made while still turning in order to keep the deck and batsman in sight, straightening out at the last moment before touch down.

Coming back to the U.K. we were based briefly at RNAS Eglinton (where we lost Sub. Lt. (A) Wheway who flew into a mountain in the mist) before joining HMS Formidable (Capt. P. Ruck-Keene, RN) in the Irish Sea in August 1944. We were on our way to the arctic to attack the German battleship Tirpitz, which was sheltering in the Alta Fjord. Little did we know that some of us were to be used as dive-bombers. Corsair Squadrons 1841and 1842 were on board, plus 848 Avenger Squadron. Stopping briefly at Scapa Flow, we sailed northwards carrying out flying exercises whenever weather permitted. Those who had volunteered for dive-bombing, of which I was one, were given practise on towed targets. We lost another pilot in an air collision, the younger brother of our own ship's surgeon. As we neared the arctic, we ran into the roughest seas I had so far experienced. There was no possibility of flying. The huge seas were throwing the ship in all directions and breaking over the flight deck, drenching the lashed down aircraft with salty water.

As we drew nearer the target the weather improved, enabling four strikes to be carried out on August 22, 23, 24 and 29, involving Barracudas, Hellcats, Corsairs, Avengers and Seafires. These included some dare-devil attacks led by Lt. Cdr. R. H. Richardson RNZVR and Major V. B. G. Cheesman, Royal Marines, who screamed low over the Tirpitz, attempting to lob their bombs down the funnels. Richardson lost his life in an attack two days later. We simultaneously supported diversionary attacks on related coastal targets. These left a trail of damaged or destroyed tankers, airfields, radio stations, and three Narvik Class destroyers near the islands and neighbouring fjords. In one attack Richardson, having run out of ammunition, lowered his arrestor hook and tore away the station's radio mast and aerials from almost zero feet.

In the last strike, the 'dive-bombers' were told that a 1000-lb bomb would be fastened under the port wing, the central fuselage position being taken up by the extra fuel tank. We were advised to trim the aircraft to give maximum lift to the port wing in the hope that this would compensate for the bomb. We would only find out when the aircraft left the flight deck on take-off! As I am writing this article 57 years later the reader can conclude that all went well. It was a fine and beautiful morning and we approached the islands and main coast line as low as possible to avoid radar detection knowing the Germans would operate a smoke screen as soon as they received warning. We climbed as we hit the coast and gained height for the dive-bombing. The view over the mountains and fjords on this brilliant morning was breathtaking and I could see the whole party of Avengers and the escorting Corsairs of 1841 and 1842 Squadrons. As we approached the Tirpitz, the white puffs of A-A shells started to burst around us and I lost my No.2, Sub. Lt. (A) French, RNVR. The smoke screen was already across the fjord, but leaving the huge outline of the Tirpitz just visible through it. I turned, and as I dived, saw one bomb explode close to the outline of the battleship. I released my bomb and pulled away hard, partially blacking out. There was a lot of flack blazing away in all directions. I turned and fired into one of the gunnery positions, then broke away at low level along the fjord. Cruising along just above the water I was admiring the scenery when bullets kicked up the water just in front of me. My Corsair responded well to some violent turns and twists and I escaped. Several pilots did not return however, two of whom were from 1842 Squadron. Whilst waiting his turn to land, one pilot ran out of fuel and ditched alongside the fleet. He was quickly picked up from the icy water. Very few of our aircraft returned unscathed, causing the maintenance crews a busy time patching up the bullet holes. Although immediate observation was made impossible by the smoke, we learned as we withdrew southwards that the Tirpitz, such a menace to Atlantic shipping, was disabled but not sunk. At least it was put out of action until it could be finished off by RAF Lancasters operating from Russia. It had been a gallant operation and had served its purpose of preventing the German battleship from sailing out of the fjord on further deadly missions. Major V. B. G. Cheesman was awarded a D.S.O. and I believe, later, Lt. Cdr. Richardson a posthumous V.C. for their exceptional bravery and determination in the attacks. There were also twelve D.S.C.'s and a D.S.M. awarded to other squadron commanders and flight leaders of which I was privileged to be one, which I took as recognition of the gallantry of all the aircrew involved.

The Formidable then set sail for the Pacific. After three months delay at Gibraltar waiting for a new gear wheel to be sent out from the U.K. we sailed through the Med and on to Columbo, losing three pilots in flying accidents off Alexandria, Lt. (A) Dunkley, RNVR, Sub. Lts. (A) RNVR Chipperfield and Railton. We finally arrived in Sydney early in June 1945, and from there we headed north stopping in the Phillipines for provisions and briefing. We were to join the British Pacific Fleet (B.P.F.), operating on the right of the line of the U.S. fleet. On the way we carried out regular sorties in pairs, attacking targets on the Sakishima Gunto, a chain of islands between Formosa and Okinawa. Here we lost our squadron commander Lt. Cdr. (A) Tony Garland D.S.C., who did not return from one such sortie. It was a shattering blow to lose Tony, who had been such an inspiring and efficient commander since the squadron's formation. He was replaced by Lt. Cdr. (A) Douglas Parker, RN.

As we came within striking distance of Japan, the Formidable suffered a direct hit on its flight deck from a Kamikaze pilot, causing casualties around the control tower and killing one of our pilots, Sub. Lt. (A) Bell RNVR. My flight was airborne at the time, but we never saw the Jap plane. We landed on the Indefatigable for a three-day stay while Formidable's flight deck was repaired. Early in the morning of July 17 Douglas Parker led 1842 Squadron in the first British air attack against the Japanese mainland. We were to attack airfields and other targets at Matsushima, Sendai and Masuda on the East Coast, north of Tokyo.
We came in low through poor visibility, but the Japs were ready for us. As I came across Matsushima airfield targeting two planes on the ground, my aircraft was hit and its trimming went suddenly berserk as I zipped over the hangars. I had to apply full right rudder and pull hard on the stick in order to fly straight and level. I could not carry on with the others, and radioed that I was returning to the fleet. I suspected my hydraulics were damaged, so I decided to bail out on my return, as deck landing without operative flaps and arrestor hook would almost certainly be disastrous, especially if I couldn't jettison the extra fuel tank! I climbed painfully to a safe bail-out height of 5,000ft, and was later relieved to see the fleet coming into sight. The drill for bailing out is to eject the hood, for which there is a lever. I pulled it, but instead of ejecting the hood it jammed it shut! I would have to do a deck landing after all (I must have said a prayer or two). The fire appliances were all ready waiting for me should I crash the barrier. As I made my final approach the batsman waived me on and I received a radio message to wait while the fleet turned out of wind to regain its correct position. I circled the carrier, waiting for it to turn back into wind, at probably not more than 500ft, trying to free the hood. At each effort I had to let go of the stick, continuously losing height.

Then the miraculous happened. As I turned for another effort I flew into the sea. The next thing I knew I was floating, supported only by a Mae West, with the last piece of my Corsair's wing just disappearing into a wave about twenty yards away. The impact had knocked off the hood and thrown me out, breaking my safety straps and parachute harness, yet leaving me more or less unscathed. A friend watching from Formidable's bridge said that my aircraft exploded on impact and he was amazed that I survived. I was picked up by a destroyer, and was sent back to Australia for a rest and check-up. While in Sydney, news came through of the atom bombs and Japanese surrender.

Early in September, from the Botanical Gardens overlooking Sydney Harbour, I watched the triumphant return of the Formidable. Going on board I found many new faces but several old ones missing. 1842 Squadron had lost a further three pilots. These included Sub. Lt. (A) Jimmy Ross (Canadian), whose aircraft wings folded up on take-off. Of the eighteen pilots in the Brunswick photo only nine had survived. Total squadron losses were fourteen. Tragically, half these losses were non-operational and could to some extent have been caused by the Corsair's long, level nose, which restricted the pilot's view ahead.

bobbysocks

05-03-2010, 10:27 PM

more nowotny....but tomorrow...hot russian chicks we would all love to meet!!

The eager and fearless nature of "Nowi" soon became well-known among the other pilots of JG 54. This side of his personality almost cost him his life, as he was shot down by an I-153 over the Riga Bay, following his first three victories on 19 July 1941. After three days and nights (during which he was close to committing suicide out of pure desperation) in a rubber dinghy in the sea, he finally reached the shore. This first encounter with death changed young "Nowi". He became more careful - and superstitious, always carrying the trousers he had worn on this occasion, the Abschusshose, on all his combat missions.

Please hear his own vivid account from second mission over Leningrad on 4 August 1942 (the previous mission resulting in three kills) clearly pictures both the skill and character of this young Austrian fighter pilot in the Luftwaffe:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"It was a clear blue sky, and it was filled with Soviet fighters attempting to attack our bombers. I picked an I-18 (MiG-1) and made a sharp turn, putting my Me 109 in a good position. A few bursts sent him burning to the ground. The remaining fighters tried to escape, but my Me was faster. Flying above the docks on the Neva mouth, I got the backboard plane in a finger-four formation into my gunsight. Two bursts of fire and the Rata blew up. Fuselage and wings tumbled down on fire. The Flak fired fiercely from below. I made a 180 degree turn and spotted four I-18s attacking our bombers from behind. Pulling up the nose of my plane, I made one of the Soviet fighters pass through my bullet tracers. The success stunned me. He immediately went into a steep dive, started spinning and left a thick black trail of smoke. This was my sixth victory today. Number seven didn't last long. I was just about to return home, as suddenly a Rata pulled up beneath me. I pushed my stick forward, and seconds later the enemy went down in spirals."
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This day, Tuesday 4 August 1942, he achieved his victories Nos. 48-54 - thus marking the beginning of his astonishing victory row. Fourteen months later, he reached the 250 victory mark (on 13th October 1943, his victim was a skillfully flown P-40) as the first fighter pilot of WW II.

During the following year, he managed to down another 40 Russian planes, but in majority these were rather "easy" victories, achieved with great care and mainly against aircraft much obsolete to his Messerschmitt Bf 109 F and Gs. The blow against Nowotny´s self-confidence was not fully repaired until that fateful day in August 1942. From then on, he felt absolutely secure in the air. Only on 4th August 1942 "Nowi" scored seven kils in three sorties. This is remarkable, since the bulk of his successes were scored after the recovery of the Soviet Air Force, when obsolete models such as the I-16 were exchanged for Yak-9s and La-5s equal to the Messerschmitt and Focke-Wulf fighters, and as aces such as Petr Pokryshev on the Leningrad front started emerging. Successes of Nowotny were awarded by Knight Cross on 4th September 1942. Soon, on 25 October 1942 he got command of 9./JG 54.

Roaming the skies over Leningrad in 1942/43, Nowotny definitely must have met Pokryshev in the air more than once. Flying over Staraya Russa, a skilful Soviet pilot once was close to putting an end to Nowotny´s deadly career. "The Russians have had me shot up! I've got 'blisters' on my wings!" Nowotny cried over the radio: "We desperately shook off the enemy and made a quick escape at low level", said his wing-man "Quax" Schnörrer. With smoke pouring out of the hit engine, Nowotny´s Messerschmitt 109 made a hastily landing at Tulebya airfield. Rushing on the landing strip at 100 mph, the engine suddenly burst into flames. At a speed of 60 mph, Nowotny blew off his and left his plane in a true do-or-die jump. The burning Messerschmitt continued rolling another 30 meters, and then exploded.

On 25 March 1943, Nowotny met the first Soviet Spitfires - belonging to Major Petrov´s 26 GvIAP of the Leningrad Air Defense - and shot down one of them, his 79th victory. On 15 June, he scored his 100th kill. Nine days later, he brought down 10 Soviet aircraft in one single day. That month, Walter Nowotny raised his score by no less than 41. Promoted to Oberleutnant and in charge of 1./JG 54 "Grünherz", he surpassed himself by downing 49 Soviet planes in August 1943, among them nine on the 13th and seven on the 21st. Claiming his 150th victory on 18 August, Nowotny stood as No 16 on the "Ace list".

The following month was opened with another ten victories on the first day. Three days later, he was awarded with the Oak Leaves to the Knight's Cross, and on 9 September 1943, his victory tally reached the incredible "200 mark". During his last ten days on the Eastern Front, ending on 14 October 1943, Walter Nowotny blew 32 Russian aircraft out of the sky - pushing his total victory score to 255.

22-years-old Hauptmann Walter Nowotny by now stood on the top of the fighter aces. Desperate for anything that could give the German people any faith in the war, the Nazi propaganda machinery rapidly turned Nowotny into its foremost headline "superstar". Young Walter received all the highest military awards at hand: The Knight´s Cross with Oak Leaves, with Swords, and with Diamonds added. Afraid of losing such a "star", the High Command withdrew Nowotny from combat activity.

During the following year, his main role in the war was to serve as an object for propaganda and moral-boosting. But the winds of war eventually forced the High Command to call back Nowotny into active service. In the fall of 1944, he was put in charge of the first jet fighter unit, equipped with the Me 262, "Kommando Nowotny".

Nowotny was firstly reassigned to a training Geschwader in Pau. He also test flew the Me 262 - like most other Experten he was astonished. Since he was not employed to his full potential in the Defense of the Reich organization, he was given the command of the Me 262 test unit - Kommando Nowotny. In it's short history Ekdo 262 didn't live up to expectations of the High Command and the pilots themselves. Nowotny was to be the energy boast that the unit needed. He was to lead by example. When he arrived to Hesepe he was introduced to the Oberleutnant Hans Gunther Muller the Komandeur of the Hesepe detachment, Nowotny immediately reacted in his own fashion saying: ¨What? You are the Staffelkapitan and you haven't scored a kill on the Me 262??!! I suggest you find yourself a more suitable employment.¨ But he was to soon experience the real situation in the unit.

In the next few weeks the unit was plagued by the constant enemy action, the highly temperamental jet turbines and similar problems which were not solved till the end of the war, but eventually the catastrophic 8. November would dawn.

Galland and Keller were visiting the unit that day. Under the pressure to perform, and to rectify the unit in the eyes of the High Command, Komando Nowotny gave their best shot. Nowotny was among the pilots who were to fly that day. The Komando's all out effort turned out to be only 2 Me 262 in the first wave and the same in the second wave. The target was a large group of bombers heavily escorted who were targeted to bomb the marshalling yards at Rheine and the Nordhorn Canal. There were four FG on the lookout for rats coming from Hesepe and Achmer. Detecting the bombers two Rottes of Me 262 were prepared to take-off (one at Hesepe-Erich Buttner and Franz Schall, and at Achmer-Nowotny and Gunther Wegmann). But only two Me 262 managed to take-off. Buttner had a puncture during taxing and Nowotny's turbines refused to start-it was most likely an fuel-clog problem. But the two pilots airborne managed to bring down a Thunderbolt and a Mustang.

Galland: "I arrived on that day ( 7. November) to inspect the unit and write a report, plus I spoke with Nowotny that evening, and he was going to give me his pilots' reports concerning their actions. The next day, a flight of B-17 bombers was reported heading our way, so the unit took off, about six jets (note: some relations told about four), if I remember correctly, in the first wave, then another. The Fw-190Ds were waiting on the runway to take off and cover their return, engaging the Allied fighters that were sure to follow. I was in the operations shack, where we monitored the radio transmissions and could get an idea of what was happening."

Schall approached the formation but didn't make contact as he was intercepted by escorting Mustangs. In the following dogfight Schall reported a Mustang shot-down, but he suffered a flame-out at high altitude. He tried to start his turbines with a dive, but was caught-up by Mustangs, who made some really nice photos of the evacuated turbinen jager.

Galland: "Several bombers were called out as shot down, and Nowotny radioed that he was approaching. The flight leader on the ground, Hans Dortenmann, requested permission to take off to assist, but Nowotny said no, to wait. The defensive anti-aircraft battery opened fire on a few Mustangs that approached the field, but they were chased away, from what I could understand, and the jets were coming in. One Me-262 had been shot down (note: piloted by Franz Schall), and Nowotny reported one of his engines was damaged. He was flying on the right engine alone, which made him vulnerable. I stepped outside to watch his approach to the field, when an enemy fighter pulled (Nowotny's slayer) away not far from us."

At that very same moment Lt. RW. Stevens of the 364 FG which was patrolling the area, caught-up with a Me 262-flown by Nowotny who was returning to Hesepe. He knew the jet was approaching the field, and would shortly be in the Flak-alley. He swiftly closed in due to the Nowotny speed loss from the engine failure. When in the gun-range he opened fire. He recorded some hits on the jet, but sensing all that flak is just waiting for him to come in to range, he decide that he would be satisfied with a Me 262 - damaged. He put his trusty Mustang in a shallow dive to gain speed and he immediately went back to seek cover in those low hanging clouds. Meanwhile Major Nowotny was fighting a lost battle. His Me 262 was partly paralyzed from the engine loss, and he made one last radio transmission. Last words of Nowotny heard over the radio were: "I´m burning! My god, my god! I´m burning!". Then his fighter rolled and stalled-probably on the port side. His altitude was low, so when hitting the ground he briefly bounced back in the air losing one of the engines, and upon hitting the ground his Me 262 furiously exploded.

Galland: "I heard the sound of a jet engine, and we saw this 262 coming down through the light clouds at low altitude, rolling slightly and then hitting the ground. The explosions rocked the air, and only a column of black smoke rose from behind the trees. We took off in a car and reached the wreckage, and it was Nowotny's plane. After sifting through the wreckage, the only salvageable things found were his left hand and pieces of his Diamonds decoration."

The crash site at Epe (2.5 km east of Hesepe) is littered with the remains of the Meserschmitt scattered in an wide area. A local remembers that a engine was lying on the road beside the crash site. A small memorial was erected near the ¨grave¨ of this exceptional pilot. R. Stevens reported having chased and damaged a Me 262 at Epe.

bobbysocks

05-04-2010, 04:56 PM

as promised. the "ruskie' boys will especially love this one. and while its not in "their" words ( because many didnt make it back ) it is very much worth reading.

as we know...the soviet army was an equal opportunity employer. women did all the same jobs as men. some of their best snipers were female and as you will read....some of their aces and most feared fighter pilots were as well. let me introduce you first to Lilya Litvak, the "White Rose" of Stanilgrad.

Lidya Vladimirovna Litvak was born in Moscow in August 18, 1921. Lilya was her nickname. She was regarded by all as a "strikingly beautiful woman", which helped earn her public appreciation and, added to her success as a fighter pilot, served the propaganda ministry well.

Litvak's aviation adventure began when she was teenager. Having 14 years old she joined Aeroclub, and one year later she took off for her first a lone flight. Soon Lidya arrived to 'Khersonskoya' Aviation School. After finishing it she returned to 'Kalininskiy' Aeroclub, as a flight instructor. When the war began, Lidya's dream was join to the battle. The building of female units by Marina Raskova, was excellent occasion!

She began military service in the all-woman 586th IAP, where she flew mostly defense missions from January to August 1942. In August she was posted, with Katiya Budianova, Masha Kuznietzova and Raya Bieliayeva to 'male' squadrons because of her merits. They arrived to 6th IAD (after some sources it was 9th Guards IAP of 287 IAD), battling over Stalingrad front. With this unit she got her first 2 air victories in September 13, 1943. It was second combat sortie. Soviet pilots encountered formation of Ju 87s with cover of Bf 109s. In first attack Lidya killed a single 'Stuka'. Then she noticed a friend's plane in trouble - Raya Bielayeva dueled against very agressive 'Messer'. Help arrived just in time and the Bf 109 was downed. After Soviet's relations German fighter pilot (experienced ace, 'baron', and member of Richthofen unit) fell POW and this same day evening he meet his adversary. He was very surprised seeing young, beutiful, female pilot...

In the end of January, 1943, she was transferred with Yekaterina Budianova to the 296th IAP, stationed Kotiel'nikovo airfield near Stalingrad. On February 17, 1943, she was awarded the Order of the Red Banner. Two days later she was promoted to Junior Lieutenant and soon after to Senior Lieutenant.

On 22 March 6 Soviet fighters encountered formation of Ju 88s. Lidya just downed one of them when she noticed attacking 6 Bf 109s. She rapidly turned against Germans to cover other surprised Soviet fighters. After heavy, 15-minuts combat Litvak's Yak returned base, but plane took several hits while Lidya was wounded. After hospital's stay she went to Moscow with order of month rehibilitaion. But after next week, in first days of May, she arrived front unit...

When she came back, the 296th IAP had been renamed the 73 Guards IAP for their exploits in battle.

On 5 May 1943 Lilya, not fully healthy after injuring, took part in aerial combat, scoring 1 kill. Two days later another Bf 109 fell in her gunsight, escaping with dark smoke.

She was wounded again in combat on July 16. This day Soviets escorted Il -2s when they spotted 30 Ju 87s in cover of 6 Bf 109s. In dramatic combat Lidya downed Junkers and Messerschmitt, shared with her leader. She landed in German-ocuppied territory, but got back to base on foot. She din't permit for doctor's examine - saying: "I'm feeling enough good to fight!"

Three days later she again took off for combat mission. On 21 July Lida flew as a wingman of unit's commander - Ivan Golishev. The pair of Soviet fighters was attacked by 7 enemy Bf 109s. Lidya fufilled her duty covering the leader, she managed to shot down one of 'Messers' attacking Golishev, but her Yak was heavily hit. She belly-landed near Novikovka village.

There is no doubt, that heavy combats, wounds, the death of Katya Budyanova (in combat) and death of close friend Alieksiey Solomatin (in plane crash) exhaust Lilya both physically and mentally...

She was repeatedly successful in flying missions, although was finally killed while escorting a unit of Shturmoviks returning from an attack in August 1, 1943 (it was her third sortie this day!). Because of her notoriety amongst the Germans, eight Messerschmitt Bf 109's concentrated solely on Lilya's Yak-1 with number '23' on board, and it took all eight of them to finally shoot down the 'White Rose of Stalingrad'. Her body and aircraft were not found during the war, but a marble monument, with 12 gold stars—one for each enemy plane that she had shot down—was erected in her memory in Krasy Luch, in the Donetsk region. Litvyak had completed 168 missions, and had 3 shared victories in addition to her personal twelve. She was 22 years old when she died.

Her remains were found at last in 1979, buried under her fallen YaK-1's wing, near the village of Dmitriyevka. Ten years later her body was recovered for an official burial; and in May 5, 1990 she was posthumously conferred the title of Hero of the Soviet Union by then Premier Mikhail Gorbachov.

After some sources, on each side of her Yak-1's cockpit she painted a white lily, often confused for a rose—hence the nickname. She was so fond of flowers, that she often picked wildflowers and carried them aloft on her missions. According to her mechanic, Inna Pasportnikova, she had a postcard with yellow roses in her instrument panel. The white rose on the fuselage became famous among the Germans, who knew better than to try to dogfight the familiar Yak-1, and usually tried to make good their escape before Litvyak got too close. But there is no photography confirmation about 'white lilly' painting and I'm afraid that is only the legend...

bobbysocks

05-04-2010, 05:01 PM

and now Marina Raskova and other Soviet Female Pilots....

After Germany invaded the Soviet Union, between 22 June 1941 and 8 May 1945 there were nearly one million women who served in the Soviet Armed Forces, many of whom were at the front, enduring the harshness of frontline combat and fighting alongside their male counterparts for the very existence of their homeland. Soviet women's combat aviation regiments began to be formed in October 1941, after the Soviet high command authorized Marina Raskova to organize a female special Aviation Group No. 122.

A few words would be in order here about Marina Raskova, a very interesting personality. Besides establishing close relationships with everyone who had the pleasure of knowing her, Raskova also cared deeply for the people under her command. She was a very cheerful woman with a wide range of interests, including classical music (she attended the Pushkin School of Music, specializing in piano playing), who became fluent in French and Italian and studied chemistry as well as military subjects.

At the age of 19 Marina Raskova was hired by the Zhukovsky Aviation Engineering Academy as a laboratory technician. In 1934 she passed the aviation navigator's examination and in 1935 obtained her pilot's license. On 24 October 1937 Raskova and Valentina Grizodubova, while flying a Yak-12, scored the female world record in a long distance non-stop flight of 1,445 km. In 1938 Raskova took part in three record flights: on 24 May and 2 July in an MP-1 flying boat, covering 1,749 km and 2,241 km respectively and on 24-25 September with V. Grizodubova and P. Osipenko in an ANT-37 covering 6,450 km or 5,908 km as the crow flies in a pioneer non-stop flight from Moscow to the Pacific. At the age of 26 she was awarded the Gold Star of Hero of the Soviet Union, along with Grizodubova and Osipenko, for their flight to the Far East.

After the German-Soviet war broke out on 22 June 1941, Raskova used her personal influence with Joseph Stalin, and her position on the People's Defense Committee, to secure permission to form all-female combat units. This request was at the behest of many Soviet young women and girls who wished to fight their homeland's enemy. In the Soviet Union there were already some pre-war female pilots that had been trained in aeroclubs by the Osoaviakhim (Society for Assistance to Defense, Aviation and the Chemical Industry). With the official approval of Stavka (Shtab Glavnogo Verkhovnogo Komandovaniya = Headquarters/Supreme High Command) and assistance from the Komsomol (Young Communist League) in selecting training candidates, Raskova began forming three all-female aviation regiments in October 1941.

After their acceptance into this new program, the future airwomen were moved to the small city of Engels on the Volga River north of Saratov. While at Engels, the women were to finish most intensive flying and navigation courses in six months, which normally took about 18 months!

Raskova had of course "kept an eye" on the entire training process, deciding on the final posting of each airwomen. With the official Stavka approval, Marina Raskova eventually formed three women's aviation regiments: the 586 IAP (Fighter Aviation Regiment), the 587 BAP (Bomber Aviation Regiment) and the 588 NBAP (Night Bomber Aviation Regiment). The first regiment was initially assigned to air defense duties in Saratov, while the other two were eventually sent to the front. These three aviation regiments were numbered in the "500" series, which meant that they were of special interest to the GKO (Gosudarstvennyy Komitet Oborony= State Committee for Defense).

When the women of these three female combat units were completing their training at Engels, the military situation at and around Stalingrad had become critical for the Soviets. Allegedly, the 1st Squadron was transferred from the 586 IAP for duty at Stalingrad due to shortages of male pilots. This is not necessarily true; there is another explanation for the transfer, i.e. that Tamara Kazarinova, the Fighter Regiment's Commander, wished to get rid of some of her subordinates, whom she considered troublemakers, by sending them to Stalingrad. Among those sent to Stalingrad were future aces Senior Sergeants Lidya Litvyak and Yekaterina (Katya) Budanova, with 12 and 11 kills (the second figure unconfirmed) respectively. Assigned to front-line fighter regiments, Litvyak and Budanova were initially underestimated as to their combat effectiveness and flying skills.

Eventually, Litvyak and Budanova were assigned to the elite 73 IAP, 6 GvIAD, 8 VA (73th Fighter Aviation Regiment, 6th Guards Fighter Aviation Division, 8th Air Army). Fighting as free hunters in search of targets of opportunity against the very best German fighter pilots, and overcoming their own male comrades' prejudices, Litvyak and Budanova were soon able to exceed the three confirmed aerial victories needed to become fighter aces.

Here is small episode from the combat efforts of Lilya Litvyak. On 22 March 1943, Litvyak was attacked by four Messerschmitt Bf 109s over Khar'kov area. Litvyak managed to shoot down two of the German fighters, while driving off the rest. This aerial engagement coincided exactly with the only two German Bf 109s lost in the same area on this date. The two German fighter pilots shot down were Leutnant Franz Müller (Bf 109G-4, coded "BH + XB") and Unteroffizier Karl-Otto Harloff (Bf 109G-2, coded "yellow 2") of the 9th squadron, fighter wing 3 (9./JG 3). German records have each of these men, who both survived, being reported shot down by Russian fighters. Lilya Litvyak was killed on 1 August 1943.

Katya Budanova was killed earlier, on 18 July 1943. According to her mechanic, while escorting a group of Soviet dive bombers Budanova was attacked by three enemy fighters and managed to shoot down one of them. Villagers who witnessed this engagement from the ground reported seeing Budanova's aircraft make a very controlled landing, even though it had obviously been damaged in flight. When the villagers reached the aircraft they discovered that she was already dead.

The remainder of the 586 IAP, commanded by Major Tamara Kazarinova, assisted in the Soviet Operation Saturn and Uranus (the elimination of the German 6th Army at Stalingrad) during November 1942, at which time they flew Yak-1 fighters. After the successful destruction of German forces in the Stalingrad area, the 586 IAP was tasked with defending some important military logistical facilities and strategic locations.

Earlier, towards the end of September 1942, the 586 IAP's Valerya Khomyakova downed a Ju 99, becoming the first Soviet woman fighter pilot to shoot down a Soviet aircraft by night. In 1944 the unit was rearmed with Yak-9 fighters and took part in the Soviet offensive in Hungary. The 586 IAP finished the war on one of the captured airfields in Austria. During the war, the female fighter pilots of the 586 IAP flew 4419 sorties, and scored 38 victories. Losses have not been totalled.

This unit was officially declared combat ready in May 1942, and on 23 May 1942, led by Marina Raskova, reached Ukraine. Because of their performance these women soon won the respect of their adversaries, when the Germans started calling their female opponents of this regiment "Night Witches."

Hauptmann Johannes Steinhoff, the commander of II./JG 52 who was awarded the Oak Leaves to the Knight's Cross for 101 victories on 2 September 1942, wrote: "We simply couldn't grasp that the Soviet airmen that caused us the greatest trouble were in fact WOMEN. These women feared nothing. They came night after night in their very slow biplanes, and for some periods they wouldn't give us any sleep at all."

On most occasions, the poor bombing and navigational devices of the "Night Witches" prevented them from dealing any heavy material damage to the enemy. But on the night of 25 October 1942, a lucky bomb strike set a fuel depot at the airfield of Armavir ablaze. The fire spread, and six Ju 88s and He 111s of Stab and II./KG 51 were destroyed. Only one aircraft escaped damage. This led to the quick withdrawal of II./KG 51 to the Kerch Peninsula.

As a counter-measure, Fliegerkorps IV organized an improvised night-fighter unit of 10./ZG 1. Operating with the support of searchlights, the Bf 110s of this unit took a heavy toll of the slow and brittle Po-2 biplanes once they encountered them in the air. The Po-2 aircraft was easily set on fire by either the antiaircraft or machine-gun tracers, and the plane was almost always doomed. The crew could not escape, because parachutes were not provided until the summer of 1944.

The most successful night-fighter pilot of 10.(NJ)/ZG 1 during this period was Oberfeldwebel Josef Kociok, who was credited with 21 night kills. During a single night he destroyed four Po-2s in a row. Serafima Amosova witnessed this event: "One night, as our aircraft passed over the target, the searchlights came on, the antiaircraft guns were firing, and then a green rocket was fired from the ground. The antiaircraft guns stopped, and a German fighter plane came and shot down four of our aircraft as each one came over the target. Our planes were burning like candles. We all witnessed this scene. When we landed and reported that we were being attacked by German fighters, they would not let us fly again that night. We lived in a school building with folding wooden beds. You can imagine our feelings when we returned to our quarters and saw eight beds folded, and we knew they were the beds of our friends who perished a few hours ago."

Oberfeldwebel Josef Kociok was awarded the Knight's Cross. Later he was killed in action near Kerch when he collided with a crashing Russian aircraft and his parachute failed to open.

On 6 January 1943 the regiment received the coveted acknowledgment of its members'meritorious service and was awarded the new title of 46th Taman' Guards Night Bomber Aviation Regiment. Soviet statistics show this unit to have flown about 23,672 sorties and the unit was credited with dropping 3,000 tons of bombs. (Please note that the maximum bomb load of a Po-2 plane was only 300 kg!) Twenty-three airwomen of this regiment were awarded the Gold Star of Hero of the Soviet Union, and it was the most highly decorated regiment in the entire Soviet Air Force. (The 24th Hero of the Soviet Union was awarded to a former navigator in 1995.)

Maj Marina Raskova herself took command of the 587th Dive Bomber Aviation regiment. Her chief of staff was Capt Militsa Kazarinova, the sister of the infamous Tamara Kazarinova, first commander of the 586th Fighter Aviation Regiment. The 587th began training on Su-2 bombers, which became obsolete, so it soon was re-equipped with twin-engined Pe-2 dive bombers. On 22 November 1942 the regiment finished its training and was ordered to move to the Stalingrad Front. The points of battle "tour" of this unit were: Orel, Kursk, Smolensk, Vitebsk, Borisov, Mazurian Lakes. In May 1943, near Elblag, Poland, the dive bomber regiment finished its war operations, now designated as the 125th "M. M. Raskova" Borisov Guards Dive Bomber Aviation Regiment (after helping in the liberation of the town of Borisov). The unit's flag was decorated with the Orders of Suvorov and Kutuzov III Class. This Regiment's crews flew a total of 1134 combat missions, dropping 980 tons of bombs. The most unusual success of this unit was scored by Mariya Dolina. In her Pe-2 bomber she downed two enemy planes, a Bf 109 and Fw 190, at the same time.

A fitting tribute was made to the dedication of this unit's airwomen by the male Free-French pilots of the "Normandie-Niemen" Fighter Regiment who often fought next to these women: "Even if it were possible to gather and place at your feet all the flowers on earth, this would not constitute sufficient tribute to your valor."

Marina Raskova did not survive the war, having died in a plane crash. According to Capt Valentina Savitskaya-Kravchenko, the unit's chief navigator, in December 1942 there was an urgent need to transfer as many Pe-2s to the Stalingrad front as soon as possible. While leading a formation of three aircraft to the front on 4 January 1943 in a blinding snowstorm, Raskova crashed her aircraft into the high west bank wall of the Volga River north of Stalingrad. The entire crew were killed. Since this was a military mission, involving supply of the front with aircraft and their crews, Raskova was considered as being Killed in Action (KIA).

The 587 BAP and the 588 NBAP were employed in the intense fighting in the Kuban area of southern Russia. They flew their missions resisting the finest Jagd Gruppen (fighter group) of the German Luftwaffe, JG 54. This German fighter group included some of the world's highest ranking fighter aces in history, including Erich Harmann with 352 confirmed air combat kills.

At times suffering heavy losses, the women in the night bomber regiment received many decorations and flew as many as fifteen missions per night. Some of those who have never read these women's memoirs believe that the story of the female ground crews has never been adequately covered in print. True, these women had to drag 60 kg (124 pound) compressed air cylinders to the aircraft to be recharged, hauled ammunition cans, removed weapons, performed maintenance tasks, loaded bombs and carried out repairs, which was all done in the open in all kinds of weather. The female ground support personnel suffered from frost bite, sunburn, stress, anxiety, hunger and fatigue.

During the Battle of Kursk in the summer of 1943, which resulted in the collapse of any hope of German victory in the East, prior to the Soviet assault against Berlin in May 1945, the Soviet female combat units were engaged in some of the heaviest aerial combat operations in history. Among the airwomen who didn't serve in the women's regiments was Senior Lieutenant Anna Timofeyeva-Yegorova, Hero of the Soviet Union, who flew the IL-2 "flying tank," in Kuban and Crimea. Timofeyeva, regimental deputy commander and chief navigator of the 805 ShAP (Ground Attack Aviation Regiment), was the only female in her unit. This woman faced some of the fiercest aerial combat in recorded history against the Luftwaffe's J-54.

Some of the women of these female units that won distinction and held command posts were as follows:

Commanders - 586 IAP (Fighter Aviation Regiment): Lidya (Lilya) Litvyak, Hero of the Soviet Union (HSU) - Flight Commander; Raisa Belyayeva - Squadron Commander; Tamara Pamyatnykh - Squadron Commander.

Commanders - 587 BAP (Bomber Aviation Regiment): Klavdiya Fomicheva, HSU - Squadron Commander; Marina Raskova, HSU - Regimental Commander; Nadezhda Fedutenko, HSU- Squadron Commander.

Commanders - 588 NBAP (Night Bomber Aviation Regiment): Yevdokiya Bershanskaya - Regimental Commander; Yevgeniya Zhigulenko, HSU- Flight Commander; Tat'yana Makarova, HSU- Flight Commander; Nina Ul'yanenko, HSU, Flight Navigator.

bobbysocks

05-04-2010, 05:06 PM

"It must have been at the time Al [Deere] was hit that one of the other 109s joined our formation and took up his position as my number two! It was not until we were over Bethune that the leader of the section on my right suddenyl realised that my wingman was, in fact, a 109. He immediately opened fire and the enemmy aircraft dived away, which was when I saw it.

The distance from Hazebrouck to Bethune is quite considerable and all this time I had this German aircraft behind me, in fact, I was even looking back straight into its gun muzzles without recognising it! Just why he did not open fire I will never know but all I can think is that he was a new boy who joined our formation by mistake, thinking it was his own, or having found himself by accident in the midst of a whole wing of the much feared Spitfires he just did not know how to break away without being immediately shot down.

Although it still gives me the creeps, it is interesting to speculate on what would have happened if he had not been fired at - perhaps he might even have landed back at Kenley with us!

About a week later we carried out a sweep over Dunkirk, St Omer and Gravelines. We did not encounter anything until we were approaching the coast on our way then I noticed that the number three of a section on my left was intermittently "trailing". I thought it was strange, as no vapour trails were being formed by any of the other aircraft, so I had a closer look and to my horror realised that numbers three and four in the section were 109s and the "vapour trail" I had noticed against the briliant blue of the sky was, in fact, smoke from his guns as he fired at the number two of the section. He must have been a terribly bad shot as he failed to score a hit.

I called out a warning and climbed towards the 109s opening fire as I did so. The Germans dived away and I latched on to the tail of the leader, his number two latched on to me, and my number two on to him - and down we hurtled towards the beaches of Gravelines.

I was in the fortunate position of being the only one who could fire as the German number two could not fire at me for fear of hitting his leader and my number two could not shoot in case he hit me! As we got lower the 109 I was shooting at pulled out of its dive and started a climbing turn to starboard and I noticed that we were now about 3000 feet right over the flak batteries so, having failed to hit the 109, as I thought, I broke violently to port and dived away out to sea weaving gently. A certain amount of flak came up but it was very wide of the mark.

It was not until debriefing at Kenley that I learned from my number two that "my" 109 had continued its turn to starboard, rolling on to its back and diving straight into the sand dunes where it exploded."

From: Johnny Kent, "One of the Few", Tempus Publishing 2000 reprint.

[In 53 (Fighter) Operational Training Unit based at Heston, London]:"The accident rate during training was considerably higher than it was on an operational unit and, although always regrettable, some of them had their amusing side. One was the result of engine failure immediately after take-off and the pilot had no option but to come down in Osterley Park where he hit a tree and literally wrapped the aeroplane round it. When we got there we could not move the machine and had to wait for the Crash Crew; in the meantime we examined the wreckage and could see that the pilot was himself jammed tightly up against the tree. Judging from the angle of his head, his neck appeared to be broken and there was no sign of life at all.

On arrival, the Crash crew rapidly got a chain around the aeroplane and, using their lorry, quickly pulled it clear - as it did so the pilot's head snapped back into its normal position and he said: "Thank you very much!".

Apparently he had been so tightly jammed up against the tree that he could neither move nor speak, but he had been able to hear all the comments as we surveyed his "dead" body. Actually his injuries were confined to a few scratches and bruises."

From: Johnny Kent, "One of the Few", Tempus Publishing 2000 reprint.

[In Nicosia, Cyprus, 1944] "Some of the Hungarian cabaret girls were most attractive and some of the stories about them were very amusing - unfortunately most will not bear retelling here. One, I think, can be told as it illustrates the attitude to life and world affairs that most of them seemed to have. One of our officers was dancing with a particularly good-looking girl who asked why he had the top button of his tunic undone. He explained that this was because he was a fighter pilot. She said: "Oh, I like fightair pilotts - my brudder he is a fightair pilott."

Here was too good an opening to miss so our young hopeful asked what squadron the brother was in, to which she airily replied: "I don't know but he flies the Messerschmitt 109 on the Rossian front!""

Where the relationship went after that, we do not hear!

from: Johnny Kent, "One of the Few" (Tempus reprint 2000)

"Hornchurch was bombed again later that day [1st September]. Half asleep in my bed, having been doctored and doped, I was dimly aware of the air raid sirens blaring on the camp and decided that the air-raid shelter was the safest place to be as the chances were that Hornchurch would again be the target, and it was. I hastened to the shelter behind the mess which was for the use of the mess staff and the airwomen who slept in billets nearby. The civilian mess staff, headed by Sam our popular and bluff chef, were already safely installed and seated in two rows along either side of the shelter and engaged in the usual speculative conversation.

I had no sooner seated myself when a pair of female legs appeared unexpectedly on the top rung of the iron ladder which led into the air-raid shelter from the emergency escape exit at the far end. Shapely ankles were followed by a figure draped in a dressing gown and obviously in some haste. Having successfully negotiated the ascent, she jumped thankfully on the floor of the shelter and turned to face the audience to display all of mother nature's charms, so embarrassingly revealed through her dressing gown which had, unfortunately, become unfastened. The poor girl was covered in confusion and the situation made no less embarrassing by the ribald remarks which Sam tossed to the assembled company. The unfortunate airwoman, who was an operations-room plotter, had been caught in her bath when the sirens sounded and deemed it wise to make all haste to the shelter. A wise but, as it turned out, an emabarrassing decision, and one not made any easier to laugh down by her admission that she didn't know there was another entrance to the shelter. In the circumstances, the bombing attack which then developed was suffered rather lightheartedly."

From: Group Captain A. C. "Al" Deere, "Nine Lives", 1959. [Al Deere, 54 Squadron, had been blown up by a German bomb in his Spitfire when taking off the previous day in the middle of a German air raid, 31st August.]

from: W. G. C. Duncan-Smith, "Spitfire into Battle"

[During the "Champagne Campaign", Invasion of Southern France August 1944 onwards]

"On another sortie leading 93 Squadron, to my great regret I fired on an ambulance; however, the Germans themselves were to blame. Along a straight piece of road leading north from Annonay, I saw a long column of German transports. I swung the formation in a wide arc eastwards, with the intention of attacking across the road. The flak, I knew, would be pretty stiff, and I thought that by this tactic we could take the enemy by surprise in the initial attack.

Putting 93 into line abreast, I dived for a large vehicle dead ahead of me. My opening burst caught it squarely along its side enveloping it in dust and debris. As I pulled up I saw the Red Cross on the roof. Realising I had attacked an ambulance I called off the attack. However running my eye down the column as I swung round left in a climbing turn, I could see it was the only vehicle marked as an ambulance. The Germans did this quite often. They would put a few vehicles marked as ambulances in the midst of an armed convoy hoping we would not attack.

Later when I went down the same road with Tim Lucas to look at the Tiger tank I found this ambulance burnt out where I had strafed it, lying on its side in the ditch. Beside it was a communal grave with the names of twenty German soldiers fixed to the wooden cross. The spot where the petrol and ammunition trucks had blown up also had a communal grave with fifteen names. [This was on the same mission when he shot up the Tiger tank.] The ambulance incident was unfortunate but unavoidable. I remembered a morning in England, during the summer of 1942, when I saw an Fw190 fighter-bomber strafe the main shopping area of Folkestone, which at the time was full of women; I couldn't do anything about it as I was unable to catch him. Looking at the names on the cross, I reckoned it was a just retribution."

bobbysocks

05-05-2010, 04:18 PM

[November 1st 1940: 92 Squadron. Kent was CO.] "Kinder, a hefty New Zealander, was shooting at a second Stuka when he too was attacked. A few days later I received a letter from him written in hospital and I think it is one of the most perfect examples of unwitting understatement I have ever come across. The purpose of the letter was to lay claim to one Stuka destroyed and one probably destroyed and he followed up with a description of what had happened:

I was firing at the second Ju87 [he wrote], which began to smoke heavily at the starboard wing root, but at this point my attention was distracted by a cannon shell which entered the left wing and blew the end off. I turned and chased the 109 that had hit me and I last saw it going down smoking near Herne Bay. I did not feel very well so I decided to return to Biggin, but after a while I felt worse so I landed in a field, I regret to say, with my undercarriage retracted. After a little while I felt better so I phoned the nearest RAF Station and they came and collected me from the farmhouse from which I had phoned.

"Tiny" Kinder was not the sort of man to try to impress me with his coolness, he was just stating plain facts. He did not mention, because to him it had no bearing on the matter, that the shell that "blew the end off" had also badly wounded him in the left arm and leg. Despite this he clamped his arm on to his leg in an effort to stop the bleeding in both, turned his partly disabled aircraft and succeeded in out-manouevring the German and, I was able to establish later, shot it down. It was no wonder that he "felt ill" but again he did not mention that he had to walk nearly a mile from where he had landed to the farmhouse. A remarkable person."

From: Johnny Kent, "One of the Few", Tempus Press 2000

"I was by myself now and still in the battle area and I was weaving madly for I realised how vulnerable I was. I was easy meat to German fighters, just their cup of tea, particularly if there should be more than one of them, for the Germans always seemed to fancy themselves when the odds were in their favour, particularly numerical odds. It was past six o'clock now and the sun was getting lower in the west, the direction I was travelling in. I felt fairly secure from behind, provided I kept doing steep turns.

I could see a single Spitfire in front of me and a little lower. It must be Ferdie, I thought at once, and chased after it to catch up. It would be nice to go back to base together. When I got closer to it I noticed a white stream of Glycol coming away from underneath. There wasn't very much but it was enough to tell me that the machine had been hit in its radiator. It seemed to be going down on a straight course in a shallow dive. I got to within about three hundred yards of it and called up Ferdie to ask his position, feeling that he would be sure to tell me if he had been hit in the radiator, although he might not have wanted me to know in the first instance. I got no reply and for a second became convinced that he had been attacked since I had last spoken to him. I opened up my throttle, although I ought to have been conserving my fuel. From the direct rear all Spitfires look exactly the same and I had to get up close to it to read the lettering. I came up on its port side and at a distance of about twenty yards. It wsn't Ferdie. I felt relief. It didn't belong to Maida squadron at all. It was 'G' for George and belonged to some totally different squadron. I made a mental note of the lettering for 'Brain's' benefit. I closed in a bit to see what it was all about. The Glycol leak wasn't severe. I couldn't think what to make of it at all. Perhaps the pilot wasn't aware of the leak. Perhaps he had baled out already and the machine, as they have been known to, was carrying on alone, like the 'Marie Celeste'. Perhaps it was my imagination, an hallucination after the excitement and strain of the past hour. I came in very close to it as though I were in squadron formation and it no longer presented a mystery to me. The pilot was there, his head resting motionless against the side of the perspex hood. Where it was resting, and behind where it was resting, the perspex was coloured crimson. Now and then as the aircraft encountered a disturbance and bumped a little, the pilot's head moved forward and back a little. The hood was slightly open at the front, which gave me the impression that he had made an instinctive last minute bid to get out before he had died. The wind had blown into the cockpit and had blown the blood which must have gushed from his head, back along the entire length of the cockpit like scarlet rain. I became suddenly and painfully aware that I was being foolhardy to stay so close as this for a sudden reflex from the pilot, dead though he was, a sudden thrust of the rudder bar or a movement from the stick could hurl the aircraft at me. I swung out and left it. I didn't look back any more. Before I left it, it had started to dive more steeply, and the Glycol flowed more freely as the nose dipped and the speed increased."

Roger Hall, "Clouds of Fear", Bailey Brothers and Swinfen Ltd., 1975, pp.79-81.

Colonel Walker M. "Bud" Mahurin, 56th FG WW2 (20.75 kills Europe; 1 kill PTO; 3.5 Migs Korean War):

"The excitement and the thrill associated with shooting down an enemy airplane is indescribable. I always liken it to a big-game hunt, only here the quarry has the same advantage as you. Boy, it's touch and go, but Jesus, is it thrilling! I think the most fun and the most excitement I ever had was flying an F-86 in Korea against the Russians. That was just sheer delight and pleasure."

"In Europe though, we were bore-sighted for 300 yards, and at that range the pattern would be a square of about 12 feet. The natural tendency was to fire way out of range. With the first two airplanes I got, I came home with German oil on my airplane and on the windshield. But lots of times I fired out of range. Lots of times I took "snap shots" and didn't have the presence of mind to slow down and take things easy and really get things lined up. But the more experienced one became, the closer one got to the enemy airplane, and as more inexperienced German pilots were encountered, the easier it was."

"But the perspective - we just didn't have training aids that were good enough to simulate ranges as the range would look in the gunsight... to show, for example, what a 109 would look like out there at 600 yards, so you could get a perspective. In theory, we were supposed to be able to control the circle so you could set it for the wingspan of, say, a Focke Wulf Fw190, and if the airplane filled the circle, you were within range... except, how the Hell are you gonna do that when it went this way and that way and up and down and sideways? You just couldn't do it."

"I was in several dogfights. With the Me 110s, most of my kills were rear-quartering stern shots; most were real stern chases where they were wide open, and they knew we were behind them and we were closing very slowly. If you couldn't get into that kind of position, your chances of hitting the guy would be a question of how good you were at aerial combat, and most of us weren't that good."

from: Philip Kaplan, "Fighter Pilot: A history and a celebration", Aurum Press 1999, pp.145-6.

"I got chewed out by General Arnold when I came back to the States to help train and form up other groups to take over. He asked me, "What is the best bomber we have?" I looked him in the eye and said, "Sir, I think the P38 is the best bomber we have." God, he got mad! "Why do you say that?, he said. I said, "Well. it's got two engines instead of four. It carries two 1000-pounders, has only got one guy in it instead of ten, so, if you lose one, it's a lot cheaper on people. Also, when you send the fighter pilot in a P38 in to bomb something, he can probably hit the target most of the time and the bombers can't."

Major-General Carroll W. McColpin, USAF (Ret).

bobbysocks

05-05-2010, 04:25 PM

"When we strapped into a Spitfire we felt snug and part of the aircraft; the Thunderbolt cockpit, on the other hand, was so large that we felt if we slipped off the god damned seat we could break a leg! We were horrified at the thought of going to war in such a machine: we had enough trouble with the Focke-Wulfs in our nimble Spitfire Mk. Vs; now this lumbering seven-ton monster seemed infinitely worse.

Gradually, however, we learned how to fight in the Thunderbolt. At high altitude, she was a "hot ship" and very fast in a dive; if anyone tried to escape from a Thunderbolt by diving, we had him cold. Even more important, at last we had a fighter with the range to penetrate deeply into enemy territory - where the action was. So, reluctantly, we had to give up our beautiful little Spitfires and convert to the new juggernauts. The war was moving on and we had to move with it.

My heart remained with the Spitfire. The mere sound or sight of a Spitfire brings deep feelings. She was such a gentle little airplane, without a trace of viciousness. She was a dream to handle in the air."

Erwin Miller, P47 pilot, 4th Fighter Group.

"... I developed an enduring affection for the breed. Sure, there was that obvious obesity coupled with a drinking problem and the undeniable fact that she glided like a flat iron and looked - head on - like a flying toilet seat. Yet, I'm grateful for the chance I had to pilot the Thunderbolt. It was a mighty fine, mighty machine."

Phil Savides, P47 Pilot, 50th Fighter Group

Pilot: Lt. Alden P. Rigby
Aircraft: P-51d HO-R "Eleen & Jerry"
Y-29 Victories: 4
WWII Victories: 6
Final WWII Rank: 1st Lt.
Post WWII Service: 3 years active duty during the Korean conflict with the 33rd Air Division in the Air Defense Command. 25 years with the FAA (Federal Aviation Administration), Retired 1979. 25 years in the Utah Air National Guard, Retired in 1979 at the rank of Major. Decorations:
Silver Star
Air Medal with 7 oak leaf clusters.
Distinguished Unit Citation (487th Fighter Sqdn.)

Few of us were up and about, to even learn of a long escort mission to Berlin, scheduled for later in the day. I had gone to the briefing tent and learned from Col. Meyers that he had requested a short patrol mission before the Berlin run. Huston and I were requested to find a few more sober pilots, just in case. At about 9AM the fog and haze had thinned to a point of being able to see the trees at the end of the runway to the east. General Queseda had just given the ok for a short mission, using only part of our planes. Start engines at 9:00, take-off at 9:20, and be back on the ground at 10: 15. This would give us time to refuel, and meet the bombers overhead at noon.

A few P-47 pilots from across the field were given the same instructions. The briefing was the bare essentials, since we did not expect more than a look at the "bulge." Col. Meyers would lead the 12 planes, and I would be in his flight, as "white 4." This was New Year's Day, and we had not seen the "Hun" aircraft for 2 days. The German pilots could be celebrating a little also, WRONG!!!! Little did we know of their plans for exactly 9:20AM at Asch, and 15 other Allied bases.

I kicked the tires, and climbed aboard at 9:00. The plane had been warmed up, and the tanks -topped off. The cock-pit was warm, and I was ready for a comfortable ride, as I rolled into position behind the Col. The P-47s had taken off a few minutes earlier, and headed straight for the front lines below the clouds. We had just gotten the green light from the makeshift tower, when we noticed bursts of flak just East of the field.

Surprise, and even shock would be an understatement. We next saw what looked like at least 50 German fighter aircraft about to make their first pass on our field. We could not have been in a worse position, unless loaded with external fuel (or bombs). We were sitting ducks, and our chances were slim and none. It was not a difficult decision to take off, since that was the slim chance. The next 30 minutes were filled with action and anxiety, that perhaps had not been seen, or felt before or since. I had turned on my gun heater switch earlier, and now had the presence of mind (and prompting) to turn the main switch on.

The take-off roll was very close, rapid, and somewhat organized. We did not wait for help from the tower, or our own departure Control Officer. We just went. I am certain there were a few short prayers to just get off the ground. I had my own sort of set prayer, consisting of 6 words that had been used many times. Being caught on the ground was simply a fighter pilot's nightmare. We had made the situation even worse by having our fuselage tanks filled.

This would make a big difference in our maneuverability, until about 50 gallons could be burned off. This would be my first take-off ever with the gun sight illuminated on the windshield. Things were happening too fast to even be afraid, that could come later. There was no training to cover such a situation, instinct simply had to take over, and it would have to be an individual effort.

Getting off the ground was extremely difficult. I was fighting Meyers prop wash, so I had to keep the plane on the steel mat a little longer to establish better control. It was of some comfort to just get airborne. Our ground gunners were firing a lot of shells at the enemy, and in all of the confusion, were firing at us as well. This would have been their first test in anything near such conditions, so they were not hitting anyone, but it was a little disturbing.

My landing gear had just snapped into the up position, when I opened fire on an FW-190 which was on Littge's tail. I told him on the radio to "break left", this put the 190 right in my sight. I could see strikes from the tail up through the nose. The plane rolled over from about 300 ft., and went straight in. I then picked out another FW- 190 headed east. It appeared that he was headed for "the Fatherland." I dropped down on his tail and opened fire at a greater distance than was necessary, since I had the speed advantage.

During the chase my gun sight failed. The bulb had burned out, and I did not have the time to change it, even had I known where the spare was. I expended even more ammunition before enough hits brought the smoke and crash in the trees. I was now in very difficult position, no gun sight, low on ammunition, and high on fuel. I had my tracers loaded to show only when I had fired down to 300 rounds. I was now into that short supply, with still a lot of fighting to be done. I knew that mine would have to be at very close range without the sight.

There did not seem to be any over-excitement, or even caution. It was not just another day at the office, but more of a day that all of the training had led up to. The odds were getting better with each minute. And I did have reason to be even a little optimistic. Considering getting off the ground in the first place, and being over friendly territory was much more than could be hoped for a few minutes earlier. The friendly territory added another dimension, since bailing out (if necessary) meant friends on the ground for a change.

I did not have any trouble finding the field after the lengthy chase on the 2nd 190. The flak was still there, though not nearly as heavy, and I could see at least 2 dogfights. I could see a few fires on the ground, and wondered if any could be "ours?" I could see a P-47 in a turn with an ME- 109 at about 1000 ft. I knew that the "Jug" could not turn with the German at the low altitude, which left me with a bit of a problem.

I really needed what ammo I had left for self-preservation, but when the 109 had the advantage, I did not have a choice. As the P-47 mushed to the outside, I came up from beneath, and- from very close range fired enough rounds to see hits on the left wing, through the cock-pit, and right wing. The 109 went in from about 500 ft. Before joining the fight, I reasoned that only I would know of my ammo shortage, and gun sight problem. I thought perhaps sheer numbers would count for something. The fuselage tank would now permit reasonable maneuverability near the ground, and I would very soon need that. I knew that I Was now down to what could be my last burst, even if all 6 guns were working.

My last fight was with the best German pilot I had seen at any time. He could well have been their Group Commander. I would be the 2nd or 3rd P-51 pilot to try for a reasonable shot. He put the 109 through maneuvers that had us mostly watching, i.e. a "split-S" from about 1000 ft. I recall seeing the aircraft shudder, then pull wing tip streamers as his prop wash shook the treetops. He was then back in the fight and very aggressive. I was glad to have another P-51 in the vicinity, since my firepower could only be a bluff as far as I knew. I recall being very impressed by the way the 109 was being flown, and hoped that I could in some way get in a reasonable firing position. I knew that I would only have one chance, (if any) because of his ability, and my limited ammo.

After about 5 minutes, I did not see any more firing from the German. It could have been that his situation was as bad as mine. His maneuvers now seemed to be on the defensive side. It was what seemed like 10 minutes, (but was probably less) before the other P-51 turned the 109 in my direction, where he turned broad side to me from something less that 30-40 yards. It was close enough for me to see the pilot clearly, and what proved to be the last of my ammunition score a few hits on the left wing, the engine, and then shatter the canopy and cock- pit. I had again guessed right for the very close proximity, high deflection angle firing without the gun sight. Some might think in terms of being "lucky." That could well have been, but I am convinced of other factors being involved (help from above for one).

The fight was over, as well as any other that I could see anywhere near the field. I now had time to think, and wonder about what had happened. How had we been able to get airborne? What had happened to the field, and would it be suitable for landing? This would not be a problem, since I still had plenty of fuel to find a field on the Continent, or even get back to England. How many of our planes did not get off the ground? How many of ours lost in the air, or on the ground? What had happened to my gun sight, and could I have done much more with it? I was not happy about wasting so much time and ammo on the 2nd FW- 190.

I was not at all anxious to land, though I knew the fighting had to be over. I would take my chances without ammo in the air rather than be in any hurry to get back on the ground at Y-29, or any field to the west. I could see several fires burning near the field, and what looked like 2 or 3 on the field, but the runway looked good. I could see the rows of P-51's and P-47's, and could not believe the field could have gotten by with so little visible damage.

My fuselage tank was down to fighting weight, and the fight was over. Flying around the area at about 2,000 ft. with more airspeed than usual was a great feeling. I had not been able to use this much speed since chasing the 2nd FW-190. I also had the time and judgment to check to the rear, which I had not done much of before.

Things had happened so fast, and as far as I knew gone so well, that I was getting curious about what the others had been doing. I could see 3 other P-51's in the area, but did not join up. A check with the tower was not all that re-assuring about the condition of the field. After about 15 minutes of looking things over, I decided it would be safe to get back on the ground. I had clearance to land, and would follow the P-51 on what was to be his break on the 360-degree overhead pattern. Instead, he came in on the deck and pulled up in the frequently done victory roll over the runway, with a few flak bursts following him. The ground gunners were still on edge. I had thought of giving the ground troops a little thrill also, but suddenly changed my mind. They had probably had enough for one day anyway. The frost had melted on the steel mats, and the landing was a bit slippery. I was just happy to be back where it all started in one piece.

Landing to the west left only a short taxi to my parking place, and the foxhole used some during this mission by the crew. As I cut the engine, there was some emotion that I had not given any thought to. Sgt. Gillette knew something of what had happened, but of course did not know the numbers, my gun sight problem, or my ammo predicament. He was almost in tears as I made my account to him. I assured him that it was most probable that I had done better without the sight, because of the low altitude, and very close range. We had always had a close relationship, but the events of this day, and our visible emotions about what had happened, left us with even more common bond.

It was almost unbelievable that we had not lost any aircraft, or that damage on the ground was mini- mal. The only injury was almost humorous, a sprained ankle for Lt. Doleac, as he stumbled while running for a foxhole. I do not recall any celebrations. There was a lot of excitement, but nothing that was not rather subdued, or even "matter of fact."

We would be the only base out of 16 airfields attacked that morning to "survive." American and British losses at other bases totaled some 400 aircraft, with some estimates much higher. Some 1200 German planes were involved, departing several airfields, and timed to arrive at their target base at exactly 9:20AM. There could not be any manuals written, or even instructions given to cover the emergency we found ourselves in. At least 2 years of training, and considerable combat experience suggested (demanded) that we get airborne at any price. The timing of our take-off, however risky, had probably saved lives, and certainly saved the near 100-parked aircraft on the field. Another miracle, 9 of us had shot down 23 of the German fighters, without losing a plane or pilot. This encounter has been referred to as "The legend of Y-29." I would also add the word "miracle" in that title.

The Germans had suffered only minor losses, except at Asch, where almost half of the attacking force had been shot down. An ironic twist to the operation came as the Germans were returning to their bases. Their High Command had failed to notify the anti-aircraft unit guarding the well-defended V-2 launching site at Wilhelmshaven of their return route. Their gunners apparently did not know of the big morning operation, and the cloud cover prevented any visual recognition of the many aircraft seen on their radar screens headed toward the site. The officers in charge naturally assumed this to be an Allied raid on their most valuable V-2 rocket target. The very latest German radar guns, with the most experienced gunners opened fire on their own planes. German records revealed that some 140 planes were shot down before the firing could be stopped. Another 30 pilots had bailed out after getting lost, or running out of fuel. A very tragic end following a very successful earlier surprise mission.

I have re-lived that day many times over the years since. It had to be a once in a lifetime experience for any involved. We were in the right place at almost the wrong time. One minute, or even 30 seconds later, and the day would have been a total disaster. I would probably have been history, instead of writing it. Being in take-off position on the runway, we would have been the Germans' first targets.

My 2nd mission of the day was un-eventful, except for a rough engine. My landing was a little fast for the still wet runway. My brakes raised the tail wheel several times while trying to slow the bird down. Turning off the steel mat runway was also "hot", and I came very close to a twin-engine aircraft waiting to take off. I returned a friendly wave, and gave them a "thumbs-up." I learned a few minutes later that the 2 Generals on board were Spaatz and Doolettle. They had come to congratulate us on "the morning action."

The afternoon brought some anxiety as well. At a briefing following the 2nd mission, we were startled by a near-by bomb blast. We were all a little "jumpy", until we saw what had happened. A P-47 had to land with one 500 lb. bomb hanging under his left wing. The rough landing strip shook it loose, and the blast blew the aircraft apart right behind the cock- pit. The thick armor plate behind the seat had limited the pilot's injuries to nerves and scratches. Nerves and perhaps other unusual conditions contributed to another tragic afternoon accident. A flight of 4 British Typhoons, based about 30 miles west of us, were just south of our field when a P-51 from another Sqdn. in our Group mistook the flight for German. A gross error cost a British pilot's life (and plane). I was out over the front lines, some 20 miles to the east when this happened.

I begin the news part of my evening letter to Eleen; "Well darling, it is New Years night, and I may have started the year out right as far as flying and Uncle Sam are concerned. I've had quite a lot of action today, but there isn't much I can say about it right now. I feel that I could write a book about it, but tonight I can't even write a long letter. You might hear, or read about the day's action before this letter arrives. I will give you all of the details later, but for now I share only that I am an Ace." I knew she would know exactly what that meant, since that was the dream of every fighter pilot. I close my letter by telling her, "be real careful honey, and know that you are with me in all that I am doing, today was exciting, right?"

As the war related events of Christmas day were perhaps the kind to be forgotten, those of New Year's Day were to be remembered. Newspaper and other lengthy accounts of the battle were quite authentic, except for some of the loss reports. For our Squadron's part on this day, we were awarded the "Distinguished Unit Citation." We were the only Squadron to receive this award in the 8th AF during WWII. For my part, I was awarded the "Silver Star," the 3rd highest service medal.

Those reading this, and other accounts, should understand that it is impossible to express the feelings, and perhaps a lot of the action as it actually happened. Please understand also, that as an officer, I had made the commitment to fly and fight while defending this Country. I also had my personal reasons for wanting the War over with as soon as possible.

bobbysocks

05-05-2010, 04:34 PM

The encounter was between an inbound flight of B-26 Marauders and the Me262 jet. What makes this even more interesting, is that the Me262 was the rare Me262A1/U4 "FlugPanzer" also referred to sometimes as the "Narwahl". The Me262A1/U4 was packing a 50 m/m anti-tank gun in it's nose in leu of the 4 30 m/m Mk108 "Air Hammers", and was remarkable for being both accurate and devestating in it's performance.

1st Lt. T.V.HARWOOD'S Mission 44, official 323rd Bomb Group, 456th Bomb Squad combat mission/target number #376 was flown on the afternoon of 4-20-45 and lasted 4:20 hours, the second mission of the day for Harwoods crew. 35 ships of the 323rd went up at 11,000 feet. Harwood’s plane, Martin B26 Marauder; 42-96090 WT-M (Bltitz Wagon), dropped 2 2000lbs bombs on the railroad yard at Memmingen, Germany.

Crew: Theodore V. Harwood (P) 2nd/1st Lt., Eugene T. Muszynski (CP) 2nd/1st Lt., Anthony B. Caezza (NB) S/SGT., James N. Night (?) T/Sgt., George W. Boyd (RG) S/Sgt., Raymond Deboer (TG) S/Sgt.

Base of operations; Denain/Prouvy, France. It was April 20th, 1945, in the afternoon. Thirty-five B-26 Marauders flew out toward Nordlingen, Germany to drop their bomb load from 10,000 feet in the sky to the railroad yard below. This was our next to the last mission of the war and like any mission, it could have been our last.

From the skies below came a vision of death, the foremost of the German Luftwaffe Jet, rocket aircraft, the ME-262 armed with a 50 mm cannon. It was only seconds before the ME-262 was upon us. I could see the 50 mm cannon of the ME-262 cut loose. It was very close. The whole ordeal was like watching it happen right in front of you in the fast lane of the freeway. The 50 mm cannon bursts hit the number two plane, right wing man, and sheered the nacelle door off. I could see it as clear as day.

We had no fighter escort on most missions and on this mission we were alone so we had to take care of the problem ourselves. The entire squadron opened up with everything we had. Quite possible it was out turret gunner, but someone found the target and the ME-262 went down. One of the first jets ever shot down in combat. That same ME-262 craft is now on display at the Air Force museum in Dayton, Ohio. This occurrence was accidentally misquoted by Major General John 0. Moench. He had documented the ME-262 attack on 4-25-45, which would have been the B-26 bombing raid on the German airfield at Erding. The mission that had the ME-262 attack was on 4/20/45 on the B-26 Nordlingen railroad yard bombing raid. This element is listed in the official mission folder.

The account documented by Major General Moench is as follows:
"Flying the left wing on the Box I, number four flight leader, Ist Lt. Theodore V. Harwood's postwar account of the ME-262 attack included an observation of fire from the attackers against the lead flight and the sudden loss of a nacelle door from Capt. Trostle's right wingman. "Our top turret was chattering like mad and the air in front of us was filled with 50 caliber casings."

This element of the attack was not noted in the mission folder." It appears the date here or in Meonch’s book may be off - 4-25-45 ---The 262 may have hit on both days! he was on both missions.

MEONCH RECORDING OF HARWOOD: “Ah the second question you have ah on the last mission April 25, 1945 to Arding, Germany of the 262s ah I was in ship 040 in the low flight ah, as I recall, according to your diagram everything was in the rear of the flight, however aha as I recall, I saw the Me262 come up from our right - position itself below us and shoot at the lead flight, as I recall, according to your diagram here number 969 which was on the right of 131 the lead ship, I don’t recall any other ship numbers except our own, ah however I could see the 37 MM. puffs of ah smoke from his cannon as he fired, and as I recall the right nacelle door flew off number 969 in your position ah, that was about all there was to that mission as I could see.

Our top turret gunner was firing which that was the first mission in my 45 mission that the gunners ever fired a shot and that was sort of startling because I didn’t know they were going to fire made considerable rattle, the whole sky in front of me was filled with 50 Caliber empties coming out of ah, I guess the lead flight there but I don’t know how they got back there because according to your diagram, this ME 262 was ah unless I got this thing reversed, but I wasn’t in the lead flight, but this trail you got here shows everything in the rear of the flight, but defiantly we saw the 262 and I saw it fire and saw the smoke from the, when the cannon went off you could see a little puff black smoke every time it fired.

Ah, our top turret gunner engineer was considerably ah -hepped up he thought he hit the thing (laughs) I don’t know there was so much brass in the air, that was my big problem worrying about the brass coming though the canopy or through the ah bombardier’s nose compartment.”

McQ59

05-06-2010, 08:46 AM

Love this read Bobby. Keep'em comin'!

And; Thanx!

bobbysocks

05-06-2010, 06:46 PM

heading to the mountains for a couple days to decompress...but found something good for you. you met the russians...well here's from the other side ...the pacific. again not their words but stories about 2 japanese pilots.

Like many other aces, Anabuki Satoru felt attraction for aviation since his early years. So, he entered in the Youth Preparatory Flight Program of the Japanese Army when he was still a teenager, and in 1938, at the age of 17, he passed the test of the Army Aviation School in Tokyo. After some more training, in March 1941 began his first duty tour in Formosa, where he was when the Japanese Navy attacked Pearl Harbour on December 7 1941.

That very day Sgt Anabuki flew combat sorties over the Philippines and met a lone B-17D, but due to he was flying an almost obsolete and very slightly armed Ki-27, he couldn't shot the bomber down, despite he ran out of ammo. But he had his chance on December 22 1941, when during a combat against USAAF Kittyhawks of the 17th Squadron over Lingayen Gulf, he managed to shot one P-40E down. That was the first victory out of 51 he would be credited with along WW2. Still flying the obsolete Ki-27, Anabuki shot down two P-40s on February 9 1942, and few months later his unit was sent home to be re-equipped with the much more powerfull Ki-43 Hayabusa.

His new destination was Mingaladon airbase in Rangoon outskirsts, Burma. Was there where he scored his greatest succeses against the Allied aircraft. On December 24 1942 the Japanese pilots in Mingaladon should scramble fast because the sudden raid of British Hurricanes against the airfield. During the take off, the nearby blast of a bomb caused a malfunction in the landing gear of this Ki-43, and Anabuki was forced to scramble with his landing gear extended. Despite that, Sgt Anabuki could fight, and he did it very well: three Hurricanes fell under the fire of his machineguns, including the one flown by Pilot Officer C. D. Fergusson.

Anabuki's greatest deed happened on October 8 1943, when at 12:10 hs four Hayabusas (one of them flown by Sgt Anabuki) taxied in Mingaladon airstrip to take off and intercepte several B-24s which were raiding against a Japanese convoy in Rangoon harbour. However, a fouled spark plug caused that Anabuki should delay his take off during 5 minutes. When he finally could scramble, was unable to find his three buddies and a second flight of four Ki-43s (which were also tasked to intercepte the bombers) because of the haze. Suddenly, when he got out of the hazy area, saw his target: 11 B-24s together with two escorting P-38s, which apparently did not notice him. Anabuki realized that -due to the hazy weather- none of his comrades had found the enemy and that he was completely alone. But Anabuki also noticed that he was in a perfect attack position against both the enemy fighters and bombers, and the surprise factor was at his side. Being a hunter by nature, Anabuki decided to take that chance despite the odds were against him.

So, Anabuki choose one of the unaware Lightnings, put it in the gunsight of his Ki-43 Hayabusa and badly shot it up (Anabuki saw the incendaries exploding around the P-38's cockpit), breaking his attack and diving only when he almost collide the American plane. As he turned to repeat his attack, saw the P-38 trying a loop while leaving a trail of black smoke. Suddenly the P-38 stalled and went downwards, crashing near Yangon river. Then Anabuki jumped the P-38 leader, but his adversary was an experienced pilot because it immediatelly rolled and steeply dove. Knowing that his Ki-43 Hayabusa was excellent in dogfighting and could out-turn the P-38, but could not compete with the Lightning in dive and climb rates, Anabuki did not even try to follow the American plane, instead he concentrated in the bombers.

Sgt Anabuki closed to 1200 mts to the right of the bombers and 500 meters above them (he was flying at 5500 mts and the Liberators at 5000) and then rolled and dove. Anabuki knew that to shot down one heavily defended and huge four-engine bomber like the B-24 with the relatively weak weaponry of his Ki-43 (12,7 mm machineguns, with no cannons) was a very hard task, but he had the experience and the determination to do so, as himself accounted:

"All I could see was the enemy. I'm diving straight down towards the dark jungle. Life or death didn't matter then. If the gods still need me they wouldn't let me die. I see an image of my mother's face. I think I heard her yelling `Go, Satoru,go!`. I think of what a strong woman my mother is. I think to myself I must be as strong. Distance closes further. 300, 200, I see my bullets get sucked into the gigantic B-24. Getting closer. 150, 100. I start firing my final burst.

The enemy's defensive fire is fierce. Their formation is trailing a lot of gun smoke, raining bullets in successive bursts, but I know as long as I'm at this angle, they can't hit me. My target starts smoking from the wing root. Even as I'm firing, the white smoke is getting bigger and bigger. I'm near collision and I break off to the left and to the rear of the enemy, diving vertically. Fifty some enemy machine guns are firing at me, but not a single bullet hit me as I speeded away out of their range. "

When Anabuki prepared himself for a second pass against the badly hit B-24, saw that it slipped at one side, the crew bailed out and the bomber began to spin. So, in few minutes he added one P-38 and one B-24 to his killboard.

But when he was ready to attack the bombers for the second time, suddenly saw tracers passing very close to his port wing. Anabuki sharply broke to starboard, avoiding the burst, but a second one struck his plane, being the Japanese pilot badly wounded in his left hand. Anabuki realised that the P-38 leader which had previously escaped was back, and it was willing to take him out. Despite the intense pain, Anabuki performed a series of the sharp turns, exploiting the superior turn capability of the Ki-43 Hayabusa and forcing the American pilot to gave up. When the P-38 pilot did so, Anabuki rolled his plane and reversed towards the Lightning. At point-blank range (about 30 mts) the Japanese ace fired and black smoke emerged from the P-38, together with oil which splattered over the windshield of the Ki-43 and temporarily blinded Anabuki. When he recover the sight, the P-38 was diving away again, this time definitively.

Despite he was wounded and his plane damaged (Anabuki noticed that at full throttle the engine airlocked), Anabuki made an provisional bandage with his muffler to stop the bleeding of his left hand, and performed his second pass against the B-24s. setting on fire one of them. When Anabuki climbed to began another pass saw that the crew of this Liberators could bail out (actually only 2 crewmembers). Then Anabuki began his third pass:

"At this point, the overwhelming thought in my mind was that today's combat was over. I was about to turn back to base, and threw a final glance at the B-24s, which I presumed were by now too far away to follow. But alas! The bombers had apparently slowed down to cover their damaged comrade during my attack and was still within my attack range!

Looking back, it was a foolish thing to do, but I started to position myself for another attack despite my injury and the plane's damages. The pain and the gas kept me hardly conscious, and my sight had deteriorated badly. My arm was hurting badly as the tightly wound muffler blocked blood circulation. But there was a thought that dominated my fading consciousness; if the enemy is within range, it was a fighter pilot's duty to attack. To do otherwise would disgrace my family blood. My mother's face flashes back. To go into combat now may mean my demise. Mother forgive me! But then I thought I heard her say 'Charge, Satoru, and the way will open.'. I had no regrets. The enemy was there. I will just charge.

I was slowly gaining altitude to attack position for the third time. I was hardly conscious. All I could think about was 'Charge, charge!' Call me a foolish rustic warrior, I couldn't have cared less. I was fighting to keep my consciousness and charging at the enemy at full throttle. The pain of my left hand was getting unbearable. I untied the muffler from my arm. As the blood started flowing, the pain went way, but the hand started bleeding like a dam burst open. "

So, Anabuki choose a third B-24 as his mark, and began his run against it. But as he was attacking it, suddenly ran out of ammo. In a normal situation, he would disengaged and headed home, but Anabuki took a very different decision: he would ramm the bomber:

"If I was my normal self, I would have banked my wings at the enemy and wished them luck and break away, but my mind was just obsessed with getting the enemy. My consciousness was nearly fading from the gasoline and the injury, my hand kept on bleeding, and I was out of ammunition. All these negative factors were piling up on me, but all I had in my mind was the existence of the powerful enemy in front of me. I was completely taken over by one of the fighter pilots' instincts; the fighting spirit.

At that moment I was, by chance, right above the enemy. Although I was out of ammo, reflexes got the better of me and I instinctively put my plane in a dive. However, to start your dive from directly above the enemy means that by the time you are actually shooting, your attack will be at a shallow angle, presenting an ideal target for the enemy's rear gunner. Just as the enemy started firing away, I maneuvered my plane to present the smallest possible target for the enemy, and charged on. Just as I expected, I found myself facing a wall of fire, and my plane shook as their bullets hit her. To makes matters worse, my engine output went down, and my angle was now so shallow that I was in their propeller wake and being thrown around wildly.

I was totally obsessed with getting the enemy. I decided to ram the bomber. 'Take this! Yankee!' I pulled up, but perhaps my action was too acute, and the next moment, my plane careened into the middle of the fuselage of the third plane of the left formation.

Although I had intended to ram her, I instinctively yanked my stick to evade the crash. The next moment a tremendous shock hit me with a thunderous roar and I just sat there dumbfounded watching my propeller eating away at the enemy's starboard rudder at full 1130HP. There was nothing I could do now. It was as if the plane was being controlled by some gigantic force from outside. And all the while, I just sat there with the throttle pinned open.

The next thing I knew, the port wing of the "Kimikaze" hit the enemy's elevator. With a great shock, the enemy's elevator broke upwards, and my plane was thrown around about 45 degrees to the left, bouncing on the stabilizer and crash -landed on the enemy's fuselage.

I would guess that the enemy was surprised, but so was I. In spite of my surprise, my plane proceeded to eat away at the fuselage of the B-24 and stopped at around the US insignia. I think it was just for a moment, but it felt like a long time, sitting on top of the enemy like that. While I was on top of the enemy, they didn't shoot at me. I saw them staring at this rude intruder from their turrets and windows. They were probably not firing because I was too close, but I also had a strange worry in myself. I was seriously worrying about being carried to their base like this!"

Fortunatelly for him, "Kimikaze" slid off bomber's back, and despite initially fell, later it began a controlled glide, and Anabuki was able to restart the engine, crash-landing in a beach shore near Rangoon, where he was rescued and cured, rejoining to active duty only 5 days later.

It was then, when he accounted this combat to the journalist Eiji Suzuki, that he became famous. Anabuki was even officially credited with five kills that day, including the second P-38 (which he considered only damaged). After that, the Japanese High Command grounded him with propaganda purposes and sent it home to train new students at Akeno Fighter School. In late October 1944 he was promoted to Master Sargeant and came back to action over the Philippines when he shot down six F6F Hellcats with his new tool, the Ki-84 Hayate. Anabuki scored the last victory over Japan, it was a B-29. In the 1950s he joined to the Japanese Self-Defense Air Force and became a helicopter pilot.

bobbysocks

05-06-2010, 06:48 PM

Saburo Sakai, a fighter pilot serving with the Japanese Naval Aviation Service from 1934 to 1945, was the top scoring ace in the Pacific theater of World War 2, with a final kill tally of 64 Chinese and other Allied aircraft destroyed. His battle mount of choice through most of the Pacific War was the A6M2 "Zero" fighter, arguably the most nimble dogfight machine to see action on either side of the conflict.

This charming little anecdote from Sakai's career came to light in the Japanese press several years ago. I have since tried to relocate some of the articles related to it, but have had no luck. I do, however, remember most of the details, so I will try to relate them here as best as memory serves:

Several years ago, a former Dutch military nurse -- now a retired woman in her 70's -- contacted the Japanese Red Cross (or some similar charitable organization), attempting to locate a Japanese fighter pilot who spared her life somewhere over Java (New Guinea?) one day in 1942. According to her account of the event, she was flying in a Dutch military DC-3 (C-47) air ambulance at low altitude over dense jungle. On board were wounded soldiers and several children who were being evacuated from a combat area. Suddenly, a Japanese "Zero" fighter appeared alongside the plane. The nurse could see the Japanese pilot's facial features clearly. She and some of the children (!) stood by the tiny cabin and cockpit windows of the DC-3 and began frantically trying to wave him off. It is not hard to imagination the panic they must have experienced while pantomiming as if their lives depended on it (and they DID!).

After a few eternal moments of what must have been sheer terror for the desperately pantomiming passengers, the "Zero" gave a quick, acknowledging wing wobble before peeling off and disappearing from sight. The cockpit and cabin of the DC-3 were filled with cheers and sobs of relief.

For fifty-odd years, the Dutch nurse had wanted to meet with the Japanese pilot who spared her life, as well as the lives of the wounded soldiers and children that day. With a stroke of sheer luck, the Japanese Red Cross was able to locate the pilot of the Zero plane, and it was none other than Saburo Sakai, who had been flying a sortie combat air patrol on the day in question. When asked if he remembered the incident, Sakai replied that he did, and that he had thought about downing the plane for a brief moment, as higher command had instructed fighter patrols to down any and all enemy aircraft encountered, armed or not. When he saw the waving hands and horror-stricken faces in the windows of the DC-3, however, he was moved to mercy, thinking that anyone who wanted to live that badly deserved to survive. Apparently, he did not experience similarly tender feelings for many an Allied military aviator who was to stray into his gunsights in the subsequent three years of aerial combat, but on that day over the Javan jungles, he showed mercy. It is an anecdote of a type that is sadly rare in the annals of Japanese WW2 military history, but one that, nonetheless, shows that even the fiercest of warriors can be capable of human compassion.

Soon after the war, appalled not only with the loss of life that his countrymen had suffered, but seeking atonement for the loss of life he had brought about peering through his own gunsights and squeezing a trigger, Sakai became a lay Buddhist acolyte, a devotion which he continues to this day. According to Sakai, he has not killed any creature, "not even a mosquito," since the last time he stepped from the cockpit of his A6M5 "Zero" one hot August day in 1945.

bobbysocks

05-06-2010, 06:52 PM

and not to leave the italian boys out...

With twenty-six individual victories in aerial fight, Cap. Franco Lucchini was the top Italian scorer by the first World War and one of the few ones to inscribe himself of the title of Ace (5 or more victories) both in the Spanish civil war and in the Second World War.

He was born on December 24th 1914 in Rome, and he entered well soon the Aviation, achieving the military brevet in July 1936 at the Air school of Foggia as Reserve Officer.

During the war in Spain, enlisted him voluntary with the rank of Sottotenente, he was assigned to the 19a Sq. 23° Gr. “Asso di Bastoni”, with which on October 12th 1937 got his first victory flying a CR 32 fighter; he will conclude the war with 122 war missions, 5 individual victories, one silver medal and seven months of imprisonment after having been shoot down on July 22nd 1938.

Foggia Air School 1936. Lucchini sat on a training airplane.

To the enter of Italy in the WW2 in June of 1940, he is regular to the 90a Sq. within the 4° Stormo whose badge was an rampant horse, inheritance of the Greatest Italian ace of the Great war Francesco Baracca; perhaps the 4° Stormo will be not by chance the more victorious Italian wing of the war with almost 600 aerial planes shoot down, and well 32 aces, among which the best three: Martinoli, Lucchini and Ferrulli.

The 90a Sq., equipped with the new CR 42, was soon moved to northern Africa, where on June 11th 1940 Lucchini flown his first mission of the war, a flight of protection over Tripoli. Three days later Lucchini and others two pilots intercepted a formation of Gloster Gladiators near Bug Bug; they are the first English planes met by the pilots of 4° Stormo, and in the fight that follows a Gladiator is shoot down. From the official documents, kept in the Historical Office of AMI, it's very difficult to establish to what pilot is had to attribute the victory, above all because in the first years of the conflict officially the Regia Aeronautica assigned only collective victories, perhaps for don't exasperate rivalries inside the same squadron; it is sure however that at the same time, unofficially, both the single pilots and their commanders well kept track of the individual victories, as it is for instance read in the motivations of the awards assigned to the pilots.

On June 20th Lucchini together with three others pilots, took off from Tobruk, where the 90a Sq was based., to intercept an English Sunderland: after a long pursuit and repeated attacks (the fighter CR 42 had a maximum speed of around 430 km/h and was armed with only two 12,7 machine guns) the Sunderland is forced to ditch near Bardia, where the pilot , the only survival, was captured. Once more in the squadron's log book was written “a shared victory” but from the description of the fight it's easy to realize that the English four-engines is Lucchini's first victory in the WW2.

The takes off on alarm followed the flight patrols for the whole months of June and July, and in one of these missions, on July 24th, Lucchini gained his second victory against a Gladiator. Four days later it is the turn of two Blenheims intercepted after a take off on alarm and shoot down with two other pilots.

In the months that follows the intensity of the missions which the whole 4° Stormo was submitted, doesn't change, but in December a new enemy makes appearance on the scene: it is the English Hurricane, a fighter with 8 machine guns able to reach 530 km/h. The Hurricane is not the best fighter of the RAF, even if in the just won battle of Britain it has gotten more victories than the noble Spitfire, but towards the biplanes CR 42 technical superiority is clean. Despite everything however Italians fought well and several victories are also claimed.

To the beginning of January of 1941, the 90a Sq. is moved back to Italy to re-equip with the new Macchi C 200; Lucchini closed so the first turn of operations in Africa, during which he flew 103 missions of war and claimed 3 individual victories.

In the middle of June the 4° Stormo moved to Sicily: objective the island-fortress of Malta.

Activity is soon frantic and the Italian pilots are continually employed in missions of escort to the Cant Z 1007, recognitions and free hunting (that they always ended with the strafing of the Maltese airports). The defense of the island is entrusted to 6 RAF Squadrons equipped with Hurricane Mk I; this time however there aren't the obsolete CR 42s and the struggle against the more powerful C 200s of the 10° Gruppo (formed by 84a, 90a and 91a Sq.) is without doubt less uneven.

Lucchini, promoted Capitano in May, gained his first victory against an Hurricane on June 27th, while on September 4th in the official bulletin he is quoted for having individually shoot down two enemy fighters and other 22 (!) shared during two missions; it is clear that the well-known phenomenon of the “over claiming” common to all the Air Forces that fought in all the wars, is decidedly present in the italian claims. I think however that, all things considered, there is good faith in the claims of the pilots as they are brought in the official documents, extraneous to any propagandist tie: after all we are not speaking of the calculation of the goals in football-match, but of men that among thousand difficulties they had the obligation to shoot each other; this doesn't remove of course the importance to reconstruct the events underlining the true facts.

On September 27th during an escort to the Italian bombers against an English convoy to Malta, some airplanes, among which that of Lucchini, after two hours of flight are forced for the bad weather, to effect an emergency landing of Ustica. In the ditch Lucchini badly wounded his face, and he immediately was transported in Sicily with an hospital ship; he will come back in action only two months later just to fly his last two missions with 90a Sq. on November 21st and 23rd.

In December Lucchini is promoted commander of the 84a Sq and few days later the unit was transferred to Udine, together with the whole 10° Gruppo, to re-equiping with the new C 202 “Folgore"

During the operations against Malta Lucchini collected 55 war missions and 5 individual victories.

The 4° Stormo returned to Sicily at the beginning of May of 1942 full equipped with the Macchi C 202;

Lucchini, commanding the 84a Sq., is again hocked in operations against Malta, that however in the meantime had seen his own squadrons change the Hurricanes with the more powerful Spitfires Mk V.

In barely twenty days Lucchini flown other 14 missions and above all added to his score two Spitfires and others two probably destroyed.

On May 22nd the whole 4° Stormo moved to Martuba in northern Africa where the offensive of Rommel against the English troops is became; the fights are soon harsh and Lucchini is almost daily engaged. On June 6th he shoot down a P-40 (an american production fighter in strength to some RAF Squadrons as N°112 and N°250) and damaged others four during an action of free hunting above Bir Hacheim; on June 11th he was awarded with the fifth silver medal for military merit.

On July 16th above the sky of El Alamein Lucchini, and 3 others pilots, shoot down a P-40 but also his plane was damaged and forced to land at Kotefia an airport used by the Germans; two days later he was again in action shooting down together with Serg. Buttazzi another enemy fighter.

On October 20th Lucchini destroyed another P-40 but in the afternoon, during a dogfight with Spitfires and P-40s he is forced to an emergency landing after a precise enemy burst took away a propeller blade of his plane. Four days later still a take off on alarm against a formation of 25 Mitchell bombers and 40 P-40 fighters; with two other pilots Lucchini shoot down a P-40, damaged two B-25s and one P-40, but he was also stricken and despite he had a bullet in an arm and another in a leg, he reached the base of El Daba where crash landed; later the day he come back to Fuka, where the unit was based, but he was immediately sent to Italy for a long convalescence. Lucchini ended his second African tour, where during five months he completed 94 war missions and gotten 10 individual victories.

1943 year saw the withdrawal of the Axis troops from their positions in Africa tightened by now by the vice of Montgomery's troops that went up from Libya and those Americans that advanced from west through Algeria.

The 4° Stormo returned in Italy by the beginning of January to be lined up in June in Sicily, that represented by now the first line of the front; the attacks to the island were more and more frequent in sight of the imminent Anglo-American landing.

Lucchini rejoined the unit in March of 1943, and by June 20th was appointed at the command of the 10° Gruppo partly equipped with the new Macchi C 205s.

On July 5th Lucchini after being taken off on alarm with six pilots, intercepted a large formation of USAAF B-17s at the height of 5000 meters, escorted by 50 Spitfires; after having shoot down a fighter, his victory number 26, he launched himself against the formation of B-17s; it is the first time he faced these powerful four-engines, everyone armed with 10 machine guns, all tightened one to the other close so much to represent a real wall of fire. Lucchini with his small C 202 and his only two 12,7 guns succeeded in damaging 3 bombers, then surely stricken he fell down crashing to dead near Catania.

As Group commander, Lucchini flown only 5 war missions; in his log book in date 5/7/1943 it is read, where the holder usually affixed his signature, a melancholic “not re-entered ”.

In February 1952 he was awarded with the highest italian honour the Medaglia d'oro al valor militare (M.O.V.M.)

Combat record of Capitano Franco Lucchini

According with official documents, Lucchini gained 5 individual victories during the Spanish Civil War, 21 individual and 52 shared victories during WW2. The latter figure however is very inflationated; it was common for the Regia Aeronautica credit shared claims every pilots involved in the action without any further details, even if some one didn't shoot a single bullet.
I quoted Lucchini's shared victories only when I can assume he surely shoot; all the other kills were in his log-book simple because he was in action.

bobbysocks

05-06-2010, 06:55 PM

and lastly...here's one of my favorite aces...Kit Carson.

I was leading Blue Flight of Dollar Squadron providing escort for the 353rd Fighter group enroute to strafe the oil reserve stores at Leipzig. We were in the vicinity of Magdeburg, Germany when two large formations of bandits were reported. One of the formations, still unidentified, made a complete turn from a head on position and made an initial attack on us from our 8 o'clock. We dropped our tanks, turned and met them head on. We wheeled again and tacked on to the rear of the formation which consisted of 50 to 75 Focke-Wulf 190's. I closed to about 300 yards to the nearest one and fired a medium burst with no lead, getting numerous strikes. He started to burn and went into a turning dive to the left.I believe the pilot must have been dead as he never recovered from the dive, crashed and exploded. I returned to the main part of the fight again closing on the one nearest to me.I opened fire once again at about 300 yards, firing two short bursts, getting strikes all over the cockpit and engine. He started to smoke and dropped out of the formation and rolled to the right until he was in a split-ess position, never recovering from this attitude.I saw the plane crash and burn, and the pilot did not get out.
Returning again to the scrap, I pulled into the nearest one at about 400 yards and fired a short burst, noting a few hits. He broke violently to the left and I broke with him.I pulled a lead on him and fired to long bursts getting strikes on the engine and cockpit. He started to smoke and burn badly, the pilot jettisoned his cockpit canopy and bailed out. I watched him fall for some distance but did not see a chute open, the FW 190 crashed about 50 yards from a house in a small town. I could still see the main battle about two miles ahead of me and as I started to catch them, I saw a straggler on the deck. I dropped down to engage him but he saw me coming and turned left away from me. I gave chase for about five minutes before I caught him. I opened fire at 400 yards getting strikes on the right side of the fuselage. He turned sharply to the right and I picked up a few degrees of lead on him, firing to more bursts getting more strikes on the fuselage, the pilot jettisoned his canopy and bailed out. As I was chasing this one, another formation of about 30 to 40 FW 190's passed about 500 feet above me and 1500 feet in front, but they made no attempt to engage me or help their fellow. They continued on a heading of 20 or 30 degrees.
I pulled up and set course for home-base when another Focke-Wulf 190 made an attack from 7 o'clock high. We broke into him and he wheeled into a zooming climb. I chased him gaining slowly. Suddenly he dropped his nose and headed for the deck, I gave chase and caught him in about five minutes. I opened fire at 400-450 yards but missed, I closed further and fired another short burst getting strikes on the fuselage. The plane started to smoke; I fired again as he made a hard turn to the right observing more hits on the fuselage. Then the pilot jettisoned his canopy and I broke off my attack to the right expecting him to bail out. I waited for him to bail but he didn't so I turned back to engage him again. I was still about 700 yards away when the pilot pulled the nose up sharply and left his ship; his chute opened a couple of seconds later. During the whole encounter my wing man, Flight Officer O.T.Ridley, remained with me. His performance as a wing man could not be surpassed.
I claim five(5) Focke-Wulf 190's destroyed in the air.

Lost Apiarist

05-07-2010, 02:45 PM

Great stuff, very interesting. Keep em coming :)

scottyvt4

05-07-2010, 03:31 PM

some epic reading there bobby .............. you're a rascle, i was going to put "the white rose" on lol

bobbysocks

05-09-2010, 04:26 PM

sorry scotty...had i know i would have surely let you post it...

On September 16, 1943, three days after arriving at Snetterton Heath, Nevin Beam, the bombardier, and I were awakened at 9:15 in the morning by an orderly, who told us we were needed at Operations to fly with a different crew, of the 413th squadron, on a raid that day. We had been sleeping very late that morning after having attended a late party the night before. We scarcely had time to dress when a truck arrived at our barracks to take us to Operations, where we arrived about 10:00. The 413th operations officer was in a panic. The briefing had just ended, and it was his responsibility to provide complete crews for the raid. We were his replacements for a navigator and a bombardier who had been injured on a mission a few days before. When I told him I had not yet been issued any cold-weather clothing or other equipment, he and another person gave me some of theirs, and the rest of the clothing and equipment were located somewhere. Because we had not had time for breakfast, he scrounged up some K-rations for us. He also handed me a stack of maps and charts, and told me only one thing about the mission: The target was Bordeaux, in southern France, for a late afternoon bombing, with the primary target being an air field and the secondary target being an aircraft assembly plant. So here I was, a green navigator in the European Theater of Operations, on his first raid, and knowing almost nothing about the mission except what was in the battle order.

When I told the crew's pilot, Lt. Tanner, at planeside of my total inexperience as a combat navigator, he told me not to worry, because we would be flying in formation all the way there and back. I thought to myself, "Yes, but what if we are damaged and have to leave the formation?" It was his crew's 21st mission, so they had a lot of combat experience. His regular bombardier, whom Beam was replacing, had been shot down off Heligoland (an island in the North Sea northwest of Germany) while flying as a substitute on another crew, and after floating for a considerable time was picked up by the British Air Sea Rescue team, and returned to England.

We took off around 12:00 in the second element of the low squadron (at "suicide corner"). Assembly was over the field, and the formation flew at very low level to Land's End at the southwest tip of England, to keep German radar from detecting the formation. Beyond that point, the course took us far enough out to sea to miss the Brest peninsula of France by a wide margin. Much of the flight, straight southward until even with Bordeaux, was spent by me in arranging maps and charts to make it easy to navigate by dead reckoning in order to cross-check the flight plan positions over water. This was difficult, because ammunition boxes piled on the navigator's table made it necessary for me to do my navigation on my lap.

At a point off Bordeaux, we made our turn toward the target and started a climb to a bombing altitude of 20,000 feet. I got my first view of enemy aircraft as we approached the French coast. Four ME-110s (Messerschmitt fighters) appeared at one o'clock just out of range. I also saw my first flak; it was fascinating to me because it looked like black pop-corn, and it sounded like pop-corn when it exploded close to us. At first the German fighters attacked only other groups in the 45th Combat Wing. We could see a B-17, in flames, go into a spin and dive toward the ground. Six parachutes came out of the airplane, and while they looked like white blossoms floating down, it was a real shocker to realize that those were living men going down into enemy-occupied territory. A layer of clouds formed underneath us before we reached Bordeaux, so a decision was made not to bomb either the primary or the first-alternate target. The policy established by the Eighth Air Force was that German-occupied friendly territory would not be bombed through an overcast, because a miss could result in tragedy among friendly civilians near the targets.

So the wing lead altered course toward a different alternate target, the submarine pens at La Pallice, where there was no overcast. On the way there, about ten more enemy fighters joined the two that were already there, and they came from every direction. Two more Forts were damaged and could not stay with the formation, and the Messerschmitts directed most attention to them. They both finally exploded, with no parachutes leaving either plane.

Between Bordeaux and La Pallice, I got my first taste of real aerial gunnery. The .50-caliber machine guns had been installed by the ground crew while I was preparing for takeoff. I had a problem keeping my oxygen hose connected, so I had to hold the hose with one hand and fire the gun with the other. Nevin Beam helped me look for enemy planes. One of them made a run on our group, hit a plane in our high squadron, and more parachutes appeared.

One thing happened that was extremely embarrassing to me. As I jumped up once to man the gun, the hand release of my parachute caught on something, and all of the silk of the chute spilled out onto the floor of the nose compartment. I gathered it into as tight a ball as I could, and placed it on the floor behind me, in case it became necessary to bail out. I'm not sure what would have happened if I had had to jump out into the 150 mile-an-hour wind with an armload of silk.

I saw a B-17 spinning at ten o'clock, pulling out of the spin into a dive, with a Jerry fighter on his tail. I got the fighter in my gun-sight, with the proper lead, as a veteran gunner would, and fired many rounds at the "bandit". The pilot congratulated me over the interphone, but added that the fighter was probably out of range when I fired at it. Ultimately, the Fort was knocked down by the fighter, with no parachutes in sight.

Finally, the target was reached, bomb-bay doors were opened, the lead bombardier released his bombs, and the other planes toggled their bombs on that signal. The formation headed out to sea, reducing altitude again, so as to fly back to England out of view of German radar on the French coast. The fighters deserted the formation, and headed back to their home bases. I navigated primarily by flight plan, calculating occasional dead-reckoning fixes for practice, and was pleased to find that these fixes agreed closely with the flight plan.

About 20 miles from the English coast, darkness was setting in, and we hit a bank of "soup". The formation had to split up, and each plane was on its own to return to its home base. We took a heading that would be certain to hit the coast of England, and not the Brest Peninsula. At one time in the past, the Eighth Air Force had lost a returning squadron by flak and fighters over the Brest Peninsula. I was now at the point I dreaded, being unfamiliar with navigating over England, particularly at night. In addition, it would have been helpful if I had had practice using the Gee box on board. However, at one point searchlights over a vast area on the ground lit up, and waved back and forth in the direction of the airbases of each group. With the help of the pilot, I found a pundit that was located on our home base, we landed, and that was the end of my first combat flight. On the raid, I had managed to record a considerable amount of data concerning the mission that may have done Intelligence some good.

I was quite shaken up by something I found out after returning from this first raid. It happened that planes on this mission had carried steel plating on the floor as a test by the Air Force for partial armor plating. (The idea was ultimately dropped because its weight reduced the bomb payload that could be carried.) I found out back home that a chunk of flak from a shell burst below us had bounced off the armor plate and lodged in the fuselage directly under me. Its direction was such that it would have hit the box of ammunition I had used as a seat. By the time I had decided to to recover the piece of flak as a souvenir, an anonymous ground crewman had already adopted it as his souvenir.

I'm afraid that my performance as a navigator on that mission was anything but exemplary. However, I didn't feel bad about it because, in my view, the 96th Group had sent me out to navigate long before they had trained me to navigate under combat conditions. The pilot told me that this was only a medium-rough mission compared with the many others he had already flown. But I later found out that this raid, at ten hours and 30 minutes, was the longest in the 8th Air Force up to that point in time. After this raid, the rest of our own crew hounded me and Beam, asking questions about "how combat was." They looked at us just as we had previously looked at other crews who had flown combat missions. But we managed to assume an air of nonchalance, as if there was nothing to it. One clear advantage of having been surprised by an unexpectedly early first mission was that there were not several weeks to look forward to it, nervous with expectancy.

bobbysocks

05-09-2010, 04:40 PM

George "Buzz" Beurling - The Top Scoring Canadian

On June 7, 1942 he boarded carrier Eagle in Gibraltar, with 32 brand new Spitfires Mk Vc destined for Malta.1 Two days later, Beurling took off from the deck of Eagle for dangerous and long flight over the Mediterranean. He arrived safely at Takali, a dusty piece of airstrip in the middle of the island. As soon as he stopped taxing, group of mechanics unceremoniously pulled him out of precious fighter, immediately starting to refuel it and load its guns. Disoriented, he glanced around and found only dust, ruins, craters and bunch of miserably looking people, with war written all over their faces. Finally, Beurling found his place.

The RAF pilots considered beleaguered island of Malta a damned place. Living conditions and food were very poor. There was short supply of everything, and the British desperately tried to provide Malta with necessities, to help defenders of this strategic island. Luftwaffe and Regia Aeronautica tried to blast it into oblivion. There were daily bombing raids, and badly outnumbered RAF pilots were fighting heroically. Beurling arrived in the middle of this, and he loved it; especially, since there was very little of a formality among squadrons. The place was made for Beurling. He did fit its historical image perfectly: island standing proudly with the sword in one hand and the cross in other; him flying a Spitfire with blazing guns and the Bible in a pocket. It was there where he finally spread his wings and really fulfilled himself.

He joined Squadron No.249, with S/L Stanley Grant as commanding officer and F/L P.B. "Laddie" Lucas his flight commander. Canadian Robert McNair(who was the other flight commander) did not want Beurling in his flight. He had a very firm, negative opinion about him. Other pilots described him to Lucas:

"...the chap's a loner. Can't be relied on. He will either shoot some down or 'buy it'."

After a straight talk with Beurling, Lucas decided to give him a chance. Later he recalled:

"I felt I was in the presence of a very unusual young man. He didn't give a damn for me. A youngster really, who was champing at the bit to get to it, to get an airplane and have a go."

Beurling was assigned to fly with Lucas' good friend: Raoul Daddo-Langlois. When asked his opinion about Beurling after couple of flights, the latter replied:

"God Almighty, he's quick and he's got the most marvelous eyes but, he's a hell of a chap at being able to keep with us."

After nearly a month on the island, Beurling had almost nothing to show for. In one of the six patrols he flew at that period, he shot down one Bf-109, which got its whole empennage blown off from a single burst of his guns. Since no one saw it crash; he was credited with only a damage.

The big day came on July 6th. Beurling flew in one of the eight Spitfires, intercepting three Cant bombers and thirty Macchi 202's escorting them. Spitfires dived on them from 22,000 feet, with sun in the back. Beurling sprayed one Italian bomber with bullets and went after the fighter, which plunged down trying to escape. Beurling caught up with it at 5,000 feet, and with two short bursts of fire scored a perfect hit. At Takali, he found his Spit full of bullets holes. Since it was his flying day, for next sortie he took off in another aircraft. On his third fly that day - a patrol with three other pilots - he split the formation of two Ju-88 and twenty Bf-109F's. Typically for him, he "yahooed" through the opposition and went after the lonely prey. During this lone-wolf performance, he easily finished one Bf-109. Thus, he achieved a status of an ace. However, he was snubbed by his fellow pilots for individualistic performance, and celebrated alone.

After every successful sortie, Beurling promptly recorded all the data of his victories in his black notebook. He analyzed it and invented a set of formulas and graphs, which involved speed of aircrafts and angles. This served him to become (in opinion of many of his contemporaries) the best "deflection shooter can be." This mathematical calculations, together with lizard-practice-shooting, showed his great devotion to the science of killing. He was a zealot when it came to aircraft's guns, and had stuck to his armourers rather than his squadron mates. Since he did not drink and constantly talked about shooting and killing - occasionally adorning it with the Bible verse - the other pilots withdrew from him. When waiting for combat flying, he always checked all the guns in aircraft designated to him. He was obsessive about it. The same time George was completely unconcerned about his tidiness and exceptionally imprecise in his discipline. He was also very eager to fly missions. Unlike many others, he never complained about having to sit in the cockpit while being in readiness. He seemed to be indifferent to scourging sun and foul smell of cordite, glycol, grease, sometimes even vomit and urine.

Around that time he got his first nickname: "Screwball." In his book Malta, Laddie Lucas recalled: "He possessed a penchant for calling everything and everyone - the Maltese, the Bf-109s, the flies - those goddam screwballs.... His desire to exterminate was first made manifest in a curious way. One morning, we were on readiness at Takali, sitting in our dispersal hut in the southeast corner of the airfield. The remains of a slice of bully-beef which had been left over from breakfast lay on the floor. Flies by the dozen were settling on it ... Beurling pulled up a chair. He sat there, bent over this moving mass of activity, his eyes riveted on it, preparing for the kill. Every few minutes he would slowly lift his foot, taking particular care not to frighten the multitude, pause and - thump! Down would go his flying boot to crush another hundred or so flies to death. Those bright eyes sparkled with delight at the extent of the destruction. Each time he stamped his foot to swell the total destroyed, a satisfied transatlantic voice would be heard to mutter "the goddam screwballs!"

By July 11, Beurling had shot down two Bf-109s, three Macchi 202s, had a probable kill on a 109 and a few other aircraft damaged. On July 14, when flying alone(!) at 30,000 feet, Buerling attacked a group of Me-109s and Macchi 202s. During his dive he was spotted, and enemy aircraft, split its formation, let him go through, and closed after him. Starboard were Macchis, and Beurling turned toward them, trying to avoid Messerschmitts. Somebody got him anyway. He was flying for his life, using all helpful maneuvers. When being riddled with bullets directly from behind, he resorted to certain Spitfire advantage. If jumped from behind, the Spitfire, if its stick pulled too hard - 60 lb.. of torque was exerted on it (40 lb.. of shorter stick in Bf-109) - would enter a violent stall, flick over and spin. The maneuver was so quick and rough, that it proved to be an excellent escape. Another trick he often used was: "an aileron turn where you kick everything (the stick and the rudder) into corner." Aircraft flips over and drops like a rock.

"Screwball" landed at Takali in a shot-up aircraft, with bullet fragments in his heel. Doctor took it out, and Beurling was back in dogfighting business very next morning, littering St.Paul's Bay with two Macchi-202.

Next big day came on July 27. Beurling was part of a interception of the major attack on Malta, involving Ju-88s escorted by Messerschmitts and Macchis. He shot down 25 year old Faliero Gelli, who survived by pancaking his Macchi into a rocky field, and being found by merciful Maltese who did not battered him to bloody pulp, like they often did. Supposedly, Gelli is (he lives in New Jersey) the only man who survived Beurling's attack. After trouncing Gelli, Beurling destroyed another Macchi and one Bf-109. He also got probable second Messerschmitt. Since Takali airstrip was full of bomb craters, Beurling's squadron landed in nearby Luqa. After quick re-arming and refueling, they took off again, this time to meet a party of 20 Bf-109s. George went after separated rotte, and finished both of them. Two days later he victimized yet another German fighter. Thus after nearly two month on the island, his score was 16 destroyed, one probably destroyed, and four damaged.

Then Beurling got very sick. Lack of proper diet, strain of combat and severe case of Dog (form of dysentery) left him barely able to walk and weighting only 125 pounds. During this sickness he was ordered to accept an officer's commission. Sniffing a hero, the press wanted to interview him; and that had to be an officer. This time, he was too weak to protest. Once officer, Beurling moved from a dusty shanty to a charming villa in the hilltop Mdina. From its terrace he could watch the airfield located immediately below and all the drama of bombing and strafing.

On August 8, "Screwball" got shot down by a German, and crash-landed in a field. That was his third crash, and third without a scratch. Next few weeks were uneventful except, of a dramatic arrival of bits of convoy (operation "Pedestal") with desperately needed supplies. Among them was crippled tanker Ohio, and to salute her, Beurling did some stunt flying over Valetta's main street. By the end of August he collected a shared victory over a Ju-88 that had been separated from it's fighter escort.

October 14 was another of his flying days. Fifty fighters and eight bombers were heading toward the island. This time two whole squadrons of Spitfires scrambled. In the melee, Beurling snared one Ju-88 and two Bf-109s. But he forgot about his own tail, while going after his next victim. His Spit got peppered with cannon shells and plunged 16,000 feet down. Wounded in chest, leg and heel again.(he never even met Achilles!) Semiconscious, he managed to escape from burning cockpit and pulled the ripcord. Thus, he barely survived his fourth crash. Next two weeks he spent in hospital. He received another "gong": Distinguished Service Order, and was also told to pack up and get ready to go home for a bond tour. He was extremely agitated by this, since he would do anything for flying. During the farewell party, he said that he would fly even for Germans, rather then be a prisoner or not being able to fly at all.
Thus, his carreer at Malta came to a halt, with 27 enemy aircraft shot down. Also worth mentioning is (but can not be document) that, for almost every victory achieved, Beurling lost a wingman - or so is belived - and experienced pilots refused to fly with him. (Many veteran would confirm this. The fact however, is always omitted in every publication I have seen so far.) Later he openly admitted shooting a pilot in the parachute, during his days in Mlata. Annihilation of a Ju-88 crew in a floating dinghy, was also attributed to him.

Around that time the press started to call him "Buzz" and he was eagerly expected in Canada. On his way home, he survived yet another crash. This time it was a Liberator, which was taking him to Gibraltar. Only him, another ex-Malta pilot and one of the passengers survived. In England he was hospitalized for shock and wound infection.

At home he got a really big hero welcome, and media had their go with him. He gave many interviews, and that is where we learn a lot abount Beurling.

"I came right up underneath his tail. I was going faster than he was; about fifty yards behind. I was tending to overshoot. I weaved off to the right, and he looked out to his left. I weaved to the left and he looked out to his right. So, he still didn't know I was there. About this time I closed up to about thirty yards, and I was on his portside coming in at about a fifteen-degree angle. Well, twenty-five to thirty yards in the air looks as if you're right on top of him because there is no background, no perspective there and it looks pretty close. I could see all the details in his face because he turned and looked at me just as I had a bead on him. One of my can shells caught him in the face and blew his head right off. The body slumped and the slipstream caught the neck, the stub of the neck, and the blood streamed down the side of the cockpit. It was a great sight anyway. The red blood down the white fuselage. I must say it gives you a feeling of satisfaction when you actually blow their brains out." Brian Nolan: "Hero"

In another interview he referred to the Italians as "ice-cream merchants", saying:

"The Eyeties are comparatively easy to shoot down. Oh, they're brave enough. In fact, I think the Eyeties have more courage than the Germans, but their tactics aren't so good. They are very good gliders, but they try to do clever acrobatics and looping. But they will stick it even if things are going against them, whereas the Jerries will run."

bobbysocks

05-09-2010, 04:43 PM

Here is a small, but most vivid and full of WW II air combat spirit, describe - excerpt from "Bud" Anderson book:

"He Was Someone Who Was Trying to Kill Me, Is All"

"The sky above was a bright crystal blue, and the land below a green-on-green checkerboard divided by a silver-blue ribbon. Below was occupied France, beyond the river lay Germany, and it all looked the same, rolling and peaceful and bursting with spring.

... The day was unusually, incredibly clear. In better times, it would have been a day for splashing through trout streams with fly rods, or driving so fast that some giggling girl would beg you to slow. But these weren't those kinds of times. These were the worst times God ever let happen. And so the trout streams were left to the fish, gasoline was a thing you used sparingly, and it was just one more day for flying and fighting and staying alive, if you could, six miles high over Germany.

... This particular day, out of the year I flew combat in Europe, is the one I have thought of on a thousand days since, sometimes on purpose and sometimes in spite of myself. Sometimes it's in cameo glimpses, other times in slow motion stop action, but always, in Technicolor. I sit on my porch, nearly a half-century and half-world removed from that awful business, looking out over a deep, green, river-cut canyon to the snow-capped Sierra, thinking about getting tires for the Blazer or mowing the lawn or, more likely, the next backpacking trip . . . and suddenly May 27, 1944, elbows its way to the front of my thoughts like a drunk to a bar. The projectionist inside my head who chooses the films seems to love this one rerun.

We were high over a bomber stream in our P-51B Mustangs, escorting the heavies to the Ludwigsbafen-Mannbeim area. For the past several weeks the Eighth Air Force had been targeting oil, and Ludwigshafen was a center for synthetic fuels. Oil was everything, the lifeblood of war.

... We'd picked up the bombers at 27,000 feet, assumed the right flank, and almost immediately all hell began breaking loose up ahead of us. This was early, still over France, long before we'd expected the German fighters to come up in force. You maintained radio silence until you engaged the enemy, and after that it didn't much matter since they knew you were there, and so people would chatter. They were chattering now, up ahead, and my earphones were crackling with loud, frantic calls: "Bandits, eleven o'clock low! . . . Two o'clock high, pick him up! . . . Blue leader break left!" It sounded as though the Messerschmitts and Focke-Wulfs were everywhere.

You knew how it was up ahead, and you knew it would be like that for you any minute now, the German single-seat Fw 190s and Me 109s coming straight through the bombers, mixing it up with the Mustangs, the hundreds of four-engined heavies and the hundreds of fighters scoring the crystal blue sky with their persistent white contrails.

The Germans liked to roar through the bombers head-on, firing long bursts, and then roll and go down. They would circle around to get ahead of the bomber stream, groping for altitude, avoiding the escorts if possible, then reassemble and come through head-on again. When their fuel or ammunition was exhausted, they would land and refuel and take off again, flying mission after mission, for as long as there were bombers to shoot at. They seldom came after us. Normally, they would skirmish the escorts only out of necessity. We were an inconvenience, best avoided. It was the bombers they wanted, and the German pilots threw themselves at them smartly and bravely. It was our job to stop them.

It seemed we were always outnumbered. We had more fighters than they did, but what mattered was how many they could put up in one area. They would concentrate in huge numbers, by the hundreds at times. They would assemble way up ahead, pick a section of the bomber formation, and then come in head-on, their guns blazing, sometimes biting the bombers below us before we knew what was happening.

In the distance, a red and black smear marked the spot where a B-17 and its 10 men had been. Planes still bearing their bomb loads erupted and fell, trailing flame, streaking the sky, leaving gaps in the bomber formation that were quickly closed up.

Through our headsets we could hear the war, working its way back toward us, coming straight at us at hundreds of miles per hour. The adrenaline began gushing, and I scanned the sky frantically, trying to pick out the fly-speck against the horizon that might have been somebody coming to kill us, trying to see him before be saw me, looking, squinting, breathless . . .

Over the radio: "Here they come!"

They'd worked over the bombers up ahead and now it was our turn.

Things happen quickly. We get rid of our drop tanks, slam the power up, and make a sweeping left turn to engage. My flight of four Mustangs is on the outside of the turn, a wingman close behind to my left, my element leader and his wingman behind to my right, all in finger formation. Open your right hand, tuck the thumb under, put the fingers together, and check the fingernails. That's how we flew, and fought. Two shooters, and two men to cover their tails. The Luftwaffe flew that way, too. German ace Werner Molders is generally credited with inventing the tactic during the Spanish Civil War.

Being on the outside of the turn, we are vulnerable to attack from the rear. I look over my right shoulder and, sure enough, I see four dots above us, way back, no threat at the moment, but coming hard down the chute. I start to call out, but . . .

"Four bogeys, five o'clock high!" My element leader, Eddie Simpson, has already seen them. Bogeys are unknowns and bandits are hostile. Quickly, the dots close and take shape. They're hostile, all right. They're Messerschmitts.

We turn hard to the right, pulling up into a tight string formation, spoiling their angle, and we try to come around and go at them head on. The Me 109s change course, charge past, and continue on down, and we wheel and give chase. There are four of them, single-seat fighters, and they pull up, turn hard, and we begin turning with them. We are circling now, tighter and tighter, chasing each other's tails, and I'm sitting there wondering what the hell's happening. These guys want to hang around. Curious. I'm wondering why they aren't after the bombers, why they're messing with us, whether they're simply creating some kind of a diversion or what. I would fly 116 combat missions, engage the enemy perhaps 40 times, shoot down 16 fighters, share in the destruction of a bomber, destroy another fighter on the ground, have a couple of aerial probables, and over that span it would be us bouncing them far more often than not. This was a switch.

We're flying tighter circles, gaining a little each turn, our throttles wide open, 30,000 feet up. The Mustang is a wonderful airplane, 37 feet wingtip to wingtip, just a little faster than the smaller German fighters, and also just a little more nimble. Suddenly the 109s, sensing things are not going well, roll out and run, turning east, flying level. Then one lifts up his nose and climbs away from the rest.

We roll out and go after them. They're flying full power, the black smoke pouring out their exhaust stacks. I'm looking at the one who is climbing, wondering what he is up to, and I'm thinking that if we stay with the other three, this guy will wind up above us. I send Simpson up after him. He and his wingman break off. My wingman, John Skara, and I chase the other three fighters, throttles all the way forward, and I can see that we're gaining.

I close to within 250 yards of the nearest Messerschmitt--dead astern, 6 o'clock, no maneuvering, no nothing--and squeeze the trigger on the control stick between my knees gently. Bambambambambam! The sound is loud in the cockpit in spite of the wind shriek and engine roar. And the vibration of the Mustang's four. 50-caliber machine guns, two in each wing, weighing 60-odd pounds apiece, is pronounced. In fact, you had to be careful in dogfights when you were turning hard, flying on the brink of a stall, because the buck of the guns was enough to peel off a few critical miles per hour and make the Mustang simply stop flying. That could prove downright embarrassing.

But I'm going like hell now, and I can see the bullets tearing at the Messerschmitt's wing root and fuselage. The armor-piercing ammunition we used was also incendiary, and hits were easily visible, making a bright flash and puff. Now the 109's trailing smoke thickens, and it's something more than exhaust smoke. He slows, and then suddenly rolls over. But the plane doesn't fall. It continues on, upside down, straight and level! What the hell . . . ?

The pilot can't be dead. It takes considerable effort to fly one of these fighter planes upside down. You have to push hard on the controls. Flying upside down isn't easy. It isn't something that happens all by itself, or that you do accidentally. So what in the world is be doing?

Well. It's an academic question, because I haven't the time to wait and find out. I pour another burst into him, pieces start flying off, I see flame, and the 109 plummets and falls into a spin, belching smoke. My sixth kill.

The other two Messerschmitt pilots have pulled away now, and they're nervous. Their airplanes are twitching, the fliers obviously straining to look over their shoulders and see what is happening. As we take up the chase again, two against two now, the trailing 109 peels away and dives for home, and the leader pulls up into a sharp climbing turn to the left. This one can fly, and he obviously has no thought of running. I'm thinking this one could be trouble.

We turn inside him, my wingman and I, still at long range, and he pulls around harder, passing in front of us right-to-left at an impossible angle. I want to swing in behind him, but I'm going too fast, and figure I would only go skidding on past. A Mustang at speed simply can't make a square corner. And in a dogfight you don't want to surrender your airspeed. I decide to overshoot him and climb.

He reverses his turn, trying to fall in behind us. My wingman is vulnerable now. I tell Skara, "Break off!" and be peels away. The German goes after him, and I go after the German, closing on his tail before he can close on my wingman. He sees me coming and dives away with me after him, then makes a climbing left turn. I go screaming by, pull up, and he's reversing his turn--man, be can fly!--and be comes crawling right up behind me, close enough that I can see him distinctly. He's bringing his nose up for a shot, and I haul back on the stick and climb even harder. I keep going up, because I'm out of alternatives.

This is what I see all these years later. If I were the sort to be troubled with nightmares, this is what would shock me awake. I am in this steep climb, pulling the stick into my navel, making it steeper, steeper . . . and I am looking back down, over my shoulder, at this classic gray Me 109 with black crosses that is pulling up, too, steeper, steeper, the pilot trying to get his nose up just a little bit more and bring me into his sights.

There is nothing distinctive about the aircraft, no fancy markings, nothing to identify it as the plane of an ace, as one of the "dreaded yellow-noses" like you see in the movies. Some of them did that, I know, but I never saw one. And in any event, all of their aces weren't flamboyant types who splashed paint on their airplanes to show who they were. I suppose I could go look it up in the archives. There's the chance I could find him in some gruppe's log book, having flown on this particular day, in this particular place, a few miles northwest of the French town of Strasbourg that sits on the Rhine. There are fellows who've done that, gone back and looked up their opponents. I never have. I never saw any point.

He was someone who was trying to kill me, is all.

So I'm looking back, almost straight down now, and I can see this 20-millimeter cannon sticking through the middle of the fighter's propeller hub. In the theater of my memory, it is enormous. An elephant gun. And that isn't far wrong. It is a gun designed to bring down a bomber, one that fires shells as long as your hand, shells that explode and tear big holes in metal. It is the single most frightening thing I have seen in my life, then and now.

But I'm too busy to be frightened. Later on, you might sit back and perspire about it, maybe 40-50 years later, say, sitting on your porch 7,000 miles away, but while it is happening you are just too damn busy. And I am extremely busy up here, hanging by my propeller, going almost straight up, full emergency power, which a Mustang could do for only so long before losing speed, shuddering, stalling, and falling back down; and I am thinking that if the Mustang stalls before the Messerschmitt stalls, I have had it.

I look back, and I can see that he's shuddering, on the verge of a stall. He hasn't been able to get his nose up enough, hasn't been able to bring that big gun to bear. Almost, but not quite. I'm a fallen-down-dead man almost, but not quite. His nose begins dropping just as my airplane, too, begins shuddering. He stalls a second or two before I stall, drops away before I do.

Good old Mustang.

He is falling away now, and I flop the nose over and go after him hard. We are very high by this time, six miles and then some, and falling very, very fast. The Messerschmitt had a head start, plummeting out of my range, but I'm closing up quickly. Then he flattens out and comes around hard to the left and starts climbing again, as if he wants to come at me head on. Suddenly we're right back where we started.

A lot of this is just instinct now. Things are happening too fast to think everything out. You steer with your right hand and feet. The right hand also triggers the guns. With your left, you work the throttle, and keep the airplane in trim, which is easier to do than describe.

Any airplane with a single propeller produces torque. The more horsepower you have, the more the prop will pull you off to one side. The Mustangs I flew used a 12-cylinder Packard Merlin engine that displaced 1,649 cubic inches. That is 10 times the size of the engine that powers an Indy car. It developed power enough that you never applied full power sitting still on the ground because it would pull the plane's tail up off the runway and the propeller would chew up the concrete. With so much power, you were continually making minor adjustments on the controls to keep the Mustang and its wing-mounted guns pointed straight.

There were three little palm-sized wheels you had to keep fiddling with. They trimmed you up for hands-off level flight. One was for the little trim tab on the tail's rudder, the vertical slab which moves the plane left or right. Another adjusted the tab on the tail's horizontal elevators that raise or lower the nose and help reduce the force you had to apply for hard turning. The third was for aileron trim, to keep your wings level, although you didn't have to fuss much with that one. Your left hand was down there a lot if you were changing speeds, as in combat . . . while at the same time you were making minor adjustments with your feet on the rudder pedals and your hand on the stick. At first it was awkward. But, with experience, it was something you did without thinking, like driving a car and twirling the radio dial.

It's a little unnerving to think about how many things you have to deal with all at once to fly combat.

So the Messerschmitt is coming around again, climbing hard to his left, and I've had about enough of this. My angle is a little bit better this time. So I roll the dice. Instead of cobbing it like before and sailing on by him, I decide to turn hard left inside him, knowing that if I lose speed and don't make it I probably won't get home. I pull back on the throttle slightly, put down 10 degrees of flaps, and haul back on the stick just as hard as I can. And the nose begins coming up and around, slowly, slowly. . .

Hot damn! I'm going to make it! I'm inside him, pulling my sights up to him. And the German pilot can see this. This time, it's the Messerschmitt that breaks away and goes zooming straight up, engine at maximum power, without much alternative. I come in with full power and follow him up, and the gap narrows swiftly. He is hanging by his prop, not quite vertically, and I am right there behind him, and it is terribly clear, having tested the theory less than a minute ago, that he is going to stall and fall away before I do.

I have him. He must know that I have him.

I bring my nose up, he comes into my sights, and from less than 300 yards I trigger a long, merciless burst from my Brownings. Every fifth bullet or so is a tracer, leaving a thin trail of smoke, marking the path of the bullet stream. The tracers race upward and find him. The bullets chew at the wing root, the cockpit, the engine, making bright little flashes. I hose the Messerschmitt down the way you'd hose down a campfire, methodically, from one end to the other, not wanting to make a mistake here. The 109 shakes like a retriever coming out of the water, throwing off pieces. He slows, almost stops, as if parked in the sky, his propeller just windmilling, and he begins smoking heavily.

My momentum carries me to him. I throttle back to ease my plane alongside, just off his right wing. Have I killed him? I do not particularly want to fight this man again. I am coming up even with the cockpit, and although I figure the less I know about him the better, I find myself looking in spite of myself. There is smoke in the cockpit. I can see that, nothing more. Another few feet. . . .

And then he falls away suddenly, left wing down, right wing rising up, obscuring my view. I am looking at the 109's sky blue belly, the wheel wells, twin radiators, grease marks, streaks from the guns, the black crosses. I am close enough to make out the rivets. The Messerschmitt is right there and then it is gone, just like that, rolling away and dropping its nose and falling (flying?) almost straight down, leaking coolant and trailing flame and smoke so black and thick that it has to be oil smoke. It simply plunges, heading straight for the deck. No spin, not even a wobble, no parachute, and now I am wondering. His ship seems a death ship--but is it?

Undecided, I peel off and begin chasing him down. Did I squander a chance here? Have I let him escape? He is diving hard enough to be shedding his wings, harder than anyone designed those airplanes to dive, 500 miles an hour and more, and if 109s will stall sooner than Mustangs going straight up, now I am worrying that maybe their wings stay on longer. At 25,000 feet I begin to grow nervous. I pull back on the throttle, ease out of the dive, and watch him go down. I have no more stomach for this kind of thing, not right now, not with this guy. Enough. Let him go and to hell with him.

Straight down be plunges, from as high as 35,000 feet, through this beautiful, crystal clear May morning toward the green-on-green checkerboard fields, leaving a wake of black smoke. From four miles straight up I watch as the Messerschmitt and the shadow it makes on the ground rush toward one another . . . . . and then, finally, silently, merge.

Eddie Simpson joins up with me. Both wingmen, too. Simpson, my old wingman and friend, had gotten the one who'd climbed out. We'd bagged three of the four. We were very excited. It had been a good day.

I had lived and my opponent had died. But it was a near thing. It could have been the other way around just as easily, and what probably made the difference was the airplane I flew. Made in America. I would live to see the day when people would try to tell me the United States can't make cars like some other folks do. What a laugh. ..."

bobbysocks

05-09-2010, 05:35 PM

Sergeant Kristian Fredrik Schye

At dawn on 9 April 1940, the Norwegian Jagevingen at Fornebu, Oslo, had seven of the ten available Gladiators serviceable, while the unit had ten officers and sergeants available to fly them, three of them under training. The serviceable Gladiators were 413, 419, 421, 425, 427, 429 and 433.

In the morning of 9 April 1940 Sergeant Kristian Fredrik Schye (Gladiator 427) attacked what he took to be a bomber, but was unable to continue due to ice forming on the windscreen of his Gladiator. He then saw what he identified as a Dornier Do17 – almost certain Unteroffizier Helmut Mütschele’s (with gunner Gefreiter Karl Lorey) Bf110 – 1000 feet below him over Kolsås, and gave chase. The aircraft crash-landed at Vøyen with both engines dead after he had attacked. The German aviators became POW’s. He was then attacked by three aircraft which he identified as He111s, but which were undoubtedly Bf110s; he avoided two but the third got onto his tail and he was hit in the left upper arm by two shells. Unable to move the throttle he tried to crash-land his damaged fighter on Lake Dælivannet, east of Kolsås, but could not get his flaps down and overshot, hitting a high-voltage cable; this broke, but he crashed at Braatenjordet near Valler station. Schye got out of his aircraft and was taken to Bærum hospital. It is likely that he fell victim to Leutnant Helmut Lent of 1./ZG 76, who was certainly credited with this victory as his fifth of the war. Schye later reported:

“It was starting to get more and more of German aircraft. There were plenty of targets, but at the same time I was forced to manoeuvre to not get an enemy behind me. During the dogfight I came closer and closer to Fornebu…
Suddenly I saw a German on contra-course 4-500 meters below me. I cut back the throttle, made a half-roll and dived straight down on him. I opened fire at a good shooting distance and kept him in my aim until only 50 meters separated us. Then he rolled over and disappeared downwards in a spin – later it was showed that he made a force-landing at Wöyenfjordene at Kolsås with both engines out of order.
When I took up my machine from the dive, three German aircraft attacked me. I managed to shake off two of them, but the third closed in very close from behind. My left lower wing was hit, the wing was perforated and the fabric on the left side of the cockpit was shot trough by splinters. One of these hit me in my left upper arm and paralysed it. This meant that I couldn’t operate the throttle.
Because of the damage, both on me and my aircraft, I didn’t see any other way out than to trying to make an emergency landing after a couple of minutes. I was continuously attacked by German aircraft and in an attempt to get away from them, I span down and made a forced landing in a clearing with small woods, after tearing down a high-voltage cable.”
Schye was taken to the Bærum hospital were he stayed for a couple of days before being released.
He was never captured by the Germans and continued with his medical studies but was later forced to escape abroad.

Schye ended the war with one biplane victory, this one being claimed while flying Gloster Gladiator.

After the war he finished his medical studies and worked as head physician at Drammen hospital. He was still alive in the beginning of the 1980’s

bobbysocks

05-10-2010, 04:42 PM

THE STORY OF SQUADRON LEADER HICKEY

To my mind, no-one could fail to be thrilled by the heroism shown by an Australian pilot, Squadron Leader William Joseph Hickey, who was killed in action on the day following an outstanding act of bravery.

During December, when the fighting on the northern front was particularly fierce, Squadron Leader Hickey was leading a detachment of aircraft on patrol, when they came across a formation of some ten Italian fighters and bombers. During the air battle that followed one member of the squadron - "Sammy" Cooper, had to bale out after being severely wounded. On his way down, this officer was being machine gunned by Italian aircraft and Squadron Leader Hickey, seeing what was taking place, immediately began to circle round and round in the vicinity of his colleague, in order to attract the attention of Greek troops on the ground. At the same time he was able to keep at bay the Italian aircraft which were making repeated and determined attacks on the helpless man descending by parachute.

When Cooper had landed near a Greek advanced post, which was itself under heavy shell fire, Squadron Leader Hickey made off to find assistance. He made a successful landing in a field near Argyrocastron, which was then only a short distance behind the front line, and immediately organised a relief party. Having secured an ambulance, he drove back towards the mountain post near to which Cooper had come down. Stopped eventually by an impassable river, Squadron Leader Hickey secured the loan of a horse, forded the stream and rode up to the Greek advanced post. Greek soldiers constructed a wooden stretcher and , under the supervision of the squadron leader, the badly wounded pilot was carried for miles, over difficult mountainous country and frequently under fire from the Italians, back to the ambulance.

The ordeal was not, however, over. The squadron leader drove Cooper back to Argyrocastron but there, unfortunately, the Greeks had little medical equipment, no drugs and no anesthetics. Undeterred by this unexpected set-back, the squadron leader had Cooper put back into the ambulance and began the drive to Yannina, where he knew that better facilities would be available.

Early next morning, still on the way to hospital, Cooper died and Squadron Leader Hickey, in spite of many hours of continued activity, returned to his squadron. A few hours later he was again in action with the enemy and, in the course of this combat he himself had to bale out.

By a tragic repetition of events the Squadron Leader came under fire from an Italian aircraft as he floated slowly down to the ground. On landing he was found to be dead.

I need hardly tell you that the other members of the squadron saw to it that the Italian pilot who had gunned the defenceless Squadron Leader was himself shot down in flames.

Hickey was a great type of Australian. Seconded from the Royal Australian Air Force on a five year's attachment , under the pre-war scheme for the interchange of pilots, he had proved an outstanding success when given command of a squadron in the Middle East. His concern for his pilots, which found so magnificent a climax in the heroic deed of which I've just told you will long be remembered as one of the most gallant episodes of the war in Greece.

He had already been recommended for the Distinguished Flying Cross and it was subsequently awarded to him but he did not live to learn of this honour.

NEVER A BRAVER MORE UNSELFISH MAN DIED IN GREECE.

THIS EXTRACT FROM 3 SQUADRON'S ACE BOBBY GIBBES'S BOOK (Pages 95 to 98) DESCRIBES TYPICAL EVERY-DAY FEARS AND THOUGHTS THAT HE, LIKE MOST 3 SQUADRON PILOTS, EXPERIENCED DURING ACTION AGAINST A FIERCE ENEMY

On Saturday, the 13th of December 1941, we spent most of the morning on standby without being given a job but during the afternoon we carried out a patrol in the Martuba area, led by Ed Jackson.

We approached over Derna from the sea, below a layer of cloud at about 5,000 feet heading south. As we crossed the coast we saw six 110s escorted by 109s, and we gave chase. The enemy pilots saw us before we could close, and the 109s turned around to attack. Due to the low cloud base, they were not able to make use of the superior performance of their aircraft and could not employ their pick and zoom tactics. However, the cloud made it easier for them to take evasive action, and every aircraft which I attacked was able to pull up into the cloud. We also were not loath to make use of the cloud ourselves, and whenever I was in any danger, I would climb up into it for shelter.

The squadron soon became split up and I found myself stooging around in company with a single Tomahawk and two 109s. One of these109s was at this point, engaged in attacking the Tomahawk, and as it took evasive action and the attacking 109 dived past and continued down, some couple of thousand feet or more below its level, I saw my chance and dived onto the second 109, carrying out a deflection shot at it from the port side, and following it around until my attack was from line astern. The 109 flicked and spun, with a whisp of smoke trailing in its wake. The Tomahawk was now on fire and going down, and its attacker started to climb up after me. If I had tried to turn into its attack, I might not have been able to get around in time, and this would leave my body exposed to its fire. If I did manage to turn in time, another head on attack would result. (These head on attacks always frightened hell out of me as I could never be sure of the enemy's method of passing. It was strange that I never was hit in these attacks, as both aircraft presented non deflection targets to each other. When crouching low in the cockpit, watching the black smoke from the attacking aircraft guns spewing lead, and almost mesmerised by the ugly air intake of the 109 protruding from the port side of its sleek nose, I would feel the size of a house while waiting until the last second, before pushing the stick violently forward, bunting beneath it, and would breathe again, when the enemy passed close above.)

I decided that I could climb up into the cloud before it could get into range, and I pulled up steeply at high boost. The cloud did not seem to be getting any closer; the climbing 109 was rapidly growing larger, but at last I made it just as the German pilot started to shoot. I disappeared into its friendly concealing grayness with a shower of tracer going past me and I turned hard to port in case I was still being shot at.

I then settled onto instruments and circled within the cloud for a short period before poking my nose out below to survey the scene, fully expecting to see the fire of a burning 109 below, as the aircraft which I had attacked, was still spinning when last seen, but I could only see one fire some distance away which must have been Tommy Trimble's aircraft. The second 109 had disappeared. I have since learnt that it was flown by Marseille*, who had added Tommy's aircraft to his tally that day.

Being now alone, I decided to make inland, hoping to find some other targets and having the cloud cover just above my level, my morale was high. I saw twelve Stukas, flying line abreast, coming towards me with their legs hanging down like eagles' reaching for their prey. These were just made for me, and I sped towards them feeling jubilant, anticipating a number of easy victories, when I suddenly saw nine 109s stalling along in line abreast at the base of the clouds, behind and above the Stukas. My plan was instantly abandoned, and I nosed up into the cloud, thinking that I hadn't been seen. I did a slow one hundred and eighty degree turn and when I calculated that the enemy aircraft would have passed below me, I dived down hoping that I would now be just behind them, and with luck, would be able to bag a 109 or two before retreating back into the cloud. I emerged amidst a milling mass of twisting and turning fighter aircraft looking for me. My guess had been wrong and I had been seen, and now, thoroughly frightened, I rapidly pulled back into the shelter of the cloud having decided to leave this little bunch well alone.

Having regained my composure, I again dived just below the cloud and with a wild weave, made sure that I was not in a position of any danger. Directly in front of me, heading east, were three 109s, flying away with their tails towards me. This time, I was sure that I could not have been seen and climbing back into the cloud, I pursued them at full power. When I judged that I must be in range, I eased out of cloud and had another look. I was right behind them, but they were still out of range. I re-entered the cloud and repeated the performance. After three false attempts, and being very careful not to emerge ahead of them, I finally emerged and was in close range, but I suddenly saw that there were now only two aircraft. In a panic, I turned violently to port and was only just in time. The third aircraft was coming up at me from below and I scuttled back into cloud, almost blacking out under the high "G" force, just as he was about in range to start shooting. With my heart beating overtime, I decided that I had had enough, and would return home. Remaining in the cloud layer, I turned onto a westerly heading. After a couple of confused minutes trying to orientate myself, I calmed down sufficiently to realize my mistake and turned back, flying east.

The cloud started to break up a little and I suddenly emerged from cloud, into a large bubble of clear air, surrounded by cloud above, below and all around, and flying sedately in this strange world, just ahead of me, was a lovely little 109. The pilot unfortunately saw me, and started climbing in a bid to escape as I closed on him and started firing, with about a forty five degree deflection, following around into a close line astern, giving him quite a hammering as he made the cloud above, and disappeared from view. I continued to spray the cloud area where he had disappeared, then I circled below waiting for him to come spinning down, but to no avail. I was sure that he must have been destroyed, so I dived below the cloud looking for his funeral pyre of black smoke, but there was no smoke. Terribly disappointed, I again turned for home remaining in cloud.

Suddenly, I remembered the twelve Stukas, and wondered where they had been bound. It had to be near Gazala, as that was the area of our front line. I knew that I could not return home knowing about this attack, so I made towards the area. The cloud was thinning and breaking up as I approached, and on arrival, I was flying under a clear sky.

Four Stukas were circling above the Indian troops, and about 3000 feet above were three 109s circling. I weighed up my chances of not being seen by the three fighters, and when the Stukas started into their dive, surrounded by a dense array of black puffs from exploding shells from the Bofor guns, I dived down to attack, looking up to make sure that I had not been seen by their escort. When I started to close on the Stukas, the Indians must have preferred my aircraft as their target and it seemed that every gun focussed their fire on me. Perhaps this put me off as my first attack was too steep and my speed too high for accurate shooting, and my attack was abortive. I turned away, and as the three top cover aircraft were not taking any notice, I carried out a further attack on two Stukas, which had by now formed up after dropping their bombs, and I attempted to take them from abeam. As I drew into range, both aircraft turned away and their rear gunners started shooting.

I carried out two or three attacks, but on each occasion the pilots turned their tails to me and I knew that I wouldn't be able to get the pilots who were well protected by heavy armour plate behind their seats. I saw the rear gun of one aircraft, suddenly swing up during an attack and I knew that I must have wounded or killed the gunner, but when I attacked again, the gunner in the other Stuka managed to hit my armour plate glass. There suddenly appeared a vicious looking little inner circle with spider web cracks radiating out from it, and small particles of glass came into the cockpit half blinding me. I pulled away shaking, and relieved that the glass had stopped the bullet which had been coming straight for my face. If it had been two inches to the left, there was no protective glass, and it would have been curtains for me.

After I calmed down a little, I dived down again in search of my Stukas, but they had disappeared. I looked above and saw that the three 109s were now only little dots, heading west, out towards the Martuba aerodromes. I dived low across the front lines of our troops knowing that they must have appreciated my intervention, and I then returned to El Aden with my petrol tanks nearly empty and my ammunition almost expended. I hadn't achieved much, and all I could claim were three aircraft damaged. Others in the squadron, without having spent the hectic period that I had, had achieved better results. Tiny Cameron got one 109F confirmed and shared a second with Tommy Briggs and Nicky Barr got two, a 109 and a JU88.

Tommy Trimble arrived back a couple of days later, badly burnt about the face and hands. He had been shot down in flames and had crash-landed near Martuba. Luckily, he was able to get away from his aircraft without being captured and eventually given help by a Bedouin who fed him and tended his burns with native herbs. At night, he slept in the chief's tent, and much to Tommy's amusement, he would be put over on one side of the tent, and the arab's wife would be installed on the other side. The old chieftain would lie down in the middle of the tent with a rifle. Tommy said that he was not tempted to seduce the wife who was not very attractive and whose lack of hygiene acted as a deterrent to a 20 year old, badly burned, young man. He was in quite a mess, and was packed off to hospital with a posting back to Australia as soon as he was fit to travel. As one of the original pilots, he had more than earned his release from the war, even if it was to be for a short break only.

I had hoped that he would have been able to confirm my 109 for me, but he had not even been aware that I had gone down to help him. The only other item in my diary was to record the arrival of Dixie Chapman who was to take over command of the squadron from Al Rawlinson.

REPORT by KEN McRAE on the recovery of his Bf 109G

During the successful advance of 1942 in the Western Desert, the Wing was returning to Gambut Satellite where we had operated from prior to the retreat. My co-driver and myself were ahead of the convoy and when we had arrived at our Satellite, the only aircraft there was a 3 Sqn. Kittyhawk on jacks. It had been under repair when we retreated and our orders were not to destroy aircraft that couldn’t be flown out as we'd probably be returning within a few days. The aircraft appeared to be OK and it was obvious no enemy had operated from the airfield.

Our main object was to find an enemy aircraft that could be flown by our C.O. Bobby Gibbes - so we went to see if there were abandoned aircraft at Gambut Main, several miles away.

There were lots of damaged aircraft and we were delighted to find an almost new silver-grey 109. On examination the damage was slight - mainly no canopy - which must have been jettisoned in flight for the tail plane was damaged where hit by the canopy.

I wrote CV on the fuselage and then realised if we left it unguarded someone else would grab it. I sent Rex back to the Squadron to notify Bobby what had happened and we would return the following morning. A team of airmen and a truck was organised to come to Gambut Main early next morning.

In the meantime three army officers appeared and wanted to know what I was doing with the 109. I told them that I was taking it back to the squadron for the C.O. to fly and evaluate its capabilities. They informed me that they were Intelligence and I couldn’t take it - they wanted to evaluate it. I told them ‘no way’. I had the aircraft and was going to keep it. Outranked (I was an F/O) and outnumbered, I did well to convince them the prize was going to 3 Sqn.

We finally compromised … they'd take the name plates from various places on the aircraft - which would allow them to find out where the bits and pieces had been manufactured. On departing their final remark was "We’ll get it anyway". "Maybe" I said "but not before we’ve flown it."

When Sergeant Palmer returned we parked the vehicle against the fuselage and that night slept under the mainplane. No one was going to get the 109 which we now knew to be a 109G.

The ground staff arrived early the next morning and the aircraft was towed back to the Sqn. I imagined the look in the eyes of the C.O.. to see such a prize and in such good condition.

Three or four days later the aircraft was repaired and the C.O. test flew it and later made more flights.

Eventually the Intelligence people did get the aircraft and Bobby Gibbes flew it back to the Delta area. Much later we heard that they had pranged it.

bobbysocks

05-10-2010, 04:47 PM

Philip Wright in Mission 59 1/2.

March 10, '45 was my sixtieth mission. From now on I'd be eligible for rotation home. It was a happy prospect. What wasn't was a 2,000' ceiling and 5,000' thick cloud cover by no means great weather to be flying combat in.

Since I'd joined the 36th Fighter Group on August 1, 1944, a lot of good friends in the Group hadn't made it as far as I had. They'd either been killed or were missing in action. Among them were pals I'd had gone to flying school with: Jack Wyand, Harry Vibert, and Joe Schultis. Others I recall missing from the pilot's roster of the 23 Fighter Squadron were Don Smollen (K.I.A.), Pit Cole (K.I.A.), Jack Teagarden (K.I.A.), and Don Dreifke (M.I.A.).

But the biggest loss for all of us was Major Albert E. "Easy" Miles, our squadron commander. His chute caught on the tail of his plane when he had to bail out. He went in with his plane. "Easy" Miles was one of the bravest men I have ever known.

The mission today is an armed reconnaissance in an area north of Frankfurt, Germany. My friend and roommate, "Maggie" Magnuson, will lead the squadron of two flights of four P-47 Thunderbolts. I'm to lead the second flight of four.

"Stay the hell away from the Remagen Bridge!" the briefing officer had told us.

The capture of the Remagan Bridge three days earlier had been unbelievably good fortune, and 1st Army was doing everything possible to protect this first bridgehead over the Rhine.

"There is a 15 mile no-fly zone around the bridge and any plane, and I mean any plane-Allied or German, that comes into this zone, is going to be shot down. So stay the hell out of there," he had repeated.

We took off from our Belgian base, and flew east-south-east over cloud cover. Not until we were well into Germany could we see ground through occasional holes in the overcast. In one of these, Maggie spotted a marshaling yard. He radioed the rest of us that he and his wingman were going down and take a look. The two planes of his second element tacked on to the four in my flight. We circled overhead at 10,000 feet and watched Maggie and his wingman dive down and disappear through the hole. Shortly, Maggie radioed up that he'd spotted some locomotives and that the rest of us should come on down.

I radioed my strung-out bunch to follow me and dove down through the hole and pulled out at 1,500' heading north. I saw the marshaling yard and lined up on it, made my bomb run, and released my two 500 pounders, then broke away in a steep 90° left-hand climbing turn. I looked back to see the havoc I'd wrought.

Terrible! My bombs had landed in some peasant's field and blasted a nice big hole in it.

In order that I wouldn't get run into by the planes following me, I climbed back up into the clouds again, made a 180° turn, and came back down out of the clouds and tried to find the locomotives.

I was flying was a brand spanking new P-47D30RA - my plane had been grounded for maintenance. A new plane has the smell of a new car, and I babied this cream-puff along like an old man out for a Sunday drive while I looked for the locomotives. At the same time I was thinking about the marvelous rest leave I'd just returned from in Cannes on the Riviera.

"Ker-thunk." The plane was hit! I didn't even know I was being fired at. No flak, no tracers, no indication of any enemy fire at all.

Aluminum skin over the wheel well on left wing was buckled up. Inside was a raging fire. Every pilot's reaction to such an emergency is to check his controls, and I kicked the rudder pedals. WOW-the fire just spread the length of the wing.

What to do? I could fire-wall the throttle and try to go back on the deck and pray the fire wouldn't get so bad I'd have to bail out. If it did, there wouldn't be time to gain enough altitude to jump. Another problem was, I couldn't remember if there was a bulkhead between the wing root and gas tank under the seat. If I guessed wrong-Blooey!

Then there was the Ramagen Bridge. I guessed it was about 70 miles due west of my position, and if I made, it I'd be shot down by our own people.

My next option was to go up through the 5,000' of cloud cover on instruments, then head for the lines. At least I'd be able to jump, if the plane didn't blow up first. But I was a lousy instrument pilot, and with the plane on fire, I would be watching the fire and not my instruments. No way.

The next choice-jump! The decisions took less than 10 seconds before I started my bailout procedure. I ripped off my oxygen mask, ejected the canopy, and rolled the plane upside down, ready to drop out, exactly as the book said.

Problems: First, I hadn't rolled the trim tabs forward to keep the nose up, when the plane was upside down, and it kept diving towards the ground. Second, you just doesn't "drop" out of a plane going 150 miles an hour. That's no gentle zephyr, and it keeps you jammed in the cockpit. Third, upside down, I was kicking at the stick to keep the nose up, while struggling to get out against slipstream, and I saw I was still hooked to the radio umbilical.

Then pow! Out I went, like a cork from a champagne bottle. I had wriggled out just far enough for the slipstream to grab me instead of holding me in. It was the fastest I've ever gone anywhere, anytime - the radio umbilical didn't slow me down one whit. Forever etched in my memory is the image of the vertical stabilizer going right between my legs. The thought still makes me cringe.

Flight school didn't include practice jumps; from now on it would be on-the-job-training. At best, I was at 1200' and didn't dare observe the nicety of counting to ten before pulling the rip cord. I yanked it. The chute serpentined out and opened with a lovely "WHOOMPH." and had he been there I would have kissed Sergeant McElroy, our parachute rigger.

As the plane flew away-engine roaring-I suddenly felt like two people. One, a stranger, parachuting into Nazi Germany. The other, who was going to get back into plane and fly back safely to the base. This horror just couldn't be happening to me! When the plane crashed into the ground in a huge explosion, I knew I wasn't going back to the base-and I became one person.

Suddenly, everything became quiet-even serene. The first sounds to filter into my consciousness were of the birds singing beneath me. It was eerily disorienting, but beautiful. As I drifted down, Hollywood images of Germans machine-gunning defenseless Allied pilots in parachutes flashed into my mind- I waited?

I pulled on the parachute shroud lines, to control my descent, but I feared if I pulled too hard I'd dump the air from the chute and crash to the ground so I gave it up.

The ground was coming up faster, and I saw a barbed wire fence I might straddle. Then the ground blurred, and I was on it in a heap. I looked around to see that I was in the back yard of a large house on top of a knoll. The six foot hurricane fence that surrounded the property was ample proof that the best way into this place was through the top. Down the knoll I saw a small town.

We had been told in Escape & Evasion lectures that the first thing to do is to hide your parachute. If the Germans found it, they would have a place to start tracking you from. Okay, I gathered up the chute, took it into a shed near the back of the house, and crammed it down behind a woodpile. Outside again, I went around to the east side of the house and looked for a gate-no gate. I hurried back around the house to the west side to see if there was a gate there and came face to face with, what else, eight or ten German civilians on the opposite side of the fence.

Their leader was a wild-eyed string bean of a guy that had a Luger pointed straight at me. My arms shot up in surrender. We stared at each other, wondering who was going to do what next. They seemed as surprised as I was and nearly as scared.

They motioned me to go back around the house. I did, and when I was screened from them by the house, I took out my 45 Cal. automatic, threw a shell into the chamber, left the safe off, and shoved it back into my holster. I would go down with all guns firing!. When I rounded the east side of the house, where I had looked the first time, there was a gate big as life and the Germans waiting for me. Again, my arms flew up in surrender, and they took the forty-five.

We started down the knoll towards the town, with me out front like The Pied Piper of Hamlin with a gun in his back, I think every kid in town showed up. They hooted and hollered at me in the German equivalent of, "We gotcha, We gotcha!" Kids are are kids. In my best military manner-head up chin in-I tried to ignore them and the dour stares of the adults that had joined the parade.

That morning I'd given extra care to my uniform-boots and brass polished. I even wore a tie. If I was going to be their prisoner, at least I could be a proud officer and gentleman of the U.S. Army Air Force.

There was a a small factory at the edge of the town, where they led me down into a basement office. The room was maybe eighteen by eighteen feet with solid concrete walls. The first thing they did was make me strip off every stitch of clothing. They must have thought I was hiding secret papers or weapons. I did as ordered. However, standing stark naked in front of a bunch of people, to whom I'd not been properly introduced, lacked a certain propriety. But I didn't have much choice.

About now, they decided to unload my forty-five. This set off the damnedest brouhaha and commotion among them as none of them knew beans about unloading a Browning 45 Cal. automatic. I was the only person in the room who knew there was a shell in the chamber and that the safety was off. If that forty five went off, in this eighteen foot square concrete room, the carnage would be unbelievable. I wouldn't die with my boots on; I'd die with nothin' on.

Naked as I was, I desperately pantomimed how to unload the piece. They thought I was trying to get the thing back and yelled and cursed me. But I kept at it, and it finally dawned on them I was trying to help, and "we" unloaded the forty-five. It was a scene right out of a Three Stooges comedy.

When they found I didn't have any hidden weapons or secret documents on me, they let me get dressed and marched me over to the burgermeister's office. The kids of course, tagged along and continued badgering me. They were no longer amusing.

Of the four or so Germans in the burgermeister's office the Burgermeister was the kindest. If he hadn't been there, I believe the others would have made short work of me because of the devastation and civilian deaths that resulted from Allied bombing.

Two self-important uniformed officials came in and took over. I had no idea who they were or could I understand a word they were saying. But I got the feeling they weren't sure what to do with me, and I began saying, "Luftwaffe, Luftwaffe."

If captured, we had been told to try to get in the hands of the Luftwaffe-comrades-in-arms, that sort of thing. The next choice was the Wehrmacht, and most of all try to stay out of the hands of the Gestapo, SS, and the civilians. At least these weren't the Gestapo or SS, and the "Luftwaffe" suggestion might work. I must have said the right thing, for the leader quickly started to telephone.

He greeted the person at the other end of the line with a loud, "Heil Hitler," at the same time his arm shot up in the Nazi salute. I couldn't believe it. I thought this only happened in Charlie Chaplin movies. Whatever he said was Greek to me, as I spoke no German. But it seemed to have solved the problem.

I was dying for a cigarette, and with a lot of gestures was able to persuade them to let me have one. I sat ramrod stiff in the straight backed chair, and puffed away "by the numbers" in my best officer and gentleman pose.

The moment didn't last. A man in peasant clothing stormed into the room and began screaming and hollering at me. Then he smashed the cigarette from my hand. I had no idea what was going on. Through a little French, I finally realized he thought I had killed his wife and children. I couldn't have, unless they had been out in the middle of the field where my bombs had landed. No doubt his family had been killed at some point, and, for that, he was taking out his rage on me.

In French he yelled, "Pourquoi? Pourquoi?" (For why? For why?)

My only answer was, "C'est la guerre." (It is war.)

It was the wrong thing to say. He jumped on me, and beat on me with his fists. I didn't dare fight back and just curled up in a ball. The other Germans finally pulled him off and shoved him out of the room. I was damned lucky he hadn't captured me first.

The situation calmed down after he left, and I was turned over to an older man in uniform. I thought he was the town constable. He took me outside, picked up his bicycle and motioned me to come with him. The kids were still with us but had stopped their antics. We walked through the town, until he stopped at a house in the middle of a block. He leaned his bicycle against a low brick fence and went up the walk to a side entrance.

What followed was the greatest pantomime I have ever seen. The constable stood outside the door in profile to me, apparently telling an unseen wife that he had to take this vicious "Terraflieger" to the airfield in Giessen, and that he would be late coming home for supper. But it was just as obvious from the look on his face and the lecture he was receiving that she didn't believe one word of it. She must have yelled that all he wanted to do was to go to Giessen, get drunk and chase girls.

He argued back furiously, while pointing down the walk at me, but staring straight ahead at her. Didn't she realize the importance of his mission and what a hero he was? Finally this shrew's face pops out from behind the door, like a Jack-In-The-Box, she craned her head to see the "Terraflieger." Pop-eyed he'd been telling the truth, she jerked her head back into the house as quickly as it came out. The constable turned and strutted back down the walk full of himself, muttering, "Boy-did I ever tell her!" I didn't understand a word of what they said, but I didn't have to.

The constable shoved the kids aside. He mounted his bicycle and motioned me to get going. I trotted along slowly, as he did S-turns to keep from falling off the bike. The kids had tired of the game and quit. I said the hell with running and slowed to a walk. The constable got off his bicycle, and we walked out into the beautiful German countryside-alone.

The constable was an older man, and I gave a thought to overpowering him and escaping. But he kept the bicycle between us and his Luger on the far side. He knew what I was thinking and was prepared for any tricks I might pull. If I tried it one of us was certain to be killed. If I did escape, I had no food or anything else I would need to survive. It was seventy mile trek to our lines. The risk wasn't worth it.

We plodded along silently into the late afternoon sun. Each deep in his own thoughts. In about an hour I guessed, my watch and all my other possessions had been liberated back at the factory-we came to an airfield in Giessen.

The constable turned me over to the Luftwaffe and without ceremony they dumped me into a cell. My sixtieth mission was incomplete and all hopes for rotation home- shattered.

EPILOGUE

Greycliff, Montana is a quintessential wide spot in the road. No post office, one retail store, and a few occupied houses. Greycliff is not a place to expect extraordinary coincidences to take place.

In the summer of 1992 my wife, Joan, and I were playing tennis at a friends ranch outside of Greycliff. One of our doubles opponents was Martin Siebert, a native of Germany, and pastor of the Congregational Church in nearby Big Timber. After the match, I mentioned to Martin that I had been a fighter pilot and P.O.W. in Germany at the end of World War-II.

"Where were you shot down?" Martin inquired.

"Near Giessen," I told him.

"That's not far from where I was brought up," he answered.

I told Martin in 1984 that. we'd tried to locate the town (I never knew the name of it) where I'd been shot down, but we were unsuccessful. I believed it was about five miles northeast of Giessen.

Two weeks later Martin introduced me to a visiting young German couple who lived very near the place of my capture. I told them how I had parachuted into the back yard of a house on top of a knoll, and about my capture, and trip to Giessen. I believed the town was roughly 5 miles northeast of Giessen.

A month later a letter arrived from my new German friends. In it were photos of "my house" exactly as I remembered. Included was the current owner's name and address, Prof./Dr. Albert Spitznagel of Staufenberg-Mainzlar, plus names of several people who remembered the incident.

In response to my letter, relating the events of that day and my excitement at discovering the site of my "downfall," Prof. Spitznagel invited my wife and myself to spend a weekend with him and his wife, Gisella, at the "house on top of a knoll." We could not refuse and in February of 1994 we went.

Their hospitality was fabulous and included a reception for us to meet many of those who remembered that March day in 1945. They included the burgermeister's son, Willie Krieling, one of my "kids," Friedrich Zecker and the current deputy burgermeister, Reiner Mehler, and a reporter from the Giessen newspaper to record the events.

But the belle of the ball was Hilde Schmitt. Hilde was then the twenty-one year old housekeeper/governess for the family of "the house on the knoll" and told the following,

"...I don't know why I didn't go back into the house with the rest of the family, when the 'all clear' sounded. Suddenly, I saw a man - bent over running - along the fence and hedge. It was clear he was the shot-down pilot, and I ran up behind him with a pick-axe! Then other people came up the hill and captured you."

At the reception, Hilde and I discussed how fortunate it was I didn't see her, when she followed me with the pick-axe. I had my forty-five, and if she had threatened me, I might have shot her. That would surely have been curtains for me when I was captured. The next day Hilde invited us to her home for champagne and cake. We continue to exchange Christmas cards.

The story was published in the Giessen newspaper on Monday morning and was read by a young man, Andreas Dort. He immediately called the Spitznagels, missing us by 15 minutes. He was livid.

Andreas' grandfather had retrieved a section of my plane using it to cover a wood pile. His grandmother had made underwear from my parachute.

Andreas had grown up obsessed with the plane and its pilot. Over the years he had collected many parts of my plane from the crash site. Now his pilot had come to Mainzlar and he had missed him! Andreas' story also became a feature article in the Giessen paper.

He wrote me that he wanted to send me pieces of my plane and parachute. After a lot of bureaucratic haggling with the customs department, the package arrived with the cherished mementos.

In his covering letter Andreas wrote, "Please don't be angry because the pieces are in bad shape. They are very old. And only you know, what a sh*t big crash you've done."

Another letter from Andreas told about how he found out who the constable was:

"Dear Phil,

"On Tuesday Sept. 5th a man from Staufenberg visit me in the Burgermeisterei. We talk about some official things. Then he said: are you the man, who found some plane-pieces? I said: of course, what's happened?

"He like to hear our story, because he was a 10 year old boy from Daubringen, than you have been going like a POW across Daubringen behind a bike!

"Then he said: in front of the pilot was the police-officer, Mr. Hahn from Lollar. I thought, whom the (to f*ck) is Mr. Hahn? So I call the son from Mr. Hahn at that same minute. I explain him the problem and he said, it's real possible, that his father was the right man. He knows by himself (1945 = 13 years old) a story like this. I demand from him a picture from his father and told him, that you will be crazy, if you can see the man in uniform and he was the right one. He will call me at the weekend, then I get the photo. The house where they are live in 1945 is real like this today. I take some pictures from it and send them prompt to you."

In March of 1997 we visited Andreas and his wife, Claudia. They gave us a super time and we have become great friends. In addition to visiting the crash site and finding some more small parts of my plane, we met a neighbor of Mr. Hahn's. He remembered my being at the Hahn house and confirmed that Mrs. Hahn was a real, "battle-axe."

All this is a tale the result of a tennis game at that "wide spot in the road," Greycliff, Mont.

bobbysocks

05-10-2010, 04:50 PM

part of the war we never think about but should

Dogfights over Belgrade - The First Day. Pt1 yugo pilots stories

Furious because a small nation resisted the almighty German war machine Hitler ordered the attack on Yugoslavia. In Hitler's 'Order 25' the role for Luftwaffe was clear: the destruction of JKRV (Jugoslovensko Kraljevsko Ratno Vazduhoplovstvo - Yugoslovian Royal Air Force) and the bombardment of Belgrade.

For Operation 'MARITA', against Yugoslavia and Greece, the Luftwaffe dropped 1090 aircrafts (Luftflotte 4) and Germans were supported also by additinal 660 Italian and some Hungarian planes. JKRV was able to resist by totally 470 first line aircrafts, but only 269 planes were airworthy modern types. In first day of attack Luftwaffe concentrated mostly on Yugoslavian airbases, destroying a part of JKRV force before take off. But soon Yugoslavian pilots appeared in air...

The German attack came at the wrong time for the 102 eskadilju, 32 vazduhoplovne grupe as witnessed by its CO Mihajlo Nikolic:

".....In Mostar we were supposed to be relived by the Fighter Scholl from Nis. While waiting for them our planes were turning ready for their 100hrs check, because they all had from 110-130hrs flying time. The Me 109E had the Daimler Benz 601 engine, and the only repair shop for these engines was in Zemun. So on Saturday 5. April in the evening we landed on the Zemun airfield. The airplane of August Kovac engine failed while still on the runway, and the others were practically unflyable. But we were immediately included in the 51. vazduhoplovna grupa, which flew IK-3, but only had six of them-three each squadron. That night we were called by the CO of the unit Rupcic and gave as the following order:

- At dawn tomorrow morning you will patrol over the border part Vrsac-Bela Crkva where German tank units from Romunia are anticipated."

A member of these tank units, a tank gunner, describes the Major Diner StG 2 attack on a mountain pass fortification:

"A fine coating of dew covered the vehicles. Only a thin strip of slowly lightening sky above the mountains heralded the start of a new day. It was 5 am on the morning of 6 April. We looked at our watches. Fifteen minutes to go. As we adjusted our binocular, a pale dawn light started to seep down the hillside in front of us. The mountains behind rose out of a milky white morning mist. One more minute. There! To the west a machine gun rattled briefly. Then a muffled explosion. A few seconds of complete silence, then the whole front erupted into noise. Our own light flak units added to the din of the artillery.

Despite the racket, my ears picked up the thin drone of aircraft engines, growing louder every second. I knew from experience what it was, and pointed the glasses upwards. Sure enough, the dim shapes of approaching Stukas. Now they were circling above us, the dark red pin-points of their position lights plainly visible beneath the shadows of their wings.

They slowly began to climb, breaking into the clear light of the new day. More and more aircraft joined them as they headed towards the ridge of the mountains immediately to our front. One last circle, as it to make double sure of the target below, and then the first Ketten went into their dives. Even from here we could hear the familiar nerve-shattering howl of their sirens. And then the first bombs fell. The tiny black specs rained down on the enemy positions. The noise of the explosions echoed back unseen clefts in the mountains as Staffel after Staffel attacked. Soon pillars of yellow-brown smoke were staining the pristine whiteness of the high snowfields."

While Stukas of StG2 were attacking enemy positions and Me 110 were attacking all airfields in the general direction of the attack, a large formation of bombers from II./KG 4, KG 2 and KG 3 was joined by the fighters from II/JG 77, III/JG 77 and III/JG 54. A Yugoslav fighter-pilot during the Zerstorer run said: "When we were watching, almost all, of our fighter airplanes burning our CO said:

- It really is war. We will get paid double".

The approach of the bomber formation to Belgrade went really quiet, and only when the noise of multiple aircraft engines was reported from the hills surrounding Belgrade JKRV's response late due to the failure of the early warning system.

Kapetan 2. klase Mihajlo Nikolic:

"In the morning 6. April 1941 I took-off as first, with my wingman Milodrag Boskovic to follow the order. We returned after 50 min, when we landed we started to eat some sandwiches when from the office burst our CO giving us the sign to take-off. When we were strapping in he radioed us that German airplanes crossed the border at Subotica and were flying from South to Belgrade.

The officer ordering Nikolic to take-off was the CO at Zemun-Adum Romeo. 16 planes took-off.

The first was the IK 3 squardon of kapetan 1. Klase, who was escorted by narednik Dusan Vujicic. The second pair consisted of kapetan 1. razreda Todor Gojic his wingman was narednik Milislav Semiz. Dusan Borcic was leading the third pair and his wingan was Bamfic.

Mihajlo Nikolic continues

The IK-3s flew first because they got the information earlier, we followed them with seven Me 109E (there were ten, but one was unserviceable, and two were on patrol).

It was a clear day with a bit of haze and scattered clouds so we flew towards Sava river. When we were in the air, I looked back from habit and I saw that my wingman Milodrag Boskovic in confusion forgot to pull in his landing gear. I called him via radio but to no success, and only when I opened my landing gear, he cleaned out his gears and joined fighting formation. At first we saw nothing, then we spotted our planes diving into something. When we got closer, the sky immediately went black from German airplanes, and we flew into this turmoil not ever dreaming that Germans had an umbrella of fighters above us. First we saw the Stukas flying in groups of seven. There were so much targets that we didn't have to chose anything. I attacked one group from the left and bellow, but immediately the right side of the group descended for the gunners to have a clear shot. This was a trained tactic, but the group didn't break. We made a couple of runs, but didn't pay attention if there was any results. A little later I noticed that a Stuka was starting to burn, The group immediately-as being ordered-broke fearing an explosion.

Then I noticed that the He 111 were coming. I made a turn and told Boskovic that we are going for a group from behind because they are defended from the top and bellow. I started my attack carefully choosing my position, all concentrated in aiming...from nowhere a blast in the cabin and a German fighter almost rammed me with his wing, coming from the left.

My wingman didn't even saw him. That fighter got a good shot in me, but I to squeezing the trigger gave full left rudder and fired at him. The cabin was already filled with smoke. The fuel tanks are behind us and they could catch fire, we were told to put the fire out with a quick dive, I managed to do that, but when I wanted to apply throttle the engine did not respond. I don't see or hear Boskovic (I never saw him again). I started to chose where I will land, and between the villages Sakule and Baranda I notice a clearance with some stock on the left and right a field. I chose the field and I belly-land. I open the cabin and I notice there is blood on my flying suit, I got shot in my left leg."

In fact Boskovic wasn't found until 1955, when he and he's Me 109 were recovered from Dunav river near the village of Kovilj which is about 2min flying time in general heading towards Belgrade to the place that Nikloic crash-landed his Messerschmitt. Some parts of his Messerschmitt are kept in the Yugoslav air force museum, including the DB 601 engine.

The other pair of JKRV Me 109’s were Miloš Žunič and Džordžem Stojanoćem.

The pair closed in on the He 111’s, one bomber was shot down by Žunič. The pair quickly turned to the fighters and defended themself untill they ran out of ammo. Me 109 flown by Žunič was hit a couple of times, and he bailed out. He came to earth dead. His wingman survived.

The flight of IK-3’s lead by the talented aerobatic champion and flight instructor Savo Poljanec from Maribor soon reached the first wave of enemy bombers.

Poljanec lead the group on to the bombers but they were seperated because of the German Me 109 diving on them. Poljanec was now alone and fighting with the guns of 27 bombers. The experienced aerobatic pilot made an immelman turn and came back down the side of the formation concentrating on the right bomber of the last three. Just before the bomber was engulfed in fire the tail gunner watched the victorious Poljanec climb over the formation. Then on the alititude of 6000m Poljanec noticed that a formation of German Me 109 fighters were preparing an attack on him. Poljanec evaded the first fighter, and then started a high speed pursuit, with a couple of short bursts from Poljanec the Me 109 began lossing altitude and was aparently out of control. His joy was to be shortlived because in the next moment, he was attacked by the next fighter who was following him closely all this time. Poljanec felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder and his engine started to quit. Seeing there was no point of proceding, he shut off his engine and started spinnig. The trick worked since the enemy fighters sure of their kills started climb again. His spin became uncontrolled now and only his great experience as an aerobatic pilot enabled him to exit this spin, and this only at minimal altitude. Poljanec was now flying his bullet ridden IK 3 towards Zemun trailing a glycol trail behind him. Just before landing he was strafed by a Me 110 and one of his shell exploded behind the seat that Poljanec was ocupaying. But all in all he managed to land safely and was immediately put in hospital.

Worth mentioning here is that Poljanec in a IK-3 flew a lot of mock dogfights against Yugoslavian Me 109E usually flown by Boris Cijan.

Over another part of Belgrade, over Senjak the second pair consisting of podporočnik Borčič and Bamfič, was looking for a good fight, but they didn’t find any enemies, so they separetad to increase their chances.

Borčič flew toward the Rumanian border and then returned to Belgrade. Over Zvezdara he caught up with 20 Do 17’s enemy bombers that was heading towards the centre of the capital. He attacked the last three and sent one Do 17 in the Danube river. The same scenario as happaned again as with the Poljanec. The German Me 109’s were diving on him, but Borcic gained just a spot of advatage, so he could shot down a Me 109E. Now he was alone, and German fighters were trying to encircle him, but they weren’t suceding untill Borcic run out of ammo. He was shot down on the banks od Danube 15km nort of Belgrade. His last fight was observed by a lot of spectators in Belgrade city. After the war the remains of his IK 3 was lifted from the river, and it revealed that no big ‘white 10’ was worn on the fusleage, but just a little ‘black 10’ on the rudder.

His wingman Bamfić was also fighting with the Me 109s over Batajnica. His IK 3 was alo badly damaged, and he was coming in for landing, but was bounced by two Me 109s. To avoid certain death Bamfic was forced into a series of steep turns, with his wingtips almost touching the ground. He crash-landed near the airfield. His IK 3 was completly destroyed during the landing, but Bamfić was not hurt.

Vujičić had to return to the airfield due to cooling problems.

The pair Gogić and Semiz shot down a Stuka.

A pilot of the bomber stream piloting one of StG 77 Stukas was lucky to avoid Yugoslav fighters:

"After the Green hedgerows of the Normandy countryside, the warm browns and greys of the local landscape were still unfamiliar to our eyes. The morning sun was glinting off the peaks of the Transylvanian Alps at our backs as we were approaching the unmistakable silver ribbonod the Dunav, the frontier between Rumania and Yugoslavia. The hazy outlines of a large city appeared in the distance-Belgrade!

Below us the first few burst of enemy flak. But nothing to worry about. Those of us who'd been through Poland and France had seen much worse. The city is much clearer now. The white tower-like buildings bright in the morning sun. The Staffeln opens up as pilots prepare to dive. Our target is a the fortress which gave the city it's name. Perched high above the promontory where the Sava joins Dunav, it couldn't be missed.

I felt the jolt as our bomb was released. We leveled out and turned back for base at high speed, ready to prepare for the next mission. As we retired I saw the fortress ringed in smoke and flames. Fires had also been started in the royal palace and the nearby main railway station. Soon smoke hung over the whole city like a great grey shroud.

On 6 April 1941, during the first mission of Luftwaffe's I.(J)/LG 2 - low-level attack against the base of the 36th Fighter Group base at Rezanovacka Kosa at Kumanovo shortly after 6:00 am - the Bf 109s of this unit got involved in a dogfight with the Hawker Fury biplanes of 36th FG above this airfield. Without any reported losses, I.(J)/LG 2 (equipped with Bf 109 E-7) made the following claims of Hawker Furys: Lt. Geisshardt - 4 Furys (victories Nos 14-17), Olt. Clausen - 3 Furys (Nos 6-8) and Gefr. Quatember - 1 Fury (No 3).

During the first mission of JG 77 - escort to the raid against Belgrade - between 07.30 and 08.40, 56 Bf 109 of JG 77 were involved in furious dogfights with Yugoslav fighters. Oberleutnant Erich Friedrich of Stab/JG 77 claimed a Yugoslav Bf 109 as his third victory. In II./JG 77, the following pilots claimed one Bf 109 each: Olt. Jung (his victory No. 3), Ofw. Petermann (7), Lt. Zuzic (1), Fw. Ftröba (3), Olt. Patz (1), Fw. Köhler (2), Ofw. Petermann (8). And - in III./JG 77 - Olt. Schmidt one Bf 109 (No 1) and Ofw. Riehl one Ikarus IK-2 (No 2). No losses were reported by JG 77 during this mission.

After a short brake with some refreshments Yugoslav pilots, anticipated the next raid on Belgrade between 10 and 11am.

Under the command of Gogić now six planes took off. They attacked the bomber formation, but the resistance was much better then during the first raid. The Me 109E flown by Karl Štrebenk a native of Zagorje on Sava river, was badly damaged, but Štrebenk was able to land safely. After landing he discovered that his airplane was had 80 bullet holes. Determined to get his revange, he begged the CO which was Rubčić at the time, to let him use his plane to go and pursue the Germans. After a short argumnet since Rubčić said that it was no point as the Germans are already attacked by the fighters from Prnjavor, but all in all Rubčić allowed Šterbenk to use his plane. Štrbenk flew right in the gagle of German and Yugoslav fighters. The Germans noticed the special marking carried on the CO’s plane so they concentrated all the eforts on Štrbenk. With the combined efforts of the pilots with well over a year of constant fighting. Šterbenk stood no chance. He crashed on the Glogonjski rt.

During the second mission of JG 77 - low-level attacks against the Belgrade area - Lt. Omert claimed a Bf 109 (No 1), while another eight Yugoslav aircraft were claimed destroyed on the ground. During the same mission, Olt. Hans-Ekkehard Bob of 8./JG 54 claimed the only victory by that unit - a Bf 109. During this mission, Olt. Heinz Duschle was shot down by ground fire and crash-landed in Yugoslav territory. He was hidden by German Yugoslavs and later returned to his unit. No other German BF 109 was reported lost during this mission.

I.(J)/LG 2 flew another five low-level attacks against airfields in the Niš area during the day. Three of its Bf 109 E-7 were repotted shot down by ground fire.

During one low-level attack against the Yugoslav airfield at Laibach, the Bf 109 piloted by Oberfähnrich Hans-Joachim Marseille was hit by AAA, but Marseille managed to return the aircraft to base.

The CO of the 142 eskadrile 32. vazduhoplovne grupe 6. lovackoga puka Milutin Grozdanovic also took-off from Prnjavor airfield with his Me 109 with code number 52 that morning:

"At 6.30 we were overflown by a large formation of German bombers. There was more then hundred of them. When we saw this we immediately jumped in our aircraft which were ready from three o'clock in the morning. We took-off and followed the German formation in pairs. We caught up with the German formation in 2 -3 minutes. Me and komandant grupe Danilo Djordjevic, Bozidar Ercigo and Radoslav Stamekovic attacked the bombers. There was so much bombers that we attacked a bomber each. We had two cannons and two machine guns.

We flew over them then we dived and tried to get as many hits as possible in the bombers cabin. We attacked one bomber after another until we spent all of our ammo. Then we dived to the treetops and escaping enemy fighters and one by one returned to the airfield. We didn't even pay attention if we had shot-down somebody and after the attack we didn't have any losses.

After a short break at about 10 o'clock we flew again and again attacked the bombers. There were so much bombers some returning from Belgrade some flying to,my god there were so much bombers. When I was returning I saw a group of 60 - 70 Stukas. I separated from my group and attacked them because I was faster and had more ammo. I closed in to 20 - 30 meters so I didn't even have to use my gunsight. We had so high goals we didn't even watch if we shot-down somebody, we just kept attacking till our ammo ran out. When I run out of ammo I made a low-level escape to the airfield to reload the airplane and to give others a chance to fly."

The JKRV's communication system was insufficient so that some squadrons didn't even know about the war. Blenheim's pilot Ivan Miklavec, a member of 8. bombardeski pulk 215. eskadrile stationed at Topoli explains:

"A solider slams opens the door and starts screaming at us: - Did you hear? Belgarde was bombed...The Germans attacked us!

I stood up and asked: - Who told you that?

- Radio Belgrede we heard it on the Caproni ( the only radio was in one of our school Caproni).

Then in a second the airfield came alive. Alarm! Airman in readiness, mechanics, bombs, ammunition!!! Short commands resounded. I look up in the clear Sunday sky, in to the sun-the blood is boiling in our vanes. After the first salvo of orders and news there is silence. Everybody is doing their work and preparations without much speaking.

Sunday, the first war day passed in take-off readiness just in case we were attacked. We loaded our planes with 100 kg bombs and with machine gun ammo. In the afternoon the first two machines took-off at 13.30 with a recon mission over Graz. They bombed a station in the way back and returned safely.

At 5 o'clock in the afternoon we received the order for take-off, but regretfully for tomorrow. Komandir Jovičić explained the mission for us, we were to bomb road and railway bridges around Klagenfurt. Jovičić surprised us by saying: We don't have much ammunition, but we will use the one we got the best we can. To make sure the bombing is accurate and to avoid enemy fighters I suggest that we attack at 300m. Do you agree? We all accepted the dare suggestion. At 20.30 we were surprised by another mission order, the first was called off. We were to bomb the a railway section and station Feldbach in Austria. Take off before dawn, we were to meet at the airfield at 3 o'clock in the morning. So tomorrow is the day..."

Ivan Miklavec describes his story later on, but for most of the pilots 6. April was the day.

The mission against Graz railway station was executed by the best JKRV bomber pilot Karl Murko.

The group commander ordered Murko to head straight to Maribor on the altitude of 2500m, then follow the railtracks to Graz. From the height of 300m he should drop his four 100kg bombs onto the railway station.

His mechanics checked his Blenheim and loaded it with bombs and amunititon.

The Blenheim was piloted by Murko, his gunner was Malešić and the bombardier was Pandža. They took off at 13.30 in the afternoon.

Murko didn’t agree with the route he was ordered. He flew towards Maribor at the height of about 300m, He then turned towards Austria and then proceded uo the valley of the river Raba. When he overflew the railway crossing Gleisdorf, he descended even lower, so he was virtually huging the ground. He was sure that if he was higher he would be spotted by the AAA and fighters from Thalerhof (Miklavec proved this was right-see the second day). Without any resitance he closed into the suburbs of Graz and climbed to 700m. With the railway station in sight, he put his Blenheim in a shallow dive to increase his get-away speed. He released the bombs hitting the tracks with two bombs, the third demolished a building with food suplies and the fourth one missed. Just before reaching Maribor Murko was attacked by a German Me 109E, but the shots from the gunner Malešić and the low flying by experienced Murko prevented the Me 109E to get any real hits. The Me 109E probably low on fuel turned for home. Later mehanics discovered only 2 7.7mm holes in the tail of the Blenheim.

Another known pilot was shot-down that day. Knight cross holder Oblt. Herbert Ihlefeld was brought down by Yugoslavian AA. The pilot landed near Nis, and got slight head injuries.

The Germans continued their attacks against Belgrade through the day and till about 11 o'clock in the evening. Four hours later narednik Miklavec woke up.

bobbysocks

05-11-2010, 04:26 PM

Dogfights over Belgrade - The Second Day. ( of 3 )

Bristol Blenheim was the most modern bomber of JKRV. That type was build under licence in Ikarus factory. At moment of German attack in 1941 in line duty was ready totally 56 Blenheims, in bomber and recon versions.

"7. April 1941. We all woke up at 3 o'clock in the morning. In the dark backyard splashes of water were heard, the well pump was quickly filling the buckets with water for refreshment. A bus drove as from the village to the airfield in pitch darkness carefully following the blackout regulations. At the airfield komandir Jovovic repeated the mission, refreshed all agreements and we all started to dress for the flight. We didn't get any meteorological report. At 4 o'clock in the morning we were ordered: To positions! Start the engines! A quick salute to the CO. His last words were: The time has came, either to strike as warriors or to die! We all separated into the night each in the general direction of his aircraft.

The mechanic with his soldiers was already there. The formation was starting their engines, the noise was tremendous. I checked my aircraft, walking around it with a flashlight. I was stunned, the lower wing surface had multiple bayonet-made holes. So, sabotage... I didn't notice any other damage, so I didn't report it. I thought that I could do it after the mission. I also checked the four bombs and unscrewed the igniter half a turn each. I presumed we would have to fly low. When I entered the cockpit I found out that somebody broke the clock in the aircraft. I didn't have the time to find out who did it so I borrowed a wrist watch from the first man who walked past. The crew included a pilot, mechanic/gunner, and bombardier/navigator/aircraft leader (me), we didn't have any radio operator because we didn't have the radios installed yet. One by one all of our 28 aircraft took-off in pitch dark, only a small signal light blinked the take-off command in one minute intervals. I counted the take-offs ...five ...six ...seven ...we were number ten. But where is my pilot? I am waiting, he should be here minutes ago. Mechanic leans out of the cockpit and asks the closest solider if he has seen him. Nothing... number eight is already rolling... I order the mechanic to close the cabin, we will fly alone. I check both engines again, everything is OK. Then I hear knocking on the cabin. The pilot boards the plane in the nick of time. The cabin is closed again. I am looking for the light signal. Here it is! Let's go.

A unpleasant felling of dampness surrounds us at 700m. I quickly notice the first meteorological information-clouds. I order the pilot to climb, because we are flying above 600m high mountains, and my map is telling me we are flying towards even higher mountains. My pencil marks the already flown path of our Blenheim. The pilot asks me where we are. I answer him: Varazdin is to the right. Our altitude is 1500m. It will be dawn soon, and I think we are flying in upper cloud levels so I order to climb to 1700m. The success is obvious as we brake the clouds. I am scanning the sky to spot the others who took-off before us. Far below us I spot a white dot-it's a plane. We are quickly catching him, I recognize him he is one of ours! We are closing in, I want to see the commander, but the airplane signals us the sign.

Watch it! it waggles its wings and makes a U-turn and flies back from where it came from. When he disappears I start to wonder. Did they receive the command for return, was it the whether. Without the radio receiver I didn't get the answer to any of those questions. Soon after we cross the border my mechanic shakes my shoulder and screams There are two fighters in combat above us, one of them is ours. In a moment we lose sight of them (that could be the two JKRV's Me 109 in combat with a German one above Maribor). We have reached our target, far below us, in the valley surrounded by hills we don't see it, it is hidden by the cloud base, our recon won't do us much good. I calculated another 6min before we make the U-turn. We start to sink in the clouds, we are waiting for results of our cloud braking, if I miscalculated...we dive to only 400m. Then we brake through, firs we see something dark brown, then fields, than houses. We fly over a road at 300m. Raindrops are banging on the windshield and are obscuring my sight. I notice some dark transport vehicles driving south, we are going that way too. Feldbach must be somewhere on the right side. I am looking for the railway. I set the bombsight, triggers, electric button. We passed over the road again, we still don't see the railway, then a bright line flashes-a river, a bridge bonds both sides with a road. I show the bridge to the pilot. We fly over the river and make a turn.

Another glance to the bombsight, I press the button, the plane climbs a little and makes the turn. The old bridge is gone only a couple of beams are left. 100m ahead two transport cars stopped, they won't get over the bridge! Then the valley closes in, then opens-up again. Look there is the Feldbach station, we fly over the station at 200m, no traffic, no defense, they even removed the stations name. I press the button and the second bomb parts from the aircraft. After the turn we notice a full hit on the tracks an railway crossing. After a while my mechanic screams: Airplane! and shows me a little dot on the right. When we close in to 300m a recognize the shape, the yellow band, the black cross...no doubt Stuka!!! Machinegun! a yell to the mechanic who is already in the machinegun turret. We close in to 30m and they spot us. In that moment our machine gun sings it's mortal song three salvos 50 bullets each, and the Stuka rolls over an disappears in the clouds. First victory...We won't be taken easily. We fly over a 900m high hill, then we spot barracks lots of them then a warehouse then a railway more barracks. I drop the fourth bomb on this establishment. I latter found out I bombed the wings assembly plant in Wiener Neustadt.

When I was ready to order the plane back I saw a main road leading to Vienna. I dropped my last bomb there.

Then my mechanic screams: - Enemy fighters!

... I turn around, yes four fighters on our tail. I order the pilot to climb into the clouds a turn right then after a minute a turn left to previous direction. I quickly calculate the heading from Vienna to Maribor. We turn our trusty Blenheim in that direction. Then we literally fall out of a cloud and we see the Wiener Neustadt airfield full of aircraft!! The temptation was just too big so we made a low pass our machineguns spiting death. Then came the Flak... But the worst was yet too come we had to fly over a hill 900m high we were flying at 300m. We have to make a circle to gain height over the airfield, the flak was ready for us. We took multiple hits and escaped in the clouds. It is getting lighter, I suddenly hear the engines coughing and spiting, I check the gasoline level...30 liters...the pilot immediately cuts down the throttle to save gas. What now? We had 400 liters seven minutes ago, the fuel tanks must be hit. The pilot and mechanic ask me:

- Shall we jump?

- No! Steer 30° to the left!

(I choose to crash-land because our Yugoslavian made Blenheims didn't have the emergency hatch, our CO had a simple explanation: No jumping. These machines cost 5 million dinars each.) We gave up hope to reach Yugoslavian soil. Only 400m left we brake the cloud base and start looking for a place to land. There on the left below that hill, the crash-land is possible only there. We will plug our nose in, but we have no choice, pilot pulls out the flaps, and I the gears. We are flying with speed 230km/h. The wheels absorb a strong blow, full throttle, the earth bounces, I am not strapped in so I grab for my harness at the last second, a nose blow, the cabin crashes, I am thrown out of the seat...over.

I don't know how long we just lay there, not unconscious but we just lay there. We crawl from our positions and we check if everybody is all right. We climb on the wing and we pet our giant Blenheim N°25 who saved our lives with his destruction.

This is the start of the story about a Yugoslavian war captive Ivan Miklavec, who latter wrote a book "Skozi deset taborišč". ("Through ten prison camps").

While Miklavec was laying in Austria, the Belgrade defenders had their hand full.

After a early morning briefing it was decided that the JKRV pilots would fly in five plane formation, since the pairs didn’t enable to act more agressive.

The first group of five Me 109 scrambeld and attacked a small group of Stukas.

The group lead Grozdanović acompanied with Ercigoj, Grozdanović, shot down the leader of the Stukas while other fighters protected them. The Stukas droped their bombs and ran for the border. A group of German fighters apeared, but they didn’t attack.

In the morning Karl Murko tried his luck again with the target of Segedin airport in Hungary. The 68. Vazdušna skupina this time flew in formation and was intercepted soon after crossing the border. Murko was leading a element of three planes and sucesfully evaded the fighter ambush. But latter on when he was returning from the mission his plane now alone was attacked by a pair of Me 109’s. They scored a lot of hits, but didn’t hit any important parts of the aircraft. Then a cannon shell bounced off the cockpit greenhouse and exploded only meters away shatering the greenhouse. Murko now had a tough time controlling the aircraft, and set it on a glide-like path towards Romunia. The trick worked since the fighters changed course.

After a few minutes murko set course again for Yugoslavia. Over Bosanski brod, he was almost shot down by Yugoslav AAA. Murko managed to land safely though.

In the afternoon the Me 109’s again acted in the five planes formation. Again a small group of Stuka overflew Fruška Gora, they reportedly shot down two Stukas, but then the escorting fighters started to apear in great numbers. The fivesom, had a tough time defending themselves. They were low on ammo, so they started to head back to the airfield. The first to land was poročnik Kešeljević. Just about then the asistant CO of 103. eskadrilje Miha Klavora from Maribor was preparing to take-off he exchanged a few words with Kešeljević about the situation in the air, and immediately after that Klavora and his wingman took off to aid their friends.

The sun started to set, and two more fighters came in for landing with Vilim Acinger and Ivo Novak.

Then the voice of Klavora resounded over the speaker.

This is Klavora. I am out of ammo.

He shot down an enemy fighter, but was still fighting with two other. Now out of ammo, he fought a desperate batle with time, hoping at the same time that someone from the airfield would come to his aid.

The only aircraft ready for combat was CO’s Džordževič’s machine. He walked very slowly toward his aircraft, stood on the wing and then turned back to the barracks, explaning that the parachute wasn’t ready. It was obvoius he had no intention to fly.

One of the attackers over flew the airfield strafing, Klavora tried to take his chance to land, but the other fighter caught up with Klavor and poured a steady stream of fire into the aircraft of brave Miha Klavora. He crashed on the Sremska ravnica.

Just after that one of the enemy fighter with his pilot was obviously wounded and crashed into Fruska gora.

All in the field knew very well, who was to blame for the death of the brave native of Maribor.

Milislav Semiz didn’t have a peacefull day since he around 17.00pm attacked a formation of three bombers, in this attack his IK-3 took 56 hits, 20 among them in the engine and airscrew, but as Poljanec the previous day he managed to land safely at Zemun airfield.

The second day brought a little pause in fighting, so the chain of command and organization recuperated after the first shock, Mile Curgus explains:

I was more a spectator then an actor in the April war. I was a kapetan 2. klase, fighter-pilot 2. lovackog puka. On 2. or 3. April I was given an order to go to the Knic airfield and to prepare all necessary for the arrival of the puk from the Kraljevo airfield. When I arrived at Knic I was notified that I was transferred to Belgrade to help defend it. When I was travelling we were told that the Germans attacked Yugoslavia. The train stopped and we didn't start to move till 7. April in the morning. The first train from Nis to Belgrade got to the city at about 7 o'clock in the evening, the train wasn't able to get in the station so it was redirected over the bridge to Zemun. I immediately went to the JKRV's command, and there I find only two artillery soldiers guarding the building. I walk a couple of kilometers to the Zemun airfield. I ask somebody about the location of the command, and he shows me a bunker, a large cement pipe. There was the Stab brigade and komandant, pukovnik Rupcic. I reported to him and he ordered me to remain at the airfield (it was the same Rupcic that ordered Nikolic and Boskovic the unsuccessful border dawn patrol two days earlier).

The 7. April battle report came with a special message. Today at about 11 o'clock in the morning one of our pilots in Me 109E chased a group of 18 Stukas, and managed to get two. But he to fell in flames at Krcedin in Srem. We found a watch on the hand of the pilot on which there was a special engraved message: For the champion of the First pilot school in 1939 vazdusnim purucniku Zivici Mitrovicu-the Rogozarski factory."

The second day of the war wasn't so active because the Germans didn't continue so strong bomber offensive, their goal was achieved. German reconisance planes discovered the 32. group airfield, and airfield Belgrade was constantly under attack, it was decided that all fighters should transfer to Radinci airfield. If all fighters weren't able to follow the command, they should join the main bulk at Radinci on 8. April in the morning.

Komandir Milutin Grozdanovic had a definitely spoiled day:

"In the afternoon I was given an order from the komandant Bozidar Kostic to transfer to an airfield near the village Radinci, because he feared that our airfield was discovered by the Germans. I was very tired, and when we got over Radinci, I tried to land first, I lost too much speed, stalled, flipped my wing, and crashed. I turned over and got serious injuries. Unconscious I was transported to a hospital in Sremska Mitrovica, after 7-8 days the Germans came and treated me. When they found out that I was an officer and that I put up a brave fight, they treated me with respect, and after 15 days I was accompanied by two medicals to Belgrade, where I finished my treatment."

Between 09.15 and 10.40, JG 77 flew low-level attack missions against airfields to the south of Belgrade and escort to Stukas. Two aircraft were reported destroyed on the ground. No losses were reported by JG 77 on this day.

bobbysocks

05-11-2010, 04:30 PM

1st Lt George A. Behling,Jr. 362nd Sqn.
January 14th 1945, I remember as I climbed into my P-51 called "Chi Lassie"that my crew chief remarked that the spark plugs were leaded, but he believed they were good for one more mission.
All that morning as we awoke, dressed, ate breakfast and prepared for take off we heard the constant drone of B-17 bombers overhead, because the bombers flew slower we would take of later and catch them up. when we arrived at our designated escort position over the North sea the B-17's stretched in a continuous line for as far as you could see, all headed for Berlin. In order not to pass the planes we were to protect we flew above them and zig zagged. Several hours have passed since the rendezvous and we are approaching the target at about 30,000 feet. Berlin is easily discernible by the heavy flak smoke at our altitude, suddenly a maze of German pursuit planes come screaming down on us from above. The sky is filled with airplanes, B-17's begin to burst into flames,trail smoke and spin like toys as parachutes pop open. I jettison my wing tanks and take a bead on an enemy fighter. A fellow P-51 drifts across my bow at a 30 degree angle in slow motion, so close I still don't know why I didn't tear it's tail off with my propeller. I'm completely distracted and loose sight of the enemy fighter.
I bank to the left and look behind, there's a plane on my tail but it's not my wingman. It has a large radial engine and is easily identifiable as a Focke wulf 190. What happened to my wingman who was supposed to watch my tail, I still don't know to this day but I was on my own. With the 190 on my tail I turn hard to the left, left rudder, left stick, more throttle, I've got to out turn him. I see his cannon bursts but he can't get a hit. I wonder to myself, what am I doing here; a person could get killed. Why did I ever want to be a pilot? I am only 20 years old and should be at home, going to school and going home to my parents in the evening.
I pull into a tighter, tighter turn, feeling so many G's I can hardly turn my head. Then the stick goes limp, I'm spinning--but you should never spin a P-51 because it might not come out. My primary training kicks in, I put in hard right rudder, the plane stops spinning and I put the stick forward. I'm flying again at 20,000 feet.
This time I turn to the right and look behind, the son of a gun is still there. He followed me through the spin and 10,000 feet, it can't be, these German pilots are supposed to be undertrained.Tighter and tighter to the right,more cannon bursts. Another spin coming out at 10,000 feet and he's STILL THERE. Well if I can't out turn him, surely I can out run him. I shudder at the thought of one of those cannon shells tearing through my plane. In fact I'm utterly paralysed with fear.
I point the plane at an approximate 10 degree angle toward the ground and open the throttle fully, it's working, he's falling behind, out of range. Now I am at tree top level just West of Berlin passing over the Elbe River. My engine sputters, intermittently spewing white clouds, I cut back on the throttle and lean the mixture, but the sputtering gets worse. Suddenly the engine goes dead streaming two contrail like bands from each side,Hurriedly, I try the starting procedure several times to no avail.
I'm directly over a dense forest, no place to land. Pull up and bail out, but I am going at less than 200 mph and that's not enough speed to pull me up to a good altitude, It would not allow my chute time to open. Look for some place to put this baby down dead stick. Dead Stick! It was my worst thing in basic training. Without power I would have killed myself every time. There -- 20 degrees to the left is an open field running parallel to a railroad track. I'm barely flying so don't turn to sharply. The stick feels mushy,easy,easy! I'm lined up, 50 feet above the ground, wheels up, then, right in front of me are high tension wires, I close my eyes and pull back on the stick. Somehow( I don't know how,I was not looking!) I bounce over the wires and hit the ground with a thud. It's a frozen ploughed field and my plane skids along like a sled. Up ahead is a line of heavy trees and I'm zooming towards them with no way to stop,But I do stop about 50 feet short. I open the canopy, no one around. I hear the sound of an engine, look behind and there's that 190 coming right at me. Get out of this plane fast and get behind the trees,but I get tangled in my straps so I crouch down behind the armor plate in the back of my seat. The 190 does not strafe the plane and passes overhead. Now with him in sight I disentangle myself, get out of the plane and make for the trees. I make my way along the line of trees some 200 feet to the railroad embankment, go over it and head away. Up ahead is a bridge. But two figures are on the embankment coming toward me from the other direction. I STOP AND WAIT...

1st Lt Behling was captured that day and became a P.O.W

bobbysocks

05-11-2010, 04:43 PM

...on the night in question, 12 FW109 A4's painted with lampblack were insinuated into the bomber stream returning from Germany. This squadron had previously made two very successful intruder attacks on London, but on THIS occasion although they all dropped their bombs, no casualties were caused, and only minor damage to.... a sewage works and a children's playground!

HOWEVER - they were VERY quickly painted on radar and nightfighters tasked to them, and in the ensuing melee over the captial, navigation suffered and a number who crossed the coast OF THE THAMES ESTUARY from North to South...thought they were actually crossing the CHANNEL!!! and found themselves flying over Kent with nearly empty tanks....

On that night the Watch Officer at West Malling, a Ft. Lt. Barry, heard a crash nearby as a first of these stragglers fell out of the sky into a nearby orchard - but this wasn't found until the next morning. While trying however to find out what the noise was, a single engined aircraft was heard approaching the field, and he ordered the runway lights on, as apart from the night fighters, West Malling was ready to receive damaged or low-on-fuel bombers returning from the continent. Instead, a black single-engined fighter rolled up RIGHT to the control block, under the apronm floods, and the pilot started shouting for "his" groundcrew....in German, which they couldn't hear over the noise of his engine. They shouted back, but HE couldn't hear THEM either!....

At this point a field patrol Beaverette armoured car approached, and seeing the German crosses faintly outlined under the paint, the 'car's gunner, A/C Sharlock, jumped out and pushed the rudder of the sircraft right over to stop the pilot making a run for it! The pilot got out of the cockpit....and finally realised where he was!

BUT....

"...Whilst those at the scene were digesting what had just happened, events began to take an even more dramatic, and just as unbelieveable, turn. As he was on the telephone making a further report to Group, Lt. Barry heard the sound of ANOTHER aircraft making a final approach. No sooner had this aircraft touched down, welcomed by the blazing flare path than he saw Williams and Sharlock once more gunning their Beaverette, racing into action.

As the armoured car dashed around the airfield perimeter to head off the new arrival Sharlock, still perched in the Beaverette's turret, realised when just 20 yards distant that indeed the unbelieveable was happening. In front of them was yet another FW190. This time there was no suprise, as the aircraft had already been given to Control as being a hostile.

Suddenly, and no dobt realising his error, and eager not to suffer the same fate as Bechtold, this pilot turned his aircraft and started to set off across the airfield pushing the throttles wide open. Williams took up the pursuit and at the same time Sharlock opened fire with the twin-mounted Vickers "K" type machineguns. Still standing in the distant Watch Office and watching with increasing awe, Lt. Barry could clearly hear the staccato bark of these light machineguns in action.

Sharlock's aim was dead on target. His long burst, fired from a range of 15 to 20 yards, poured into the German aircraft. He later recalled that he could see a small fire had broken out in the rear of the cockpit, but that despite this, the pilot refused to give up. As he seemed to be intent on escaping, Sharlock opened fire a second time. The Focke-Wulf immediately burst into flames and rolled to a halt.

As his plane was enveloped in flames the pilot was seen to more or less fall from the cockpit. With his clothes alight he staggered towards the Beaverette. Sharlock had climbed out of the armoured car and approached the pilot. Despite the fact that his uniform was on fire, a short striggle developed between the two, the German pulling free and turning to make a dash for it!

His moment of defiance was short-lived for the Station Commander - Wing Commander (later Group Captain) Peter Townsend - caught him. Once pulled to the ground the German gave up the struggle and, with the help of Sharlock, Townsend finally extinguished his burning clothes."

So that's the connection - in a VERY Holywood-style encounter, Townsend had to lay out the burning pilot!!! The aircraft was left to burn out, as it was well down to the frame by then.....

HOWEVER!!! As all hands were getting this second pilot into an ambulance....a FOURTH FW190 actually overshot the field, saw what was going on and attempted to get away....but was running on fumes and piled into the ground a mile away!

Sweetland and Muencheberg ( the spitfire hunter) - The Deadly Encounter

There are several versions of this event. First, in the combat reports of Ralph Keyes and of Norman McDonald. Then in the stories in FIGHTERS OVER TUNISIA (1975), McDonald's recollections in THE AMERICAN BEAGLE SQUADRON (1987), Keyes recollections, during a recent telephone interview (Nov.'94), and the recollections of a German pilot in GESCHICHTE DES JAGDGESCHWADERS 77 (1994).

Here are these versions:

KEYES: "At approximately 0950 hours 23 March, 1943 thirteen Spitfires on a reconnaissance mission near Y-6560 (GSGS 4175, Sheet N.I. 32 N.E.) were jumped by four or five ME 109s coming from out of the sun. I was flying Yellow 5 when someone called "break", whereupon I immediately broke to the right. A moment later I saw an ME 109 open up on a Spitfire from about 250 yards. Smoke began streaming from the Spitfire which continues on for a second or two, then turned sharply upward and to the left directly into the path of the oncoming ME 109. A crash occurred and both planes went down in flames from about 2,000 feet. Though I followed the descent of neither plane to the ground, I did see two flaming spots on the ground where the two planes had obviously just crashed. I saw these spots before the crash of Capt. Williamson's Spitfire, which had been hit and from which he had just bailed out. Whether the crash of Capt. Sweetland's plane -- I learned later that this Spitfire was Capt. Sweetland's -- with the ME 109 was owing to a deliberate action or a reflex action resulting from being hit, I do not know, but, knowing Capt. Sweetland, I believe he deliberately crashed into the ME 109 after having been, perhaps, fatally shot."

Theodore Sweetland, at Thelepte, in March 1943. Thelepte is in western central Tunisia and the 2nd Fighter Sq. operated from an airstrip there from 10 March until 9 April 1943.

MCDONALD: "Captain Sweetland was my #4 man in Yellow Section on a reconnaissance of Sened-Maknassy area taking off at 0915. We were traveling east in enemy territory into the sun at approximately 1,000 feet when the Squadron Commander called a 90 degree left turn in the area of T9505 and our section crossed over and became Blue Section. We were now flying with the sun at our backs, we had just straightened out when I heard over the R/T "Break". I broke violently to the left and up. On looking back I saw Capt. Sweetland's plane pull up and crash into an enemy fighter. Both planes exploded and fell in pieces to the ground."

FIGHTERS OVER TUNISIA by Chris Shores, Hans Ring and William Hess. London 1975. p. 261.: "Tuesday, 23 March 1943: Around 0930 Maj. Muencheberg of Stab/JG 77 took off from La Fauconnerie [a landing ground 36 miles northwest of Sfax, Tunisia] with his wingman, Lt. Strasen, and headed for the Mareth area to see "if there was something to shoot down". Strasen saw below some Spitfires of the 52nd Fighter Group near Sened, and both dived to attack, Muencheberg attacking Capt. Theodore Sweetland, whose aircraft began to pour smoke as it was hit in the engine. Muencheberg's speed was so great that he got too near to his 135th victim, and what happened next is not very clear. Strasen reported that Sweetland's Spitfire exploded and that debris fell on Muencheberg's wings, one of which snapped off; Capt. Hugh L. Williamson reported however, that Sweetland deliberately rammed the Messerschmitt with his burning Spitfire. Whatever the truth was, both aircraft fell to the ground in flames; at this moment Strasen shot down Williamson, who bailed out, all three aircraft crashing near kilometre stone No. 82 on the Gabes-Gafsa road, the wreckage of the Messerschmitt flanked by that of the two Spitfires. So died one of the Luftwaffe's most outstanding fighter pilots and leaders."

McDonald's recollections, pages 53-55 in THE AMERICAN BEAGLE SQUADRON, Lexington, MA 1987: "This action occurred during a fighter sweep over the front lines by twelve planes flying in the British box formation. It was a 5th Squadron mission but they were short of planes and pilots, so my flight from the 2nd Squadron joined them to make the necessary twelve planes.
Sweetland, known as "Sweetie", was flying number four in my flight. How come a Captain is flying number four position? He and I had flown together and raised a little hell together when we were both assigned to the 20th Pursuit Group in North Carolina during the spring of 1942.
After I was transferred back to the 52nd Group, I lost track of him. Then sometime in early March 1943, when sent to Algiers with other pilots to pick up new Spitfires, I bumped into him while walking down the street. He was a Captain and an Aide to some General in 12th Air Force HQ., a job he hated - safe but dullsville. He asked me to get him into the 2nd Squadron. I talked to "Windy" West, who remembered him very well, and we put the wheels into motion.
Sweetie was an excellent pilot, but had trouble in the beginning because he was a left-hander all the way. Nevertheless he really could handle a fighter plane. Back in the States, in P 40s, he and I and Jerry Simpson used to practise all our maneuvers to the right. We would do turns, rolls, including the roll at the top of the Immelman turn, to the right.
We thought that these unconventional maneuvers, opposite to the easier, engine-torque-assisted turns and rolls to the left might be a life saver some day. I'm sure they were for me, but in this particular encounter they may have cost Sweetie his.
Anyway, after he joined us and got some transition hours in the Spitfire, I took him on a couple of missions as my wingman. After these two missions he insisted that he fly tail-end-Charlie just like any other newcomer. During an engagement with enemy aircraft a day or so before this ill-fated mission he had gotten some strikes on an ME 109.
On this mission we were flying at four to five thousand feet, with the sun high and behind us. My flight was to the left of the leader's flight and Hugh "Wee Willie" Williamson was leading the flight on the right. Then we were jumped by a flight of four 109s.
They came in from above and slightly to our right, assuming, I'm sure, that if we saw them we would break to the left. Sweetie saw them at the last moment and yelled "break". I broke right and up and also saw Sweetie break right and hit the incoming 109 head on; perhaps he was trying to get a shot at it. The entangled planes fell quite close to me, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Willie's plane get hit by fire from the wingman of the 109 that collided with Sweetie's plane.
At this point I was so enraged because I knew Sweetie had bought it, that I lost my cool and took off after the 3rd and 4th planes of the German flight without checking on where the number two plane had gone. These two planes were climbing away, presumably after having fired and missed.
I immediately realized that this would be a futile chase and made an angry, abrupt right turn for home - only to see the number two plane zoom by me. I had turned just in time, or he had waited just a little too long before firing - and, perhaps, blowing me out of the sky. He kept right on going and so did I - in opposite directions.
What surprises me about the results of this attack is that they only hit two of the twelve planes, one of them the hard way, by collision. I think that they may have been thrown off when Sweetie and I did the unexpected - broke right, up and over the other flights. The flights in the box formation were quite close and we usually all broke left together, which these experienced German fighter pilots may have been expecting."

McDonald recollections (reconstructions?) about himself and Sweetland breaking to the right are not corroborated by his, or by Keyes, combat report. Keyes recalled that there were 12 planes flying the British box of three 4-plane flights. He was flying on the mission as a spare and although his report states he was Yellow 5, he had by that time filled in as #4 in the right-hand flight when another Spitfire had to drop out for some reason. He recalls, contrary to McDonald, that Williamson was leading the formation, at the head of the middle flight. He also recalls that there were six ME 109s vs McDonald's recollection of four, and remembers being fired on, hearing and seeing the projectiles go by him. He also recalled that he broke to the right, away from the formation. He also recalls that there was a ball of fire when the two planes collided.

The recollections of the surviving German pilot, as given in GESCHICHTE DES JAGDGESCHWADERS 77, Teil 3. Eutin, Germany. 1994. Page 1484. Dienstag, 23 Marz 1943 (translation): "Tuesday, 23 March 1943
Hq. Gruppe 77 In the morning an element [two planes] of the Wing Hq., Maj. Muencheberg and Lt Strasen, flew a "free hunt" and front-reconnaissance in the Sened/El Guettar area; 50 Kilometer eastsoutheast of Gafsa the two Messerschmitts encountered several American Spitfires, who were forthwith attacked. On the further course of the air battle Gerhard Strasen recalls:

We flew at about 3 to 4,000 meters altitude over the frontal area, when we sighted, below us close to the ground, several Spitfires and Curtiss[es, P 40s]. Maj. Muencheberg leading, we attacked the enemy fighters from above; Muencheberg opened fire at close range and got direct hits on the Spitfire ahead of him. The machine became covered by his fire and simply exploded - the pilot of the Spitfire probably had not even noticed, until he was hit, that he was under attack. Through his pass Maj. Muencheberg had nevertheless become so close to the Spitfire that I am forced to conclude that his machine went through the "dirt" left behind by the disintegrating Spitfire. Also Muencheberg had no chance - critically damaged by the debris, his Messerschmitt crashed without his having any possibility of bailing out.

....

After separating from the remaining Spitfires, Lt. Strasen flew toward Fatnassa, where he landed at the I Gruppe field; on this matter Karl-Heinz Rentrop recalls:

One day Lt. Strasen from Wing Hq.landed at our field in Fatnassa and, with a stony face, climbed out of his Messerschmitt; zu Capt. Baer he said only: "Captain, Jochen is dead!" Immediately a Storch [Fiesler "Storch", observation plane] was on the way to the crash site; there the remains of Muencheberg's Me 109 were found - it had crashed just behind the Spitfire."

Lost Apiarist

05-11-2010, 07:28 PM

Life and Death Aboard a B-17, 1944

America joined Britain's strategic air campaign designed to destroy Nazi Germany's industrial capacity soon after her entrance into World War Two. Launching Boeing B-17 "Flying Fortresses" and Consolidated B-24 "Liberators" from bases in England's eastern countryside, the Americans bombed their targets during the day while the British attacked at night.

Up to 1,000 of these heavy bombers would take part in a raid - the planes flying in a three dimensional formation in which boxes of aircraft were stacked one above the other to take full advantage of their combined defensive firepower. The early confidence that the bombers' defenses alone could repel enemy fighter attacks was quickly shattered. Losses were high. It was not until long-range fighter aircraft capable of escorting the bombers to and from their targets were made available that losses dropped to an acceptable level.

Manned by a crew of 10, the many heavy machine guns that bristled from the front, back, top, bottom and sides of the four-engine

B-17s fly in formation. Overhead, vapor trails
trace the weaving path of their fighter escort.
B-17 prompted its nickname, the "Flying Fortress." On days that a mission was planned, the airmen would be awakened in the early morning hours and fed a hearty breakfast followed by a briefing describing the mission. They would then be taken to their planes and await the signal to take off. Once aloft, brightly colored "lead-ships" would direct the bombers to pre-determined points where they would organize themselves into their attack formations.

Missions that penetrated deep into enemy territory could last up to eight hours and be filled with anxious anticipation as all eyes searched the skies for enemy defenders. They could expect attacks by fighters armed with machineguns, canon and rockets as well as heavy antiaircraft fire from the ground and even bombs dropped from above. The bombers were expected to maintain their positions at all costs - in order to provide the most effective defensive fire and to assure the most devastating results once their bombs were dropped.

The planes were unheated and open to the outside air. The crew wore electrically heated suits and heavy gloves that provided some protection against temperatures that could dip to 60 degrees below zero. Once above 10,000 feet they donned oxygen masks as the planes continued to climb to their operational level that could be as high as 29,000 feet. Nearing the target, each crew member would don a 30-pound flak suit and a steel helmet designed to protect against antiaircraft fire. Parachutes were too bulky to be worn all the time, but crewmen did wear a harness that allowed them to quickly clip on their parachute when needed.

Prior to 1944, a crewman's tour of duty was set at 25 missions. As a measure of the hazards they would encounter, it is estimated that the average crewman had only a one in four chance of actually completing his tour of duty.

"I'm sorry, sir, I've been hit..."

Joseph Hallock was a twenty-two-year-old first lieutenant serving as the bombardier aboard "Ginger" a B-17 flying out of its base north of London. Hallock dropped out of college to enlist in the Army Air Force in June 1942. After training as a bombardier, he arrived in England in November 1943 and began his combat career on the last day of the year:

"My first raid was on December thirty-first, over Ludwigshaven. Naturally, not knowing what it was going to be like, I didn't feel scared. A little sick, maybe, but not scared. That comes later, when you begin to understand what your chances of survival are. Once we'd crossed into Germany, we spotted some flak, but it was a good long distance below us and looked pretty and not dangerous: different-colored puffs making a soft, cushiony-looking pattern under our plane. A bombardier sits right in the plexiglas nose of a Fort, so he sees everything neatly laid out in front of him, like a living-room rug. It seemed to me at first that I'd simply moved in on a wonderful show.' I got over feeling sick, there was so much to watch.

We made our run over the target, got our bombs away, and apparently did a good job. Maybe it was the auto-pilot and bomb sight that saw to that, but I'm sure I was cool enough on that first raid to do my job without thinking too much about it. Then, on the

The B-17G
way home, some Focke-Wulfs showed up, armed with rockets, and I saw three B-I7s in the different groups around us suddenly blow up and drop through the sky. Just simply blow up and drop through the sky. Nowadays, if you come across something awful happening, you always think, 'My God, it's just like a movie,' and that's what I thought. I had a feeling that the planes weren't really falling and burning, the men inside them weren't really dying, and everything would turn out happily in the end. Then, very quietly through the interphone, our tail gunner said, 'I'm sorry, sir, I've been hit.'

I crawled back to him and found that he'd been wounded in the side of the head - not deeply but enough so he was bleeding pretty bad. Also, he'd got a lot of the plexiglas dust from his shattered turret in his eyes, so he was, at least for the time being, blind.Though he was blind, he was still able to use his hands, and I ordered him to fire his guns whenever he heard from me. I figured that a few bursts every so often from his fifties would keep the Germans off our tail, and I also figured that it would give the kid something to think about besides the fact that he'd been hit. When I got back to the nose, the pilot told me that our No. 4 engine had been shot out. Gradually we lost our place in the formation and flew nearly alone over France. That's about the most dangerous thing that can happen to a lame Fort, but the German fighters had luckily given up and we skimmed over the top of the flak all the way to the Channel."

"They came so close that I could see the pilots' faces..."

In early 1944 the number of missions required to complete his tour of duty was extended from 25 to 30. This meant that Lt. Hallock and his buddies, each of whom had been counting down each mission, now had five additional to fly. We pick up his story as he begins his 27th (and worst) mission:

"We had a feeling, though, that this Augsburg show was bound to be tough, and it was. We made our runs and got off our bombs in the midst of one hell of a dogfight. Our group leader was shot down and about a hundred and fifty or two hundred German fighters swarmed over us as we headed for home. Then, screaming in from someplace, a twenty millimeter cannon shell exploded in the nose of our Fort. It shattered the plexiglas, broke my interphone and oxygen connections, and a fragment of it cut through my heated suit and flak suit. I could feel it burning into my right shoulder and arm. My first reaction was to disconnect my heated suit. I had some idea that I might get electrocuted if I didn't.

I crawled back in the plane, wondering if anyone else needed first aid. I couldn't communicate with them, you see, with my phone

A B-17 succumbs to an attack.
dead. I found that two shells had hit in the waist of the plane, exploding the cartridge belts stored there, and that one waist gunner had been hit in the forehead and the other in the jugular vein. I thought, 'I'm wounded, but I'm the only man on the ship who can do this job right.' I placed my finger against the gunner's jugular vein, applied pressure bandages, and injected morphine into him. Then I sprinkled the other man's wound with sulfa powder. We had no plasma aboard, so there wasn't much of anything else I could do. When I told the pilot that my head set had been blown off, the tail gunner thought he'd heard someone say that my head had been blown off, and he yelled that he wanted to jump. The pilot assured him that I was only wounded. Then I crawled back to the nose of the ship to handle my gun, fussing with my wounds when I could and making use of an emergency bottle of oxygen.

The German fighters chased us for about forty-five minutes. They came so close that I could see the pilots' faces, and I fired so fast that my gun jammed. I went back to the left nose gun and fired that gun till it jammed. By that time we'd fallen behind the rest of the group, but the Germans were beginning to slack off. It was turning into a question of whether we could sneak home without having to bailout. The plane was pretty well shot up and the whole oxygen system had been cut to pieces. The pilot told us we had the choice of trying to get back to England, which would be next to impossible, or of flying to Switzerland and being interned, which would be fairly easy. He asked us what we wanted to do. I would have voted for Switzerland, but I was so busy handing out bottles of oxygen that before I had a chance to say anything the other men said, 'What the hell, let's try for England.' After a while, with the emergency oxygen running out, we had to come down to ten thousand feet, which is dangerously low. We saw four fighters dead ahead of us, somewhere over France, and we thought we were licked. After a minute or two we discovered that they were P-47s, more beautiful than any woman who ever lived. I said, 'I think now's the time for a short prayer, men. Thanks, God, for what you've done for us.'"

Last Mission: "One more, one more, one more."

The twenty-eighth [mission]was on Berlin, and I was scared damn near to death. It was getting close to the end and my luck was bound to be running out faster and faster. The raid wasn't too bad, though, and we got back safe. The twenty-ninth mission was to Thionville, in France, and all I thought about on that mission was 'One more, one more, one more.' My last mission was to Saarbriicken. One of the waist gunners was new, a young kid like the kid I'd been six months before. He wasn't a bit scared - just cocky and excited. Over Saarbriicken he was wounded in the foot by a shell, and I had to give him first aid. He acted more surprised than hurt. He had a look on his face like a child who's been cheated by grownups.

That was only the beginning for him, but it was the end for me."

bobbysocks

05-12-2010, 07:39 PM

Dogfights over Belgrade - The last free days

8. April (day 3)

The weather was very bad on this day. Clouds and light rain. The 2 surviving IK-3’s on Veliki Radinci are joined by the prototype of the IK-3 series II. This airplane had the oil coller reshaped and modified, so it was 25% smaller as the ones on the series I aircraft. The prototype also had the modified exhaust stubs with propulsion effect. This two changes helped to increase the airspeed to 582km/h.

The day also prevented the top Yugoslav bomber ace Karl Murko to get to Zadar. His CO ordered him to take the squadron’s liason bucker jungman and to reconitre if there are any Italian targets worth destroying. About halfway there he turned back due to bad weather.

An IK-2 from Bosanski Aleksandrovac chased what seem to be a reconnissance aircraft but to no avail. One IK-2 crash landed on the same day leaving only 7 IK-2 servicable.

A very sucesfull mission was flown by 66. and 67. skupina from Mostar flying the heavy S-79 bombers. They set off in formations of three planes. One three plane element was leading an S-79 flown by Viktor Kiauta, the gunner was Ivan Mazej and bombardier was Terček a native of Ljubljana.

Soon after the element overflew Uroševec, Mazej noticed 5 Me 109’s closing in on the rear quadrant. The element tightned the formation and this fire power preveneted the Emils to get any hits. After a few attacks, they returned to their previous direction.

The flew in the valley of Kačinska klisura, where a large amount of troops and vehicles were situated preventing the retreat of the Yugoslav forces into Crna Gora (Montenegro). Terček began releasing the bombs in steady intervales. And so did the other two aircraft in the element. Despite heavy AAA the combined effort of the three planes, resulted in a desctruction of 10km long column of vehicles and infrantry, two bridges and a section of a railway track. This action prevented the advance of the Germans into Kosovo polje. They had to took a more safer route over Kraljevo and Čačak.

This little known action is regarded as the most sucesfull mission flown by JKVR during the April war.

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9.April (day 4)

The airfield that was ocupied by the Blenheims from 3. Bombarderskog puka suffered heavy strafing by Me 109’s even in the most disastruss weather. The secret of such a sucesfull navigational feat of German fighters was soon revealed since they found a radio-navigational device in a neighbouring monestary that was leading the German fighters.

At about 2 o’clock in the afternoon IK-2’s from Bosanski Aleksandrovac took off chasing a few observation machines. Later on 27 Luftwaffe Me 109 straffed the airfield. Eight Huricanes and five IK-2s took off to intercept the German raiders.

Poručnik Branko Jovanović was now confronted with nine Me 109’s around him. Skilfully using the extreme manouerabiltiy of IK-2 fighter managed to stay out of German gunsights. After the battle two German fighter were found burning on the ground along with two Hurricanes and one IK-2.

The bulk of the fighter force now stationed at Veliki Radinci was still grounded due to bad weather.

The weather prevented any further flying untill 11. April

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11 April (day 6)

Milislav Semiz now flying the new and fast 2nd series IK-3 caught up and shot down a Me 110C-4b over Fruška Gora.

Aroud 2 o’clock in the afternoon 20 Me 110 strafed Veliki Radinci. Two IK-3 flown by Gogić and Vujičić with four or five Me 109’s took off and in the short fight shot down two German planes. The victors over the Me 110 seem to be the two IK-3 pilots.

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12 April (day 7)

Before the war the main figter school was based in Mostar, and the planes were of mixed type.

After the first few days of the war only two were left, a Me 109 and a Hurricane.

A infrantry colonel asked if someone from fighter school could fly over to Imotski and find out if the Germans are already there. Two pilots Franjo Godec and Stipčič took off. Godec was flying the hurricane this time. Half way there Godec spoted three Me 110’s below heading towards Mostar. Fliping vre his wing hoping Stipčić would notce the Germans too, Godec attacked the Me 110 now flying in the Mostar valley. Even though his bursts met their target, the Me 110 just kept flying. In the heat of the battle Godec didn’t notice that the other Zerstorers were gaining on him. He wanted to fire another burst, but he ran out of ammo. Exactly in this moment he was hit by a ignition cannon shell. The cockpit was immediately filled with thick black smoke, preventing Godec to breath. But he was determined to get that Me 110. He tried to cut off the tail of the fighter with his airscrew, but luckily the Me 110 started spinig before Godec reached ramming ditance (this type of the attack was latter known as Taran). He slamed the Me 109 in half loop opening the cockpit at the same time. He bailed out, only to be slamed with his back to the tail surfaces of his fighter. After buncing off the aircraft he opened his parachute. The strong wind was now carring toward Mostar city. He touched down at Jasenica village, but was dragged for a long distance before being able to cut off his parachute. He had a broken leg and a spoiled flying day, but was othervise OK.

Yugoslavia was in it's Extremis. Like a mortally wounded quarry set upon by a pack of hunting dogs , she was now under attack from all sides. The weather deteriorated during these days there was almost constant rain snow and strong wind. There was a number of aircraft that tried to get airborne, and there was a large number of accidents too. The Germans that had little to stand in their way now, eased off the air-pressure on the Yugoslavian soil. The Stuka Jagd units wit fresh instructions from the C-in-C General Lorh diverted their attention to Greece.

Mile Curgus describes the last free days best: "That days the situation was unclear. We transferred to Radinci. Chaos in Mitrovica, rain, light snow, cars, wagons, trucks, horses, shouting screaming, real war situation! I arrive on the airport, then I find out that our borders were crossed. In the morning, it was maybe April 12, rain-we can't fly. There is nothing left to do for us, but to burn the planes. Djordje Keseljević shouts;Who's got a match? Nobody but me has it, but I cannot be the godfather of this fire. In the end I gave my match after all, which set our fighter, our pride, our possession afire. When we were watching them burning, we were relived of our flying duties. The retreat has begun, the Germans were advancing very fast, and we were on our own. Sooner or later we found ourselves on the German war transports going to prison camps."

But there was one more action for the airman to execute, before they fell into enemy hands. After the separate piece talks fell through, the King and his was in the danger of being captured. The only way out of the country was by air. Onlooking that goal the rest of bombers, transports and fighter were directed, to the Niksic region. On 14. April the evacuation begun. First a Savoia bomber took-off with the King Peter II, on the next day the government and some organizers of the uprising were transported to safety. The only fighter umbrella for this airlift was a sole Hurricane making a race-track pattern to cover take-offs, and 7 Hawker Furys on standby. After all the airlift was efficient enough to get the most important persons out of the country.

A line about the April war and the participating Yugoslav pilots goes:

On 27. April 1941 the fallen heroes shouted:

BETTER WAR THEN THE PACT.

Falling from the skies ten days latter they whispered with their last breath:

BETTER DO DIE THEN TO BE A SLAVE.

They did lose, but they fought for their country-and so did the Germans, and that makes them heroes, every one off them who dared to take-off on a bright April day...

A rare photo of Hurricane in Yugoslovian markings. This snap was made during last Hawker air tests in England, before delivery. 38 JKRV's Hurricanes were ready on line in 1941.

bobbysocks

05-12-2010, 07:44 PM

some 357th stuff ( since that is what i mostly have )

Capt Harvey F. Mace, P51-D "Sweet Helen II"

The German Flak battery was often very good, but on this day their aim was not so accurate, and Harvey Mace was very pleased.

For the bulk of my combat missions while Based at Leiston I flew a P51 that I had named "SWEET HELEN" after my wife, I was in the 362nd Sqn and the code was G4-B. I had a really great ground crew that looked after her for me, the crew chief was Ray Smith from Arkansas, he was a very quiet and reserved and never really showed any emotion.
We had started early and the plane was running sweet, off to Germany we went once again. I was leading my flight to a target deep into Germany this day, we ran into some anti aircraft fire and my element leader and his wingman became separated, leaving me with only my wingman to continue with. We carried on and when the bombers had finished their job they, and the rest of our fighters headed for home. Normally I would have been very happy to have stuck with them, but I was on the far side of the target at the time and had just spotted the unmistakable smoke trail of a climbing ME 163 Komet(LINK) a little deeper in
Germany. The ME 163 was of no threat to anyone, but I was young and thought it would make a good trophy if I could spot it on it's glide back down to it's airfield. I rushed to the spot I estimated to be the area where it would be, but I think it was wishful thinking as I searched for some time and found nothing, so I turned back and headed for home.
Very shortly I must have passed over the most experienced Flak battery in the whole of Germany, the noise of the explosions rang loudly in my ears and all of the twisting, turning, climbing manoeuvres I could muster just could not shake them off. I was in a bad position that seemed to go on for a long time, eventually I escaped their crasp and was so lucky not to have been hit, from then on I carefully changed course every few seconds to avoid a similar experience. The rest of the group had long since disappeared in the distance and there was no chance for me to catch them, although it was not long before I came up on a badly damaged B-17, he was limping home on considerably less than four engines. The pilot of the B-17 reported that he had injured on board and that his instrument panel had been shot up, he was unable to tell if he was heading in the right direction. I got him on the right heading and gave him close escort until we were over friendly territory, but then I had to get myself back to Leiston with the remaining fuel I had left. All the extra activity of avoiding the Flak and helping the crippled B-17 had really used up a whole lot of time and my fuel reserves, as a result of all this I landed back at Leiston some 45 minutes after everyone else. For a ground crew that is a very worrying time, as on many occasions it would mean your pilot has been lost. As I was taxing to my hardstand I could see my crew chief Ray Smith sitting with his head in his hands, as I drew into my spot he looked up and broke into the biggest smile I have ever seen. The smile and relief on his face has stayed in my memory ever since........

Lt Raymond T.Conlin, 362nd Sqn.
"Memories of a Wingman"

The date was July 25th, 1944- the time was around 11:30 am and the 357th Fighter Group were on the prowl. Dollar Blue flight and Green flights were enjoying one of those rare, "Frele Jagd" missions, in English a free hunt or fighter sweep as our enemies would call it. We had made landfall near the invasion beaches of France in the Northern Normandy Peninsula and were ranging South down near Kennes.
Capt Becker was leading Blue flight and Capt Carson, Green flights. Capt Carson maintained about six hundred yards between the two flights to give us all maneuvering room. After about 15 minutes, Capt Becker began a Sweeping left turn to head back North. Capt Carson then executed his easy left bank to follow in trail. As I recall Green flight was slightly higher than Blue as we approached the famous Paris, the glamour city of all Europe.
The two flights arrived on the western edges of the City, in this area are the large railroad marshalling yards. It was noon when one of our guys called in that P-38's were bombing and strafing below. We all looked down, at that moment a gaggle of Focke-Wulf 190's and Me 109's appeared dead ahead of us and at our level. I do not think that they could have seen us because they rolled over and started an attack on the P-38's below. I was flying as #2 on Capt "Kit" Carsons wing, He rolled over and I followed him down as he tacked on to the rear of a Fw 190. The element leader and the #3 man in Green Flight, Capt John Pugh broke away and jumped on the tail of a Me-109 that was heading down, the game was on and I was in a wild ride earthward trying to stay in position on Capt Carson. At the time, it seemed that we were almost vertical chasing the 190, the pilot was doing big barrel rolls downward trying to get us off his tail, but we were right with him. As Capt Carson closed into range he started to get strikes on the other ship. This and the ground coming up rather rapidly caused the German pilot to flare out and level off. We were now at approx 300 feet and "Kit" was getting hits all over the Fw 190 when the Germans engine failed. We were heading east just above the Grand Armee-Champs Ellysees Blvd. It looked like the Fw was going to crash into the Arch de Triumph, the pilot must have been dead because he did not try to bail out.
Capt Carson broke away and I was fascinated watching the prop windmilling as the Fw 190 headed towards its fatal end, all of a sudden I realized that Capt carson was goneand there I was at 300 feet and every soldier with a weapon was firing at me.The Germans also had Anti Aircraft guns on the roofs of the buildings and in the parks and they were all concentrating on me. I saw the river Seine off to my right so I swung over and down into it as low as I could without becoming a boat, hugging the North bank which is about 50 feet high.The guns could not lower down enough to get at me there, so I flew about two miles along the river until it looked safe for me to break out and head for home. I came up from the river and started a gradual climb for the French coast and then on to Leiston. When I arrived at home Base I found that Capt Carson had taken the same route out.
In summing up, I had a new appreciation of the daring and flying skills of the man who would become the leading "ACE" of the 357th Fighter Group, Captain Leonard "Kit" Carson..

Lt Al Boch. 362nd Sqn, P-51 "Gash Hound" G4-D.
What sticks in my mind is my second mission. It was a radio relay mission, my element leader was on one of his last sorties before going home. We were supposed to loiter over Brussels while the rest of the Group went deep into Germany or Czechoslovakia.
After takeoff we entered overcast at 500 feet and we kept on climbing, at 37,000 feet we reached the top of the clouds. The Mustang was indicating 150 mph and that was at full rpm and manifold pressure with a very severe angle of attack just to maintain altitude. It was very cold at that hight but otherwise comfortable, without pressurization, when speaking to our "mission control only about two words would come out before you would need a deep breath again.We flew for half an hour in one direction and then did a 180 and flew half an hour in the other, after 5 hours of this you would think that we knew what we were doing and were great navigators, Oh no, there was a jet stream of 100 to 150 mph that had blown us of course to the south. As it was not a good day, the bombers and fighters that had strayed were all trying to contact Colegate, the fixing station in England that could more or less pinpoint your position through triangulation, I finally reached Colegate and they gave me heading of 355 degrees and 95 miles to base. Several minutes before we got under the clouds, the DFat Leiston had given us a heading of 355 degrees. Yes we had drifted south.After what we calculated to be 95 miles we broke out of the cloud at 500 feet, there was the shoreline and the North sea, but it looked different. After flying up the coast line and seeing strange territory and an airfield full of bomb craters we were still unsure of our position, by now we were down at 300 feet because of the weather, I looked over at my element leader and for an instant I thought I saw flames coming from his engine, but I Immediatly realized that there were tracer bullets and other nasty things flying around. I yelled to my partner to hit the deck,which we both did wondering who in England was shooting at us, were we flying up the Thames estuary?.Getting low on fuel at this point, made the bombed out airfield we had seen earlier seam pretty good. We now flew North still pondering when I saw a large billboard advertising Dubonnet wine, well this gave us a big clue to where we were, FRANCE. The call sign for the emergency field in France was either "Domestic" or "Messenger" and I remember that it would be shear luck to be able to contact them at 300 feet. Much to my surprise they came booming through giving us a heading of 90 degrees left. I was a bit wary as I had heard that German controllers had talked enemy planes into landing and then being captured. I looked to my left and they were firing morters from the emergency field so that we could find them in the bad weather. A few B17s and B24s were in the landing pattern so that reassured us a bit.
We were at Merville and it hadn't been terribly long since the field was occupied by the Germans, there were graphics on all the walls all in Deutsche. With such a large amount of aircraft using the emergency field, it took 3 days before our home base at Leiston was reached to inform them of our status. Just as soon as they would let us go we were off , back to Leiston making a detour around the bad guy's at Dunkirk, that would have liked to have another shot at us for sure.When we arrived back at Leiston the guys were not too happy to see me, as they had to give me back some of my uniforms and my mattress which were a rare commodity. Our Intelligence Officer didn't rest until he raised a Colgate contoller from bed to find out what had happened, it was here that we found the discrepancy, he claimed that he told us 95 miles from the French coast. WHICH NEVER HAPPENED...

bobbysocks

05-12-2010, 07:50 PM

Hugh Godefroy - Dutch Ace.

The only Dutch ace in WWII was Hugh Godefroy. He was born in the Dutch East Indies (Indonesia) on 28 October 1919. His father was a Dutch mining engineer and his mother was Canadian. In 1925 the Godefroys moved to Canada and at the start of WWII Hugh was a student at university. A turning point came whenhe learned of the death of his girlfriend. The ship she was traveling onwas torpedoed by a German submarine, which made Hugh decide to join the RCAF to fight the Germans.

After completing flight training in Canada Godefroy was shipped to the UK where he joined No. 56 OTU at Suttonbridge, together with Poles, Czechs, Free French and Americans. In the spring of1941 Godefroy arrived to start operational duty in 11 Group, 401 Squadron RCAF at Digby. This squadron, equipped with the Hawker "Hurricane", was tasked with defense of the UK, with occasional offensive actions over France. In September 1941 the Squadron received the "Spitfire" Mk V and shortly afterwards 401 Sqn was moved to Biggin Hill. Although Hugh had flown anumber of operational sorties he was still considered a 'sprog' (greenhorn) by the veterans, having claimed no aerial victories. It seemed as if all his skills were needed just to stay out of the sights of Bf 109s and Fw 190s.

In 1942 Hugh was transferred to the Air Fighting Development Unit (AFDU) at Duxford. Initially he regarded his transition to a test unit as a demotion. But he learned to appreciate his new posting when he had the time to improve his deflection shooting and experiment with new escort tactics.

Near the end of 1942 Godefroy asked for andgot a posting at 403 Squadron RCAF. Shortly thereafter, he made his firstkill: a Fw 190. In June of 1943 he was promoted to 403's Squadron Leader. After some more kills he was promoted to Commander of 127 Wing.

In April 1944 Godefroy's second tour of duty ended. He received the DSO and became a staff officer to the HQ of AVM Sir Harry Broadhurst, advising in tactical and personal affairs. He still flew frequently, but not in combat operations. On one of his flights during this period, the engine of his "Spitfire" stopped and he bailed out over the English Channel. Luckily he was rescued, and he spent some time recuperating in a hospital. The resigned and went back to Canada. By the summer of 1944 his war was over. During his career, Hugh Godefroy was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, Distinguished Service Order and the Croix the Guerre.

Source: Onze Luchtmacht, December 1995

Constantin "Bâzu" Cantacuzino - The prince of aces. (romania)

He was born on 11 November 1905 in Bucharest. His father was Mihai Cantacuzino and his mother Maria Rosetti. There were both from old noble families and very, very rich. For example, after 1921, when many lands were expropriated and given to the peasants, his estate in Jilavele, still had 1172 ha(1ha=100 mx100 m), a huge surface of high quality agricultural land. His mother married for the second time with George Enescu (Romania's best composer and a world class violinist; he was Yehudi Menuhin's teacher). He went to high-school in Bucharest. He loved motor sports and he could afford to practice them all the time. He was an excellent biker (won some races) and driver (he set a new record on the Paris-Bucharest race). He played tennis and was the captain of the Romanian ice hockey team at the World Championship in 1933.

That year he attended the "Mircea Cantacuzino" Flight School (the fee was 30000 lei, which was a considerable sum, the leu was equal to the French franc). He flew a lot around Europe until the beginning of the war and sometimes in very difficult conditions. He was the pilot of the prince G. V. Bibescu, the president of the International Aviation Federation. Until the beginning of the war he had already over 2000 hours of flights all across Europe. In 1939 he won the national aerial acrobatics contest with his Bücker Bü-133 Jungmeister.

In 1941 was named chief-pilot of the Romanian national air transport company LARES. Even though this was a comfortable and cozy job, he managed to get in the front line as a fighter pilot in the 53rd Squadron (equipped with Hurricane Mk. I). From 5 July, when he started flying war missions, until 31 October 1941, when he was demobilized, he claimed 4 victories (3xDB-3 and 1xI-16) and 2 probable (1xDB-2 and 1xI-16).

After the capture of Odessa, the Romanian armed forces reduced the number of front line troops, because the main objectives were achieved (Bessarabia was liberated and the Soviets were pushed away the frontiers).

"Bâzu" was one of the reservists who were sent home. He retook his position at LARES.

But he managed to return to active duty in 1943. On 26 April 1943 he was remobilized and assigned to the 7th Fighter Group, which was equipped with the new Me-109 G. On 5 May he arrived on the front line and was named commander of the 58th Squadron. On 29 June, he and his wingman engaged 4xYaks, 2xLa-5s and 4xSpitfires, while trying to protect 3 Romanian Ju-88s His wingman was badly hit and forced to return to base. He continued the fight and shot down 2 Spits. He was also damaged, but managed to escape. Unfortunately, two of the bombers were destroyed. In July he flown both day and night missions, even though his "Gustav" was not equipped for that kind of flying. He tried to stop the Soviet night bombings of his airfield. The Germans protested and considered him mad. He finally gave up these missions.

On 27 July 1943, his wing was suppose to escort a German recon plane. But because of technical problems, only "Bâzu’s" airplane could be fueled in time. When he reached the rendezvous point, the German plane was already under attack by a Yak with a red engine hood (that meant over 25 kills). There were another two Yaks which were protecting the other one. He fired from distance and the Soviets turned on him. After 2 minutes he managed to get behind the Soviet ace and shot him down, before the wingmen could intervene. They ran away after seeing what happened to their leader. On his way back to the airfield "Bâzu" also sent a Pe-2 to the ground.

Between 2 and 5 August he shot down 9 planes (4xYaks and 5xIl-2s), raising his score to 27. On 5 August he was alone on patrol and he encountered a Soviet formation about 40-50 planes strong (Il-2s and Yaks). He realized that he couldn't have obtained outstanding results, but he could try to create them some problems. He dove into the Il-2 formation and shot down 2 of them, but he was immediately attacked by the Soviet fighters. He managed to shake them off, only one remained, but soon he joined Cantacuzino's kill collection.

The day of 16 August was an excellent day for the pilots of the 7th Fighter Group. They claimed 22 kills and 5 probable. First was Slt. Ion Milu with 5, then came Cpt. av. Cantacuzino with 3 (2xLa-5s and 1xIl-2) and Cpt. av. Alexandru Şerbănescu (2xIl-2s and 1xIl-2 probable). On 28 August he also received the Iron Cross, 1st class (Şerbănescu got his on 17).

In the autumn of 1943 "Bâzu" got sick and was interned to a hospital and then had to stay a while away from the front to rest.

On 10 February 1944 he returned to active duty in the 7th Fighter Group, which was sent to the front with the Soviets in Moldavia. On 15 April, there was an American raid and Cpt. av. Cantacuzino and his wingmen attacked the bomber formations and shot down 6 Liberators (the prince got one himself). He continued flying missions against the VVS and had a few victories.

On 31 May the 7th Fighter Group was pulled out of the first line and assigned to home defense. Cantacuzino remained in the 9th Fighter Group. He had 36 kills.

"Bâzu" was the first Romanian pilot to send a Mustang to the ground on 6 June. He shot down another one on 15 July and started August with 2xP-38s. After the death of Cpt. av. Alexandru Şerbănescu, he was named commander of the 9th Fighter Group.

After 23 August 1944, when Romania quit the Axis and joined the Allies, the Germans started bombing Bucharest, from airfields close to the capital, which were still in their hands. The 7th and 9th Fighter Group were brought in to protect the city. "Bâzu" shot down 3xHe-111 with this occasion.

He was then given a special mission: to transport Lt. Col. James Gunn III, the American highest ranking POW in Romania, to the airbase in Foggia and then to lead back the USAAF airplanes that were coming to take the POWs back.

He flew in the Gustav nr. 31, which was in the best condition, because it had only 7.5 hours of use. The American was put in the place of the radio and an extra fuel tank was added. He landed after two hours and 5 minutes of flight. First the Americans were suspicious, even though he spoke fluent English. But the colonel got out of the fuselage, everything was OK. He returned with a Mustang, because the Gustav couldn't be fueled. He needed only a flight to get used to it and dazzled the Americans with his acrobatics, which he couldn't help himself not to execute. Until 25 September he made several flights to Italy. Then he returned to his Group, which was engaged in the fights with the Germans and Hungarians in Transylvania. The Gustav was destroyed by the Americans, when they tried to fly it and were "stolen away" by it (the all known Me-109 characteristic).

Even though the ARR was facing many supplying difficulties, because the Soviets were requisitioning all the airplanes that were produced or repaired, the 9th Fighter Group did its best to carry out the orders.

On 25 February 1945, Cpt. av. Cantacuzino and his wingman Adj. Av. Traian Dârjan (11 kills), engaged 8xFw-190Fs. In the dogfight that followed, "Bâzu" got one of the Germans. While they were looking for the crash site in order to validate the victory claim, they failed to see the two German Gustavs. They jumped the careless Romanian pilots and shot them down very quickly. Dârjan died.

When the war finished, Cpt. av. Cantacuzino was demobilized and returned to LARES. He had 60 victories and was the highest ranking Romanian ace. He is probably one of the few pilots, if not the only one, that shot down Soviet, US and German airplanes, ranging from the I-16, the Yak-1,3,7,9, the La-3,5, the Spitfire, the P-38 and P-51 to the Fw-190F.

After the war, times changed. The USSR imposed a communist regime that started confiscating private properties and imprisoning the old elite and all those who dared not to think like them. "Bâzu" lost all its land and soon his wife left him. He managed to escape to Italy in 1947 and then he settled down in Spain. There he was helped by the Romanian community to buy himself an airplane, in order to earn his living at air shows. He died on 26 May 1958. There are two versions of how he died: one is after an unsuccessful surgical operation and the second when he crashed with his airplane.

His wife (the fourth one) was an actress. She emigrated to the USA and settled down at Hollywood and married there. She had a daughter which later became Miss America and stared in the "Dallas" show as JR's wife: the name was Linda Grey.

bobbysocks

05-13-2010, 06:31 AM

Josef Frantisek was born a carpenter's son in Otaslavice near Prostejov on 7 October 1913. After his initial trainingas a locksmith, Josef volunteered for the air force, and went through the VLU Flying School in Prostejov in 1934-1936. He was then assigned to the 2nd "Dr. Edvard Benes" regiment in Olomouc. He was with the 5th observation flight flying the Aero A-11, and Letov S-328 biplanes.

It was during this time Josef's individualistic attitude first showed. He never had a sense of disciplineon the ground. Demoted from the rank of Lance Corporal to Private for late returns to his unit, pub fights and other incidents, Frantisek faced the prospect of being released from service. As an exceptionally talented pilot he was chosen for a fighter course with the 4th regiment, and he stayed with this regiment after completing training. In June, 1938 he was assigned to the 40th Fighter Flight in Praha-Kbely. He was under the command of Staff Captain Korcak, and the pre-war Czechoslovak "king of the air" - Lieutenant Frantisek Novak. Frantisek perfected his flying and shooting skills here, flying Avia B-534 and Bk-534 fighters. During the dramatic events of 1938, the 40th flight was dispatched to several airports around Prague to defend the capital. After the Munich agreement, the flight had to return to Kbely, where it stayed until 15 March 1939, when Czechoslovakia was taken by Germany without a fight. Josef Frantisek wasted no time escaping to neighboring Poland.
On 29 July 1939, preparing to travel to France, Frantisek received a offer to join the Polish Air Force. He arrived at Deblin airbase, and after retraining with Polish equipment, became an instructor with the Observation Training Squadron under the Air Force Officers Training Centre Nr 1. He flew PotezXXV, Breguet XIX, PWS 26, RWD 8, RWD 14 Czapla, Lublin R XIII and other aircraft. On 2 September 1939, Deblin was the target of a huge Luftwaffeair raid. Frantisek had no time to take off with his Potez XXV among the falling bombs. He saw 88 Heinkel He 111s from KG 4 "General Wever" turning the largest Polish airbase into a heap of rubble.

Frantisek then left for Gora Pulawska airfield, where, under the command of Captain Jan Hryniewicz, he helped fly the remaining airplanes away from the advancing Wehrmacht. On 7 September 1939, Frantisek and some other Czech pilots were assigned to an observation training squadron at the Sosnowice Wielkie airfield near Parczewo. The unit, commanded by Lieutenant Zbigniew Osuchowski, had fifteen RWD 8 and PWS 25 trainers. On 16 September 1939, after further retreat, the unit was assigned to General of Brigade Skuratowicz to defend the city of Luck. On 18-22 September 1939, they flew reconnaissance and communication flights.

For all their bravery and determination, Polish resistance was coming to an end. On 22 September 1939, the remaining six planes flew from Kamionka Strumilowa airfield to Romania. Three of these machines were flown by Czechs. Frantisek flew General Strzeminski in his machine. They landed at the Ispas airfield, and went on through Cernovici and Jassa to Pipera. They were interned, but escaped on 26 September. They got to Bucharest, obtained documents and on 3 October 1939, boarded the steamer "Dacia" leaving Constanta for Beirut. They continued to Marseilles on board the "Theophile Gautier", entering France on 20 October 1940.

Frantisek stayed with the Polish Air Force in France, which was part of L'Armee de l'Air. He was retrained at Lyon-Bronand Clermont-Ferrand, where he reportedly test-flew aircraft after repairs. There are conflicting reports regarding his combat activities. Some witnesses claimed Frantisek shot down 10 or 11 enemy aircraft flying with the French. These published reports havenever been disproved; yet official French and Polish documents have neither confirmed the claims. Some witnesses recall that Frantisek changed his name temporarily in April, 1940 to protect his family in Otaslavice from persecution by the Gestapo. His cover name is unknown. As long as this question remains unanswered, Frantisek's French period cannot be closed.

On 18 June 1940, after the fall of France, Frantisek took a Polish ship from Bordeaux to England. He arrived at Falmouth on 21 June. Frantisek was sent to a Polish aviation depot in Blackpool, and on 2 August 1940 left for Northolt airfield, where the 303rd Polish Fighter Squadron was being formed. The squadron was equipped with "Hurricane" Mk. I fighters and coded with the letters "RF". In one of first training flights on 8 August Frantisek belly landed - he forgot to open the gear in his Hurricane before landing... Luckily the pilot was untouched and his fighter (RF-M V7245) got only light damage.
Frantisek scored his first kill under British skies on 2 September 1940. This was very busy day for the 303rd - flying three sorties. In the last one, at 16:35, the Squadron took off with orders to encounter a formation of 'bandits' at 20,000 feet over Dover. In the combat, Frantisek and Sgt. Rogowski scored one confirmed Bf 109 each. The next day, the Squadron took off (at 14:45) and was vectored to Dover, where Frantisek again shot down an enemy fighter for his second kill in the "Battle of Britain". On 6 September 1940, in heavy combat, the 303rd downed 5 Bf 109s, but Polish losses this day were serious: both Squadron leaders (Polish - Mjr. Krasnodebski, British - S/Ldr Kellet) and 2 other pilots were shot down, Frantisek luckily returning in his damaged fighter to Northolt. Three days later, Frantisek was forced to land with a badly damaged "Hurricane". The plane was totally destroyed, but Frantisek got out of it, unscathed. 15th September 1940, was a great day for the 303rd, when its pilots tallied 16 victories against the Luftwaffe, and Frantisek downed one Bf 110 in that action.
In only four weeks, from September 2nd through the 30th, Frantisek achieved 17 certain kills and 1 probable . This was a unique achievement in the RAF for this period - bettered only by F/Lt. A.A. McKellar and W/O E.S. Lock. Each of them both had 20 victories, yet both were killed in the "Battle of Britain".

It is often mentioned that Frantisek's excellent results were due to his lack of discipline in the air. He often left the formation and hunted for the enemy on his own. He also waited over the Channel for returning German planes, who were often flying without ammo, with limited fuel, sometimes damaged, and with tired crews. This was a usual tactic for Allied pilots, but only after completing all mission objectives. After Polish pilot mission briefings, Frantisek often disapeared from 303rd formations just after take-off. Despite higher command warnings, for Frantisek lone-wolf missions were like drugs - and his number of kills grew quickly. As the squadron leader, Witold Urbanowicz was facing an almost insoluble dilemma: either discipline Frantisek (which he attempted several times without success), or have him transferred at the expense of losing squadron pride.

Urbanowicz dealt with this cunningly: unofficially declaring Frantisek a squadron guest, which was acceptable due to his Czech origin. The Poles called his tactics "metoda Frantiszka" (method of Frantisek) while the British spoke of the lone wolf tactics. It is by no means true that Frantisek gained all his victories in individual actions - many kills were scored in group missions.

The 303rd squadron had 126 confirmed kills in the Battle of Britain - the most successful record for a RAF squadron in this period. Frantisek, with his 17 kills was not only the best pilot of the squadron, but also among the elite of the RAF.
Frantisek's sudden death in an 8 October 1940 accident remains incomprehensible, as is the casewith some other excellent pilots. Squadron 303 was flying a routine patrol that morning. Frantisek's machine disappeared from the view of his fellow pilots, and he was never again seen alive. At 9:40 a.m. his "Hurricane" Mk.I R4175 (RF-R) crashed on Cuddington Way in Ewell, Surrey. Frantisek was thrown from the cockpit and his body was found in a hedge nearby. At first glance he had only scratches on his face, and his uniform was slightly charred. But Frantisek's neck had been broken in the impact and he died immediately. There has been no definitive cause in the crach of his plane. Some sources say he failed an acrobatic exhibition in front of his girlfriend's house, other witnesses mentionhis absolute exhaustion from previous fighting. A combination of these two factors is a possibility.

His Polish friends buried Frantisek at the Polish Airforce Cemetery in Northolt on October 10, 1940, where he isstill resting. He stayed with the Poles forever.

Frantisek's 17 kills rank him second among the best Czech aces, right after Karel Miroslav Kuttelwascher's 20 victories.

Here is a left side, color profile, of "Hurricane" Mk Ia "RF-U" P3975 flown by Sgt. Josef Frantisek in the hottest time of Battle of Britan. Note the Czechoslovak national insignia under the cockpit, and that Polish 303rd aircraft during that period were not painted with the white & red checkboards that adorned aircraft later in the war. Instead, planes had only the Squadron insignia, visible on the '126' kill score photo. In my opinon Frantisek's "Hurricane" should carry the typical "Kosciuszko Eskadrille" insignia.

bobbysocks

05-13-2010, 06:34 AM

Traian Dârjan - the last to fall.

I first heard of Traian Dârjan when I was about five or six years old. It was also the first name of a Romanian WWII aviator I knew. It was a story about his last mission and dogfight. It was part of a pseudo-historical short stories book published before 1989 (when Romania was under a communist regime). Of course the only true things in it where the fact that Traian Dârjan flew with his unit commander on that last day of his life and that one German airplane was shot down. In rest, pure inventions.

He was born in the Someseni village, close to Cluj (in Transylvania) on 18 November 1920. Traian was the fourth child of the Dârjan family, but all previous ones died very young. His father, who had lost a leg in the Great War, fell sick and died in 1923. Traian remained alone with his mother. In 1934 he finished elementary school in his village and was admitted with a partial scholarship to a high-school in Cluj. But he also had to work in a factory's shop for the extra money he needed for school. In 1939 he couldn't find a job anymore and had to quit high-school and return to Someseni where he worked on the small piece of land they had. Near the village was a military air base and Traian had a passion for airplanes since he was a young boy. So in October 1939 he started flight school at ARPA Cluj and received his license in December. He then applied for the Military Flight School at Tecuci and was admitted in July 1940. He graduated on 11 April 1942 and promoted to the rank of adjutant stagiar (staff sergeant).
Adj. stg. Traian Dârjan remained at the school as an instructor until October 1942, when he was transferred to the 9th Fighter Group, equipped with IAR-80s. During 1943, the group changed to the Bf-109G and was sent to the the front on 23 October of the same year to replace the exhausted 7th Fighter Group. He soon started flying in different missions, but the poor weather didn't allow too much activity. On 20 November, the conditions weren't to good ( clouds at 100 m and a powerful wind), but they flew. Adj. stg. Traian Dârjan, while coming in for a landing, capsized and slid off the runaway into a Ju-52 which was parked on the airfield. However he escaped almost without a scratch.

His first victory, a Yak, came on 22 February 1944 when he was flying as cpt. Popescu-Ciocanel's wingman in a free hunting mission and the second one on 10 March, also a Yak. by this time the front line was on Romanian soil, so air activity intensified in a effort to stop the Soviet advance. On 17 April, cpt. Av. Gheorghe Popescu-Ciocanel was escorting a Romanian Ju-88A formation together adj. stg. Traian Dârjan, when they were attacked by La-5s. In the following dogfight, both Romanian pilots managed to shoot down one VVS fighter each. Traian Dârjan added a Yak-9 to his score on 28 April.

While the 9th Fighter Group was engaged in the bloody air battles on the front with the Soviets in Moldavia, other Romanian fighter units were fighting the USAAF raids, which started on 4 April. They were only allowed to intercept the Americans that were flying in their sector towards airbases in the Soviet Union, until 19 June, when the Luftflotte IV devised the "Sternflug" plan to counter the American attacks. When the enemy formations were detected on radar, the 6 German fighter groups and the 7th and 9th Romanian Fighter Groups (Bf-109G) were all assembled and directed against the attacking force. The Fw-190s were suppose to engage the bombers, while the Bf-109Gs protected them from American fighters. The plan was good in theory, but it did not work very well in practice. One such occasions was on 24 June, when 20 of the group's Bf-109Gs were sent to engage the USAAF aircraft. They stumbled upon a formation of 13 Liberators. In the following attack, three B-24s were shot down, one of which belonged to Traian Dârjan. Thus he became an ace with 7 victories.

The 9th Group continued to carry out missions on the front in Moldavia and also against the 15th Air Force's raids. Adj. stg. Traian Dârjan achieved his next victory on 9 July during an escort mission. He and adj. Constantin Nicoara were protecting a Romanian Stuka formation, when they were attacked by 4 Yaks. These were soon joined by 2 La-5s. The Romanian pilots shot down a Yak each during that dogfight. However, Nicoara's victory remained probable.

The day of 26 July 1944 remained in the group's history as "Black Sunday". 18 Gustavs from the 9th Fighter Group took off to engage a formation of 20 unescorted bombers, as the radar station reported. In fact there were more bombers, which were protected by over 100 P-38s and P-51s. The Romanian pilots scored 11 victories, but the price was very high: 7 airplanes, four dead pilots and two wounded. During the battle, Traian Dârjan joined adj. Iosif Moraru, who had just shot down a P-38 in his attempt to locate his victim (for confirmation of the victory). They were attacked by other Lightnings and adj. Dârjan shot down one of them.

The fights with the USAAF continued until 18 August, when cpt. Serbanescu was shot down. Adj. Traian Dârjan tried to warn him that there were Mustangs on his tail, but it seems the captain's radio wasn't working. He watched with horror how Alexandru Serbanescu was going down and then crashed.

On 20 August 1944 the Red Army launched the Iasi -Chisinau (Jassy-Kishinev) Operation and the air activity on the Moldavian front boomed. On 21, adj. Dârjan was part of a patrol (Schwarm) lead by cpt. Constantin Cantacuzino which was on a free-hunting mission. They encountered a formation of 24 Il-7s escorted by 6 Yaks. They engaged the fighters and shot down three of them. Traian Dârjan got one them. This was his last kill. The second day he was shot down in a dogfight with several La-5s. His radiator was hit, the windscreen was covered with oil and the cockpit filed with smoke. Lt. Gavriliu guided him through radio and he managed to crash land. Here's the rest of the story from lt. Ion Dobran's diary:

"I opened the cockpit and jumped out. Near the crash site there were some trees and I tried to hide there. i didn't have time to because at about 100 m there was a Soviet armored column. Bullets passed near me... I raised my hands and walked towards them...soldiers with submachine-guns were coming after me. They encircled me and wanted to shoot me on the spot. I was covered with mud from head to toe. I had fallen into a swampy field. They took some of my clothes and my boots. Suddenly the circle opened and an officer came there. He started to hit me with his fists and feet. My luck was that at 200 m it was a major tank unit's command post and the general wanted to see me. I was called to him and, with the help of a translator, he started to question me. he asks me to respond to his questions and he will let me go. I replied as well as I could. He ordered to give my clothes back to me and I remained there. The general had a map on which the city Vaslui didn't appear, so he wanted my map. I told him I don't have it (and it was the truth), because we don't take them for such a small sector. He got very angry and threatened to shoot me if I didn't give him the map in 3 minutes. I think my face changed dramatically. I told him again that I don't have it. The seconds passed very slow, like years, and the 3 minutes were up. A soldier stuck a gun to my head. I closed my eyes and waited for the shot. The general shouted: "Give me the map!!!" and I replied that I don't have it. He left me alone and then asked how many victories I had and I answered:"12". "You are good", he said. "There are many others better than me in my group". I asked for permission to smoke and got it and then for some water. A soldier brought it swearing. The general asked me if I didn't want to go with him. Of course I said yes... what I suppose to do... We jumped into a car and headed for Vaslui. North of the city there was an air alarm. We ran into a corn field for cover. There were Romanian Stukas which rained havoc on the armor and troop concentration. [Ironically, lt. Ion Dobran was escorting the Stukas that day] The Russians turned their guns on me and asked if those were Romanian airplanes. They swear. I was lucky that the translator (a nice guy from Odessa) put himself between them and me. After two minutes came German Fw-190s, which continued the Stukas' attack. What can I say? It was horrible! I have never seen or think such a "show". Tanks thrown off the road, overturned, burning... broken hands and feet... the Russians were mad. The General, as he had promised, saved me and set me free. I was forced, however, to go north towards Iasi. I was thinking to go to Nicoara's village. [adj. stg. Nicoara was a comrade from the 9th Fighter Group] On the road I met other Romanian soldiers. A peasant gave us to eat, but was too afraid to take us in and we had to walk on.[...] When we approached Iasi we were stopped by Russian soldiers, arrested and sent to a prison camp north of the city. We were about 4,000 there. They gave one loaf of bread to six men and soup, but I never got to the boiler, because there was a big squash. To make room around it, two Russians whipped the crowd without mercy. After ten days there I was so thin that I could barely walk. We slept on the ground, when we could find a place. Together with two soldiers, I took advantage of the fact that they were moving us to Botosani (and then to Russia) and fled. The guards were few and careless and didn't see us. I got to to Nicoara's village traveling cross-country. His mother took me in for 4 days, until I recovered. She gave me peasant clothes and I left for Tecuci [it was the group's base when he was shot down in August] where I arrived a few days later. There I was well received by my Jews. The Russians treated them as bad as they treated us. Generally, the city hadn't been robbed more than others. Ignatyi Semionovich's family was still there and were concerned because they didn't know what to do: go back to Odessa or stay there. They have heard that there were heavy punishments for the ones that left willingly. They gave a note for you [lt. Dobran], but I lost it. I took a train to Bucharest and went to the Flotilla." He was then sent to the front again and joined his comrades on 30 September, on the Turnisor airfield in Transylvania, were the 9th Fighter Group was deployed in the new anti-Axis campaign.

The weather didn't allow very much activity during late autumn and winter of 1944, but every effort was made to help the ground troops in need of assistance. The Luftwaffe wasn't a very common sight in this period, because of the little importance given to this part of the front. Most of the Romanian losses in Hungary and Czechoslovakia were due to the AA artillery and accidents.

On 25 February 1945, the last major ARR (Eronautica Regala Romana=Royal Romanian Aeronautics) offensive of the war was launched. It was aimed at supporting the ground forces which were attacking in the Zvolen area. On his fifth mission that day, cpt. Cantacuzino took off with adj. Traian Dârjan. They encountered 8 Fw-190Fs which were attacking Soviet troops. and engaged. The captain, ARR's top scoring ace of the war, shot down one of them and the others fled. In order to validate the kill, the two Romanian pilots got careless and started to look for the wreck. They failed to see the approaching Rotte of German Bf-109Gs, lead by Helmut Lipfert. Adj. Traian Dârjan failed victim to the Luftwaffe ace, his former instructor at Tiraspol. A 13 mm bullet almost beheaded him. He crashed near the Romanian lines. Cpt. Cantacuzino didn't even notice that his wingman was in trouble. He was also surprised by Lipfert's comrade and shot down. He escaped and returned to the 9th Fighter Group's base with a car from a Romanian division. He told what happened and concluded: "Adj. Dârjan must be dead."

Lt. Dobran remembered, in his diary, that in the moment they left for Hungary, Dârjan's mother started to cry, probably knowing that he may not come back.

Traian Dârjan was the last of the 16 pilots of the 9th Fighter Group to die during WWII. He had scored 11 confirmed and one probable victory and had flown 176 missions.

bobbysocks

05-13-2010, 06:43 AM

A note from moderator. I'm trying to avoid portraiting ONLY the brave pilots, aces, heroes of that time - so from time to time in WW II Ace Stories appeard some most controversion pieces of text (see also Poland 1939 - The Diary of Luftwaffe Atrocities). For some, unknown for me, reason, a lot of people don't like to remember about all atrocities of war, but I would like to clearly show also the dark side of war...

The Winter War started on the 30th Nov 1939 as Stalin decided to enforce his will on Finland with force as Finland could not be intimidated into submission. At 06.00 the Red Army crossed the border and Soviet aircraft took off as soon as it was enough light. Soviet Union deployed against Finland 1500 to 3200 aircraft, the sources give different numbers. The Finnish Air Force had initially 36 Fokker D.XXI fighters, 17 Blenheim Mk.I bombers and 31 Fokker C.X dive-bombers. The Anti-aircraft artillery comprised initially 38 pcs 75mm guns, 30 pcs 40mm guns, 49 pcs 20mm guns and 125 pcs 7,62mm machine-guns. The number of guns was roughly tripled by the end of the war.

On the very first day of the war 16 cities and towns in Southern Finland were bombarded by 200 bombers of the Soviet Air Force (VVS). A particularly murderous surprise raid was carried out against Helsinki whose inhabitants did not yet comprehend that they were in war. Nine Soviet SB-2 had according to Soviet sources been searching for the two Finnish Navy monitors "Vainamoinen" and "Ilmarinen", but failing to find them attacked the spare target: the Presidential Palace in Helsinki near the Market Square. The enemy airmen failed to locate that target, too, and the bombs fell in the center of the city near the bus terminal at 14.50 hours, more than one kilometer from the target, causing panic and destruction. 91 people, mainly women and children, were killed and 36 seriously plus 200 slightly wounded. Several houses were destroyed. The anti-aircraft guns shot down three of the SB's, that had been able to surprise the air defence by making use of the cloud cover.

(However, some questions remain. If the Soviet bombers were to attack armoured ships, they should have been loaded with heavy armour piercing bombs. According to Finnish sources, 133 high explosive bombs and 60 incendiary bombs had been deployed. Secondly, the Presidential Palace is prominently situated near the Market Square. Even when disturbed by AA, trained bomber-navigators should have been able to locate it. Suspicion of a purposeful terror attack is strong!)

The strategic objective of the Soviet bombing campaign was to persuade the Finnish government to give up resistance and surrender, maybe even to make the resistance collapse physically, and plain terrorise the civilian population into submission. Strategic raids were carried out against harbours and railways. Tactical raids were carried out in the immediately vicinity of the front line and against air bases.

The result of the strategic raids, however, was counterproductive.

Firstly, the Finnish people did not feel any wish to surrender to a brutal enemy but instead they began to hate Soviet Union even more and hope for a revenge on the enemy. The civilians in the air raid shelters felt that they, too, were fighting for their country.

Secondly, the world's opinion in 1939 was not yet dulled by massive air bombardment of cities, and attacking civilian targets was considered an outrage. U.S. president Roosevelt sent a message to Moscow wishing that Soviet bombers should not be allowed to bomb Finnish cities. Comrade Molotov, the People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs, answered in the honest Soviet style that Soviet bombers have not bombed and shall not bomb Finnish cities, but only air bases, which cannot be seen from America which is 8000 km away. The Soviet propaganda claimed indeed, that the photos of burning houses and killed civilians were taken in 1918. Also, the Soviet Aircraft were said to drop bread for the starving Finnish people, absolutely no bombs. Soon the Soviet fire bomb dispenser pod was nicknamed "Molotov's bread basket".

Stalin had planned to occupy Finland in two weeks, whereafter Molotov's lies would soon be forgotten. The Soviet Union had already set up a puppet government, "the People's Government of Finland" (made up of Finnish -born Soviet Communist party functionaries surviving the purges of '37) and claimed that all military action was only to help that government. There was no war, just action against the "armed bands" of the Helsinki government to help the oppressed people of Finland: this was the official line of the Kreml. The Finnish people, however, tenaciously refused to be liberated by Stalin.

The Soviet commanders learned from their mistakes and in February 1940 concentrated the air raids on the railroad system to disrupt the Finnish army supplies of war material to the front. That was a fairly successful strategy, the trains could run only in the night, and due to te massive schale of the raids the Finnish railway system was on the verge of collapse as the war ended. The repair crews could not keep pace with the damage inflicted at the rolling stock and the rail network. But it was not the VVS that decided the outcome of the war but the masses of the Red Army.

By the end of the 105 day war the 13th of March 1940 the Soviet Air Force (VVS) according to Finnish statistics had raided 690 cities, towns and villages. The Soviet sources state that the Army bombers flew 44041 missions and the Navy bombers some 8000 more. 25000 tons of bombs were dropped.

According to Finnish statistics the VVS bombers had dropped 55000 pieces bombs and 41000 pcs incendiary bombs and the enemy fighters had carried out 440 ground strafing raids against civilians. There may have been some incidents when infuriated civilian mob attacked captured Soviet airmen and lynched them... But these are only rumours. Dead Soviet airmen were unceremoniously buried by local people where found and no questions asked.

The VVS lost 207 aircraft shot down by FAF fighters and 314 to Finnish AA. The share of bombers is not known.

The casualties of Finland's civilian population were - 956 killed, 540 badly wounded and 1300 lightly wounded.

Material losses included (industrial and military excluded) - 157 town houses and 1800 wooden houses destroyed - 99 stone houses burnt out, - 600 town houses and 4100 wooden houses damaged

The Soviet Air Force bombing campaign is best summed up by the following anecdote:

The town of Porvoo was bombarded heavily three times (a fact), and one Soviet airman was taken prisoner as his bomber had been shot down. He was asked why they attacked Porvoo, an undefended small town without any military significance: there was but a shallow harbour and no rail link. The Soviet airman answered:

- Vot, the infamous agitator Runeberg is living there ! (J.L.Runeberg, born 1804, died 1877. He is the national poet of Finland.)

The Soviet airmen were insufficiently and often unsuitably trained, inexpertly led and their morale was not very high. Also the defender had enough AA artillery in the most important targets to force the attacker to bomb from high altitude (about 7000m) resulting in reduced accuracy. Moreover, the bombs were stowed in the SB-2 tail down, and after release the bombs developed an oscillation further reducing accuracy.

From the point of view of modern international law the Soviet attack on Finland was a crime, air raids at civilian targets likewise. But since these deeds and people who committed them have never been tried in court, nobody has any legal right to call them the crimes that they are...

pic 1 This is the famous Molotov's Bread Basket. It has been delivered, there is visible the dent at the bottom. The soldier supporting it is a FAF Lance Corporal. There is one sample "buhanka" inside! When dropped, the winglets in the top folded out and made the "basket" rotate and the centrifugal force scattered the incendiary "loaves".

bobbysocks

05-13-2010, 06:48 AM

"Illu" Juutilanen - the Top Ace. (Finnish)

Born on the 21 February 1914 at Lieksa, Finnish Carelia. Later the family moved to Sortavala. The father was a railway worker who lost both legs in an accident.

As a boy Juutilainen read the book by Manfred von Richthofen, "The Red Fighter Pilot" which made him dream about becoming a pilot. (the book in English: http://www.wtj.com/pl/pages/greatwar.htm). Also the vicinity of the Kasinhanta Air Base with its seaplanes and pilots added to the appeal of aviation.

Juutilainen did his military service in Signal Corpsduring 1932-1933 and was trained as a telegraphist.

After having fulfilled his compulsory service Juutilainen acquired a private pilote's licence from the Karhumaki Brothers' Flying School. Then, in 1935, he became an enlisted NCO in the Armed Forces.

Finally, in 1936 he applied for an Air Force NCO pilot course. He was accepted and due to his pilot's licence and telegraphist's skill he was made the elder of the course. Juutilainen did very well, but he spent a lot of time in custody - 27 days in a four-month course. The reason was that as the elder he was responsible for the misdeeds of his course - mostly excessive drinking. Personally he earned only one week for flying too low. After the course was completed, "Illu" had to sit in the "jug" for another week to serve the custody ordered to him.

Juutilainen started his career as a NCO pilot in a Reconnaisance Squadron in Suur-Merijoki in May 1937. He was considered a good and reliable pilot, much liked by the officer-observers. He was married in the same year with Miss Anni Nurmi, and their first son was born in 1938.

Sgt. Juutilainen was transferred to Sqn.24 to fly the Fokker D XXI's in March 1939. In a few weeks he became a good fighter pilot: his shooting skill was excellent. No wonder, hunting with dog and shotgun was his favourite hobby when the season was in. Juutilainen was fit as a professional athlete, he was also a teetotaller and non-smoker, staying like that during the whole of the war and also afterwards.

In the Winter War he flew as the wingman of the 3rd flight commander, Lt. Eino Luukkanen. He scored two proven victories. However, he fired his first angry shots with a pole-mounted Lewis gun from the ground against SB-2 bombers attacking the Immola Air Base on the 1st of December 1939.

The 3rd Flight was commanded to defend the area NE of the lake Ladoga. There, at the front section Kollaa, was fighting "Illu"'s brother, res. Lt.Aarne Juutilainen as a distinghuised infantry company commander. (This other Juutilainen was nationally known as the "Terror of Morocco" because he had served in the French Foreign Legion in N. Africa.)

The Fokker squadron carried out ground strafing raids on the ice covering the Bay of Viipuri against the Red Army columns the 1. to 12. March 1940. Those missions were hard for the Finnish fighter pilots because they really saw the lethal effect of their bullets. The enemy columns were initially without white camouflage clothing, and always marching in tight file formations. Shooting at aircraft was in a sense symbolic, a fighter pilot mostly did not see what happens to the crew of the victim aircraft. Illu did not feel good to see in his sighting scope how defenseless Red Army infantrymen flopped in the snow upon impact of his bullets. But he had to do his duty, the pilots knew that every enemy soldier left on the ice as casualty would relieve the pressure of the Finnish infantrymen defending the coastline. He flew eleven ground attack sorties.

In the Winter War Juutilainen scored two confirmed victories.

When the war against Soviet Union started again on 25 June 1941, Juutilainen was flying a Brewster in the 3st flight of LeLv 24 (Sqn.24). The 3rd Flight became later known as the "Knight Flight" because of the three holders of the Mannerheim Cross serving in it.

In 1941 he scored 13 confirmed victories and in 1942 next 21 victories.

In March 1943 Juutilainen was transferred to a new unit, Fighter Squadron 34, which was equipped with new Messerschmitt 109 G2 fighters. The Me with its 20 mm gun became his efficient tool and now he really began to excel. Less experienced or careless Soviet pilots had little chance when engaged by "Illu". The Soviet intelligence knew him well enough to once contact him via radio...

Finally in 1943 he scored 'only' 19 victories, but the 1944 was most successful recording additional 40 kills!

Illu shared von Richthofen's view: the task of a fighter pilot is to take his guns to an advantageous position in relation to the enemy and shoot him down. For Illu a fighter plane was a flying gun platform, nothing else. If Hasse Wind could be compared with Réné Fonck, so Illu Juutilainen was Georges Guynemer - the calculating tactician. A good example of this is what happened on early March 1944 (the story is in the second file). He attacked alone four La-5 led by Soviet Hero Medvetyev above Suulajarvi AB, despite low fuel.

He always looked back before opening fire, and if the enemy was approaching, he abandoned the target and prepared to meet the new challenge. Never was Juutilainen's fighter hit by enemy fighter fire during his 437 missions. (Once, flying a crucially important reconnaisance mission in June 1944, he was very nearly shot down as the oil tank of his Me was holed by the enemy AA. ) Yet he was an aggressive pilot, but never foolhardy. He had good luck, too. In his memoirs he conveys the impression that he really enjoyed aerial dogfights when flying a BW or a MT, sometimes he even was dissatisfied as an unskillful enemy succumbed too easily.

Illu Juutilainen had a matter-of-factly and professional attitude to war and fighting. He did not hate the enemy. For example on 14th March 1942 he shot up the engine of a MiG-3 at Karkijarvi, Eastern Carelia. The enemy pilot belly-landed on a bush-covered marsh. Juutilainen flew over to check, and saw the Soviet pilot standing at his MiG, waving his hand. The Finnish pilot made another pass and rocked his wings in salute before retreating.

Another time, on 23 September 1943 there was a hard battle over the Sepeleva Lighthouse, 10 Me's against a number of Yak-1, LaGG-3 and La-5. Juutilainen had shot down one of each kind and his 20mm ammo was spent as he was attacked by another La-5 at a low altitude. The Finnish pilot did his standard trick: he pulled his fighter into a tight climbing turn, and kept climbing and waiting until the over-eager enemy pilot would stall his fighter in an futile attept to pull the correct deflection. When the La-5 had stalled and dived to recover manouverability, Juutilainen was already 20 m behind his tail. Both fighters recovered from the dive at wavetops. Juutilainen fired at the enemy, saw holes appear in the fuselage of the La-5 but the 7.9 mm bullets had no other effect. Suddenly the La-5 pulled up, the Me followed but the pilot blacked out. As he recovered, he found himself wingtip to wingtip with the enemy. The two pilots looked each other in the eye. Juutilainen found the situation amusing, he smiled and waved his hand. The Soviet pilot responded and rocked his wings as a sign of truce. The Finnish pilot responed. Again the Soviet pilot waved his hand and flew his fighter below the Me toward Kronstadt. Juutilainen also turned toward Suulajarvi.

In July 1941 he saw his house in the Soviet-occupied town of Sortavala from the air, but as the Finnish troops took the town 24 hours later the retreating Soviets had burnt the house down, among many others. But Illu was not bitter. He told, chuckling, in an televised interview in 1997 : "It is war: if the enemy burns your house down, you go and burn one of the enemy's houses!" He did not burn down any houses, but shot down enemy aircraft. His official score is 94 confirmed victories, but he believes he shot down a total of 120 enemies.

He was decorated with the Mannerheim Cross twice, on 26 April 1942 and on 28 June 1944. He is one of the two pilots thus honoured. (Hans Wind was the other one). Citation in 1942: "Flight Master Juutilainen has displayed exemplary bravery and indomitable battle spirit with excellent skill and resourcefulness in several air battles." In 1944 the citation was " Flight Master Juutilainen's offensive spirit and skill has earned him 73 victories, 15 of which during the present enemy offensive. This is in our circumstances a brilliant military achievement, taking into account that most of the victories have been gained in battle against numerically great enemy superiority".

Juutilainen was promoted as Sr. Sgt. on 31 December 1939 and less than one month later to the rank of Sergeant-Major. He reached the top of his military career on the 1 March 1941, as he became Flight Master (the rank is also known as Air Master Sergeant or Warrant Officer.)

Juutilainen concentrated on flying instead of career. He was offered a chance to study in the Cadet School and become a commissioned officer, but he declined, explaining that during the year spent in studies he would lose his touch in flying. Then any enemy could shoot him down before he would have relearned his skill. Juutilainen loved flying and air battles, and being a husband and father of three sons did not slow him down the least. He was also an outdoorsman, his favourite hobbies were hunting and fishing. His character was extroverted and he was popular with the other pilots due to his witty humour and willingness to give advice. He was radiating vitality and self-confidence, which also rubbed on other pilots thus improving the general feeling in the unit. When "Illu" was asked after the war whether he ever feared, he said that he never felt fear, just urge for action.

For his squadron leader and flight commander he was an exemplary soldier with his good behaviour and high fighting spirit. However, there was one thing that Maj. Luukkanen had to turn a blind eye to: Juutilainen did not obey the standing order to avoid battle during a reconnaisance mission. "Illu" rationalized this by maintaining that the delay in providing the recce data was small (less than half an hour) and the "dual mission" made better use of the limited number of fighters... It did not occur to him that he could have been shot down and the data would be totally lost ! For example...

In the afternoon of the 1st July 1944 as Juutilainen was preparing for a recce mission on the Western side of the Carelian Isthmus with Sgt.-Maj. Antti Tani, they decided that they would meet the enemy during the sortie. Juutilainen flew his trusted MT-457, but Tani's fighter was the new MT-453 that still retained her 20mm wing cannons, and the pilot was most eager to test the triple-cannon firepower.

They carried out their mission, Juutilainen observed the ground and made notes about road and rail traffic and tank, artillery and troop concentrations while Tani covered him. They saw enemy aircraft but Juutilainen ignored them. In the return leg of the mission they flew towards Tali, where heavy ground battle was being fought. To their great satisfaction they found about 40 Il-2's - unescorted! Juutilainen told his wingman to roll his battery in position, and they attacked the rearmost wave of the Stormovik formation. Juutilainen shot down one near Juustila, and Tani wrecked two thanks to his firepower. Then they attacked the following wave ahead, the Stormoviks behind fired at them with their wing guns, but without result. Both pilots shot down one enemy more each at Pakkainen, then they were out of ammo and short on fuel after 10 minutes of engagement. They landed at Lappeenranta and gave their raport to the intelligence officer.

What kind of a man becomes a good fighter pilot? "Eikka" Luukkanen has listed some characteristics:
- Physical: good eyesight, good physical condition, rapid reactions
- Mental: excellent situational awareness, adventurousness

He may have had his top ace Illu Juutilainen in mind when making that list. A good fighter pilot never really grows up, Luukkanen wrote. Illu was one of these happy men. Consider the following incidents:

As Juutilainen was decorated with the Mannerheim Cross in April 1942, the reporter of the Aunus (Olonez) radio came to interview him in the base. The natinonally famous reporter, Pekka Tiilikainen asked in a magnificent voice vibrant with patriotism:

- Tell us, Illu, about your feelings at this great moment?

Juutilainen answered - in a live transmission:

- Well, at the moment I am thinking about the delicious cabbage casserole that my mother used to make.

Humour and practical jokes had a serious purpose. The major part of a fighter pilot's life consisted of waiting for a scramble alarm - life in constant nervous tension. In addition to chatting, reading or card playing practical jokes (for example rigging a tripping wire across the path to the canteen or booby-trapping a toilet door) were a way to relieve stress and think of something else than the next sortie.

Whenever there was a special mission for Juutilainen, the young replacement pilots would literally crowd around him, each one begging: "Illu, take me with you!" They knew: when flying as his wingman they would find action. Moreover, they were sure that the enemy was not able to surprise Illu, and in a dogfight he would save you in case you got in trouble. Consider the following:

On the 1st of June 1944 the 1st flight of Squadron 34 led by Lt. Pokela was scrambled to Teikari Island to intercept enemy ground attack planes. Juutilainen's wingman was Lt. "Saku" Heiskanen, a young pilot. At Teikari the first division (4 Me's) attacked the Stormoviks, and as the escorting six Yak-9's intervened, Pokela ordered the 2nd division at them. The Yak's dispersed, some dived on, others pulled up. Lt. Heiskanen was careless and got one Yak behind his tail. Juutilainen came to rescue, but another Yak was just closing on him. Fortunately for Heiskanen, Sgt. Leino engaged the Yak, allowing Juutilainen to continue his rescue operation. Heiskanen kept climbing and curving, seeing that "white zero"(MT-457) was approaching the enemy. When in close range, Juutilainen fired a burst, and the Yak dived, trailing heavy smoke from her engine...

After the war

In late September 1944 a rare visitor, Soviet Air Force Col.Lt. V.F. Golubev, the commander of 4.GIAP (Guards' Fighter Regiment) came to see the pilots of the Squadron 34 at Utti Air Base.

According to the conditions of the ceasefire treaty Golubev's unit had been stationed for a while at Malmi, the airport of Helsinki. He decided to make use of the opportunity and meet the men he had fought against - with a risk to himself.

When Illu Juutilainen was introduced to Golubev, the Soviet officer said nothing, just shook his hand longer than anybody elses. 60 years later "Illu" said in an interview that the greatest decoration a soldier can get is an acknowlegment given by his enemy.

In May 1947 Juutilainen resigned from the FAF service and bought an old DH Moth from the Air Force surplus stock. Then he had the plane repaired and entered in civilian register. Finally he hired a mechanic and became a self-employed pilot. He toured with his Moth and mechanic around Finland, offering ten-minute flights at rural fairs and small towns. There always were people who wanted to be flown around by the famous ex-fighter pilot, a double holder of the Mannerheim Cross, providing Illu and his family with income.

Juutilainen was selected as one of the six pall-bearers at Marshal Mannerheim's burial on the 4th February 1951. (Four of the men were generals, Juutilainen represented the NCO's and the rank and file were represented by L.-Cpl. Seppanen, a "tank killer". All men were holders of the Mannerheim Cross.) In 1956 Juutilainen's war memoirs were published. The publisher was a small company, and nowadays the original edition is a rarity, but a reprint has been published recently. The author chose to name his opus "As a Nuisance to Red Pilots" which in those days was not p.c. The book was translated in English by a FAF General and a USN Admiral, then published as "Double Fighter Knight" in 1997. (You can check the book review at this site: http://www.hkkk.fi/~yrjola/war/refs/refs.htm/#faf)

Illu Juutilainen is now living on pension in his home, in reasonable good health so far.

Trivia

Winter War planes: FR-106 and FR-108 (one victory with each)
1941-1943 he flew mostly the BW-364 (29 victories)
1943-1944 he flew first mostly the MT-222 (16 victories), then MT-426 (9 victories) and finally MT-457 (18 victories). He did not allow his ground crew paint any "personal emblems" on his fighter, except the victory bars on the BW-364 vertical stabilizer

Victim list:
I-153 -13; I-16 -11; SB-2 -2; DB-3/-3F -5; MiG-1/-3 -5; Hurricane -4; Spitfire -2; LaGG-3 -5; Tomahawk P-40 -1; Lightning P-38 -1; Pe-2 -4; Airacobra P-39 -4; La-5 -11; La-7 -1; Yak-1/-7 -2; Yak-9 -12; IL-2 -7; Mustang P-51 -2; He-111 -1; Li-2 -1.

Sad epilouge...
In end of February 1999, almost at the same moment, when his story landed in Ace Stories, "Illu" Juutilainen 'took off for his last flight' without return... He shall be buried on the 13th March 1999. It's strange, but it's the anniversary of the day the Winter War ended in 1940...

1. Opening of Score

The 3rd Flight of Fighter Squdron 24 was scrambled about 08.00 on the 19th Dec.1939 at the Immola Air Base. Sgt. Juutilainen, flying the FR-108, took off after the others had gone, due to a minor problem in starting his engine. When he was at Antrea he heard a radio report: Three enemy bombers flying from Heinjoki to Antrea. The Finnish pilot looked around, and 30 seconds later he saw three DB-3 bombers with red stars on the wings and fuselage sides flying 500 m below, unescorted as they used to be in the early war.

Juutilainen was in an ideal starting position as he dived to attack. Having seen the Fokker the bombers released their bomb loads in the forest below and turned to South, further enabling the attacker to gain on them.

Juutilainen acted methodically as he had been trained to do. He opened fire at a range of 100 m, killing the gunner of the left wing bomber, then he elimininated the gunner of the leading bomber and finally the one of the right wing bomber. Now he did not have to worry about being shot at anymore.

He approached the leading bomber and fired at the left engine at a range of 20 m. The bomber's engine began to trail smoke, then he fired at the right engine of the same bomber. Next he dealt with each engine of the wing bombers.

But the three DB-3's continued flying, though with slow speed, engines trailing smoke, and Juutilainen had spent all his 2200 cartridges. He followed his targets up to front line, where the leading bomber suddenly went in nosedive and crashed. The wing bombers continued their flight, slowly losing altitude...

Juutilainen had to return, there was nothing more to be done. Thinking about the battle he did not feel anything special, except frustration that he felt seeing another bomber formation while returning to the base... Everything had been like another aerial shooting training mission.

2. Chasing, being chased...

28th Sept. 1941. The 1st Flight of Squadron 24 took off at 0800hrs from the Mantsi Temporary Air Base on the coastline of Lake Ladoga with six Brewsters. Their mission was to cover five Blenheims on their raid against the Suoju river railway bridge. The mission was uneventful until the bombers turned back after dropping their bombs.

Illu Juutilainen saw a MiG-1 approach from below, turned at the attacker and gave her a brief chase. He disengaged having seen that the Soviet fighter was faster. He began to climb to join the rest of the convoy.

Suddenly he felt that something was wrong - he looked back and there the MiG was just behind his tail! The enemy opened fire, Juutilainen dived to the treetops to shake the enemy off. But the enemy pilot was very good at low level flying, carefully avoiding every obstacle.

The engine of the BW-364 began to warn about overstrain. The pilot pulled his fighter gradually to 600m and then took a risk. He pulled a tight curve that the less manouverable MiG could not follow. When the MiG pilot saw that the BW was getting behind his tail, he panicked and committed the error of his life. Instead of using his superior speed he continued to turn.

Now the Finnish pilot had the upper hand. He was flying so close to the enemy that he could actually throttle back, making use of the "draught" of the MiG. Juutilainen checked first his instruments, all the temperatures and pressures of the Wright Cyclone were within normal. The two fighters kept circling a small village at a speed of 240 kmh at treetops. The pursuer fired but the MiG's armour admirably withstood the 0.5" projectiles.

The enemy tightened his curve until he was in the verge of stalling, then he in turn resorted to low-level flight at 400 kmh . Juutilainen followed easily, only at times the backwash of the enemy hit his wingtips, making the BW bank involuntarily. He had no chance to shoot, however, jumping trees, houses and other obstacles, twice even flying under power lines. He had his next chance to fire as they flew over the enemy base at Viitana, but again it was as if the BW's guns had been loaded with wooden bullets.

Now a water tower made of bricks was ahead. The MiG passed it, the BW pulled up. The Soviet pilot lost his pursuer from his view, but the Finnish pilot kept observing his target.

The MiG turned back to the base, banking in the curve. Juutilainen made use of his chance to fire in the cockpit of the enemy from the inside of the curve at a range of 50 m. The pilot was hit and the enemy fighter crashed in the middle of the airfield, disintegrating totally. The victorious Finnish pilot continued over the enemy base in low level flight and took a shot at the enemy personnell before departing.

It was not until he was back in the base, describing the incident to his ground crew, that Juutilainen found that his arms and legs were shaking. His victory was confirmed.

3. Calculated Risk-taking

March 1944, date 7th , 8th or 9th , exactly not mentioned. Flt.Mstr. Juutilainen was on a recce mission in the middle of the day with his wingman Sr.Sgt. Peltola. Their task was to count the number of the enemy aircraft in the airbases of Gorskaya, Levachovo and Kasimovo plus monitor the road and railway traffic North of Leningrad. At Levachovo the enemy had put the fighters in covered bunkers. Defying the enemy AA Juutilainen flew across the base at such a low altitude that he could look inside the bunkers. The aircraft were La-5 fighters.

The two pilots were returning to the base as they heard a report: Four enemy fighters over Perkjarvi at 4500 m - that meant next door to the Suulajarvi base, deep behind Finnish lines. Peltola landed due to engine problem... Juutilainen pulled the stick and let his MT-222 climb. He was not ordered to engage the enemy, actually he should have landed to delivered the reconnaisance data. But his battle spirit, egged by the buzzing of the enemy base, was too strong.

At 5500 m, about six minutes later, he saw four La-5 fighters 500 m below. He dived to approach them from behind.

He just had the enemy leader in his gunsight as the enemy formation dispersed and each La-5 began to climb and turn to get behind the Me. So they had seen him coming all the time! The enemy fighters had white rudders, meaning they belonged to the 10. Gv.IAP, and now Juutilainen heard from his headphones that the enemy leader was Squadron Leader Medvetjev, a double Soviet Hero. - As if that piece of information had helped the lone Finnish pilot!

Now Juutilainen decided to keep the enemy engaged until some Me's would arrive to deal with them. Quckly he considered his chances: His fuel was low, down to 20 mins at cruise speed, but he was above his own base. Whatever would happen, he would not be taken prisoner.

The MT-222 still had more speed than the enemy, and she was able to out-climb the La-5's. Only now, at 6500 m, Juutilainen put on his oxygen mask, but he could only bite the rib to hold it on his face. The result was that the humidity of his breathing escaped, condensed and began to frost the cockpit canopy matt white. Meanwhile Comrade Medvetjev called for reinforcements.

The Soviet pilots knew their job. One of them was always behind the Me, and if the Finnish pilot turned to attack, another La would be in a position to shoot. Juutilainen kept dodging, soaking wet of sweat despite the cold air.

As the dogfight had climbed to 8700 m, one more La-5 arrived to the scene, shooting at an hopelessy long range. Juutilainen saw her tracers, turned and dived under the new enemy, then pulled a tight climbing curve. He scraped frantically a peephole in the frost covering the cockpit canopy to see the enemy, now only his windshield was clear.

Juutilainen had a hard time in keeping all his five enemies in sight, but he saw snow swirling about 9 km below: some Me's were just taking off. It would take them ten minutes to climb to his altitude... Now he was told that the 6th La-5 was about to arrive in the scene. The battle had lasted almost 15 minutes now.

He dodged a La-5 attacking at a high speed from above, pushing under her nose, then he dodged another and had a third nearly in his gunsight !

At the same moment his engine coughed and stopped. He was out of fuel. Tracers flew past - one of the enemies was shooting at the "glider".

With is remaining speed Juutilainen dodged and pushed the Me in vertical dive. It was the only thing to do. He hoped that the enemy would not follow him if he exceeded the 950kmh limit - neither the Me nor the La were designed to withstand higher speed. He let the MT-222 fall vertically for 6500 m. The pilot's ears were buzzing like telephone wires, the speed was over 1000 kmh at 2000m altitude. The Me flew rock-steady.

He pulled the stick, which was nearly immobile and used the trim wheel. The Me returned to level flight at the altitude of 150 m, the speed was 900 kmh. No enemies were in sight. The pilot pulled the stick and converted his speed to altitude, then proceeded to make a "normal" landing without power.

The Me had not been damaged, neither in the battle nor in the dive. The enemy retreated before the other Finnish pilots had any chance to engage them.

4. Six-Victory Morning

30 June 1944, Carelian Isthmus, Ihantala Front Section. Finnish Army was fighting a heavy defensive battle against attacking Red Army. The 1st Flight of Fighter Squadron 34 (eight Me 109 G6 led by Maj. Luukkanen) arrived over the battlefield and met an equal number of Soviet P-39 Airacobras. The fighters engaged each other at 10.15 hrs and the Soviet AA stopped firing as a "furball" developed at 3000 m.

Flight Master "Illu" Juutilainen's MT-457 slipped behind a pair of P-39's, which immediately tried to escape by a steep dive. Juutilainen followed and fired in dive at the enemy leader. The taill control surfaces of the P-39 were ripped off and almost hit the Me. The P-39 crashed in the marketplace of Viipuri. The wingman tried to escape towards his base with the MT-457 in hot pursuit. As the Soviet pilot saw that he was in the shooting range of the gray Me behind his tail, he tried to make a tight turn. But Juutilainen's very first salvo turned the enemy plane into a flaming torch which crashed at Sainio.

Juutilainen took altitude and watched how his wingman Sgt. Frantila shot down another P-39, then he saw in the eastern sky something like a black cloud. It was not a cloud but an enemy formation of 100 Pe-2 bombers escorted by at least 100 La-5 and Yak-9. Juutilainen sent a radio message to the combat control center and asked for reinforcements, promising ample targets for everyone.

Five Me's regrouped and began to climb. At 6000 m they were attacked by Yak-9s which prevented them from getting at the bombers. Soviet aircraft could be seen in great numbers in every altitude.

Juutilainen and Frantila engaged the nearest 2 Yaks. The enemies turned toward the Me's, then dived. The Finnish pilots followed 50 m behind the enemy tails. They dived at a speed of 800 kmh, consequently Juutilainen did not fire for fear of colliding with eventual debris. As the Yaks began to pull out of the dive, exposing the vulnerable fuel tank, engine and cockpit, was the ideal moment to shoot. Juutilainen fired at the leader. The Yak-9 took hits and under the strain of the G force her right wing broke off. The enemy dived in a wild spin and crashed at Juustila. His wingman escaped.

The two Me's were climbing to rejoin the battle as a burning Yak passed them in her last dive, then they were attacked by four Yak-9. Due to their lower speed the Me pilots easily manouvered themselves behind the enemy. Again the enemy tried to break off by diving, and the same thing happened as some minutes before. Juutilainen fired at his target as it was pulling out of dive, this time the Yak caught fire before crashing near the previous victim.

Again the MT-457 climbed, this time alone. The Soviet bombers had released their loads at the Finnish positions, nothing could be done about it anymore. The air battle was over for now, but the pilots of the 1st flight saw 12 FAF Ju-88 bombers arrive, escorted by a Messerschmitt flight. The bombers penetrated the AA fire and dive-bombed the Red Army troop and material concentration with 1000 and 500 kg bombs. No Soviet fighters were there to stop the Junkerses, which retreated unpunished. This raid also illustrated the difference of the resources of the two adversaries... But the Soviet Air Force was not able to control the airspace totally.

The smoke and dust of the dual bombardment was still hanging in the air as another hundred -plane Soviet formation arrived over the battlefield. This time the enemies were Pe-2's and IL-2m's escorted by La-5's.

Juutilainen was flying at 5000 m as he saw 5 Pe-2 below. He dived at them, but a La-5 approached him at high speed . firing wildly. Juutilainen pulled a steep climbing curve, the enemy fighter swished past and disappeared. The bombers had escaped, but there was now an escadrille of 9 IL-2M below, busy strafing the Juustila-Tali road with guns and rockets.

Juutilainen attacked the enemy from side and fired at the nearest Il-2 , hitting the cockpit area. The Stormovik crashed in the forest. Again a La-5 attacked the Me. The Finnish pilot evaded the enemy fire by pulling into a tight climbing left-hand turn, well knowing that his MT-457 would out-climb the La-5. The enemy fighter followed, trying to get enough deflection to hit the Me. But the best the Soviet pilot could achieve was to make the nose of his fighter point at the Me. He fired anyway, and saw the Finnish pilot wave his hand. "You missed!"

The two fighters continued climbing, the Me gaining steadily. About four minutes later at 4000 m Juutilainen found himself 100m above the La-5. He half-rolled, flying upside down above the La-5. The Soviet pilot panicked and turned his fighter to a vertical dive to retreat. The Me followed less than 100m behind. After diving 2000 m the enemy pulled up so hard that Juutilainen did not get any chance to aim, then he blacked out. As he regained vision, he found his fighter in a vertical climb behind the La-5 which immediately half-rolled and dived again.

This manouver was repeated several times. Finally Juutilainen took a risk and at the final phase of a pull-up nearly stalled his fighter to shoot at the La-5. His 20mm shells must have hit the enemy fuel tank, because the Soviet fighter dived in flames, trailing black smoke, soon crashing on the coastline N of Viipuri.

The low fuel warning light of the MT-457 was blinking. Juutilainen again took the initiative and called the other pilots of the flight reminding them of the impending fuel shortage. Fortunately seven Me's of the Squadron 24 led by Lt. Karhila just arrived, enabling the 1st flight to disengage the enemy. It was about 11.00 hours.

It was only now that Juutilainen realised he had gained six victories. He landed at Taipalsaari with empty fuel tank and ammunition magazine. He had spent in average about 22 pcs of 20mm shells at each of his victims. He could prove each kill.

In this battle the Finnish pilots scored 17 victories without losses. (Maj.Luukkanen shot down one P-39 and one La-5, so he was busy and not neglecting his duties.)

5. Good shots

31st August 1943. Three Me's of the 1st Flight of Squadron 34 had been alerted to Koivisto to support the Brewsters of Squadron 24 in an air battle. By the time Lt. Pekuri, Ft.Mstr. Juutilainen and Sr.Sgt. Lehto arrived on the scene, the battle was over. Only oil slicks were seen on the surface of the Gulf of Finland.

The enemy sent two speedboats to search for survivors. Juutilainen suggested that they should take altitude and check whether the boats had any air cover. The Me's turned South and began to climb.

Indeed, at 4500 m the Finnish pilots spotted two La-5 below. Pekuri and Lehto attacked, Juutilainen covered them. But Lehto hesitated a second before diving. Pekuri bounced the enemy leader and shot up his engine, then pulled up. Now the enemy wingman got behind his tail. Juutilainen had dived immediately having realised the situation, but due to his high speed he could not shoot the La-5 threatening Pekuri, 50 m behind his tail and gaining. "Illu" pulled a tight curve to decelerate, then approached the enemy again. The Soviet pilot saw the threatening-looking "Messer" as she was 100 m away. Immediately the La-5 pulled up and rolled into a steep dive, in a very quick manouver.

Juutilainen fired a brief burst "off the hip" at the very same moment. The first tracer passed ahead of the spinner of the La-5 but the rest of the projectiles were hits. The enemy continued his dive and crashed in the sea. Pekuri's victim had belly landed in the sea, and the Finnish pilots saw how one of the speedboats picked up the pilot.

Back in the base the armourers found six pieces 20mm cases and 23 pieces 7,9mm cases in the spent case container of the MT-207. It was not worthwhile to reload the magazines...

4th November 1943. Three Me's intercepted a formation of three IL-2m escorted by five La-5 on a Southeastern course over the Gulf of Finland between Seiskari Island and Sepeleva Lighthouse. Juutilainen told the other pilots - Lt. Valli and Sr.Sgt. Lonnfors - to attack the Stormoviks while he would tie the escort fighters.

As Juutilainen approached in climb the five enemy fighters, they retreated by a steep dive. He looked down - the two Finnish pilots had not attacked. They wanted to see whether "Illu" would need help against the La-5's. Illu dived after the Stormoviks, passing his friends in a high speed. The enemy was about to get within the cover of the Soviet AA guns.

Juutilainen approached the three Il-2 from the side at a speed of 600 kmh, which was too much for accurate shooting. He passed them, then pulled a 180 degree turn at wavetops and then began to close in for a firing run. The Finnish pilot approached his targets at a 90 degree angle. He aimed at the wing plane, the range was less than 100m. He also had to bank hard to keep the enemy in his gunsight, and as he pulled the stick for deflection, the engine of his fighter blocked his line of sight to the target completely. Yet he fired.

Valli and Lonnfors saw how the Il-2 dived and crashed on the shoreline, catching fire. With the target out of sight, " Illu" had estimated correctly the deflection and the moment of shooting - the Me109G did not have a gyroscopic gunsight. Moreover, he had hit the vulnerable spot of the IL-2M , which was two square meters in size seen from above. He had spent 10 pcs of his 20mm ammunition.

The Fokker D.XXI fighter of 3./LLv 24, flown by Sgt. Juutilainen in March of 1940.

bobbysocks

05-14-2010, 04:01 PM

György Debrődy - The Survivor. (Hungary)

He was born on 1st January, 1921 in Lajoskomárom. Since his young age he was a keen boyscout and he was very interested in flying. After his high school graduation in 1939 he continued his studies at the Hungarian Military Flying Academy in Kassa, and graduated as a 2nd Lt on 18th June, 1942. After his graduation Debrődy was relocated to the 5/I Fighter Group’s 5/2. Fighter Squadron and in December he went to the Eastern Front. At first he flew fighter-bomber missions, and didn’t meet Soviet planes, but this situation changed the next summer: during the battle of Kursk he claimed 6 victories and became ace.

On 25th September,1943 he had a dangerous affair. In that morning he was downed by a Soviet Yak-9 15 km behind the enemy lines. Debrődy had to make an emergency landing near a Soviet AA battery. After an adventurous escape, the next day he dissolved the River Dniepr and achieved the German lines.

On 1st February, 1944 his swarm had a fierce dogfight against 5 GvIAP’s La-5’s, led by Witalii Popkov over the Korssun kettle. One La-5 hit his plane, and the Messer’s engine failed. Debrődy had to make his second belly-landing behind the enemy lines! His best friend, 2nd Lt. Miklós Kenyeres with 19 air victories, downed Debrődy’s attacker, and landed near the dead Messer on the snowy and icy unknown field. Some Soviet soldiers were running towards the Messers, but Kenyeres managed to take off with some PPS machine-pistol hits in his plane. Unfortunately, two days later the Soviet AA fire downed Kenyeres’ plane behind the enemy lines and this brave pilot had to bail out over a forest. Debrődy was desperately circling around his parachute, but he was not able to help his friend, Kenyeres taken POW.

From the 3th of April, 1944 the American 15th AAF attacked Hungary, and the Hungarian military high command ordered home some veteran fighter pilots, including György Debrődy and László Molnár. At tis time Debrődy had 173 combat missions and claimed 18 confirmed air victories on the Eastern Front. 2nd Lt György Debrődy was relocated to the Hungarian 101/3. “Puma” Squadron, based in Veszprém.

His first fight against the Americans was on 14th June 1944. On that day the Hungarian 101th “Puma” Group attacked the 94th Squadron of the 14th FG. The Hungarian fighters downed 5 P-38’s and damaged two of them seriously, and the others minorly while they lost two planes and a pilot, 2nd Lt. Gyula Király, was killed. In this fierce dogfight Debrődy downed 1st Lt Louis Benne’s P-38J (Wr. Nr: 42-104229). The American pilot, who was an ace with 5 kills, got wounded and had to bail out. Benne was taken POW, his plane crashed near Dudar. Two days later Debrődy claimed another P-38J: his victim was 2nd Lt George F. Loughmiller. The American’s plane (Wr.Nr:43-28665) crashed near Kapoly, the pilot was killed. On 2nd July, 1944 18 Hungarian and approx. 80 German fighters attacked the American planes over Budapest. After this fight Debrődy claimed a P-51D over Pilisvörösvár. It was 1st Lt George Stanford, the Assistant Squadron Operations Officer of the 335th FS of 4th FG with 4 air victories. The American pilot taken POW.

Five days later he downed a B-17G (2nd BG, 20BS, W. Nr. 42-97351) near Megyercs, assisted by Ensign András Huszár. Later he flew some unsuccesful sorties and on 27th July, 1944 he downed a B-24 near Mór. This Liberator was one of the 455th BG’s lost planes.

Later the Hungarian fighters reserved their forces against the Red Army, because the Soviet forces appeared near the Hungarian border. On 1st November Debrődy was promoted to 1st Lt. Three days later his Squadron leader, Captain József Bejczy (5 confirmed kills) was killed by Soviet AA fire, and Debrődy was promoted to the new Squadron leader. On the next day, on 5th November, 1944 the last big “Puma” grouped sortie against the 15th AF took place. During this combat mission Debrődy claimed one B-24 (451st BG) shot down.

On 16th November, 1944 he took off his last combat mission as a squadron commander. The 101/3. Squadron attacked SE of Jászberény some La-5’s of the 5th Vozdushnaja Armija (5th Soviet Air Army) and Debrődy downed one Lavochkin. Later he made a frontal attack against a Soviet Yak-9, north of Nagykáta. His series hit the Soviet plane and theYak exploded, but meanwhile some of the Yak’s bullet hit Debrődy’s Messer. The Hungarian pilot get a serious wound: one 20 mm shell punched his belly near his spine, but despite of his terrible wound this tough guy made a successful emergency landing near Hatvan and the doctors rescued his life, but it was his last, 203rd combat mission. Later he was awarded with the Tiszti Arany Vitézségi Érem (Officers’ Gold Medal For Bravery), the highest Hungarian decoration. After the war he emigrated to Spain with his friend, Miklós Kenyeres, and later to Canada, and to the USA. In 1967 the doctors operated him again and eliminated from his body, near his spine a Soviet 12,7 mm bullet – it was a “souvenir” from his last combat.

He passed away on 2rd February, 1982 in Cortland, USA.

bobbysocks

05-14-2010, 04:04 PM

Clive "Killer" Caldwell - Stuka Party

Clive Robertson Caldwell was born in Lewisham, Sydney on the 28th of July, 1911. Pre war he trained for his civil pilot's licence whilst a member of the Royal Aero Club. He joined the RAAF at the beginning of the war in 1939 and was commissioned as a Pilot Officer in 1940. As he was destined to become an instructor after completing his training, he resigned and re-applied as an air-crew trainee. His commission was reinstated in January 1941, and he was sent to the Middle East where he took up flying duties in Tomahawks with 250 Squadron RAF. Following a short period of operations in Syria and Cyprus, Caldwell and the squadron were relocated to the Western Desert. It was in this theatre that he achieved great success during intensive operations.

By mid-1941, Caldwell had flown about 40 operational sorties, but had only one confirmed kill - a Bf 109. He was perplexed by the fact that he had trouble scoring hits on enemy aircraft. Whilst returning to base one day, he noted his squadron's aircraft casting shadows on the desert below. He fired a burst of his guns and noted the fall of shot relative to his shadow. He realised this method allowed for the assessment of required deflection to hit moving targets. Further experimentation lead him to acquire the knowledge to assess deflection needed for a range of speeds. Within a couple of weeks he had attained four further kills and a half share. Caldwell's method of "shadow shooting" became a standard method of gunnery practice in the Middle East.

On 29 August 1941 Clive Caldwell was attacked by two Bf 109s North-West of Sidi Barrani. One of his attackers was the Bf 109 E-7 "black 8" of 2./JG 27 piloted by one of Germany's top aces, Leutnant Werner Schroer who was credited with 114 Allied planes in only 197 combat missions. Caldwell's P-40 "Tomahawk" of 250 Squadron was riddled with more than 100 rounds of 7.9 mm slugs, plus five 20 mm cannon strikes which punctured a tyre and rendered the flaps inoperative. In the first attack Caldwell suffered bullet wounds to the back, left shoulder, and leg. In the next pass one shot slammed through the canopy, causing splinters which wounded him with perspex in the face and shrapnel in the neck. Two cannon shells also punched their way through the rear fuselage just behind him and the starboard wing was badly damaged. Despite damage to both himself and the aircraft, Caldwell, feeling, as he remembers, "quite hostile" turned on his attackers and sent down one of the Bf 109s in flames. The pilot of the second Messerschmitt, the renowned Leutnant Schroer, shocked by this turn of events, evidently made off in some haste. Caldwell's engine had caught fire, however he managed to extinguish the flames with a violent slip. He then nursed his flying wreck back to base at Sidi Haneish.

Caldwell's most successful day was the 5th of December 1941 when he shot down five Ju 87s in a single engagement during operation "Crusader". Here is the combat report of that action: "I received radio warning that a large enemy formation was approaching from the North-West. No. 250 Squadron went into line astern behind me and as No. 112 Squadron engaged the escorting enemy fighters we attacked the JUs from the rear quarter. At 300 yards I opened fire with all my guns at the leader of one of the rear sections of three, allowing too little deflection, and hit No. 2 and No. 3, one of which burst into flames immediately, the other going down smoking and went into flames after losing about 1000 feet. I then attacked the leader of the rear section...from below and behind, opening fire with all guns at very close range. The enemy aircraft turned over and dived steeply...opened fire [at another Ju 87] again at close range, the enemy caught fire...and crashed in flames. I was able to pull up under the belly of one of the rear, holding the burst until very close range. The enemy...caught fire and dived into the ground." Due to his aggressiveness, exceptional combat skills, and determination to strafe ground targets, Caldwell soon acquired the nickname "Killer" which he apparently was not particularly proud of. The name however stuck and was commonly used in referring to Caldwell. In opinion of Wing Commander R.H. "Bobby" Gibbes (he battled in 3 Sqdn RAAF in North Africa and in the SW Pacific under Caldwell's command): "Clive Caldwell was given the name "Killer" (a name which was not of his choosing or liking) due to his habit of shooting up any enemy vehicle which he saw below when returning from a sortie. Invariably he landed back at his base with almost no ammunition left."

Caldwell was promoted to flight commander in November 1941 and received the DFC and Bar simultaneously on December 26 by which time he had 17 victories. He was promoted to Squadron Leader in January 1942 and took command of 112 Squadron RAF flying Kittyhawks. It was due to his leadership, confidence and daring, his work with a contingent of Polish pilots attached to 112 Squadron, and continued success with this squadron that he received the Polish Cross of Valour (Krzyz Walecznych).

In contrast with the great successes of Skalski's Circus , Polish pilots' endeavours with 112 Squadron weren't as fruitful. A group of 12 Polish ferry-transport pilots volunteered for RAF service on 29 August 1941 and after training they joined "Shark" squadron in February 1942. On 14 February, 1942 the patrolling 112 Sqn RAF and 3 Sqn RAAF encountered a formation of 32 enemy aircraft and Sec.Ltn. Dula downed an MC 200. In combat with 6 Bf 109 fighters from I/JG 27 on 21 February 1942 three "Kittyhawks" of 112 Sqn were downed, two of them piloted by Polish pilots: Sgt. Derma and Ltn. Jander. On 13 March 1942 pilots P/O Bartle (English) and Sgt. Rozanski (Polish) left a formation of 12 "Sharks" in the Tobruk area and they were caught by surprise and attacked by Oberfeldtwebel Otto Schulz (4./JG 27, MIA on 17 June 1942, 42 victories). Both were downed, but Rozanski luckily escaped his crashed, burning aircraft. On the following day Sgt. Urbanczyk together with S/L Caldwell got one Bf 109. On 15 March 1942 112 Squadron was moved from the front line to Sidi Haneish for replacements. Polish pilots didn't return to duty in this unit from 16 April 1942.

Whilst with 112 Squadron, the Australian government asked that he be released to return to Australia to command a Wing in the defence of Australia. This Wing was to consist of 3 Squadrons of "Spitfires", and Caldwell spent some time with the Kenley Wing before returning home to acquaint himself with the new aircraft. The Japanese were threatening Northern Australia, and several Australian towns were regularly being bombed. Caldwell left the Middle East with nineteen individual and three shared confirmed enemy kills, six probables, and fifteen damaged.

On his departure from the Middle East, the Marshall of the RAF Lord Tedder wrote of Caldwell: 'An excellent leader - and a first class shot.'

On taking up his command of No. 1 Fighter Wing based in Darwin, Caldwell again showed his outstanding fighting abilities and claimed a further eight Japanese aircraft by August 1943. Caldwell's tally was twenty-eight and a half by the time he left the Wing in August and for this feat he received a DSO to add to his DFC and Bar and Polish Cross of Valour.

Caldwell returned to operations in April 1944 (after a period commanding an OTU) commanding 80 Wing out of Darwin and Morotai. By this time opposition in the air from the Japanese had waned, and the role of the RAAF in the South-West Pacific had been relegated to a supporting role. 80 Wing was confined to strafing and bombing ground targets which Caldwell and his pilots found wasteful and frustrating. These targets were isolated from the main Japanese forces and the pilots resented being risked in tasks whose results were making no contribution towards winning the war. In April 1945, Caldwell and seven other officers tended their resignations in protest (the so-called Morotai mutiny) against the RAAF's role in the latter stages of the war. This action lead to a command crisis in the RAAF where three senior officers including Air Commodore Cobby (WW1 ace) were relieved of their duties. Caldwell finished the war attached to HQ, 1st TAF, RAAF, based in Melbourne. He resigned from the RAAF in 1946 and was a successful businessman until his death on 5th of August, 1994.

bobbysocks

05-14-2010, 04:09 PM

im really trying hard not to duplicate forgive me if i do per chance.

The first aerial combat on the Eastern Front.

Flying an obsolete I-153 biplane in the hazy morning sky over Ukraine on 22 June 1941, Soviet Air Force Lieutenant Rubstov probably claimed the first aerial victory in the war between Germany and the Soviet Union. In connection with the text are shown a few images from the results of the devastating German air raids on Russian airfields on 22 June 1941: MiG-3's, I-16 and Uti-4 (that last two from 122nd IAP, on Lida airfield)
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n the early hours of 22 June 1941, the Soviet Air Force was totally caught by surprise by the Luftwaffe attack against their airbase system. During the first hours, around 1,200 Russian aircraft were destroyed, more than 800 of them on the ground, according to Soviet figures. But despite the surprise attack and the lacking communications, Russian pilots scrambled at several places. At one airfield, a formation of Russian fighters attempted to take off in the midst of a raid. The bombs fell upon the starting planes and they were all left destroyed, in perfect take-off formation, at the end of the runway. At another airfield, Sergei Dolgushin and his comrades ran towards their I-16 fighters. 'At three o´clock, the alarm went off,' he recalled. 'We all ran towards our airplanes. At 4:20, when the Messerschmitts appeared over the air field, I had to take off. While I was taking off, during that first dogfight, I was hit 16 times.' Quite contrary to the general belief, bitter dogfights raged in the skies all along the front during these early morning hours. In general, the Soviet fighter pilots managed surprisingly well on this first day.

At Kurovitsa airbase, the units under command of the Air Force of Kiev Special Military District (VVS KOVO), were alarmed even before the German bombers had reached this target. However, the pilots of the ground-attack regiment 66 ShAP (Shturmovyi Aviapolk) figured it was a training alarm, and came too late - which resulted in 34 of the regiment´s Polikarpov I-153s and I-15bis being bombed to pieces by the Ju 88s of Kampfgeschwader KG 51 'Edelweiss'. As the bombs fell, the fighter pilots of 164 IAP, who had arrived at Kurovitsa airfield in due time, were airborne, climbing after the enemy in their small I-16s.

In general, the Soviet Air Force material was of terribly low technical quality. The main Soviet fighter aircraft, the Polikarpov I-16 monoplane - the plane with the many names: called Ishak ('Jackass') or Jastrebok ('Young Eagle') by the Russian pilots who flew it, and Rata ('Rat') by the Germans who had adopted this from their allies in the Spanish Civil War, the men on the Republican side in the latter conflict named it Mosca ('Fly'), while it was called Abu ('Gadfly') by the Japanese airmen who met this type over China and Khalkhin-Gol - was inferior to the standard Messerschmitt Bf 109 F fighter in all aspects except maneuverability. According to German fighter pilots´ reports, 'the plane easily caught fire if struck from above or from the side'. Regarding the biplane fighter I-15bis, 'a few rounds fired into the sides were often enough to set them on fire'. (However, it is worth noting that the Polikarpov fighters held one important advantage over the Bf 109: their engines were air cooled. Once the Bf 109 was liquid cooled, a hit in the radiator was enough to send a Messerschmitt down to the ground. Frequently, Messerschmitt 109s hit in the radiator force-landed and were only slightly damaged, not appearing in the German loss lists; this isone of the main reasons to the gap between Soviet victory claims and Luftwaffe loss figures.)

Air-to-air radio - a standard equipment in all German aircraft types - was something of a luxury to Russian airmen; only the unit commanders´aircraft were equipped with radioes, and these were very unreliable, which naturally made cooperation in the air difficult and on several occasions enabled German fighters to sneek behind a Soviet formation and shoot down one plane after another, the last one caught by the same surprise as the first one. But notwithstanding their inferior equipment, once in the air, the Red fighter pilots put up a stiff fight. The I-16 Ishaks of 164 IAP were followed by some of the remaining biplanes of 66 ShAP.

'Skilful and aggressive attacks by Russian fighter units', Wolfgang Dierich´s chronicle of KG 51 comments, 'ensured that the struggle for air supremacy was no easy game.' The first attack was made by Lieutenant P. N. Rubstov of 66 ShAP. He sprayed a Ju 88 with machine gun bullets until it finally caught fire and went down and crashed within sight of the Kurovitsa airfield. Thus, Lieutenant Rubstov probably achieved the first aerial victory in the Russo-German war.

The Polikarpov fighters kept pursuing the Junkers bombers on their return flight to the west. In a matter of minutes, one bomber after another was shot down. The Germans left a trail of white parachutes and blazing flames in the hazy sky. Out of 28 Ju 88s dispatched by IIIrd Gruppe/KG 51, 7 were shot down during this first mission - five of them from the 9th Staffel.

In the middle of all this, the German fighter escort appeared. The fast Messerschmitt 109s came shooting down from above with hammering cannons and machine guns. The first I-16 was shot down by Oberleutnant Robert Oljenik of 1st Staffel, Jagdgeschwader JG 3. As it buried itself into the ground, Oljenik had achieved his sixth out of totally 41 confirmed victories in World War 2 - and probably the first German aerial kill in this conflict. At 04:30, Feldwebel Ernst Heesen of 2./JG 3 destroyed a second I-16 Ishak / Rata. As it went down, the glow from the raging fires at Kurovitsa airfield, 20 miles further to the east, could still be seen in the darkness. A third I-16 fell victim to Feldwebel Detlev Lüth of 1./JG 3.

Even if compared with the number of sorties flown, the losses sustained by the Luftwaffe on the forst day of the war with the USSR were very heavy: 78 combat aircraft were listed as totall losses, with a further 89 damaged. This in fact was an even higher figure than that of the fateful so-called 'Battle of Britain Day', 15 September 1940, when the Germans lost 61 planes destroyed and 11 damaged.

Of the German aircraft destroyed, 24 were fighters, 35 bombers, 7 Zerstörern (Messerschmitt Bf 110), 2 Stukas and 10 of miscellaneous types. Added to these losses were the Rumanian aircraft shot down on this day: 4 Bristol Blenheims, 2 PZL P-37 Los, 2 Savoia-Marchetti S.M. 79B, 1 Potez 633, 1 IAR 37 and 1 IAR 39.

The German bomber pilot Wolfgang Dierich later wrote of the sentiments among the Luftwaffe fliers that evening: 'At midnight, the men went to bed, half-dead of fatigue. Their last thoughts before they fell a sleep were: "What may have happened to our missing comrades? Are they still alive? What will the next day bring us? How will this all end?"'

bobbysocks

05-16-2010, 04:34 AM

Douglas Bader - "personification of RAF heroism during the Second World War."

Few men become legends in their lifetime. Douglas Bader was one of these men. Fighter ace, international sportsman, constant rule-breaker and incorrigible escaper, he spread exasperation and irritation wherever he went. Yet his courage and determination in the face of crippling injuries continue to inspire people all over the world to this day.

Douglas Robert Steuart Bader was born on February 10, 1910, in London, England, son of Frederick Roberts Bader and Jessie Bader. From the start, his life followed no placid pattern. When Douglas was a few months old, his family returned to India, where his father worked as a civil engineer. Young Douglas was left behind because his family thought him too young for India's harsh climate. He did not rejoin them until he was 2 years old, beginning a long life as a loner. The Bader family returned to England in 1913. The following year, when World War I began, Frederick Bader went with the British army into France. It was the last time Douglas saw his father, who died in France of complications from a shrapnel wound in 1922 and was buried near the town of St. Omer. Twenty-one years later, his son would be held prisoner in a hospital not far from where his father was buried. Jessie Bader later married a mild Yorkshire clergyman, Reverend William Hobbs. Throughout his early years, Douglas showed a fierce spirit of independence and nonconformity. He excelled in sports such as rugby football; when he was captain of the rugby team, his natural leadership abilities became apparent.

In 1923, Douglas stayed with his aunt Hazel Bader and her husband, Flight Lieutenant Cyril Burge, who at the time was adjutant at the Royal Air Force (RAF) college in Cranwell. That's when he first became interested in airplanes. In 1927, Douglas decided he wanted to fly in the RAF, despite disapproval of his family. In the summer of 1928 he had won his cadetship. Bader reported to Cranwell in September 1928, and his flight training went satisfactorily. Not all of his flying was regulation and his superiors did not like his rebellious nature. Halfway through the two-year course, when the cadets took progress exams, Bader came out 18th out of 21 cadets. Cranwell's commandant, Air Vice Marshal Halahan , warned him: "You're young, I can understand your trouble, but the air force won't go on understanding. They want men here, not school boys." Bader emerged from Halahan's tirade considerably shaken, knowing the commandant was right. He studied harder, and his flying became better than ever. Bader missed being awarded the sword of honor, which was given to the top graduating cadet, but he came in a close second.

After graduating from Cranwell in 1930, Bader was commissioned a pilot officer and posted to No. 23 Squadron at Kenley Airfield, flying tubby Gloster Gamecock biplane fighters. Soon afterward, 23 Squadron was reequipped with Bristol Bulldog fighters. The Bulldogs were faster than the Gamecocks but heavier and liable to loose height rapidly in low-altitude maneuvers.

On Monday, December 14, 1931, Douglas Bader flew from Kenley to Woodley airfield along with two other pilots from his squadron. In the Woodley clubhouse a young pilot was discussing acrobatics with Bader, the Hendon star, and suggested that he give a demonstration of low flying. Bader refused, citing his inexperience flying acrobatics in a Bulldog. The matter was dropped until Bader and the other pilots were leaving. Someone dared him to do it. In some agitation Bader took off, then turned back toward the field. Flying low and fast across the field, Bader began a slow roll, but in his inexperience with the Bulldog he flew too low. The Bulldog's left wing struck the ground, and the plane cartwheeled quickly into a tangle of wreckage. Both of Bader's legs were crushed, his left leg under the seat, his right tom by the rudder pedal. Bader was pulled from the Bulldog's wreckage by shocked onlookers and taken immediately to the Royal Berkshire Hospital, where he was placed in the care of Dr. Leonard Joyce, one of England's best surgeons. Joyce immediately amputated Bader's right leg above the smashed knee and, several days later, the left leg six inches below the knee. After his second amputation, Bader's condition worsened. None of the doctors expected the 21-year-old pilot to survive. But Bader had great will to live.

After a long, painful recovery, Bader was transferred to the RAF Hospital in Uxbridge in 1932. While there, he became acquainted with the Dessoutter brothers. Marcel Dessoutter had been an aircraft designer until he, too, lost a leg in an air crash. Afterward he started a firm that made artificial legs of light metal alloys like aluminum. Douglas Bader was the first customer to require two artificial legs. Despite the physical impediment, Bader began to remake his life both physically and mentally. After several months of agonizing and determined effort, Bader learned to walk on both "tin" legs. He refused to use a walking stick, saying, "I'm going to start the way I mean to go on." He soon began driving a car again, with the pedals modified to accommodate his tin legs. Bader's thoughts then returned to flying. After a weekend spent with the Under-secretary of State for Air, Sir Phillip Sasson, in June 1932, Bader's desire to fly reached fever pitch. His host, who lived near Lympe airfield, arranged a flight for him in an Avro 504 trainer. Bader's handling of the Avro left nothing to be desired. Later, an RAF medical board found him fit for restricted flying duties. Soon afterward, in April 1933, Bader was informed by the air force that he was to be retired on grounds of ill health, which left him feeling shocked and numb. Within weeks, Bader left the RAF on a total disability pension.

For six years following his retirement from the RAF, Bader worked at a desk job with the Asiatic (now Shell) Petroleum com- pany. His future, at least at the beginning, looked bleak, but he was lucky in his marriage to Thelma Edwards, whom he met while at Uxbridge when she was working as a waitress at a pub called the Pantiles. They married in 1935, and she was devoted to him for 37 years. Once asked how he survived, Bader replied, "I wouldn't have stuck it out without Thelma."

Despite his new life, however, Bader longed to fly again. In September 1939, after the start of World War II, Bader again applied to the RAF for flight duties and was helped in his quest by an old squadron friend, Geoffrey Stephenson, who was posted to the Air Ministry. He attended a selection board headed by his old Cranwell commanding officer, Air Vice Marshal Halahan, who suggested to "give him A1B (flying duties) category and leave it to the Central Flying School to assess his flying abilities." Bader walked out of the Air Ministry feeling that he was picking up life again from the moment he had crashed. Bader's acceptance was conditional on his passing a flying test at the RAF's Central Flying School (CFS) in Upavon.

On November 27, 1939, eight years after his accident, Douglas Bader flew solo again at the controls of Avro Tudor K-3242. Once airborne, he could not resist the temptation to turn the Tudor biplane upside down at 600 feet inside the circuit area. Bader soon moved up into the Fairey Battle, a single-engine, two- seater day bomber, then to the Miles Master, the last step an RAF pilot took before going on to Supermarine Spitfires and Hawker Hurricanes. Two weeks after flying the Master, Bader was delighted to get his chance inside the cockpit of a Hurricane. From the start he felt a part of the Hurricane, which was the most responsive aircraft he had yet flown; after 20 minutes in the air, he made a smooth landing. In February 1940, Bader joined No. 19 Squadron at Duxford. At age 29 he was older than most of the other pilots in the squadron. Two months later he was appointed flight commander in 222 Squadron, another Duxford-based unit, reequipping from Blenheim bombers to Spitfires. Before he took up the appointment, Bader carelessly took off with his section with his Spitfire's propeller set to coarse pitch (used for low rpm cruise) instead of fine pitch that gave high rpm for takeoff power, and he crashed. Bader was uninjured, except for bent legs and a badly dented ego. Shocked by his stupidity, Bader freely admitted his mistake to 12 Group's commander, Air Vice Marshal Trafford Leigh Mallory, who saw it as a one-time mistake and did not cancel Bader's appointment to 222 Squadron as flight commander, or his promotion to flight lieutenant. Bader immediately began training his 222 flight pilots in his own style of fighting, quick to see that the standard Fighter Command tactics were a waste of time. Afterward came hours of dogfighting practice and convoy patrols. Yet nothing happened at Duxford for 222 Squadron until June 1940. The squadron was sent, along with other RAF squadrons, to cover the British and French evacuation from Dunkirk. On one mission over Dunkirk, while leading his flight after some fleeing Messerschmitt Me-110s, Bader sighted four Me-109s approaching his flight. Bader went after the German fighters. "A 109 shot up in front; his thumb jabbed the firing button and the guns in the wings squirted with a shocking noise," wrote Brickhill, Bader's biographer. The 109 burst into flames and spun into the ground - Bader's first kill.

In June 1940, Bader was given command of 242 Squadron. A Canadian unit, the only one in the RAF at the time, 242 had been badly mauled in France, and its morale was low. When Bader first arrived at the squadron's headquarters at Coltishall airfield, most of the squadron's pilots were skeptical of their new legless squadron leader, who, they thought, would lead them from his desk. Bader quickly dispelled the idea by taking one of 242's Hurricane fighters and performing acrobatics over Coltishall for a half hour, deeply impressing 242's pilots. Bader quickly transformed 242 into a tight, tough squadron through his courage, leadership and uncompromising attitude toward his pilots, ground crews and the RAF high command, with whom he soon had a major brush. After taking charge of 242 Squadron, Bader soon discovered that the unit did not have the spare parts or tools to keep its 18 Hurricane fighters operational. After trying to sort out the problem through official channels, Bader signaled 12th Group Headquarters: "242 Squadron operational as regards pilots but non-operational as regards equipment." And he refused to announce his squadron as operational until its lack of tools and spares was rectified. Within 24 hours, 242 Squadron had all the tools and spares it needed, and Bader signaled 12th Group: "242 Squadron now fully operational."

The squadron, however, took little part in the early stages of the Battle of Britain, flying only convoy patrols and going after occasional high-flying Dornier bombers. Bader shot down one of these on July 11 during a rainstorm that prevented him from getting a section of fighters off the ground. Bader took off alone in a Hurricane, found the Dornier despite the bad weather, and attacked it. He killed its tail gunner and saw it disappear into a cloud. Certain it had gotten away, Bader returned to base. Five minutes after he landed, Bader was informed that a ground observer had seen the Dornier crash into the sea. On August 30, 242 Squadron intercepted a group of 30 German bombers and fighters attacking North Weald airfield. Bader shot down an Me-110, and the rest of his squadron claimed 11 kills. It was a respectable total, but Bader believed that if they had had three or more squadrons attacking the huge German formation, all of the attacking planes would have been shot down. Thus, the "Big Wing" concept was born. Supported by Leigh Mallory, Bader was convinced that launching a large number of fighter squadrons against the Luftwaffe armadas was essential for the RAF's success in the battle. Leigh Mallory decided to try Bader's wing in action. He grouped 242 with two other fighter squadrons - 19 Squadron and the Czech 310 Squadron - at Duxford.

Bader led the wing into action for the first time on September 7, 1940, against a large German formation heading for London. "We had been greatly looking forward to our first formation of 36 fighters going into action together," Bader wrote years later, "but we were unlucky." Having been scrambled late, the wing was underneath the bombers and their fighter escorts when they intercepted them north of the Thames. All 242 and 310 could do was attack as best they could while 19 Squadron's Spitfires tried to hold off the attacking Me-109s. The wing managed to destroy 11 aircraft, with only two Hurricanes shot down. Bader himself got a cockpit full of bullets and the right aileron shot off his Hurricane. After several sorties with three squadrons, two more - the Polish 302 Hurricane Squadron and Auxiliary 601 Spitfire Squadron - were added to the so-called Duxford Wing, giving it five squadrons and 60 fighters. "We thus had three Hurricane Squadrons which flew together at the lower level (20,000 feet if we were called in time) with the Spitfires protecting us 5,000 feet higher," Bader said. "It worked like a charm once or twice, and the arrival of this large formation in support of hard-pressed 11 Group squadrons was highly satisfactory." The tactic really paid off on September 15, 1940, when Bader's Duxford Wing helped 11 Group to break up a massed Luftwaffe attack on London.

When the Battle of Britain ended, Bader was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC) and Distinguished Service Order (DSO) for gallantry and leadership of the highest order and became commander of the Duxford Wing, which was later credited with destroying 152 German aircraft with the loss of 30 pilots. The Big Wing's effectiveness became controversial - but not Douglas Bader's leadership of it. In March 1941, Bader, now a wing commander, left 242 Squadron and took over the "Tangmere Wing." Consisting of three Spitfire Squadrons - 145, 610 and 616 - plus a Beaufighter squadron, the wing began a series of air attacks against targets in northern France and the Low Countries. While commanding the wing, Bader introduced the so-called "finger four" formation, where the two pairs of fighters flew beside each other, scrapping forever the unwieldy three-aircraft section. Based on the Luftwaffe's Schwarm formation, the finger four later became standard throughout both the British and American air forces. Bader really came into his own commanding the Tangmere Wing. His teamwork with Wing Commander A.G. Woodhall, the ground controller during the wing's raids, was exceptional. Receiving the broad picture from the ground controller, Bader handled his three squadrons with remarkable dexterity, seemingly able to foresee the critical points in an upcoming engagement. He was able to keep track of events around him to a remarkable degree. "Dogsbody" (the call sign for Bader's wing) became an unwelcome and frequent visitor to the other side of the English Channel. Often, coming back across the Channel after a mission, Bader would flip back the canopy of his Spitfire, unclip his oxygen mask and, while holding the stick between his good knee and his tin knee, light up his pipe. Pilots flying alongside Spitfire DB would sheer off, half in jest and half in earnest, in case Bader's plane blew up. For his brilliant and inspiring leadership of the Tangmere Wing - which he christened "The Bee Line Bus Service. The prompt and regular service. Return tickets only" - Bader was awarded a bar to his DSO.

Bader seemed invincible - but he was not. While leading his wing over France on August 9, 1941, he suffered a mid-air collision with a Messerschmitt Me-109 and captured by the Germans. He would spend most of the war in captivity, including time at the castle-prison Colditz for his escape attempts. Finally, in the spring of 1945, the American First Army took Colditz, liberating its prisoners, including Bader. Once released, he rushed to Paris demanding a Spitfire for one last fling before the war ended. Permission was refused; Bader's personal tally would stand at 22.5 German aircraft destroyed. Bader returned to England and took command of the Fighter Leader School at Tangmere, where he was promoted to group captain. Later that year he commanded the Essex sector of 11th Group at North Weald, and on September 15, he personally led the victory flypast of 300 RAF planes over London. The RAF offered him the rank and seniority he would have enjoyed if he had not been shot down, but Bader felt the peacetime air force would be anticlimactic after his wartime experiences. Shell Oil Company offered him a job in its aviation department, with his own airplane. Bader thought about it for four months, then resigned from the Royal Air Force for the last time.

After leaving the RAF in late February 1946, Bader flew all over the world, often with Thelma, touring Europe, Africa and America. He spent many hours visiting veterans hospitals. In 1976 Bader was knighted by Queen Elizabeth for his services to amputees, "so many of whom he had helped and inspired by his example and character." After Thelma's death, he married Joan Murray, who shared his interest in public work for the disabled. His workload would have been exhausting for anyone, let alone a legless man with a worsening heart condition, but iron willpower drove him on until August 1982, when he suffered a mild heart attack after a golf tournament in Ayrshire.

Three weeks later, on September 5, 1982, after serving as guest speaker at a London Guildhall dinner honoring the 90th birthday of the Marshal of the Royal Air Force, Sir Arthur "Bomber" Harris, Douglas Bader died of a heart attack. He was 72 years old. "He became a legend at first in the personification of RAF heroism during the Second World War," the London Times obituary said.

bobbysocks

05-16-2010, 04:38 AM

Michał Cwynar - from the Pilots Diary. (Poland)

My flying adventure started in 1934 during elementary (eliminating) gliding course at Ustjanowa in the Carpathian mount.

For a young beginner, a gliding course was quite a dramatic experience. Never having been in the air before, you were catapuled from the top of the mountain with instructions to glide down into the valley, to land anywhere, meadows or cornfields, but at all costs to avoid electric cables and dwellings.

The glider construction, was basically similar to the craft pioneer Otto Lilientahl had flown almost two hundred years before. The glider's tail was anchored to the ground, the nose’s hook attached to two partly elasticated ropes with rings, four labourers to each rope ran down the hill pulling outwards, diagonally, from the direction of the glider's f1ightpath.

At certain point, the instructor released the tail's anchorqge and one was shot out into the air while the labourers, losing momentum, tumbled down the slopes. The experience is one never forgotten- complete silence with only a slight breeze against one's face, one was gliding like seagull. Gliding course was a most effective way to eliminate those who had no ability or zest for flying.

There were some fatalities.

In the Spring 1935, I went to Elementary Flying School at Sadkow-Radom. In the Autumn moved to No 1 Air Force Base at Okecie, Warsaw. In the training squadron, we were flying Potez XV, Potez XXV, Breguet XIX and reconnaisance aeroplane , the Lublin.R.XIII, adapted for blind flying.

In the Spring 1936, I went to the Advanced Flying School at Grudziadz, where we were segregated to become fighter, bobmber or reconnaisance pilots. We were flying dual fighter trainer P.W.S. 26, single seater, first world war fighters , "Moran Saulnier Spad 6l",o~cL wonderful biplane for aerobatics, the Avia, and finall, a Polish fighter, the P.7.

In the Autumn, back in Warsaw, 113 Fighter Squadron, Warsaw Fighter Brigade comprise of 111, 112, 113 and 114 squadrons. 1938. May to December - flying the PFL XIC, as a member of the select fighter unit comprising seven pilots and machines, to a landing ground at Sarny, on the Polish/Soviet border to guard the Polish eastern fortifications (being built). From the high life of Warsaw to the Godforsaken outback.

The Commanding Officer of the group was Wladyslaw Szczesniewski, who became the Commanding Officer of 315 squadron at RAF Northolt, England, in 1941. His deputy from 114 squadron was A. Gabszewicz, who again, later became Commanding Officer of 3~6 Squadron at Northolt.

1939. End of August. Four squadrons of Warsaw Fighter Brigade were dispersed to advance landing ground near the Polish capital.

September 1. I shot down one JU 87 Stuka on the west side of Warsaw. The Junkers 87 were dive bombing our permanent air base at Okecie.

September 4. I engaged a Messerschmitt 110 or rather was attacked by him, from the sun. Tracer bullets from his two cannons passed my starboard side. The way he pulled up, climbing to line up for a second attack, emphasised the frightening disparity of our comparative speeds. Instinctively I decided to stay put and defend myself using the agility of the PZL by turning into his diving path, under him.

As the Me110 began to dive and fire from too far away, again I turned under him and then, as he started to climb, turned, starting to fire at him. I was on the tail of my "gegner" (enemy).

Unfortunately, the increasing distance between us allowed him to pull up again to repeat the attack.

Emboldened that I had a chance, I flew at right angles to his dive and then, again under him and up giving long bursts of machine gun fire.

His port engine started to smoke and he went into a dive towards intermittent clouds in a northerly direction towards the East Prussian border. I started to dive after him, his port engine now belching smoke. Again the disaprity in speed between us was so great he pulled away between the clouds.

Years later, at Northolt, while studying the performance of German machines, I realised why I had survived that encounter and managed to get some hits. The Messerschmitt 110 had good fire power but very poor manoeuvrability. There was no comparison with the British Mosquito or the French Potez 63.

September 10-12. With a German Panzer Division advancing on Warsaw we flew to a landing ground near Mlynow in the south-east of Poland.

September 17. We left Poland and landed at Bucharest airport in Romania. I was interned at a place called Urziceni, north of Bucharest.

Those days everybody in Romania could be bribed and our internment barracks Romanian police chief received a present - a pair of first class riding boots.

With his tacit agreement, every morning about thirty of us internees left by local bus for Romania's capital. To avoid the risk of being discovered with firearms in my possession, shortly before the coach left I went into a nearby hayfield, slipped behind a haystack and pretending to satisfy my physiological needs, pushed an empty Polish pilot's revolver, the "VLS", deep in into the hay.

There was, however, one item I was not going to part with, whatever the risk, my Polish fighter pilot's insignia, wings - original "Knedler's" of Warsaw. A flying Eagle carrying a green wreath in his beak, a symbolic tribute to fallen colleagues.

Then it was back to Bucharest and the Polish Embassy. With false passports - mine as a civilian mechanic - we travelled by train to Romania's Black Sea port of Constancia.

We boarded an overcrowded Greek boat, the Patria, luckily had a calm sea crossing to what was then French Syria and Beirut (now the Lebanon). We were sent to an army barracks with Senegalese soldiers, deloused, and the next day were put on a French boat, the Strasbourg bound for Marseilles.

1939. December. Arrived at Armee de L'Air base at Bron, near Lyon.

1940. January - March. We converted to French fighters, the Caudron 714 C. and the Morane-Saulnier 406.

In April Polish fighters were posted to various French fighter groups in sections of three pilots. Our section - W Baranski, our C/O from 113 squadron Warsaw, his deputy J. Borowski and myself, were posted to 3/6 Grouppe de Chasse station at Le Luc, south of Dranguignan. The Grouppe were flying Morane Saulnier 406's.

Within one week of our arrival at Le Luc, all pilots of this Grouppe, thirty-six of us, were sent by train to Toulouse. At the south aerodrome nearby, hundreds of the latest French fighters, Devoitine 520's, were ready to be collected.

We took off singly and landed on the north side of Tou louse Armee de L'Air base). At the south aerodeome where the Devoitines has been assembled, "Concorde" was to be built three decades later in the Seventies.

The following day we flew back to Le Luc. Within a week or so I had done lots of flying in this wonderful aircraft.

What happened one day, only Kafka could have dreamed up, it was such a missed chances scenario.

3/6 Grouppe was a very friendly, democratic set up. All the pilots were billeted in private homes at Le Luc and our C/U had commandeered the town's best restaurant for our dining. With long, rectangualr tables, the C/O at the top and the pilots, officers and non- commissioned officers mixed around, we indulged in traditional French style two hour lunches and evening meals.

My section leader, Pierre, a reservist more interested in fishing the nearby river than warfare, and I were in "readiness" to take off in the event of an emergency to defend our airfield and the nearby naval base of Toulon.

When on "readiness" duty the section remained at the aerodrome whilst the others climbed into a lorry and travelled the five kilometres to Le Luc for lunch. On this particular occasion, section leader Pierre convinced out group's CO there was no point in him staying on dutry because one Warrant Officer from "A" eskadrille was at that time patrolling in a Devoitine near Toulon.

When reminded that there were over seventy aircraft scattered around the airfield (including the now de-commissioned Morans 406), Pierre shrugged his shoulders and said: "Ca va!" The Commanding Officer told him so.

Meanwhile at a restaurant in Le Luc, we sat around a table. Before the C/O had a chance to stand up and raise a toast to the "Republique" we heard the noise of aircraft, in fact an Italian Fiat CR42 biplane of twelve, lining up in echelon starboard to strafe our base. We ran out into the garden and stood watching in disbelief at what was happening.

There was no point scrambling into our truck to drive back to the base. It was too late.

However, French honour was, to a degree, preserved. As the Italians started the first round of straffing, our W/O Pierre, le Gloan "A”, made a timely return to the base. As he approached the last bi-plane in the Italian formation began to open fire. He came in so fast he almost overshot the Italian and had to "kick" left and right on the Devoitine's rudder to slow down and place himself behind, “line astern”.

Right on the Italian's tail, he first short burst of 20mm cannon and the small bi-plane, presumably mainly a wooden structure, blew up, the pilot bailing out.

One by one was attacked by our W/O P. le Gloan.

He had downed six before the other Italians realised what was happened and scattered, fleeing towards the Italian border.

Back at the restaurant we were agonising over what damage the Italians had managed to inflict on our brand new Devoitines.

But when we arrived at the airfield we were pleasantly surprised. All the Devoitines were intact. Only three de-commissioned Morans 406 had been slightly damaged.

In April, before we had left Lyons for Le Luc, having learned that I no longer had a guitar having lost one back in Poland, my section colleagues, Baranski and Borowski, helped financially to procure a new one. They bought a nice "Selmer", the same model used by my idol, Django Reinhardt.

Now we were told we were to fly the next day to Perpignan and then on to Algiers. I decided to fly my precious possession in the Devoitine's fuselage right across the Mediterranean.

Behind the pilot's seat space, I took off a side panel and carefully tied the guitar to the longitudinal spars on the upper fuselage with string. Absorbed in my taks it was a short time before I noticed my section leader Pierre, watching as he puffed away on his pipe. I shrugged my shoulders and with an innocent smile, asked: "Ca va?" Without saying a word he walked away.

He was soon back carrying a largish bundle wrapped in black cloth and asked if I could fit his fishing equipment in to his Devoitine's fuselage. Fishing in Algiers City? Maybe in the Casbah!

The following day, 3/6 Grouppe flew to Perpignan near the Franco- Spanish border at the foot of the Pyrennes.

It was a muddy landing ground, cluttered with French machines -Morrans, Blochs, Potez light bombers and many other types. Only the landing slip was clear and we came down in single file. The Grouppe Commander summoned all the pilots together and said:

"Michal! You are in charge and responsbile for turning all thirty six aircraft fuselage tanks 'on' (the one's behind the pilot's armoured plate) and supervising re-fuelling for tomorrow's long flight across the Mediterranean."

The other pilots left for Perpignan's bistros.

Why me? Ah Yes! Pierre must have told our CO about the flying guitar.

Back in 1933, at Bydgoczcz Flying School, I had met my guitar partner, Jan Musial. He was born only twelve kilometres from my native village; he was tall and handsome, of gypsy stock. In that region there were many Hungarian gypsies.

We were both influenced by their music, their zest for life that poured from their violins and guitars. Jan was the Polish incarnation of Django Reinhardt. At the end of three years we asked to be posted to the same Air Force base at Warsaw, Jasio with 112 Squadron and I with 113.

Mustang Mk III and pilots of 315th in spring of 1944. From left: Haczkiewicz, Cwynar, Schmidt (Stefankiewicz?), Sztramko, ? on wheel, Wunsche.

At night, glued to the radio with music sheets beside us to copy certain phrases, we listened to Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grappelli's Quintet de France, on English radio broadcasting from Daventry, Peter Kreuder from Hamburg, Helmut Zacharias from Bremmen and Georges Boulanger from Bucharest.

We were completely taken, enthralled by the innovate improvisations of Django.

He once told an American visitor to Paris who tried to impress him with elaborate improvisation: "You are farting too many notes."

In Romania and France, Jasio and I lost touch. Later, in England at Northolt, when he was with 316 and I with 315, we resumed our musical partnership.

At the Sergeant's Mess dances we played with sergeant Reginald Dickson who was at the piano. (He later went on to thrill millions of visitors to Blackpool with his skilful mastery on the Tower Organ.

On the 13th of February, 1942, Jan was leading a section of three in a squadron of Spitfires climbing through the clouds to attain rendezvous height with a bomber formation. He was hit on the back of the head by his wingman's wing tip.

He, Jasio, must have remained conscious because his Spitfire was found in a field, neatly landed with the undercarriage "up". My dear friend was sitting in the cabin as if he was asleep.

In my flying album, I have a photograph with the caption: "Michael after the religious ceremony at Northolt's hangar, carrying Jasio's coffin on to the lorry's platform and then to Northwood Cemetery, GB, Grave No. H-21O"

The following day, Jasio's squadron commander A. Gabszewicz came to 315 dispersal and gave me my dear colleague's guitar…

At Perpignan the following morning we were briefed before flying to Algiers.

We had only one map of North Africa between us and it was in the possession of one of the Grouppe's pilots who had flown for a French civil airline between Marseilles and Algiers before the war.

We took off singly from the muddy airfield, Pierre one before last, and I following. He was in a left hahd circle but could not "lock" the Devoitine's undercarraige "up" because of mud on the wheels. He kept trying the undercarraige lever, "up and down11, "up and down", circling round Perpignan airfield.

I noticed that the rest of our Grouppe had flown away but I stuck with him.

Eventually Pierre managed to "clear" the mud and the Devoitine's undercarriage "locked up".

For a few minutes we flew along the Spanish coast then turned south towards the Balearic Island of Ibiza. As we approached at a height of about 1,500 metres, the Spaniards greeted us with artillery fire. We turned south on course 170~ on our estimated two hour flight to Algiers. We did not have any "MaeWests".

The Devoitine's engine, a 12Y Hispano-Suiza, purred nicely as we flew into the unknown. I was aware that it would be my last flight in this wonderful machine. It was comfortable and spacious inside, smooth in aerobatics and had first class armaments with a propeller synchronised 20 mm cannon and four 75 mm machine guns but we had no chance to take on the Germans. If only we had had a chance to fly Devoitine 's over Warsaw the previous September.

Weather conditions were very good with puffed cumulus clouds indicating high pressure in the region. After one and a half hours flying, we spotted dark land at "eleven o'clock" and changed course to about 1600 only to find it was a cloud, darkened by the reflection of a westerly sun.

We went back to 1700 and after two hours and fifteen minutes flying, we reached the North African coast. Pierre, rightly turned to starboard and soon, following the coast, we reached Algiers air base.

Once again there were so many aircraft on the airfield, there was hardly any space to land. After coming down singly, at the end of outrun, we had to year left then right, to avoid hitting parked aircraft.

I took out my small personal belongings, extracted my guitar, and stroked the Devoitine's fuselage, as if it were a living creature. To me-it was!

For most of our French colleagues, the war was over. My section leader went back to his beloved France to fish in the Garonne and Dordogne rivers near Bordeaux.

For we Poles, our tortuous quest to regain our country was to continue from the only free country left in Europe, Great Britain. Free French Forces were going to fight on against tyranny. Our brave and sagacious W/O Le Gloan, who had shot down six Italian Fiats CR42, along with another young officer, did not want to have anything to do with the Vichy Government. They refuelled their Devoitines and planned ostensibly to fly to Malta! It was a deliberate deception! French did not want us, Poles, to know theirs real intentions.

Our Polish Commanding Officer, W. Baranski, located us in hotels in the town. From there, with other fellow countrymen already in Algiers who had arrived by boat from Marseilles and Toulon, we organised our journey to Casablanca and from there on to Gibraltar.

In oppressively hot weather, it took two days by train through Oran and Fez to reach Casablanca.

There, in North Africa as a young man, I could not stand the hot, oppressive climate. That's why, now on Albion's soil, I have never complained about the British weather. As far as I am concerned, English and Scottish dampness suits me fine.

We spent the few days waiting on our boat for Gibraltar lounging in the room of our suburban Casablanca lodgings because of the heat. I shared the room with a colleague from Warsaw's 113 squadron, Kazik Sztramko.

One cool night we went into Casablanca, a modern town, and met our CO and his deputy in unexpected - or rather "expected" - places. We pretended not to notice each other.

Returning to our lodgings, Kazik, a harbinger of bad tidings, entered our room first and said: "Michael. I've got bad news for you. Your guitar has been stolen."

From Gibraltar, in a large convoy of merchant boats and a British Navy escort, we sailed wet into the Atlantic.

After nine days we landed at Liverpool. We boarded a train and sped off somewhere during the night. At dawn, we stopped at a large railway junction. It turned out to be Carlisle. We were travelling north, to Scotland.

We arrived in Glasgow and were accommodated in Kelvinhall church halls. There was a friendly gesture from the Lord Provost of Glasgow, Patrick Dollad. We Poles were allowed to travel free of charge on the City's tram network.

From Scotland we went south again to Blackpool's Polish depot, under British jurisdiction.

I was hoping to be posted to the South of England to take part in the Battle of Britain but, instead, after a number of weeks with many other experienced pilots, I went to N15FTS, Carlisle.

In town, I was accommodated with a charming, retired English couple, Mrs and Mrs McCubbing.

And with a bit of financial help from my flying colleagues, I bought a new guitar.

At 15FT5, our instructor was, to we Poles, a God-like figure, a Polish chief test pilot from PZL Warsaw, Kpt Orlinski. At the end of a short course, flying Fairey-Battles, I decided to try some aerobatics.

In the safest place, not to be seen by anyone including the Observor Corps, was way out west over the Solway Firth. To execute a straight slow roll on that ungainly light-bomber, one had to work very hard.

On the return flight to Carlisle, I crossed.to the Scottish side of the Firth flying along the Galloway Hills. Flying east I passed the majestic mountain, Criffel, on my left but hardly glanced at the town nestling farther north by the river's meandering estuary.

After four years of hostilities and 123 operational flights across the English Channel, it was in that town, Dumfries, which I had just perfunctorily looked on from above, I was to settle. Amongst the solid, pragmatic Scots, found personal happiness: "All this and heaven too!"

From Carlisle, I was posted to No 10 Bomber & Gunnery School RAF Unit at Heathhall, Dumfries. For a short time I was flying Fairey-Battle, two seater light bombers, towing drogues along the Solway coast.

The two hourly flights were monotonous so once the operator had retracted the drogue into' the aircraft~ fuselage, I indulged in some low flying - "cutting the grass" - to the south side of Criffell, skirting the trees and buzzing the train in the glen.

Soon after I was posted to the newly formed 315 Polish fighter squadron to RAF Speke. Later, South of England 11th Fighter Group "real" flying took place. I was to fly Hurricanes, Spitfires II, V and IX and Mustangs until the end of hostilities in Europe in 1945.

In 1945, while I was CO of 316 City of Warsaw Fighter Squadron flying Mustangs out of RAF Coltishall, one pilot told me that, when on antidiver patrol he ran out of ammunition. To bring down a flying bomb, he flew close to the VI and with his Mustang's wingtip, lifted - "tapped" -its wing upwards. The gyroscope, the main instrument that kept it flying, went haywire and the doodlebug dived into the ground.

Having some personal experience of "tapping" colleagues' wings while in formation aerobatics, I thought to touch a vibrating, jerky flying bomb was indeed a courageous thing to do....

In the early spring of 1938, while I was with 113 squadron, Warsaw Fighter Brigade, flying PZL X1/2's, news circulated amongst the pilots that a unit of seven aircraft was going to be sent for a period of at least six months to the Polish/Soviet border. Operating from a prepared landing ground, the unit's task would

be to guard the fortifications being built along the Soviet border. The unit would patrol along the northern side of the river Pripiec, near Pinsk, to the south of the ancient Polish Podole town of Krzemieniec Podolski.

From the high night-life of Warsaw, we were being sent to the God forsaken outback of the Polish eastern border. With trepidation we awaited our sentence.

Wladek Szczesniewski, CO of 113 squadron was to lead the unit; his deputy, from '114 squadron, Aleksander Gabszewicz; and the other pilots, Jan Borowski, Hieronim Dudwal, Mietek Kazmierczak, Kazik Sztramko and Michal Cwynar.

On the 6th of May we landed on s sandy strip in a clearing in a pine forest near the smalltown of Sarny.

During the following months, patrolling along the border in sections of two aircraft, we occasionally "strayed" into Soviet territory for ten to fifteen minutes, flying low, to have a look at the Soviet huge, expansive rectangular fields were under cultivation. Groups of men and women toiled away, never looking up, when we flew over. We saw tractors and cultivators, sometimes sitting in the middle of fields, covered in rust, seemingly abandoned after breaking down.

"Kulaks" - dispossessed Russian farmers now working on collective farms - seemed to have ploughed those huge fields in circles, ignoring the corners. Back in the Carpathian foothills where I came from, every stretch of field that a spade's blade could dig was tenderly cultivated. Flying over that waste I though of my second brother, Franek, a farmer who could make a few hectares of precious arable ground from just the four wasted corners in one field.

In that forgotten outback, apart from flying, there wasn't much else to do. Our CO Szczesniewski, a brilliant aerobatic pilot, decided we should regularly train in formation aerobatics. He alloted the six of us permanent (in an inverted "V" shape) positions. Mine was last on the port side or, to use the old football vernacular, outside left!

Upside down in zenith position, to counter-act the downward speed lag, one tended to overtake the colleague in front, trying to maintain close formation. On one occasion there was a hell of a bang. I had "tapped" my colleague's outer wing and his radio antenae mount had made a round hole in my wing!

I could see him in the PZL Xl's open cockpit angrily gesturing, his head left-right-left. He broke off formation; I followed; we both landed.

"It-was your fault." "Oh No. It was your fault.” CO Szczesniewski: "Both of you are to blame. Three days confinement to quarters. Both." It was only a token gesture, there was nowhere to go anyway!

Our sojourn on the eastern border was to end with the first snows in early December. On our return to civilisation, over our Warsaw base, we planned to demonstrate formation aerobatics, first with the most difficult manoeuvre, looping in line-abreast", then in a "V" shape, and third with an "arrow”.

On the 6th December, with the ground already covered by the first winter snow, we left Sarny. But for the past seven months during which there were many flying hours, our Bristol-Mercury VIS2 engines (built under licence in Poland) had not had a major service. They had had enough.

On the return flight, four pilots landed with engine failure. Only three of us landed at Okecie base in Warsaw.

This is what happened to the "Banished Seven".

Wladek Szczesniewski, the second commanding officer of 315 Polish fighter squadron, flying out of Northolt in late 1941, was shot down over northern France. He spent most of the wartime years in the notorious Stalag Luft III prisoner of war camp along with the first and third 315 squadron commanders Pietraszkiewicz and Janus, and B Flight commander Mickiewicz. After the war Szczesniewski returned to Warsaw where he was arrested by the Communists. Later released, he bought a dilapidated lorry and scratched a living on the east bank of the Warsaw-Praga. He died in the late Seventies.

Aleksander Gabszewicz became commanding officer of 316 Polish fighter squadron at Northolt in 1942. Later he became a wing commander and station commander and settled in England where he died in the late Eighties. His wish to return to a free Poland came true. During the week the Polish Air Force Standards were returned to Warsaw from London, on 9th September, 1992, Aleksander's ashes were scattered over Poniatow, 113 and 114 squadron's landing ground during the first days of the 1939 September campaign. The Gabszewicz family and a Guard of Honour were on board the Polish Air Force Helicopter at the time.

Jan Borowski; mathematician; ballistics expert; our "intellectual" from Sarny, who, following orders from "on high", always led our "excursions" into Soviet territory, was in England in 1941 with 302 Polish fighter squadron as a flight commander. Returning from an operational mission over France, he hit London's balloon barrage in bad weather and was killed.

Hieronim Dudwal, 113 and 114 squadrons' most successful pilot during the September, 1939, campaign, shot down four German aircraft - an ME11O, He 111, JU 86 and an HES. 126. He was killed in action in the spring of 1940 while flying with a French Grouppe de Chase.

Mietek Kazmierczak, my "wing tapping" colleague, was killed in action during the 1939 September campaign. 113 and 114 squadrons were flying west to attack a German panzer unit near the town of Sochaczew, outside Warsaw, when we intercepted a large formation of JU 52 bombers. Kazmierczak dived under the formation attacking the leading bomber and shot it down in flames. He kept firing on other 30 52's and then, sudenly, dived into the ground himself. Later, he was found to be shot. Presumably by air gunners. He rests near Warsaw.

Kazik Sztramko, my dear friend, a flying colleague for so many years and at times the harbinger of bad news, taught me in Sarny how to drink 90% proof spirit, yet to avoid setting ones gullet on fire. In France, 1940, we were separated flyoing with different Grouppe. Both of us had flown across Mediteranean, and met again in Algiers-Casbah! In 1944, strafing airbase hangars near Hannover, I was “shot-up” and slightly wounded. Kazik escorted me “tenderly” back to safety od our base in Brenzett. With his charming Polish wife Wanda, settled in Hamilton, Ontario, and raised a family. Died ion December 1995.

Six of “Banished Seven” formation have flown to eternity. Outside-left (the seventh) is bracing himself up to cross the river Styx.

Spring 1944. Pilots of 315th are 'riding' on "Mustang"... ;-) Second from left Michał Cwynar.

bobbysocks

05-16-2010, 04:44 AM

Heinz "Pritzl" Bär in competition with Gollob.

Heinz Bär was born on 21 March 1913 in Sommerfeld near Lipsk. By 1935, he had been trained to fly Luftwaffe bombers and then was posted to transport duty, flying Ju 52/3m. In the beginning of 1939 Heinz completed fighter training and was posted to JG 51. On 25 September of that year, Bär opened his killboard, shooting down a French Curtiss H-75 A-2 of GC I/4. During the French campaign of 1940, he scored seven more kills: 3 French and 4 British planes. In the Battle of Britain, while ten enemy fighters fell prey to his guns, Bär's Bf 109 returned to base heavily damaged a few times. On 2 September 1940 he experienced 'swimming' in the Channel's cold water, having been shot down himself...

1941 brought the relocation of JG 51 to the Eastern Front. Here Bär's score rose quickly. On 2 July 1941 he was promoted to Leutnant and awarded the Knight's Cross, having totalled 27 kills. When he reached 60 victories, on 14 August 1941, Bär was decorated with the Oak Leaves. On one day, 30 August 1941, Bär scored 6 Soviet planes. From the beginning of 1942 Bär took command of IV/JG 51, and in mid-February he was awarded by Swords, having achieved 90 kills. In the spring of 1942, Bär was to face significant new challenges - - the heavy air battles in the southern part of the Russo-German Front, the Kerch Peninsula area.

"In these days, two of the Luftwaffe 's top aces arrived to command positions in JG 77 in the Crimea: Hauptmann Gordon Gollob, whose score stood at 86, was sent from the Test Centre at Rechlinto take over as Geschwaderkommodore , and Hauptmann Heinz Bär with 91 victories to his credit was sent from IV./JG 51 on the Moscow front to take charge of I./JG 77. Both were highly awarded - Bär with the Swords to the Knight's Cross with Oak Leaves while Gollob carried the Oak Leaves. These two men were however had diametrically opposed personalities. "Pritzl" Bär, the notoriously undisciplined Lepiziger who simply refused to fly on combat missions whenever he didn't feel 'inspired' and the harsh Nazi follower MacGollob of old Prussian military style definitely would have clashed, had not Bär's I./JG 77 hastily been transferred to the Mediterranean area a few weeks later. However, during the last two weeks of May 1942, Bär and Gollob practically 'took over' the air over the Kerch - Taman area.

On 16 May, Heinz Bär proved his skills by shooting down two LaGG-3s - his 92nd and 93rd victories. Next day, Gollob followed by destroying three R-5 light bombers. He there after attacked a Yak-1 piloted by Sergeant N. K. Chayka. He hit the Yakovlev, saw it go down and returned home, reporting it as his 93rd victory (claiming it as a LaGG-3). Not caring much about the war in general, Gollob started competing with his subordinate in the cynical manner that characterized many of the Luftwaffe fighter aces during World War II. The fate of his last victim didn't bother the ambitious Gollob the slightest. Having suffered severe wounds from the machine guns and automatic cannon in Gollob's Messerschmitt Bf 109 F, the young Sergeant Chayka struggled at the controls of his damaged Yakovlev fighter. He managed to bring it back to the Khersones airfield, but lost control of it during landing and crashed into another Yak-1. Both planes were destroyed and Chayka was killed.

Having returned to base, Gollob learned that Bär meanwhile had bagged three MiG-3s. Hauptmann Gollob continued to strive for successes, picking easy targets during the following days. In contrast to the common fighter tactic of attacking from above, Gollob preferred to sneak up from ground-level, to be surethat no-one tried to attack him from the blind spot beneath. An anonymous pilot of JG 77 wrote the following account of Gollob's way of fighting:

'Gollob flew from Kerch together with his wingman. They positioned themselves at a low altitude beneath a Russian formation. Then they started climbing in spirals, carefully maintaining their position beneath the enemy formation. Before the peacefully flying Russians had even suspected any mischief, the two planes at the bottom of their formation had been shot down and the two Germans were gone.' (Prien: JG 77, p. 1018.)

On 18 May, another three obsolete R-5 bombers fell prey to Gollob's private ambitions, raising his kill score to 96. Yet again he was surpassed by Bär, who got involved in a combat with twelve Soviet fighters over the Tamanskaya Sound and shot down two LaGG-3s. The same day, Heinz Bär's I./JG 77 was visitedby his personal friend, Jagfliegergeneral Adolf Galland . A detail in this context is that a deep animosity eventually would develop between Galland and Gollob. Having sacked Gollob from his post as fighter plane expert due to lacking competence in 1944, Galland as Jagdfliegergeneral soon found himself targeted by Gollob's plotting (in house arrest early in 1945, Galland was informed that Gollob collected material against him regarding his private use of Luftwaffe cars, his gambling and his notorious womanizing).

On 19 May, Gollob and Bär both were in action. The former managed to bring down three R-5s again, but the magical '100th victory' slipped away. Meanwhile, Heinz Bär shot five Ishak fighters from the sky, for which he was mentioned in the OKW bulletin on the following day:

' Hauptmann Bär, the Gruppenkommandeur in a Jagdgeschwader, achieved his 99th to 103rd aerial victories yesterday. The total victory tally of Jagdgeschwader 77 has increased to 2,011.'

Next day, Gollob lurked along the Caucasus coast and managed to bring down a DB-3 bomber - being the tenth German fighter pilot to surpass the 100th victory score - followed by an unhappy LaGG-3."

This text is an excerpt from the manuscript of a book "Black Cross/Red Star; German and Russian Fighter Pilots in Combat 1941-1945" dealing with the air war on the Eastern Front 1941-1945, which Christer Bergström is working on at the present. This book will give the most thorough-going account so far presented of aerial combat between the Luftwaffe and the Soviet Air Force during World War II. By carefully comparing German and Russian sources, Christer Bergström has arrived at many astonishing and hitherto unknown facts.

Soon after this exciting point in the irrivalry, in June of 1942, Bär's JG 77 was moved to MTO area. While leading I./JG 77, 'Pritzl' downed several British fighters over Malta . On 13 October 1942 his victims were three "Spitfires" (two of 185 Sgn and one of 1435 Sqn RAF). Another "Spitfire" was shot down four days later (17 October 1942) near La Valetta. Then Heinz Bär took part in combat missions in the hot African sky. In Tunisia, he scored his next 61 Allied aircraft victories (Nos 118-179). But the density of air activity from the start of the war combined with the hard battle conditions in Africa to seriously undermine Bär's fighting spirit, and exhaust him both physically and mentally. In effect, this famous ace was removed from command and sent back to Germany for 'rehabilitation'.

The spring of 1944 saw Major Heinz Bär back in active duty as commander of the II./JG 1 in defense of the Reich. His first victory after so long a break, Bär's 200th, was scored flying FW 190A-7 'red 23' on 22 April 1944. A week later, on 29 April 1944, he took off with another personal FW 190 A-7, WNr 431007 'red 13' (see profile bottom). On this morning 28 fighters from his II./JG 1 were vectored against a USAAF bombers. "Pritzl" shot down a P-47 "Thunderbolt", for victory No. 201, and a few minutes later flamed a B-24 "Liberator" for No. 202. In 1944, he downed three Allied planes more, achieving 205 kills.

In the beginning of 1945 Heinz Bär was moved to command the jet fighter school III./EJG 2 ( Lechfeld Schule ). In March of 1945 this school was reformed to an operational unit equipped with Me 262s. On 19 March 1945 'Pritzl' scored his first 'jet' victory - a P-51 "Mustang". In the hands of an expert the Me 262 proved it self a most deadly weapon: on 21 March "Pritzl" claimed a B-24, and three days later his victims were another B-24 and a P-51 (Nos 208-209). Until 23 April 1944, when Bär arrived at Galland's JV 44 he was credited with 13 'jet' victories. With the "jet experten" of JV 44, Bär downed two P-47s on 27 April. The final victory of "Pritzl" Bär in WW II was a P-47, downed over Bad Aibiling on 29 April 1945.

With total of 221 victories Heinz Bär is ranked 8th among the Luftwaffe's top guns and with 16 Me 262 kills, he's the 3rd ranking 'jet' fighter ace of WW II.

It's interesting to note that Bär was very fortunate - while achieving those victories, he was shot down 18 times himself! Bär's good fortune in the air left him on 28 April 1957, when he was killed in light plane accident in Braunschweig, Germany.

_JIM_

05-16-2010, 09:46 PM

Love these postings and reading these first hand accounts from the pilots. Gives you some idea of what it must have been like.

bobbysocks

05-17-2010, 06:21 PM

Three Squadron flew the last Kittyhawk operation of 1942 on 30 December, and it is reported in "Fighters Over The Desert" (by Shores and Ring) as follows:

"At 1350 hours seven aircraft of this unit patrolled over Bir el Zidan, refuelling at Alem el Gzina so that they were able to remain in the area until 1730 hours. During the afternoon, fifteen Bf 109's of 11 JG77 attacked, but the Australians were able to claim victories without losses, F/Lt Watt, F/Lt Bordman and Sgt Righetti each shooting down one fighter. Watts claiming a second probably destroyed. Oblt. Burchard Boker was killed, and Uffz. Gunter Mielenz became a POW."

My diary notes help reconstruct the scene that day:

We had flown to Gzina, a landing ground that had been found by Danny Boardman, and which we knew as "Danny's Acre", refuelled, and took off at about 3.15pm to patrol over our forward troops, who were south west of Buerat. Danny was leading, and the gaggle included Randall Watt, his No.2 Alan Righetti, and David Ritchie with me as his No.2. David had to return early.

Nearing the area, we saw trucks burning, where 109's had apparently been strafing. We were at 10,000ft when Danny reported 12 aircraft at 2 o'clock on the same level and ordered us to climb. Six 109's came out of the sun, two were behind us, and seven more were above. They attacked from all directions and split us up completely.

I was attacked by two of them, and in taking evasive action, spun from 8,000 to 1,500 ft; thought I’d "had it", not from the spin which I controlled OK, but from the 109's. Fortunately for some reason, they didn't follow me down.

I climbed back and was attacked by two more 109's who did very poor "head ons", which allowed me to get a quick shot at one, with no result. Pulled away and climbed up to 5,000ft where I saw a 109 sitting about 1,000ft above me. We watched each other for a while, and he was so intent on trying to get into position to lodge an attack, that he didn't see Watty who came in behind him. The next moment I saw the 109 simply disintegrate and catch fire, (on our return to base I was able to confirm this for him). Watty got so excited that he called to me to "come on up Russ and we'll get some more". I climbed as quickly as I could, but didn't get anywhere near him, because he had seen 4 more 109's west of him, engaged them and got a probable.

I was on my own now, saw another aircraft east of me, thought it may have been a 109, but it turned out to be Danny Boardman, and we came back to base together.

In his excellent book "Desert Warriors", Russell Brown includes reports from Danny, Watt and Alan Righetti. Each of those three destroyed a 109.

And so ended 1942.

January of 1943 was to be a time of conflicting emotions for us. On the morning of the 14th, we were excited because mail had come in, but the day was to end on a very distressing note: we were to have five aircraft shot down.

Our first job was to be top cover to 260 squadron, who was to strafe, but they couldn't find the target, so we returned to base. Late in the morning, 12 Kittys led by Bob Gibbes were to be close escort to Bostons, who were to bomb Bir Dufan airfield. 450 squadron was to be medium cover, 250 as top, and 260 had a roving commission; 48 Kittyhawks was thought to be impregnable.

However, a fair force of 109's from the ace Staffel 1/JG 77, led by Major Muncheberg (who just 8 days later was to shoot down Alan Righetti, who became a POW, and also do a fair bit of damage to my own aircraft). There were also some Macchi 202's in the enemy force. The 109's attacked and the result for 3 Squadron was five aircraft lost. Les Weatherburn became a POW, Norm Caldwell was found in a hospital as the Allies advanced, Bob Gibbes aircraft was hit, he belly landed and later returned to base. Sadly Bill Diehm and Allan Tonkin (on his first operation) were killed. 450 also lost two pilots.

In the afternoon conditions were very poor with sandstorms around, and only seven of us got off. Garth Clabburn was leading but was forced to return with engine problems, and Rex Bayly took over. We were to do a dive bombing job, and also act as top cover to 450 Squadron. Six 109's attacked us and I was lucky to be able to avoid one who was right on my tail. I saw a 109 closing in on Nev Austin's aircraft, and was making my way over to try and help, but before I could get there Nev was shot down. Rex Bayly had also seen Nev in trouble, was closer than me and able to get behind the 109 and shoot him down. When we left the area there were two fires on the ground. Ted Hankey was missing for a while, but it turned out he had put down at another landing ground. Rex Bayly’s account of this encounter is also reported in Russell Brown's book. While Gibby was missing, Randall Watt took over. On the 27th, Randall was the fourth pilot from the operations of the14th, to be killed. He was also one of four sons, all of whom who were lost to a mother, during the war.

Major Muncheberg was probably the top German pilot of this time, and at the time of his death was credited with 135 victories. He had done most of his fighting in the European theatre of war, and his score there was 124, plus 11 in North Africa. His death occurred in a bizarre manner, and is recorded in "Fighters Over Tunisia":

"Around 0930 on the 23rd March 1943, Major Muncheberg of Stab/JG 77 took off from La Fauconnerie with his wingman, Lt. Strasen, and headed for the Mareth area to see "if there was anything to shoot down". Strasen saw below some Spitfires of the 52nd Fighter Group near Sened, and both dived to attack, Muncheberg attacking Captain Theodore Sweetland, whose aircraft began to pour smoke as it was hit in the engine. Muncheberg's speed was so great that he got too near to his 135th victim, and what happened next is not very clear. Strasen reported that Sweetland's aircraft exploded and that debris fell on Muncheberg's wings, one of which snapped off. Captain Hugh L. Williamson reported however, that Sweetland deliberately rammed the Messerschmidt with his burning Spitfire. Whatever the truth was, both aircraft fell to the ground in flames; at this moment Strasen shot down Williamson, who baled out, all three aircraft crashing near kilometre stone No.82 on the Gabes-Gafsa road, the wreckage of the Messerschmidt flanked by that of the two Spitfires. So died one of the Luftwaffe's most outstanding fighter pilots and leader."

MOMENTS TO REMEMBER ... by BRUCE BURCHFIELD.

Momentous, indeed incredible, the might of Rommel's Army, which had almost cracked the gate to Egypt, the Suez and the Far East, was now, in August 1943, hell bent to get to Messina in the NE tip of Sicily and evacuate across the Straits of Messina to Regio on the Italian mainland.

We for our part, had to inflict as much damage as we could in daylight hours. In the closing days of August the narrow Straits of Messina and the air space above was an incredible sight. It was estimated that there was more AA fire concentrated in this tiny area than in the Ruhr valley.

88mm, 40mm and 20mm guns were spewing out metal, RN cruisers at a respectable distance were softening up the Regio area; Spitfires, Kittyhawks, Boston bombers and German FW190 s and JU88 s were in the melee.

We flew into this madness, dive bombing port installations and quite frankly we were very relieved to break away and head for home. Regrettably His Majesty's Kittyhawk CV-L was modestly holed.

Italy capitulated on 3/9/43, her navy went to Malta, her Axis partner Germany dug in and fought a tenacious retreat throughout Italy over many months.

On a more personal experience, my diary records 10th January 1944: our six aircraft were strafing German motor transport - I was 3rd down this valley, had some success and weaving along the valley. I passed over two armoured cars off the road and on a slope. Climbing away, bingo ... holes in starboard wing, two more through engine and plenty of wind behind my head - a shell had taken my radio right out - about 18" to the rear.

The motor was spluttering, engine gauges crazy, black smoke in abundance and I was too low to bail our. Undid my harness - mouth very dry and the landscape most inhospitable to crash land. Rocked the aircraft, jiggled the throttle and mixture controls - motor picked up in spasmodic bursts and air speed recorded a very slow 120 mph. Weaved along a valley to the Adriatic coast near city of Pescara and noticed that my landing flaps had dropped to about 30 degrees - no hydraulics.

The AA batteries on the coast gave me a warm welcome - a ponderous smoking aircraft but perhaps my laboured progress upset them for the "black stuff" was bursting well ahead. More splutters so down to water level to ditch - motor picked up - by this time I was on friendly waters and could see our coastal landing strip ahead. Coaxed the air craft to about 800ft, still barely airborne - a horrible smell of burning.

The duty pilot in the strip could see me - fired a green flare - a great sight. Stuffed the nose down and came into friendly territory, landed with a thump - too fast for landing flaps would not lower fully and at about 40mph the fire in the engine manifested itself.

I had switched off everything. pointed the plane to a sand dune on the beach and went out of the cockpit onto the wing and bingo, on to "terra firma" a great feeling. A momentous happening - maybe; but there are many other air crew who would have been less fortunate and I salute them.

Incidentally the aircraft was a Warhawk powered by a Packard manufactured "Rolls Royce" Merlin. There was a fist size hole in the super charger housing which exuded fuel mixture into the exhaust stack. Whilst the aircraft was moving at some speed the fire could not take control because of slip stream. One engine mounting and one ignition bank had been shot away as well ... but I will always have a soft spot for Packard Merlins.

Did a fighter pilot's Instructors' course at Point Cook and was posted to Mildura as an Instructor. It was here that I heard of the end of the war and in the celebrations that followed many of us paused to recall the mates that did not make it and also pay tribute to the efficiency of our ground staff both at home and abroad.

J.C.Waters tells the story of "BLACKIE and BLONDIE" in his book:

"VALIANT YOUTH"

This is a story of the remarkable parallels in the fighting life of "Blackie" - Wing Commander Alan Charles Rawlinson, D.F.C. and Bar, and of "Blondie" - Squadron Leader John Rowley Perrin, D.F.C.

They joined the R.A.A.F on the same day; they were cadet sergeants together; they were posted to the same squadron and were in the same flight; they left the Middle East, each with a bag of eight enemy planes destroyed; each shot down three on two occasions; they were flight commanders together; they were shot down within a week of each other in the same spot in the desert, and rescued by the same General. Back home they were together leading companion squadrons on the Advanced Air-line in New Guinea.

Rawlinson was 19 and Perrin 21 when they joined the R.A.A.F. on July 15 1938. That was Perrin's birthday. Both were clerks in Melbourne offices. They met that day for the first time. Both were State High School boys. Rawlinson, East Melbourne Harrier Club champion in 1935-36, dark, with high cheek-bones and the quick, flashing eyes of a Bedouin; Perrin, snowy-headed, light blue eyes in a smiling, hot-blooded, Huckleberry Finn face. They became Good Companions. It was not long before they were dubbed the Flying Twins, one called Blackie, the other Blondie.

They were together when they first drew enemy blood. It was over Bardia when the Italian armies were being routed by Wavell in the first big push of '41. They were leading sections when eight of their machines came up against 10 enemy bombers and 45 enemy fighters. Eight against 55. Giving away heavy odds - as they had to in those days - held no terrors for the Australians. Blondie, with "Woof" Arthur, belted a fighter into the sea, and Blackie, fighting from 17,000 feet down to 10,000, got a probable.

Not long after that, Blackie, through no fault of his own, broke away from the parallel line. Blondie was away collecting Hurricanes. Blackie, in a Gladiator, was forced out of a fight with Italians. His engine cut out and he force-landed in the desert. He got the engine going again and staggered off with dozens of shrapnel holes in wings and fuselage. A mile from the drome the engine gave up. He landed and walked in.

One day in February '41, Blondie went off leading three of the new Hurricanes. They were south of Benghazi. Wavell's army had travelled over 400 miles in 56 days. Blondie spotted nine German Stukas dive-bombing and strafing Australian troops. He could not see any fighter escort.

"Too good to miss," he said.

He dived to the attack, shot down a Stuka. Suddenly, out of the blue, swooped 15 Messerschmitt twin-engine fighters. It was the first time they had appeared in the desert. A few seconds, and Blondie was alone - one against 15.

Probably there was a smile on his stubborn lips. In the colourful jargon of the air, he "got stuck into them." He shot down one. Then a cannon shell burst in his petrol tank. Slightly wounded, soaked in petrol, and with the Hurricane afire, he turned furiously as a wasp on his assailant, pressed the button, and shot him down in flames. He tried to get still another German before he crash-landed. The Germans followed him down to strafe him. He dodged over the sand like a hare at a Plumpton and was picked up by Major-General Stan Savige of the 6th Australian Division.

In that fight Blondie won his D.F.C.

Seven days later, Blackie was doing a reconnaissance over the same area. He crash-landed in a mine-field and was picked up by the same general and staff. In April he caught up with Blondie's score. Eight Hurricanes took on 18 Stukas and Messerschmitts. They knocked out nine of them. Blackie bagged three Stukas one after the other. Two days later Blondie forged ahead again. A flight of eight mixed it with 15 of the enemy. They shot down eight. Blondie bagged three Stukas, too. One after the other, just like that.

After that they moved to Syria for the war against the Vichy French. They changed from Hurricanes to Tomahawks. Blackie became O.C. C Flight and Blondie O.C. B Flight. Peter Jeffrey, D.S.O., D.F.C., who had destroyed four German planes in single-handed combat, one in the air, three on the ground, was squadron C.O. He was their original instructor at Point Cook.

Over in Syria Blondie quickly added a Vichy French to his tally. It was in a fight over the oil pipe-line at Palmyra. Two days later Blackie's flight met up with six Vichy French light bombers over the same zone. The six were shot down in flames and Blackie got his second three in a row. For his leadership and courage in that operation, on top of his desert record, he won his D.F.C.

The partnership was broken then. The days of fighting against heavy odds and strafing in companionship ended. Blackie, with an ammunition train and several staff cars to his credit, Blondie wearing the scalps of despatch riders at his belt. Each had his own speciality when not in combat or beating up aerodromes, trains, and enemy dumps.

Blondie came home. Blackie, appointed C.O. of the famous No. 3 Squadron, went back to the desert. There, very soon, 22 Tomahawks were jumped by 25 Messerschmitt 109s, the new crack German fighter. The fight lasted for 65 minutes, one of the longest desert air battles on record. It was fairly even going, with the scale just slightly in our favour. Six Messerschmitts were destroyed. We lost five. Blackie added to his score one in flames, one probable, one damaged.

His last desert scrap was on November 30, a year after the first. Twenty-two Tomahawks took on a German-Italian circus of 60 to 70. The battle swirled from 10,000 feet down to ground level. When it ended 12 more enemy planes had been destroyed and the squadron's total pushed to 106. When Blackie left to join Blondie in Australia's fight against the Japanese, the aggregate was 135. Fifty had been shot down in ten weeks.

That is how Blackie won his Bar.

bobbysocks

05-17-2010, 06:28 PM

On the 14th January 1945 a messerschmitt pilot made a score,and 1st Lt Dunlop remembers it well.
"I was leading CEMENT Blue flight at 21,000 feet in the trail of White and Red flights, when a large gaggle of enemy aircraft were spotted at twelve o'clock heading for the bombers.I jettisoned my drop tanks and climbed at full throttle,reaching 30,000 ft just as the enemy made contact with the 363rd Sqn(CEMENT). Me 109's were in the sun above so I dived into the main gaggle below, I passed through two groups of 109's and 190's firing and being fired at. Then I tacked onto a gaggle of about thirty 109's at somewhere around 20,000 ft or lower. I had lost Blue three and four at the first gaggle of enemy aircraft but believed Blue two was still with me.
"I began firing at the apparent tail end charlie which was an Me 109, and he put his aircraft into a steep dive, kicking rudder violently. I had to cut my throttle to avoid over-running and I fired each time he passed through my sites. I hit him repeatedly from wing tip to wing tip, his canopy flew off to the right and the pilot flew out, and just missed my wing as I flew between him and his smoking Me 109. A fraction of a second later it felt like my guns were firing without me pressing the trigger, and then my controls went out, completely dead. I watched one of my left hand .50 caliber machine guns blow out through the wing skin and my fuselage fuel tank catch fire. The plane was in a drifting dive and going straight down, the pressure held me in the right of the cockpit and was powerful enough to stop me raising my hand to release the canopy. THEN EVERYTHING BLEW
Wings,canopy,tail section and fuselage separated and seemed to blow in different directions. The canopy must have left first as I felt the intence heat from the flames that were sucked into the cockpit, I was cooked on the forehead and then felt cool air as I was blown from what was left. I landed still in the bucket seat with the armour plate still attached and my shoulder straps still neatly in place." The engine and one wing lay together about fifty feet away and other pieces of my plane were still floating down all around. Another hundred yards away was the crashed Me 109, ammo still popping".
1st Lt Dunlop did bail out in a way, when his P-51 blew to pieces, throwing him clear, Dunlop thinks that he was at about 5,000 ft, although badly disorientated he finally was able to find and pull the rip cord after which he immediately hit the ground. The most amazing aspect of his escape was that, although still strapped in the seat, the back pack chute was able to deploy in the small space available and deposit him on the ground with no major injuries. Lt Dunlop got out of the wreckage of his aircraft and walked a short distance before he was captured, and was later sent to Stalag Luft XIII at Nuremburg.

Lt. Joe Black, 362nd Sqn.
On one of my early missions I was flying as Capt. Charles (Chuck) Weaver's
wing man. We were heading home to Leiston when we ran into four Me 109's, so our flight of four P51's dived down to intercept the enemy.Capt Weaver picked out one of the 109's with a yellow nose, and immediately the enemy aircraft headed straight down with 'Chuck' right behind it. At about 1500-2000ft he reached a cloud layer and we went in after him, Chuck and I went through the clouds and broke out below, we were alone! Suddenly the Me 109 dropped down behind Chuck and opened fire with a short burst, as I turned to get a shot at him he ducked back into the clouds. Over the radio Chuck told me to drop back further to see if we could mouse trap him using himself as bait. We flew above and below the cloud layer,trying our best to nail him, he would pop out of the cloud cover take a quick shot and be gone again, on one pass he made on Chuck I was able to get of a 2or3 second burst , but I doubt that I hit him. All told, the Me 109 got about six tries at us and we got only one quick shot at him. After his last attempt at adding a P51 to the tail markings on his plane he dissapeared, we hung around for a short while but he didn't return.
When we had got back to Leiston, Chuck said that he thought that the Me 109 must have run low on fuel and had to break off to get back to his base, We were rather clad that he did!. It was the first time I had fired my guns at an enemy aircraft, and it was to bad that I didn't see any hits. We disscussed the avent in the mess and we think the Me 109's were from JG 26, better known as the Abbeville boys.

The day the Germans blasted the 362nd over the Hague.

On many of the mission I flew on we would enter the continent over the Hague and always at about 18000 feet. This had become more or less routine, and we never expected the Germans to shoot at us. In fact I recall being told in Clobber College just that.

One morning though the Germans had apparently been observing our pattern, our air speed, etc and had polished the barrels of their 88 mm anti aircraft guns one last time before we flew over. There were probably 24 planes in the formation, 4 ship flights in trail and all tucked in nice and close. Guess we wanted to show the Germans what pretty formation we could fly.

Suddenly about a dozen rounds of 88’s exploded right at our altitude and right in the formation. I happened to be tail end Charlie and as I pealed off to the right sharply I looked back and you have never seen a bomb burst of planes the like of what I observed.

The old saying goes, “If you can see the flash and hear the noise, you’re dead.” Well that’s not true. I was at the rear of the formation but both saw the flash and heard the noise and I am sure the rest of the pilots saw and heard the same but we all formed back up and continued the mission. I guess the only casualties were the crew chiefs that had to patch up all the holes in the aircraft.

The moral of this story is to never get too cocky and let your guard down.

Joe B & Joe S got snookered.

Joe Shea was flying on the wing of Joe Broadhead one day and apparently there had been some action because we were down to a flight of 2 heading home when we came across a German airfield with 7 ME-109’s lined up along one side of the field and 6 on the opposite side. Col Broadhead elected to take the 7 and let me have the 6. As we approached from the east, suddenly the sides of the buildings along both sides of the field fell away revealing anti aircraft guns. Col Broadhead called break and I didn’t have to be told twice we both broke sharply to the right and down to tall grass levels and got out of there full speed.

Don’t know to this day if the planes were real or dummies but somehow feel like we were duped.

The urge to KILL.

During the spring of 1945 it was quite common to perform your escort duties and after returning the bombers to friendly territory, to turn tail and go back into Germany and search out targets of opportunity. On one such occasion, probably south of Hanover, we encountered an unusual cloud pattern. The clouds were in rows much the same as hay farmers roll up the hay into parallel rows across a field. We were flying up one clear space and finding nothing diving down under the cloud row to the next clear spot. On one such maneuver we flew, inadvertently for sure, right over a German airfield and all hell broke loose. I recall looking back and seeing a solid red stream of tracers directly behind my tail. Needless to say, I bent the throttle over the quadrant in an effort to get more speed and somehow managed to stay ahead of the stream of bullets.

End of story? No not quite. I have never been able to erase the memory of the almost overpowering urge to kill the gunners who were firing at me. I wanted to split “S” and blast the gun emplacement. To have done so at that altitude would have been suicidal. It’s the only time during my tour that I was truly insanely angry with the Germans. Since then I have rationalized and understand that they had every right to be shooting at me, after all I was invading their homeland. But at that moment all I could think of was “How dare you.” Guess you might say I took it personally.

2 for me and 2 for you.

Do not recall the name of the pilot I was flying with but apparently we had been in a clash with German planes because we were down to a 2 ship formation. We came across 4 ME-109’s flying along at our altitude and they had not seen us. My leader called out and said, You take the 2 on the right and I will take the two on the left. And be sure to shoot the one at the rear first so you don’t give yourself away. We were closing in nicely from about the 7 o’clock position. We were almost to the magic 250 yard place to open fire when 4 blue nosed P-51s came screaming over the top of us and in an instant the 4 ME-109’s were destroyed. Two burst into massive flames, one the wing was sawed off at the wing root and the other was sawed in half right behind the pilot. All 4 crashed in a field the size of a football field. None of the pilots escaped.

The thoughtless train engineer.

On one occasion where we had gone back into Germany to search out targets of opportunity we ran across a trainload of gasoline. The train was in a small German town and the engineer disconnected the engine from the rest of the train and high-tailed it to the south. Our leader dispatched a couple of 51’s to take out the engine and the rest of us stayed to work over the tank cars.

There was a huge lumber yard right next to the train tracks and our leader instructed us to drop our external fuel tanks on the lumber yard on the first pass and to fire into the lumber yard on the second pass. We then started working over the 20 or so cars of gasoline. On my first pass to fire on the train the tank car I was shooting at exploded and I had to fly through the huge fireball. My gun camera captured a beautiful shot of the top of the conning tower on the tank car spiraling up in front of my plane. Fortunately I missed all the pieces and burst out into the clear in a second or two. On my second pass I was relegated to the 2 cabooses which I managed to splinter quite well with the 6-50 cal guns..

The squadron destroyed all the cars of gasoline and made a proverbial mess of the town in the process.

The amazing part of this experience is that about one block beyond the railroad tracks was a road running parallel to the tracks. All the time we were beating up the place a little old German lady was walking along that road with a satchel over her arm, presumably on the way home from the market. When we left we could still see her walking along the road.

The ME-262 that got away.

It was close to the end of the war and one day while on the return home from a mission, someone shouted break and one of our pilots made a fast break, his guns accidentally fired, and one of our 51’s went down. That evening a TWX came down advising us to turn our guns off when we left the target area because, after all, the Germans never attack us on the way home anymore.

The next day or so we went to the Brunswick area and after we left the target area I turned my guns off as directed.

Apparently there was a ME-262 pilot that did not get the message that the Germans never attack us on the way home.

We were in a 4 ship formation heading home. I was on the flight leaders left wing and the 2 ship element was off a hundred yards to the right.

I had just checked my tail and swept my eyes around past the leader to check the elements tails. Saw nothing so started the return sweep. As my sight went past the leader I saw a small cloud like affair forming out ahead of us. I knew instantly that what I saw was a string of 20 mm shells exploding. My eyes darted to my tail and sure enough, there was a ME-262 firing at me. In a split second I observed that he was closing very fast and could not continue to fire much longer. I also rationalized that he’s missing me now and the present crop of German pilots are extremely poorly trained. I then made the command decision to not make any movement and take the chance of flying into his stream of bullets. I was correct because he stopped firing and started fish tailing in an effort to slow down to stay behind me. He was unsuccessful and slid up past me ever so slowly.

At this point I should have backed off and let the leader have him but my mind never thought of that. All I could think about was, You had your turn, now its mine.” I slid in on his tail but since I was probably less than 2 feet behind him I realized I could not fire because I would be flying through the pieces. I waited till he was out there a couple hundred yards and pressed the trigger. NOTHING HAPPENED. Oh my God, my guns are turned off. I dove for the gun switch and in the process banged my head on the gun sight and knocked myself out. I came to with the sound of spent casings from my leaders guns rattling off my plane. He knocked some pieces off but the 262 got away.

I did get some gun camera image since the camera works even when the guns are turned off.

Ever since the war ended I have wanted in the worst way to find out the name of the German pilot so I could make his acquaintance. I think it would be fun to hash over that day over north Germany.

bobbysocks

05-17-2010, 07:03 PM

Hartmann gave this final interview before his death in 1993.

Q: Erich, when and where were you born?
A: I was born on 19 April 1922 in Weissach. This is near Wuerttemberg.

Q: What was your family like?
A: My father was a respected physician who had been a doctor in the Army in the
First War, and my mother was a licensed pilot. My brother later became a
doctor also.

Q: Tell about your youth in China.
A: My father’s cousin was a diplomat there, and he convinced father to move usto China since Germany was not exactly the best place to be economically. We lived in Changsha province, and I was young and Alfred was even younger, but I barely remember any of it. Father had gone ahead and we followed. Finally things became bad for foreigners and father sent us home. We relocated in Stuttgart and father came back later. This was where I lived until the war.

Q: What made you want to become a pilot?
A: Probably the same reason as most boys; the glory of the aces in the Great War, as well as the fact that my mother was a licensed pilot. Mother used to take us up and teach us things. That was perhaps the greatest factor. I knew I wanted to fly. I became a licensed glider pilot at fourteen, and flew as often as I could I became an instructor at age fifteen in the Hitler Youth. Alfred became a Stuka gunner and was captured in Tunisia. That was probably lucky for him and saved his life. My father was not pleased that I wanted to be a pilot, he wanted us to follow him in medicine, and this was also a dream that I had, but it would not be.

Q: When did you join the Luftwaffe?
A: I started military flight training in October 1940 in East Prussia. This lasted
until January 1942 when I went to Zerbst-Anhalt. I graduated as a leutnant in
March 1942. Later I went to advanced aerial gunnery school, where I got into
a little trouble. I was showing off, buzzing the airfield and was sentenced to house arrest. Ironically my roommate flew the same aircraft I had been in and it developed a technical problem, and he was killed in the crash. That was ironic. I arrived in Russia and reported to JG-52 in just before the winter, after a slight mishap.
Q: Was that when you crashed a Stuka?
A: Well, I would not say crashed, because I never got off the ground. We were supposed to fly them to Mariopol, but when I started the Stuka I realized that it had no brakes, and it reacted differently from a Messerschmitt 109. I crashed into he operations shack, and another man flipped his Ju-87 up over on it’s nose. They decided to send us in a Ju-52, since it was safer for us and the aircraft.

Q: Was this when you first met Dieter Hrabak?
A: Yes, who has been a good friend over the years, as you know. Dieter was the first person to tell me to talk to you, since he and the others trust you. I like you also. Dieter was a very understanding yet disciplined commander, and his experience showed. He taught us how not just to fly and fight, but how to work as a team and stay alive. That was his greatest gift. He was very open to discussing his own mistakes, and how he learned from them, hoping we would learn also. Hrabak assigned me to 7/III/JG-52 under Major Hubertus von Bonin, an old eagle from the Spanish Civil War and Battle of Britain. We learned a lot from him also. My first mission was on 14 October 1942.

Q: Your first mission was less than spectacular. What happened?
A: Well, Rossmann and I were in our flight, and Rossmann radioed that he
spotted ten enemy aircraft below us. We were at 12,000 feet and the enemy
was far below us. I could see nothing but followed Rossmann down, then we
came on them. I knew that I had to get my first kill, so I went full throttle and
left Rossmann to shoot at a plane. My shots missed and I almost collided into
him and had to pull up. Suddenly I was surrounded by the Soviets and I headed for low cloud cover to escape. All along Rossmann kept talking to me,
and I had a low fuel warning. Then the engine went dead and I bellied in,
destroying my fighter. I knew I was in trouble. I had violated every
commandment a fighter pilot lives by, and I expected to be thrown out.

Q: What was your fate?
A: I was sentenced by von Bonin to three days of working with the ground crews. It gave me time to think about what I had done. What I learned from
Rossmann and later Krupinski I later taught to new pilots when I became a
leader.

Q: When did you score your first kill?
A: That was a day I will never forget, 5 November 1942, a Shturmovik IL-2,
which was the toughest aircraft to bring down because of the heavy armor
plate. You had to shoot out the oil cooler underneath, otherwise it would not
go down. That was also the day of my second forced landing since I had flown into the debris of my kill. I learned two things that day; get in close and shoot and break away immediately after scoring the kill. The next kill came in February the following year. This was when Krupinski came to Taman and was my new squadron leader.

Q: Walter told me about the day he arrived, and his episode with the two fighters. What do you remember?
A: He came in, introduced himself, demanded a plane, went up, was hot down, and brought back by car. He then took another, scored two kills and returned, then wanted dinner. The whole event was treated as casually as a card game.

Q: How did you meet Gunther Rall?
A: Well, I know that Gunther had to have told you about this. He replaced von Bonin as Gruppenkommandeur and we were introduced. That was the
beginning. In August 1943 Rall made me kommandeur of the 9th squadron,
which had been Herman Graf’s command.

Q: You flew with Krupinski as his wingman often. What was that like, and how
different was it from flying with Rossmann?
A: Well, the partnership was a little uneasy at first, but we found that we worked well together. We both had strengths and weaknesses and managed to overcome these problems. It worked out well. Besides, I had to make sure that he came home due to his many girlfriends always waiting on him to come
down. I won the Iron Cross 2nd Class while flying with ‘Krupi’. The one thing
I learned from him was that the worst thing to do was to lose a wingman. Kills
were less important than survival. I only lost one wingman, Gunther Capito, a
former bomber pilot, but this was due to his inexperience with fighters, but he
survived.

Q: How many kills did you have before you won the Knight’s Cross?
A: I had scored 148 kills by 29 October 1943. My award was sort of late I guess. There were many men who had more than fifty kills who did not receive the Knight’s Cross, which I think was unfair. I also thought it unfair that men like Rall, Barkhorn, Kittel, Baer and Rudorffer did not receive higher decorations. They deserved them.

Q: Tell about your first meeting with Krupinski. I have heard his version from
Walter, but I would like your version..
A: I was being addressed by my new Wing Commander (Hrabak) when a fighter came in smoking, and suddenly landed, flipped over and exploded. We knew the pilot was dead. One of the men said that ‘it is Krupinski’, and out of the blinding smoke this man walked out of the wreckage with a singed uniform, but no other damage. He was smiling and complained about the flak over the Caucasus, but without any real surprise on his face. This was my first meeting with “The Count.”

Q: Who were you first assigned to as wingman?
A: Feldwebel Eduard ‘Paule’ Rossmann, who took me under his wing.

Q: Was it typical that an officer would be assigned to a non-commissioned officer?
A: It was for us, since he was a seasoned combat veteran. Rank meant little over experience, and that was why we were so successful I think.

Q: Who was your best friend during those days?
A: There were so many, most of whom are still alive, but my closest relationship was with Heinz Mertens, my crew chief. You rely upon your wingmen to cover you in the air, and your team mates in aerial battle, but the man who keeps your machine flying and safe is the most important man you know. We became best of friends, and none of my success would have been possible if not for Mertens.

Q: The bond you two had is also legendary. Why the closeness?
A: I can’t explain it. When I went missing on the mission where I was captured and escaped, Mertens had taken a rifle and went looking for me. He would not give up. That is a loyalty you never find outside the military.

Q: Describe the that time you were captured.
A: The Russians were attacking in our area and Hrabak gave us our orders. This was in August 1943, and our mission was to support the Stukas of Hans-Ulrich Ruedel in a counterattack. Then things changed. The Red Air Force was
bombing German ground positions in support of their offensive, so my flight
of eight fighters located and attacked the enemy, about forty Laggs and Yaks
with another forty or so Shturmovik ground attack aircraft. I shot down two
when something hit my plane. I made a forced landing and was captured by
Soviet soldiers. I faked that I was injured as they approached the plane. The
believed me and took me to their HQ and their doctor examined me, and he
even believed me. They placed me back in the truck (which was German) on a
stretcher, and as Stukas made their attacks I rushed the one guard in the truck. He went down and I left out the back. As soon as I did that I heard the truck stop, so I had to keep moving. I found myself in a great field of very tall sunflowers where I tried to hide as I ran, all the while the men chasing me were firing wildly in my direction. I found a small village occupied by Russians, and decided to return to the area I had just come from and wait for nightfall. [It was during this time that Mertens took it upon himself to take off and find Hartmann, armed with only a rifle and water, being concerned when his friend had not returned]. I reached my secure area and took a nap, and later I awoke and took off again headed west. I passed a patrol of Russians, about ten I think, so I decided to follow them. Then the patrol disappeared over a small hill, and then there was a firefight. I knew that that must be the German lines, since the men of the patrol came flying back over on my side. I then walked to the other side and was challenged by a German sentry who also fired a bullet at me, which ripped open my trouser leg. I was pretty upset, but this man was in complete fear. I was welcomed into their position, given an interrogation and was asked to prepare for contact. Another group of Russians, obviously drunk walked towards our trenches, and the leutnant gave the order to fire when they came within about twenty meters. They were all destroyed. I was later told that a group of Russians had entered their perimeter speaking fluent German, claiming to be escaped POWs, and when they came in they pulled out some Tommy guns and killed some men. This explained their caution over accepting me on face value, as I had no identification on me. Everything had been taken when I was captured.

Q: What happened to Mertens? How did you get back?
A: The infantry commander contacted Hrabak and who I was confirmed. They
sent me back by car, and I was met by Krupi who had just come back from the hospital. I was also informed about what Bimmel had gone and done, and I
was very upset. The next day Bimmel came back and we saw each other, and
we had a ‘birthday party.’

Q: Explain was a ‘birthday party’ is?
A: That is a party that is thrown in honor of a pilot who survived a situation that should have killed him. We had a lot of those.

Q: Perhaps the greatest legend surrounding your life was the time you first met Ushi, and the love that endured through the years. Describe that first meeting.
A: We were in the same school, and finally I decided to track her down. I caught up with her and a girlfriend and stopped my bicycle, and introduced myself. I knew that she was the one for me, although I was only seventeen and she was two years younger. Our parents were none too thrilled about it, I can tell you, but they came around.

Q: You had competition for her didn’t you?
A: Yes, but I resolved that problem, it was nothing. Ushi and I were destined to be together, that was fate. And she waited a long time, even after the war. We were married in 1944, but still had little time to spend together.[Actually Erich warned the much older boy away from her, and when Ushi told him that he was harassing her, Erich beat him up, ending the problem]. We were married after I had the Diamonds, and Gerd {Barkhorn] was my best man, with Willi Batz and Krupi as witnesses. We could not marry in a church due to the logistical problems. That would have to wait until 1956

A: Tell about the time you received the Oak Leaves from Hitler.
Q: That was a strange time. First, most of us were drunk. Gerd Barkhorn, Walter Krupinski, Johannes Wiese and I were to report to Berchtesgaden. All of us except Gerd were getting the Oak Leaves, he was getting the Swords. By the time we got their we were trying to sober up. Walter always stated years later that we had to hold each other up. We had been drinking cognac and champagne, a deadly combination when you have not eaten in a couple of days. The first person we met off the train was Hitler’s Luftwaffe adjutant,
Major von Below, who was I think in a state of shock at our condition. Were
to meet Hitler in a couple of hours, and we could hardly stand. This was in
March 1944, and there was a lot of snow at that time at that altitude.

Q: I spoke to Walter Krupinski and read about the ‘hat event’ in your biography by Ray Toliver and Trevor Constable. What was that about?
A: I could not find my hat, and my vision was not the best, so I took a hat on a stand and put it on, and it was too large. I knew it was not mine at that time. Below became upset and told me it was Hitler’s, and to put it back. Everyone was laughing about it except Below. I made some joke about Hitler having a big head, and that it ‘must go with the job,’ which created even more laughter.

Q: What was your impression of Hitler?
A: I found him a little disappointing, although very interested in the war at the
front and extremely well informed on events as I knew them. However, he had
a tendency to drone on about minor things that I found boring. I found him
interesting yet not that imposing. I also found him lacking in sufficient know-
ledge about the air war in the east. He was more concerned with the Western
Front’s air war and the bombing of cities. Of course the Eastern Front ground
war was his area of most interest. This was evident. Hitler listened to the men
from the Western Front, and assured them that weapons and fighter roduction were increasing, and history proved this to be correct. Then he went into the U-boat war, how we were going to decidedly destroy maritime commerce, and all of that. I found him an isolated and disturbed man.

Q: What was the feeling about the war in your unit at this time?
A: I don’t recall anyone talking of defeat, but I do know that we talked about
some of the great pilots killed already, and the news of the American
Mustangs reaching deep into Germany, and even farther. Few of us had any
experience against the Americans, although many old timers had fought the
British. Those who fought Americans had done so in North Africa, and their
insights proved interesting.

Q: What was the atmosphere like when you won the Swords?
A: I had just landed after a successful mission when I was told that I had been awarded the Swords. This was June 1944. I arrived on 3 August 1944 to visit Hitler again for the award ceremony, and there were ten of us Luftwaffe guys in all. Hitler was not the same man. This was just after the bomb plot to kill him, and his right arm was shaking, and he looked exhausted. He had to turn to his left ear to hear anyone speak because he was deaf in the other one from the blast. Hitler discussed the cowardly act to kill him, and attacked the quality of his generals, with a few exceptions. He also stated that God had spared his life so that he may deliver Germany from destruction, and that the Western Allies would be thrown back inevitably. I was very surprised at all of this. I wanted to leave and see my Ushi, and I did.

Q: How was the meeting with Hitler and receiving the Diamonds different from
the previous two encounters?
A: Well Dieter Hrabak and the rest threw a party before I left, and I was so drunk I could not stand the next day. It sounds like we were all alcoholics, but this was not the case. We lived and played hard. You never knew what the next day would bring. I few my 109 to Insterburg, and JG-52 gave me an escort. When I arrived at the Wolfschanze the world had changed. Hitler had already begun the trials and executions of those involved and everyone was under suspicion. You had to enter three areas of security, and no one was allowed to carry a weapon into the last section. I told Hitler’s SS guard to tell the Fuehrer that I would not receive the Diamonds if I were not trusted to carry my Walther pistol. The guy looked like I had just married his mother. He went to speak with von Below, who was a Colonel then, and Below came out said it was all right. I hung my cap and pistol belt on the stand and Hitler came to me, and said, “I wish we had more like you and Ruedel,” and he gave me the Diamonds, which were encrusted upon another set of Oak Leaves and Swords. We had coffee and lunch, and he confided in me, saying ‘militarily the war is lost,’ and that I must already know this, and that if we waited the Western Allies and Soviets would be at war with each other. He also spoke about the partisan problem and he asked me of my experience. Hitler asked me my opinion of the tactics used in fighting the American and British bombers. Since I did not have a lot of experience with this, I simply stated what I thought was a fact. Goering’s orders to combat them and the method employed was in error. I also informed him of the deficiencies in pilot training; too many minimally trained men were simply throwing their lives
away. He also spoke about the new weapons and tactics, and then we parted. That was the last time I saw him, 25 August 1944. I flew back to the unit, where an order for ten days leave waited. I also had to report to Galland, where we discussed the Me-262 situation. I went back to marry my Ushi, that was all that mattered to me.

Q: During the war what were your worst fears?
A: Well, I feared capture in Russia, that was a very eye-opening prospect. The bombing of our cities also worried us, as our families were very dear to us. I suppose I was most worried that Ushi would not wait, so I always tried to see her whenever I was on leave. Medals meant leave, and that was an incentive. I had the choice of losing her or returning all the decorations, I would send the medals back. She was too important to me, and always has been. It was later learned that the Soviets knew exactly who I was and Stalin placed a 10,000 ruble price on my head. This was later increased, and Ruedel and I had the highest bounties of any Germans during the war, probably with exception to Hitler and a few of the Nazi elite. Every time I went up I knew that someone would be looking for me. I had thoughts of the American western films, where the top gunfighter is called out into the street; another person wanting to make his mark. I felt marked, so I had to change my aircraft occasionally. I found that when I used the black tulip I had more difficulty in finding opponents, who avoided me for the most part. I needed camouflage.

Q: What were conditions like in Russia?
A: Well, in the winter you can imagine. We seldom had hard shelter, living in
tents. The lice were the worst, and there was little you could but hold your
clothes to a fire and listen to them pop. We had DDT and bathed when we
could. Illness, especially pneumonia and trench foot were bad, especially
among the ground crews. Food was always a concern, especially later in the
war, and fuel restrictions made every mission count. We always flew from grass strips and we were often bombed. These strips were easy to repair, although the terrain made every take off and landing an adventure. Sometimes fighters would snap their landing gear, or just dig in and topple over. Mainten-ance was another nightmare, as supplies and parts were difficult to get to, especially when we were moving around all the time. Despite these problems we were very successful in the Crimea through 1943-44.

Q: I know that JG-52 as well as other units flew with foreign air forces. What
was your experience with this?
A: We had a Royal Hungarian unit assigned to us, as well as Croats. They were good pilots and fearless in many ways. Good men. We had even more contact especially with the Romanians when we were stationed there, and this was where we engaged both the Americans and Soviets; a very trying time. We were flying in Russia against twenty to one. In Romania it was thirty to one.

Q: The evacuation from the Crimea was described to me by Hrabak. How was it for you?
A: Well, I would not call it an evacuation, but a full retreat. We had to move, and I discovered that when the radio, armor plate and rear wall, you could stack four men in the tail, but three was about the most I would try. We managed to save many of our precious ground crew from capture using this method.

Q: What were the Soviets like that you captured? Was there any open racism
among your men towards these people?
A: Not at all. In fact I would say that in our group there were the majority who found all the National Socialist idiocy a little sickening. Hrabak made it a
point to explain to the new young pilots that if they thought they were fighting for National Socialism and the Fuehrer they needed to transfer to the Waffen SS or something. He had no time for political types. He was fighting a war against a superb enemy, not holding a political rally. I think this approach
damaged Hrabak in the eyes of Goering and others, but he was a real man and
did not care about anything but his men. Hannes Trautloft was the same way,
as was Galland. All the greats with a few exceptions were like that. We even
had a Russian prisoner show us how to start our engines in the sub-zero cold
by mixing gasoline into the oil crankcase. This was unheard of to us and we
were sure we would lose a fighter in the explosion. It worked, because the fuel thinned out the congealed oil, and evaporated as the starter engaged. It was wonderful. Another guy showed us how to start a fire under the cowling and start the engine, another helpful hint. This same guy showed us how to keep the weapons firing by dipping them in boiling water removing the lubricants which froze the mechanisms shut. Without the oils they worked fine. I felt sad for these men, who hated no one and were forced to fight a war they would rather have avoided.

Q: What were some of your more memorable combat experiences in fighting
enemy aircraft?
A: One situation comes to mind. I was in a duel with a Red Banner flown Yak-9, and this guy was good, and absolutely insane. He tried and tried to get in
behind me, and every time he went to open fire I would jerk out of the way of
his rounds. Then he pulled up and rolled, and we approached each other head
on, firing, with no hits either way. This happened two times. Finally I rolled
into a negative G dive, out of his line of sight, and rolled out to chase him at
full throttle. I came in from below in a shallow climb and flamed him. The
pilot bailed out and was later captured. I met and spoke with this man, a
captain, who was a likeable guy. We gave him some food and allowed him to
roam the base after having his word that he would not escape. He was happy
to be alive, but he was very confused, since his superiors told him that Soviet
pilots would be shot immediately upon capture. This guy had just had one of
the best meals of the war and had made new friends. I like to think that people like that went back home and told their countrymen the truth about us, not the propaganda that erupted after the war, although there were some terrible things that happened, no doubt. Once I attacked a flight of four IL-2s and shot one up. All four tried to roll out in formation at low altitude, and all four crashed into the ground, unable to recover since their bomb loads reduced their maneuverability. Those were the easiest four kills I ever had. However, I remember the time I saw over 20,000 dead Germans littering a valley where the Soviet tank and Cossacks had attacked a trapped unit, and that sight, even from the air was perhaps the most memorable of my life. I can close my eyes and see this even now. Such a tragedy. I remember that I cried as I flew low over the scene; I could not believe my eyes. Another time was in May 1944 near Jassy, my wingman Blessin and I were jumped by fighters, he broke right and the enemy followed him down. I rolled and followed the enemy fighter down to the deck. I radioed to my wingman to pull up and slip right in a shallow turn so I could get a good shot. I told him to look back, and see what happens when you do not watch your tail, and I fired. The fighter blew apart and fell like confetti. However, separate from Krupinski’s crash the day I met him, one event is clear and comical. My wingman on many missions was Carl Junger. He came in for a landing and a Polish farmer with horse cart crossed his path. He crashed into it, killing the horse and the fighter was nothing but twisted wreckage. We all saw it and began thinking about the funeral, when suddenly the debris moved and he climbed out without a scratch, still wearing his sunglasses. He was ready to go up again. Amazing! Then there was the American Mustangs that we both dreaded and anticipated meeting. We knew that they were a much better aircraft than ours; newer and faster, and with a great range. Once in Romania we had an interesting experience with both Russians and Americans.

Q: What happened on that mission?
A: We took off on a mission to intercept Soviet bombers attacking Prague, and we counted many American made aircraft with Red Stars, part of your Lend Lease. But then there were American fighters also nearby, and I was above them all by a thousand meters. It seemed that the Americans and Russians were busy examining each other and were unaware that we were around. I gave the order to drop down through the Mustangs, then the Russian fighters, and through the bombers in just one hit and run attack, then we would get the hell out of there, since there were only the two of us. I shot down two P-51s quickly in my dive, and I then fired on a Boston bomber, scored good hits but it was not a kill. The second element also scored a kill against the Mustangs, and my wingman and I were all right. Suddenly the most amazing thing happened. The Soviet fighters and Americans began fighting each other, and the confusion worked for us. They must have not realized that it was a schwarm of Germans that started the whole thing! The Russian bombers dropped their bombs in panic and turned away. I saw three Yaks get shot down and a Mustang damaged trailing white smoke. That was my last fight against the Americans.

Q: When did you first encounter the American pilots?
A: This was in the defense of Ploesti and Bucharest, and also over Hungary when the bombers came in and they had heavy fighter escort. I was recalled to take over the command I/JG-52, and this was 23 June 1944. B-17s were attacking the railroad junction, and we were formed up. We did not see the Mustangs at first and prepared to attack the bombers. Suddenly four of them flew across us and below, so I gave the order to attack the fighters. I closed in on one and fired, his fighter coming apart and some pieces hit my wings, and I immediately found myself behind another and I fired, and he flipped in. My second flight shot down the other two fighters. But then we saw others and again attacked. I shot down another and saw that the leader still had his drop tanks, which limited his ability to turn. I was very relieved that this pilot was able to successfully bail out. I was out of ammunition after the fight. But this success was not to be repeated, because the Americans learned and they were not to be ambushed again. They protected the bombers very well, and we were never able to get close enough to do any damage. I did have the opportunity to engage the Mustangs again when a flight was being pursued from the rear and I tried to warn them on the radio, but they could not hear. I dived down and closed on a P-51 that was shooting up an 109, and I blew him up. I half rolled and recovered to fire on another of the three remaining enemy planes and flamed him as well. As soon as that happened I was warned that I had several on my tail so I headed for the deck, a swarm of eight Americans behind me. That is a very uncomfortable feeling I can tell you! I made jerking turns left and right as they fired, but they fired from too far away to be effective. I was headed for the base so the defensive guns would help me, but I ran out of fuel and had to bail out. I was certain that this one pilot was lining me up for a strafe, but he banked away and looked at me, waving. I landed four miles from the base; I almost made it. That day we lost half our aircraft; we were too outnumbered and many of the young pilots were inexperienced.

end pt 1

bobbysocks

05-17-2010, 07:31 PM

Q: How did you assess your enemy in the air?
A: I knew that if an enemy pilot started firing early, well outside the maximum
effective range of his guns then he was an easy kill. But, if a pilot closed in
and held his fire, and seemed to be watching the situation, then you knew that an experienced pilot was on you. Also, I developed different tactics for various conditions, such as always turning into the guns of an approaching enemy, or rolling into a negative G dive forcing him to follow or break off, then rolling out and sometimes reducing air speed to allow him to over commit. That was when you took advantage of his failing.

Q: There were some skeptics who questioned your kills. Tell about that, and how high did it go?
A: Well, this happened to a few of us. Goering could not believe the staggering kills being recorded from 1941 on. I even had a man in my unit, someone you also know, Fritz Oblesser, who questioned my kills. I asked Rall to have him transferred from the 8th Squadron to be my wingman for a while. Oblesser became a believer and signed off on some kills as a witness, and we became friends after that.

Q: Adolf Galland told me of how he tried to get you into his JV-44 in 1945. Why did you not take him up on the offer, like Krupi and Barkhorn?
A: I did qualify in the Me-262, but my heart and friends were in JG-52, and I felt that was where I belonged. Unit loyalty to me was important. Plus I had many new pilots who needed guidance and instruction. They were getting younger all the time and had fewer and fewer hours of flight instruction before they were thrown into battle. I was needed and that was where I stayed. Rall, Krupinski, Steinhoff and others were transferred to the Reich Defense, where they ended their war. I was torn between these facts, but I felt that I made the right decision at the time. In later years I realized that my life would have been very different if I had stayed with JV-44.

Q: How did you end up in Soviet custody?
A: On 8 May 1945 I took off at around 0800 hours from my field in Czechoslo-
vakia going to Bruenn. My wingman and I saw eight Yaks below us. I shot one
down and that was my last victory. I decided not to attack the others once I
saw that there were twelve Mustangs on the scene above me. My wingman
and I headed for the deck where the smoke of the bombing could hide us. We
pulled through the smoke and saw once again the two allies fighting each
other above us. Incredible! Well we landed at the field and were told that the
war was over.I must say that during the war I never disobeyed an order, but
when General Seidemann ordered me and Graf to fly to the British sector and
surrender to avoid the Russians, with the rest of the wing to surrender to the
Soviets. I could not leave my men. That would have been bad leadership.
There was a large bounty on my head, much like Ruedel. I was well known
and everyone knew that Stalin would like to get me. I was marching with my
unit through Czechoslovakia when we surrendered to an American armored
unit. They handed all of us over to the Soviets. I remember Graf telling me
that, as Diamonds winners the Soviets would probably execute us if they got
us. I had no doubt he was right at the time. Graf also mentioned the women,
children and ground personnel who would have no one to help them; they
would be at the mercy of the Red Army, and we all knew what that meant.
Well, we destroyed the aircraft and all munitions, everything. I sat in my
fighter and fired the guns into the woods where all the fuel had been dropped,
and then jumped out. We destroyed twenty-five perfectly good fighters. They
would be nice to have in museums now.

Q: What was it like for you when you surrendered?
A: Graf, Grasser and I surrendered to the 90th Infantry Division, and we were
placed in a barbed wire camp. The conditions were terrible. Many men
decided to escape, and some were assisted by the guards. We went eight days without any food, and then were told we were to be moved. All of us, even women and children were taken to an open field. The trucks stopped and there were Soviet troops there waiting for us. The Russians then separated the women and girls from the men, and the most horrible things happened, which you know and I cannot say here. We saw this; the Americans saw this, and we could do nothing to stop it. Men who fought like lions cried like babies at the sight of complete strangers being raped repeatedly. A couple of girls managed to run to a truck and the Americans pulled them in, but the Russians, most were drunk pointed their guns at the allies and fired a few shots. Then the truck drivers decided to drive away quickly. Some women were shot after the rapes. Others were not so lucky. I remember a twelve year old girl whose mother had been raped and shot being raped by several soldiers. She died from these acts soon afterward. Then more Russians came, and it began all over again and lasted through the night. During the night entire families committed suicide, men killing their wives and daughters, then themselves. I still cannot believe these things as I speak now. I know many will never believe this story, but it is true. Soon a Russian general came and issued orders for all of this to stop. He was serious, because some of the Russians who did not stay away and came to rape were executed on the spot by their own men by hanging.

Q: What was your internment like in Russia?
A: Well, I was somewhat famous, or infamous, depending upon your perspective, and the Soviets were very interested in making an example of me. I was never badly beaten and tortured, but I was starved and threatened for several years. The interrogations were the worst. I know that you have interviewed several Germans who experienced the same thing. The stories are pretty much the same, so I won’t go into details. The first thing they did was give us physical exams to determine how fit we were for hard labor. Then they put us on a train which was diverted from Vienna to the Carpathians in Romania. We were placed in another wired prison with Romanian Communist guards. This lasted a week and then we boarded another train. There was no room in these small train cars, so not all could sit, so we took turns. Finally we arrived near Kirov and disembarked in a swamp. This was our home for a while. Of the 1,500 POWs who were dropped at this place about 200 lived through the first winter. This I know from some who survived. They were not fed, just worked to death. I was sent to Gryazovets where Assi Hahn was already. He had been a POW since 1943.

Q: Which camp were you in as a POW?
A: I was in several camps, Shakhty, Novocherkassk, where they kept me in
solitary confinement, and Diaterka. I had gone on a hunger strike to protest the slave labor conditions and the fact that the Soviets were simply working men to death out of spite. I was ironically placed in a camp at Kuteynikovo where my squadron had been based in 1943.

Q: Which camp had the revolt?
A: That was Shakhty. This was when I and others refused to work, invoking the Geneva Convention. They placed me back in solitary. This was a work camp for mining and many men were tired of it, and I think my being gone started the problem. Within a few days the POWs jumped the guards, cornered the camp commandant and freed me. It was quite exciting. Then they sent me to the other camps, and at Diaterka there 4,000 men there.

Q: Describe a camp, how was it laid out?
A: A fine example was Diaterka. There was a high fence, then a dead zone with a walkway for guards and dogs, then another fence with watch towers with more guards and machine guns. There were long rows of barracks which were not insulated against the cold, and the winters were quite cold I can tell you. Each barrack held between 200 and 400 prisoners depending on its size, and there were rows of wooden bunks in tiers of three to four. The camp was divided into maximum and minimum security sections, with us being in the most secure section. The ultra maximum security section housed elite members of the Third Reich and special Soviet political prisoners, which was another section even within our part within its own wired enclosure. This was where Hitler’s SS adjutant Otto Gunsche and Count von der Schulenburg were held, among others. I stayed there until 1954 when I was sent back to Novocher-kassk. This was my last camp.

Q: Did the Soviets try and recruit you, as they did others?
A: Yes, they offered me the opportunity to return home if I worked as an agent for them, which was out of the question. They did not like this either. I was assigned kitchen duties as an inducement to become a converted Communist. I think that if they could get us high ranking and highly decorated officers to convert their job would be made much easier. They converted Graf, which was a shame, but he did not embrace Communism. He looked at it as a pragmatist-it was either the western way or Soviet way, and he was already there. They did release him in 1950, but I would not be so lucky. Those of us who resisted were punished much longer. They wanted me as an informer and even gave me a list of names of officers they wanted information on. They promised me early release if I did this. I refused. They placed me in solitary a few times, for a long time.

Q: How did you maintain your sanity when others did not?
A: I thought of my Ushi. She kept me going, and the thought of my family
waiting for me. They threatened to kill my wife and son, or forcibly bring
them to Russia, and they spoke about doing terrible things. All of this was to
break you down.

Q: Did you have mail or communication with Germany?
A: We were allowed only twenty-five words on a post card to send out, some-times a lot less, and this was not often. The letters I smuggled out with
returning POWs provided the information they needed. I received about fifty
letters from Ushi in the ten and a half years, but she wrote over 400. Getting
a letter was the greatest morale boost you could imagine.

Q: You and Graf had a parting in Russia. Why was that?
A: Well, we had agreed never to surrender our Diamonds to the Soviets. My
originals were with Ushi, and a copy was taken by an American, and another
copy I had also. I threw them away, although they were worthless, rather than surrender the, Graf and had given his, and they were on the table of the NKVD officer when I was called in. He wanted mine also. He did not get them. They also wanted detailed information on the Me-262, which they had several captured machines they wanted to evaluate. I did not help them.

Q: What separated the Germans from the rest of the international prisoners; how did all of you manage to survive when so many perished?
A: I would have to say our discipline; we never lost our military bearing and our rigid system and mutual respect for our own authority maintained us. We had the rank structure and presence of mind to form our own leadership
committees. Even though we wore no rank everyone understood their place
and all worked within the system. That was our strength, as well as many of us having our faith in God. I thought of my faith and my Ushi, and that got me
through. Many men found it difficult when word would come that their wives
had divorced them, or that a relative, such as a parent had died. My son Peter died while I was a POW but I only learned of this much later, a year or more, as with my father. I learned more when I was repatriated in 1955 along with Hans Baur, Ferdinand Schoerner, Hajo Herrmann, Herman Graf, Johannes
Wiese, and several others. Assi Hahn was released earlier than the rest of us,
as was Walter Wolfram who had been badly wounded before our capture.
Wolfram smuggled a private letter to Usch for me, which let he know I was
still alive.

Q: You did receive Red Cross packages available to all prisoners didn’t you?
A: Yes, sometimes, but these were often rifled through and delayed so long the food contents were worthless. Those packages that did arrive well were very helpful, especially when it came to trading with the local civilians. We made many friends with the local peasants, and they had no ill will towards us, nor we them.

Q: How many missions did you fly in the war?
A: I flew around 1,456 I think, but I am not sure of the exact number.

Q: What was you favorite method of attack?
A: Coming out of the sun and getting close; dog-fighting was a waste of time.
The hit and run with the element of surprise served me well, as with most of
the high scoring pilots. Once a Russian was shot down, especially the leader
they became disorganized and easy to attack. This was not always the case,
especially later in the war, and there were special units of highly skilled and
disciplined pilots, such as the Red Banner units who would make life difficult.

Q: You were never wounded were you?
A: No. I was very lucky, unlike Rall and Krupinski, and especially Steinhoff who
was almost burned alive. I was almost killed by a German sentry once returning from a brief period of captivity. That was too close for me.

Q: Were you ever shot down?
A: No, never by an enemy plane, but I had to crash land fourteen times due to damage from my victories or mechanical failure, but I never took to the
parachute. I never became another pilot’s victory.

Q; As far as we know you were the youngest recipients of the Diamonds, at
twenty-two. Did you find that distinction problematic?
A: I think that being a captain and a Diamonds winner at that age forced a lot of responsibility upon me. I think that I was able to handle all of that
responsibility because of the strength and friendship of my comrades. I would
say that I was ambitious and eager; I can’t think of any fighter pilot who
would not have those qualities. Becoming a hero is not always easy, as you
find yourself living up to the expectations of others. I would have preferred to
just do my job and finish the war anonymously. It would have made life as a
Soviet POW much easier.

Q: What events secured your release?
A: Chancellor Konrad Adenauer was very crucial in this. My mother had written Stalin and Molotov on my behalf without any response. She wrote to Adenauer and he replied personally that he was working on the problem. The
Soviets wanted a trade agreement with the west, especially West Germany, and part of this deal was the release of all the POWs. I knew something was going on when we were allowed to go to the cinema and were issued new clothes, suits of a kind, and not prison issue. We boarded a bus to Rostov where we boarded a train in October 1955. Other trains would follow with the
last coming in December. As soon as the train stopped at Herleshausen I was able to send a telegram to my Ushi.

Q: What would you say were the greatest highs and lows of coming home in
1955?
A: I learned that my son Peter Erich and father had died while I was in prison,
and that was a hard thing for me, and I will say no more. But my mother and
lovely Ushi were there waiting for me. They never gave up hope, and I think
that my belief in their strength was what got me through the most terrible
torture or starvation. Whatever the NKVD did to me, I just thought about my
family, and focused upon that. Another sad thing was that when the train
stopped and we got out, hundreds of women and men were holding
photographs of sons, brothers, husbands and fathers, all asking everyone hey
saw if they knew of their love one. Many thousands had died and there was
rarely any communication back home to anyone as to what had happened, so
many never returned and the families knew nothing. They were simply ghosts
who vanished. I find that very sad.

Q: What was one of the first things you wanted when you came home?
A: Well, a good meal, and a hot bath! But to see my Ushi was the greatest dream. I also read everything I could find; newspapers, books and magazines, I wanted information. I had been in an intellectual vacuum for so long, I wanted knowledge. Of course Ushi and I had our church wedding, long overdue.

Q: Was there any celebration for your return?
A: Yes, a big party was planned but I declined it. I did not feel that it was
appropriate until everyone was home who was still alive. I also could not
believe the rebuilt areas and numbers of new cars, the airplanes in the peaceful sky. The clothes style was new, all of it was new. One of the first people to meet me was Assi Hahn, who had been home five years before.

Q: Why did you join the Bundesluftwaffe. Was there anything in your mind that would have prevented you from wearing a uniform again?
A: There is always the thought that you may once again be in the same situation again. I was thirty-three when I came home, and that is late in life to start a career. I had lost touch with much of the world, but the one thing I knew was flying and the military. That was a safe call to make. The thought of fighting another war also frightened me. But I also thought about the needs of my country, and my old comrades had joined and were pressuring me to do the same. Krupi called and wanted me to join he and Gerd Barkhorn on a flying trip to England. Dieter Hrabak even came and talked to me at the house. I joined in 1956. The old boys were back.

Q: How did you get back into flying?
A: I had a friend who let me fly his light plane, and I certified as a private pilot. Heinz Baer was also a great help, as were others. I took refresher and conversion training in Germany, England and the United States on the newer models. I was made the first Kommodore of the new JG-71 “Richthofen” and I was very proud.

Q: I know that you and Steinhoff, among others warned the German government off the F-104 program, and that this was a very sensitive issue. What do you say about that today?
A: Yes. Well, the Starfighter was a great plane, but it had problems, and I did not feel that Germany needed, or that our pilots could even handle this machine without a lot more experience. Many higher up felt that I was out of line, but I stated what I thought was accurate, and I was proven correct, but this made me enemies. I also did other things that were considered criminal, such as having the unit’s F-86s painted with my old tulip patter, and I created the squadron bars, like in the old days, and this raised eyebrows. I felt that morale was important and camaraderie through a unique and distinguishing emblem was needed. The bars were killed under superior directives, although today all squadrons have them. I did have supporters, such as General Kammhuber, but he was a rare breed from the old days.

Q: What did you do after retirement?
A: I instructed and flew at a few air clubs, and flew in an aerobatics team with Dolfo Galland. Later I just decided to relax and enjoy life. I have my family and friends, and am always meeting new ones, like you Colin. We have
spoken often for many years, but I feel that now is the time to say some of the things I never really spoke about. There is always a time for everything.

Q: One question many people may have is how can you not have hatred for the Russians after your experiences with them?
A: One thing I learned is this: Never allow yourself to hate a people because of the actions of a few. Hatred and bigotry destroyed my nation, and millions
died. I would hope that most people did not hate Germans because of the
Nazis, or Americans because of slaves. Never hate, it only eats you alive.
Keep an open mind and always look for the good in people. You may be
surprised at what you find.

bobbysocks

05-17-2010, 07:32 PM

Lawrence Thompson meets Hartmann's G-14

Take notice: the concensus on this story seems to be that it is not authentic. If the story is real, it was not Hartmann that Thompson met. It is a good read, neverthless.

".... this was my first major dogfight I had in the war, in January 1945. I was flying a P-51D and we were supposed to meet with bombers over Romania. Well, the bombers never showed up! And we kept circling and wasting our fuel. When we were low on fuel the squadron leader orders us back to base, with the top group at 24,000 feet and the four bait Mustangs ordered to 15,000 feet. Now you might not really think about it, but the difference in altitude, 9,000 feet, is almost two miles, and assuming that the top flight could dive and rescue the 'bait' airplanes, it might take a full sixty seconds or more for the top group to come to the rescue. A heck of alot can happen in sixty seconds. Earlier, I requested to fly in the bait section believing that I'd have a better chance to get some scores (at that time I had no victories either) and this was my seventh mission. I have to say now that I grew up in Kansas City, Kansas, and my older brother flew a Jenny biplane in the late 1930s, so I learned the basics of flying even before joining the Army.

So we're all heading back to Italy when, all of a sudden, a dozen or so Me109's bounce us. From one moment it's a clear blue sky, next moment there are dozens' of tracers passing my cockpit. I'm hit several times and I roll over to the right, and below me is an P-51, heading for the deck, with an Me109 chasing him. I begin to chase the Me109. All this time I believe there was another Me109 chasing me! It was a racetrack, all four of us were racing for the finish line! Eventually I caught up with the first Me109 and I fired a long burst at about 1,000 yards, to no effect. Then I waited until about 600 yards, I fired two very long bursts, probably five seconds each (P-51 has ammo for about 18 seconds of continuous bursts for four machine guns, the remaining two machine guns will shoot for about 24 seconds). I noticed that part of his engine cowling flew off and he immediately broke off his attack on the lead P-51. I check my rear view mirrors and there's nothing behind me now; somehow, I have managed to lose the Me109 following me, probably because the diving speed of the P-51 is sixty mph faster than the Me109. So I pull up on the yoke and level out; suddenly a Me109 loomes about as large as a barn door right in front of me! And he fires his guns at me, and he rolls to the right, in a Lufberry circle. I peel off, following this Me109. I can see silver P-51s and black nosed camouflaged painted Me109s everywhere I look, there's Me109 or P-51 everywhere! At this time I cannot get on the transmitter and talk, everyone else in the squadron is yelling and talking, and there's nothing but yelling, screaming, and incoherent interference as everyone presses their mike buttons at the same time. I can smell something in the cockpit. Hydraulic fluid! I knew I got hit earlier.

.... I'm still following this Me109. I just got my first confirmed kill of my tour, and now I'm really hot. I believe that I am the hottest pilot in the USAAF! And now I'm thinking to myself: am I going to shoot this Me109 down too?! He rolls and we turn, and turn; somehow, I cannot catch up with him in the Lufberry circle, we just keep circling. About the third 360 degree turn he and I must have spotted two Mustangs flying below us, about 2,000 feet below, and he dives for the two P-51s.

Now I'm about 150 yards from him, and I get my gunsight on his tail, but I cannot shoot, because if I shoot wide, or my bullets pass through him, I might shoot down one or both P-51s, so I get a front seat, watching, fearful that this guy will shoot down a P-51 we're approaching at about 390 mph. There's so much interference on the R/T I cannot warn the two Mustangs, I fire one very long burst of about seven or eight seconds purposely wide, so it misses the Mustangs, and the Me109 pilot can see the tracers. None of the Mustang pilots see the tracers either! I was half hoping expecting that they'd see my tracers and turn out of the way of the diving Me109. But no such luck. I quit firing. The Me109 still dives, and as he approaches the two P-51s he holds his fire, and as the gap closes, two hundred yards, one hundred yards, fifty yards the Hun does not fire a shot. No tracers, nothing! At less than ten yards, it looks like he's going to ram the lead P-51 and the Hun fires one single shot from his 20mm cannon! And Bang! Engine parts, white smoke, glycol, whatnot from the lead P-51 is everywhere, and that unfortunate Mustang begins a gentle roll to the right.

I try to watch the Mustang down, but cannot, Now my full attention is on the Hun! Zoom. We fly through the two Mustangs (he was taken POW). Now the advantage of the P-51 is really apparent, as in a dive I am catching up to the Me109 faster than a runaway freight train. I press the trigger for only a second then I let up on the trigger, I believe at that time I was about 250 yards distant, but the Hun was really pulling lots' of negative and positive g's and pulling up to the horizon. He levels out and then does a vertical tail stand! And next thing I know, he's using his built up velocity from the dive to make a vertical ninety degree climb. This guy is really an experienced pilot. I'm in a vertical climb, and my P-51 begins to roll clockwise violently, only by pushing my left rudder almost through the floor can I stop my P-51 from turning. We climb for altitude; in the straight climb that Me109 begins to out distance me, though my built up diving speed makes us about equal in the climb. We climb one thousand fifteen hundred feet, and at eighteen hundred feet, the hun levels his aircraft out. A vertical climb of 1,800 feet! I've never heard of a piston aircraft climbing more than 1,000 feet in a tail stand. At this time we're both down to stall speed, and he levels out. My airspeed indicator reads less than 90 mph! So we level out. I'm really close now to the Me109, less than twenty five yards! Now if I can get my guns on him.........

At this range, the gunsight is more of nuisance than a help. Next thing, he dumps his flaps fast and I begin to overshoot him! That's not what I want to do, because then he can bear his guns on me. The P-51 has good armor, but not good enough to stop 20mm cannon hits. This Luftwaffe pilot must be one heck of a marksman, I just witnessed him shooting down a P-51 with a single 20mm cannon shot! So I do the same thing, I dump my flaps, and as I start to overshoot him, I pull my nose up, this really slows me down; S-T-A-L-L warning comes on! and I can't see anything ahead of me nor in the rear view mirror. Now I'm sweating everywhere. My eyes are burning because salty sweat keeps blinding me: 'Where is He!?!' I shout to myself. I level out to prevent from stalling. And there he is. Flying on my right side. We are flying side to side, less than twenty feet separates our wingtips. He's smiling and laughing at himself. I notice that he has a red heart painted on his aircraft, just below the cockpit. The nose and spinner are painted black. It's my guess that he's a very experienced ace from the Russian front. His tail has a number painted on it: "200". I wonder: what the "two hundred" means!? Now I began to examine his airplane for any bullet hits, afterall, I estimate that I just fired 1,600 rounds at the hun. I cannot see a single bullet hole in his aircraft! I could swear that I must have gotten at least a dozen hits! I keep inspecting his aircraft for any damage. One time, he even lifts his left wing about 15 degrees, to let me see the underside, still no hits! That's impossible I tell myself. Totally impossible. Then I turn my attention back to the "200" which is painted on the tail rudder. German aces normally paint a marker for each victory on their tail. It dawns on me that quick: TWO HUNDRED KILLS !! We fly side by side for five minutes. Those five minutes take centuries to pass. Less than twenty five feet away from me is a Luftwaffe ace, with over two hundred kills. We had been in a slow gradual dive now, my altitude indicates 8,000 feet. I'm panicking now, even my socks are soaked in sweat. The German pilot points at his tail, obviously meaning the "200" victories, and then very slowly and dramatically makes a knife-cutting motion across his throat, and points at me. He's telling me in sign language that I'm going to be his 201 kill! Panic! I'm breathing so hard, it sounds like a wind tunnel with my mask on. My heart rate must have doubled to 170 beats per minute; I can feel my chest, thump-thump and so.

This goes on for centuries, and centuries. The two of us flying at stall speed, wingtip to wingtip. I think more than once of simply ramming him. He keeps watching my ailerons, maybe that's what he expects me to do. We had heard of desperate pilots who, after running out of ammunition, would commit suicide by ramming an enemy plane. Then I decide that I can Immelmann out of the situation, and I began to climb, but because my flaps are down, my Mustang only climbs about one hundred feet, pitches over violently to the right and stalls. The next instant I'm dangerously spinning, heading ninety degrees vertically down! And the IAS reads 300 mph! My P-51 just falls like a rock to the earth! I hold the yoke in the lower left corner and sit on the left rudder, flaps up, and apply FULL POWER! I pull out of the dive at about 500 feet, level out, (I began to black out so with my left hand I pinch my veins in my neck to stop blackout). I scan the sky for anything! There's not a plane in the sky, I dive to about fifty feet elevation, heading towards Italy. I fly at maximum power for about ten minutes, and then reduce my rpm (to save gasoline), otherwise the P-51 has very limited range at full power. I fly like this for maybe an hour, no planes in the vicinity; all the time I scan the sky, check my rear view mirrors.

I never saw the Me109 with the red heart again. At the mess I mention the Me109 with the red heart and "200" written on the tail. That's when the whole room, I mean everybody, gets instantly quiet. Like you could hear a pin drop. Two weeks later the base commander shows me a telex: "....according to intelligence, the German pilot with a red heart is Eric Hartmann who has downed 250 aircraft and there is a reward of fifty thousand dollars offered by Stalin for shooting him down. I've never before heard of a cash reward for shooting down an enemy ace ... "

bobbysocks

05-18-2010, 09:30 PM

Philip Wright and Pickle Barrel Bombing

Mid-February of 1945 Major General Elwood "Pete" Quesada, the legendary commanding general of IX Tactical Air Command 9th Air Force, zipped on to our field, A-89, at the village of Le Culot, Belgium - trailed by a host of aides and staff members.

He had come to fly a mission with our 36th Fighter Group to check out why the new "Pickle Barrel Bombing" technique wasn't living up to expectations.

"Pete" Quesada's fame stemmed from his daring and "can do" spirit. On D-Day + 1 he flew a P-38 into the beachhead to establish his own headquarters next to General Bradley's. He often visited the front to check on how his fighter-bombers were doing. On one trip his jeep took a direct hit from a German Panther tank's 75mm. shell, smashing the jeep to smithereens and wounding the driver. The General spent the next twenty minutes ignominiously crawling away under small-arms fire.

But his most famous exploit had raised all kinds of hullabaloo in high places. During a visit by General Eisenhower to Normandy in mid-June '45, Quesada left a staff meeting to go on a fighter sweep.
Eisenhower asked, "Can I come?"
"Sure." Quesada answered.
Eisenhower was crammed into the rear seat of a P-51 and they flew a few miles over the lines, before Quesada thought better of the idea and aborted the flight. Both Eisenhower and Quesada received holy hell from the big-wigs in Washington for this nutty escapade.

Now, "Pete" Quesada was here in Le Culot to fly a Pickle Barrel Bombing mission with us. The us being: 1st Lt. Robert "Red" Ferris, 2nd Lt. Clyde Hartszelle, and me, 1st Lt. Philip N. Wright, Jr., better known as "Junior," because I was always the youngest officer in the Group the entire time I was there.*

Pickle Barrel Bombing was a spin-off from a new radar system, touted to be accurate within fifty feet from a distance of fifty miles. They thought the idea was simple. Send a bunch of P-47s out over solid cloud cover at 10,000 ft. and 250 mph. in tight formation. Guide them to the target with the new radar, and tell them exactly when to drop their bombs. Bingo! It was a great idea, but it wasn't working.

The operation was run out of a site well back of the lines. A Norden Bombsight was hooked up to the new radar, and specially trained bombardiers that gave the order to drop the bombs. We bellyached that these guys were probably yelling, "Bombs Away!" and rushing out for a shot and a beer to ease their "combat fatigue." They probably even expected D.F.C.s for heroism. Damn it, they weren't the ones getting shot at - we were!

At 10,000 ft. and 250 mph., flying straight and level in tight formation, we were sitting ducks for the German radar controlled 88mm flak. Pickle Barrel Bombing missions had turned us into a bunch of lousy bomber pilots. We hated these missions.

On this mission there would be one critical difference- there would be no cloud cover. With clear skies the General hoped to find out why "Pickle Barrel" wasn't working. The idea was nuts! Cloud cover was the only protection we had. If we'd been sitting ducks before, we'd be dead ducks now. Our only hope was we'd be flying behind a two star general's skirts. The Germans wouldn't dare shoot him down!

Why the 36th Fighter Group was chosen for this mission, I have no idea - even more why the 23rd Fighter Squadron was selected, and even more than that why we three were picked.

Our briefing was like no other we'd had before one major general and three lowly pilots, hovered over by a bunch of brass. The target selected was a German Panzer division headquarters, because it was close to the lines. If anyone got hit, he'd have a better chance to make it back before going down.

"Red" Ferris was picked to lead the mission, with General Quesada flying his wing as Vibrate Red Two. I would lead the second element, with Clyde Hartszelle as my wing-man. On the way out to our Thunderbolts, armed with two 500 lb. bombs and full loads of ammunition, General Quesada grinned and said, "Gentlemen, just forget I'm a general," then wryly added, "If you can?" We laughed but knew there wasn't a chance in hell we would.

We took-off, formed up, and it was immediately apparent our new colleague wasn't used to flying our combat formation of low and forward, but instead, he flew the old training command formation of level and back. How was "Red" Ferris going to radio him, "Damn it, Vibrate Red Two, close it up, and get in formation!" So much for forgetting who was what.

Ten minutes out a call came in, "Vibrate Red Two to Vibrate Red Leader, my engine is cutting out when I switch fuel tanks, but I'll keep going." We didn't know what to do about this- and did nothing.

Pickle Barrel Control took over before we reached the target area, and gave us our heading. We snugged up tight and flew straight and level at 10,000 ft. and 250 mph. towards the target, sweating out the inevitable bursts of 88mm. flak. Then "Pickle Barrel" radioed up, "Our radar is acting up, and you'll have start over."

We went through this, on again - off again thing several more times, sweating out the flak each time. Finally, the controllers called and said, "Our radar still isn't working, and we have to scrub the mission. Out."
"Okay. Roger and out." "Red" Ferris responded.
We spread out - "Whoosh." I looked back- "WHOOMPH," six bursts of "88" went off right where we had been. It never fails that the sight of those orange-red fireballs inside the black bursts, turns courage to mush. Without knowing it the Germans had come within a gnat's eyebrow of bagging a renowned two star general. Maybe, those controllers weren't so
dumb after all.

"Vibrate Red Leader, this is Vibrate Red Two. We still have all of our bombs and ammunition. Let's dive-bomb and strafe the target.
Out," the General urged.
"Roger, Vibrate Red Two." Ferris came back.

We dove down on the Panzer division headquarters, each of us firing bursts from our eight 50cal. machine guns, in hopes of shaking up the German gunners firing 20 and 40 millimeter flak at us. We lined up on the target, and let fly. For once, my bombs made a terrific hit, and I hoped Vibrate Red Two was as impressed with me as I was. One run was
enough, and we headed home, happy to be in one piece.

Back at the field, we were de-briefed, then stood around bragging about what hot shot pilots we were. The General's P.R. photographer snapped away, as the rest of the squadron gawked in envy. We played our parts to the hilt.

It turned out the reason General Quesada's engine kept cutting out was that he was turning his fuel tank selector valve through "Off" when he changed tanks a big No-No. But he had a lot of guts and had flown the entire mission on one tank of gas. He was a good sport about his boo-boo. On the other hand, our sympathy towards him was shamefully condescending. We owed him better.

With all the hoopla and good-byes over, the General and his staff took off for IX TAC Headquarters. We continued to carry on in our self-anointed glory. But it didn't last. The next day we were back to where we were- three not so hot-shot fighter-pilots. But thanks to General Quesada and the good Lord, there were no more "Pickle Barrel" bombing missions.

In Aspen, Colorado in the late 1960s, Aspen resident and friend, former Secretary of the Navy, Jim Smith, came into our store with a familiar figure. I approached him and asked, "Are you General Quesada?"
"Yes, I am" he replied.
I reminded him of the mission we'd flown together, which he remembered. I took him into my office and showed him the picture of the four of us of on that long ago day. We went across the street to the Red Onion saloon, downed a couple of beers, and laughed over the great "Pickle Barrel Bombing" fiasco. We agreed it was just another of those great ideas... that didn't work.

At a marvelous party in Vail, Colorado in the 1980s, that Mrs. Quesada also attended, she told me the General was nearly blind and unable to travel, or he would have come.
"Please, say, 'Hi' to him for me, and give him my very, very best," I asked her. She thanked me and said she would be happy to pass along my message.
General Quesada passed away several years later.

* To this day, whenever I attend a 36th Ftr. Grp. reunion, someone always comes up to me and says, "Hi 'Junior.' How are ya?" Despite the incongruity of my bald pate and a more rotund figure, I consider it a compliment.

a story of years later and a reunion of sorts...( by philip wright)

While on a 1986 sojourn in southwest France, a love of fine wine put me in touch with Monsieur Guy Schyler, a distinguished Bordeaux wine négociant and consultant to Chateau Lafite-Rothchild, arguably, the greatest vineyard of the Medoc. Kindly, Guy had arranged a private tour of Lafite for my wife and myself.

Traveling through the famous vineyard towns of Margaux, Beychevelle, St. Julien, and Pauillac, it was a treat for me to see the renowned chateaux, so often read about - but whose product was so less often savored.

Schylers have been prominent members of the Bordeaux wine trade since 1739, and along the way Guy stopped at Chateau Beychevelle, with its lovely filigreed iron gates hinged to massive stone pillars. Gazing wistfully down the long gravel drive to the magnificent 18th century Chateau, he revealed his great grandfather had once owned this renowned estate and contemplated what might have been.

Learning Madame Schyler was a member of the prestigious Pol-Roger champagne family of Épernay, made it even more intriguing. Pol Roger champagne was Winston Churchill's favorite. Once, in a gesture of appreciation, he named one of his race horses for his friend, Odette Pol-Roger. Sadly, the filly was not a speedster.

My enthusiasm for fine wine does not translate to profound knowledge, and I hoped not to make a fool of myself while discussing it with Guy. However, my stock soared, when he learned I had been a sixty-mission P-47 pilot and a P.O.W. in Germany. He had been a fighter pilot in the French Air Force until France's fall in 1940, and following the war he had served with distinction as French liaison to the U.S.A.F. in Bordeaux. It was the start of a lifelong fondness for American airmen. I count myself fortunate, he calls me - "tres cher ami."

In February 1990 my wife and I arrived in Bordeaux on the way to Biarritz for several months stay. Later we would join the 36th Fighter Group tour of our wartime airfields. While lunching with Guy, he told us of two P-51s that had recently emerged from the sand on the beach near Arcachon, west of Bordeaux. They had belly landed in 1944, and wind and sea had buried them. Now, forty-six years later, the same elements had brought these phantom aircraft back to view and memory.

He related how on August 26, 1944 three P-51s were seen by members of the Marquis or French Resistance cruising around Arcachon Bay, then up and down the coast, as if lost. One flew out to sea and disappeared; the other two landed at a spot known as Truc Vert.

Responding to the request of the head of the local Marquis to investigate, Schyler contacted his friend and neighbor, Prince Stanislav Poniatowski, and the two set out by sail across the bay to aid the downed fliers.

Prince Stanislav was a remarkable gentleman. Though a descendant of the royal family of Poland and a pretender to that throne, he was an astute businessman who suffered badly under the Germans. As C.E.O. of the renowned aircraft engine manufacturer, Hispano-Suiza, he was jailed in Paris, then Berlin, for refusing to produce engines for the Nazis. During his military court trial, he escaped severe punishment only through a remarkable bit of luck.* He was freed on condition that he cease all industrial activities, and went to Arcachon in November 1940 under house arrest. Nevertheless, in spite of the risk of deportation and worse for himself and family, he joined the underground.

Reaching the downed planes, Schyler and Poniatowski took the two pilots, Lieutenants Sam Gevorkian and John Kester, in hand, and together they scrambled up and over the dunes. There they were met by the Marquisards and loaded into a truck for the ride back to the boat. The four sailed back to Arcachon, where Prince Stanislav hid Gevorkian and Kester in his home for twelve days.

Guy then took them to his grandmother's, Mme. Guestier of the renowned house of Barton & Guestier [B&G], home in Bordeaux. There they stayed several days making plans for their escape through Spain, to Portugal,
and back to England.

The pilots related the circumstances of their forced landings as follows: Returning from an escort mission to Ludwigshafen in bad weather, the three P-51s became separated from the main formation. Lost, they mistook the Gironde estuary for the Loire, and could not locate themselves. Low on fuel, Gevorkian and Kester opted to belly land on the beach at Truc Vert. The third pilot, 1st Lieutenant Sam Hansard, mistaking the Bay of Biscay for the English Channel, headed out over the open Atlantic. He was not heard from again. One can only shudder at the horror he felt, upon discovering his error.
Completing the saga, Guy showed me the extraordinary photographs he had taken in 1944 of the downed planes and the pilots' rescue. Examining them, it occurred, if I could learn the squadron's designation from the plane's ''CL" markings in the photo, we could contact the Group veterans' organization. Perhaps, Gevorkian and Kester were members? The prospect was exciting.

From our villa in Biarritz, I called Colonel Lewis "Bull" Curry, former C.O. of my 36th Fighter Group, for help. He succeeded, advising that Gevorkian and Kester had been members of the 55th Fighter Group, 338 Fighter Squadron of 8th Air Force. Further, he had contacted Bob Littlefield in Carmel, Ca., who headed the Group veterans' organization. I passed the information on to Guy and told him I'd follow up with Littlefield when I returned home.

Later, when the 36th Fighter Group tour reached Épernay, near one of our old fields, we were met by Christian and Danielle Pol-Roger, and their British friend, Richard Dumbrill. What a day was planned for us! First, a champagne reception, Vin d'Honneur, at Chateau Pol Roger.

Next, we were taken by a grand convoy of French Army armored personnel carriers to a small airport for a magnificent champagne luncheon. With sommelier, Odil Girardin, pouring, there wasn't a dry glass in the house!

Following the luncheon French Air Force Raphaels performed a spectacular fly-by for us. Then we went on in the APCs to the site of our old strip for dedication ceremonies and then to Tour-sur-Marne for more ceremonies and a final glass of champagne for "Auld Lang Syne." It was a never-to-be-forgotten day for the anciens warriors of the 36th Fighter Group.

Without the friendship of Guy and Nicole Schyler, it could never have happened!

Back in Montana, a letter from Bob Littlefield revealed that both Sam Gevorkian and John Kester had later been killed. However, he did have good news. Sam's sister, Alice Davey, lived in California. He thought a letter from Guy, along with the long ago photographs, would be a wonderful surprise. I forwarded his suggestion on to Guy, hoping he would respond. Of course, he did.

It was sometime before we heard from Mrs. Davey, but when her response came it was all we could have hoped for. She was astonished and grateful for what we had done, particularly for the photos and fascinating detail of her brother's 1944 rescue.

For Guy and myself, when we next meet, over a bottle of Ch. Lafite-Rothschild, we shall raise our glasses in tribute:
"Salut! pilotes du chasses, Sam Gevorkian et John Kester - and your 'Phantoms in the Sand.'"

bobbysocks

05-18-2010, 09:43 PM

Joy Ride

The department head's meeting was over, and Major Broadhead, our CO, said the only fair way was to choose numbers. I guessed number one; it turned out to be the lucky one. I had won a ride in a piggyback Mustang!

I suppose there have been piggyback P-51's converted before, but some ingenious mechanic in our top-scoring 357th Fighter Group had dreamed this one up by himself. The radio was taken out, the guns were taken out, and an extra seat complete with air speed indicator and altimeter was directly behind the pilot. As a "paddlefoot" usually on friendly relations with pilots, I had gotten quite a few rides, but never in an operational, single-seater fighter aircraft. I've always wanted to ride in one - but I was a little bit scared, too. Major Broadhead, on his second tour and with eight ME 109s to his credit, didn't make me any more at ease by explaining how difficult it would be to bail out. The make-shift canopy may stick, and things happen awfully fast.

It seemed that at least half the GI's in the squadron were watching me climb into the ship - secretly hoping I'd get the hell scared out of me. Which - I did.

Bob taxied to 06 (the long runway), and before I knew it we were airborne. It was a beautiful day, with a layer of white baby wool clouds at 5,000 feet. Bob climbed up slowly through a hole, although to me the altimeter seemed to be spinning like the second hand of a watch. Then before I knew what was happening, the nose of the ship dropped and the plane seemed to be falling right out of the sky. The aie speed rose..200..250..300..350...and the nose came up again. All the weight of my body seemed to be directly against the seat. Ice water was flowing through my legs instead of blood. My jaw had involuntarily dropped, and I could feel my cheeks and eyes sag like an old man's. I tried to lift my arms; they seemed glued to my lap. This, then, was G strain. Approximately four G's, Bob said later.

Now the nose was going straight up. If the altimeter had looked like a second hand before, it looked like a Ferris Wheel now. Before I knew it, we had looped. Not being satisfied with a gentle pullout, Broadhead dropped her on one wing, and did a barrel roll.

After a few minutes of straight and level flying (while I got my breath back), Bob decided to hedgehop some clouds. A beautiful layer of white fleece stretched, endless as earth, as far as the eye could see. Toward it we dived, 300 miles per hour. For five minutes Bob indulged in his favorite relaxation of clipping the tops off clouds and turning on one wing. Occasionally the earth would wink at us, or clouds would engulf us from every direction.

"Now what would you like to do?" Bob seemed to signal from his cockpit. Ther was nothing I would rather do at the moment than get out and walk home - but that seemed a little impractical. Bob seemed to be making all sorts of "hangar flying" motions with his hand. In my brief experience, that hinted of violent maneuvers to come. Happily, I pointed to a lone fortress at seven o'clock. I thought we might fly alongside and wave at the pilot. Instead, we peeled off and made a pass at him.

There turned out to be two forts, and two mustangs were already giving them a bad time. It wasn't long until a flight of four more arrived from nowhere and joined in the fun. It was about that thime that everything from nowhere I had ever heard about "ratraces" was completely forgotten; I was learning from scratch. For a while I kept my eyes on two 51's directly overhead. I looked straight down, and there was the sun. We were up, down and around the bombers - right on the tail of a 51 - on our side, upside down, in a dive, in a pullout, I lost all trace of horizon, airspeed, ground...my head was spinning...the prop was spinning... I was conscious only of the throb of the engine and the occasional flash of an airplane overhead.

After a king-size eternity, the ratrace was over, and although I could not see Bob's face, I knew he was grinning from ear to ear. We had been up about thirty minutes. Seeing nothing else of interest, Bob headed "Eager Beaver" for 373. we flew straight and level, on a compass heading, all the way home. I saw a town of around 90,000 from the air, but I couldn't get very interested in it. I felt dead tired, as if I had worked a week without resting and had suddenly stopped. I had the thought that I was dead weight as much as a sack of flour. I wanted to collapse.

By the time we arrived at the station I felt much better. The field looked like three toothpicks touching, with the ends overlapping. The altimeter read 8,500 feet.

"Fifteen minutes more, and we'll be landing," I thought. bob grinned back at me. More maneuvers with his left had. I nodded agreement, and wondered what would come next.

One wing suddenly slipped out from under us, and we were upside down. Little pieces of mud an debris went past my eyes and hit the canopy, I remember thinking they were falling upside down. Then the nose dropped, and we split-essed out, going straight for the ground. The airspeed increased; the earth grew larger. The huge prop was spinning like a man gone mad. I watched the airspeed: 350...400...425. The altimeter was spinning backward like a watch going the wrong way...6,000...5,000...4,000. The earth had never looked so hard. At 2,000 we leveled out, with the airspeed indication 450.

After that, the peeloff and landing seemed dull. We had traveled a vertical mile in a matter of seconds, and had reached approximately 550 miles pre hour ground speed. The landing was rough. I tried to swallow, and couldn't. My throat was dry. My hair was tousled, my legs were cold, my face was white, and I was glad to be on the ground.

Thanks to Major Broadhead, that was forty-five minutes of my life I'll never forget. And each time I remember it, the more I enjoy it!

By Paul Henslee, 362nd FS Adjutant and Executive Officer

The Norwegian Odyssey of Bill Dunlop

By Merle Olmsted

As the 357th FG Historian, the name of William Dunlop was familiar to me because of a brief note in the group records for September 1944. An added paragraph to the mission report for 15 September has to say: "Lt. W.R. Dunlop, spare on mission separated from group on West Frisian Islands. With his gyro out, Lt. Dunlop got lost in the clouds and when he finally found his bearings, he was over Christiansand harbor in Norway. He strafed three seaplanes at 1045 anchored in the harbor, damaged a DO 24. He then took heading for nearest land and landed at Crail, Scotland at 1630."

I had often wished I could ask him about that adventure but Dunlop was listed as a lost sheep. In mid 1972, by a stroke of luck, I found him, now a Psychiatrist living nearby in the San Francisco Bay area. Subsequently, he and his sons and later he and his wife, came to visit us and they also attended the Long Beach Reunion. During these visits, I asked Bill about the long ride to Norway and asked him to write it up for the newsletter. Following is the story of Bill Dunlop's Scandinavian adventure on the 15th of Sept, 1944. Merle Olmsted

I did preplan going to Norway. For the trip, I could only procure maps of the nearest Norwegian coast. The night before, I asked to be put on spare. The next morning we were briefed for a mission to the Stettin area via the Frisian Chain and Denmark. We took off as low squadron, me with the second spare on my wing. After a non-eventful takeoff and assembly, we began the long climb to the enemy coast. Five to ten minutes from the first of the Frisians, we suddenly ran into a solid front. Trying to get through, the entire squadron split up. Just before entering the soup, I told my wingman to return to base. He had lost one of his drop tanks and had insufficient fuel to make the long trip ahead. Once in and split up, I was alone and spotting one of the islands thru a temporary break, I felt my responsibilities to the mission were over. A spare is only requited to accompany to the coast. I began a tight spiral in an attempt to stay in the hole. At 3000 ft., I had built up 300-350 mph airspeed and couldn't keep it tight enough with a full gas load. Entering the stuff half ready to spin, I barely gained straight and level at 500 ft. still on instruments edging down to 200 ft., I broke out in a driving rain storm and over a high running sea. Turning to my heading and setting the airspeed and mentally noting the time so as to make a bend into the Skatterak, I snuggled down to 50 ft. over the North Sea. I switched to channel B, Air Sea Rescue and hoped I was low enough and far enough away from the Danish coast to elude the radar sweep. I had computed an 1 hr steady course prior to the turn. As the first hr. passed, it was only with great concentration that I kept from hitting the wave tops. The water had a disillusioning effect on depth perception and it seemed to draw me like a magnet. Somewhere enroute I passed over a drifting mine. From my low altitude it looked huge and it's protrusions very deadly. I contemplated exploding it with the 50s, but thought better and let it alone. After approximately one and three quarters hrs. of this mist flying, I had the surprise of my life. The mist and rain ended suddenly in a wall just as it had begun. Bathed in sunlight and framed by pearl-like clouds, the mountains of Norway rose straight out of the sea. For a moment, it took my breath away. I almost went into the water again. There was no doubt I had overshot and come upon the south coast somewhere in the vicinity of Lister. I decided to parallel the coastline hoping to pick up a plane or a transport a few minutes after climbing up over the mountains from the sea. The country is wild and rugged in terrain almost beyond imagination. The mountain ridges and ranges run into the North Sea to make contact perpendicularly, the dividing valleys with rushing rivers, hurdled cliffs to form water falls of great violence. The only agriculture seemed to lie along the narrow space between the river bank and the valley walls. There was however an abundance of lumbering. The streams were choked with logs and great floats lined the edges of the Fiords. Still attempting to elude German Radar, I would dive down into the valleys and zoom up the other side flat on the deck in a porpoising motion. Perhaps due to the kick I was getting out of it or the maps, I never did locate myself. Off the coast several miles, there was considerable shipping. In each of the larger Fiords, there seemed to be at least one fair sized town usually one half on the mountain side. The houses were always wood, generally white, sometimes red or unpainted. Everything seemed extremely neat and gave the impression of a hardy civilization below.

At first I contented myself staying away from built-up areas, but attracted by a wood church, beautifully and massively built and receiving no flak, I flew over everything from then on. I never tired of flipping over a ridge and diving down the next valley. Each time there was a new and awesome sight. Finally I came on a Fiord which dwarfed the others with a lush green, well planned countryside, extending 5 to 10 miles along either side. I later learned this was Oslo Fiord. Here I notice my first railroad and partly looking for something German to shoot at, but also just curious, I followed it flying about 50 ft. above the tracks. I had been over Norway for one hour and was about to retrace my flight when I stumbled across the German Seaplane Base at Horten, just south of Oslo. It was in a cavity in the Fiord with bordering hills and an Island in the harbor, making it an ideal spot to defend and providing smooth water for takeoff and landings. On the island, a half-moon affair, stood a powerhouse and I was soon to learn 20 or 40 mm flak guns. In the town of Horten due south, several ocean going vessels were docked, perhaps transporting aircraft parts that a factory nearby produced to Germany. What particularly interested me and had me excited were a HE 115 and two large Dornier Flying Boats floating serenely in the center of the bay. (Journal lost, from this point on, the rest from memory 48 yrs later.)

I remember popping over hills on the west side of the small harbor, firing at one of the Dorniers most of the fire missing, kicking rudder to bring the fire back, but getting only a few hits on one wing. Later I found all the guns on the left side had not fired. I could not let the fat target go, circled low and made another pass from the west. All hell broke loose with AAA from a number of locations around the harbor. I can't remember if I fired again, but I do remember the AAA was heavy and I took off south down the Fiord full throttle, little balls of fire floating by on all sides. I remember feeling amazed that nothing had hit me. Out of range, I briefly considered going to Sweden, which was in plain view to my left. I knew I had used too much gas and could not get back to England. I decided I might be able to make it to Scotland. I remember thinning the mixture, lowering the RPMs and climbing back into the clouds to approximately 10,000 ft. I set a course for what I thought was the nearest part of Scotland. Now that radar could pick me up, I wondered if the Germans would send up fighters? I flew instruments all the way west. I tried to make some kind of radio contact but couldn't. As the gas gauge became near empty, I descended gradually wondering if I could make it to the coast. I had it in my mind that the Scottish coastal range was 1000-2000 ft. high. As I got down to that altitude, the visibility was still zero. I thought about bailing out at the end of the gas, but that was an unattractive option at best. Finally, I decided to inch down hoping to come out over the sea near land. I broke out at no more that 100 ft., not over the sea, but miraculously over an airfield. I dumped it in without ground contact, I couldn't wait and taxied to an apron. A British officer, probably the C.O., met me in a jeep. He seemed irritated by my unexpected arrival. I don't think he believed my story, that I had been lost in Norway, more like I was another crazy Yank. Finally he became a little more friendly, promised to put me up and service my airplane. We did have a momentary run-in. He wanted me to give him my gun camera film. I refused saying it was US property. Later I hid it under the cockpit seat. The airfield was the British Naval Airbase at Crail, Scotland. I was shown to the mess and later to the Officers Club. It was a scene hard to believe. Not a sober citizen to be found, everyone was smashed, singing and shouting. It seemed they had sunk the German pocket battleship Tirpitz earlier that day, of all places in a Norwegian Fiord. I remember talking to a flying officer from Ceylon. The pilots were from countries all over the world. The next day I checked my airplane, it had been serviced as promised. The line mechanic told me I had landed with 4 gallons of gas. I made a hot takeoff wanting to show the British what a P51 could do, pulling it off quickly and as straight up as it would go. At something like 500ft. over the end of the runway, it started to fall off in a stall, but I was able to get the nose down and steady it with the rudder and regain flying speed. I remember thinking how foolish I was, but also happy that the British could see what our plane could do. The trip south was uneventful except for some Spits and Hurricanes that wanted to dogfight. I left them behind. The hills in southern Scotland and northern England were rose colored and quite beautiful at that time of year.

Further Note by Merle Olmsted:

Although Bill remembers that the escapade caused him to be grounded for a week, the grounding did not "take", as two days later, he was aloft with the rest of the group over the airborne landing at Arnhem. Here he shot down an ME 109 and another the next day. He scored a total of four victories before he was shot down on "The Big Day" - 14 January, 1945, and spent the remaining few months of the war in a Stalag Luft.

bobbysocks

05-21-2010, 03:57 PM

Joaquin Garcia-Morato - Best Ace of Spanish Civil War.

Born in Melilla in 1904. At 19 he was called up and posted to the Infantry. In April 1925 he enrolled in the civil flying school, and on 6th August received his F.A.I. pilot's license. Subsequently he took a course on the Avro 504 biplane and obtained the corresponding military qualification, on completion of which he was sent to a reconnaissance and bombing unit equipped with the DH9A. When the unit was sent to Morocco he took part in actions against the insurgents. He volunteered for the Bristol fighter squadron at Nador (Melilla), where in 57 missions he logged over 100 hours' flying, for which he was commended.After that he was posted to the float-plane base at Mar Chica, and later transferred to a reconnaissance group at Getafe.

In 1929 he was appointed flying instructor at the pilot Conversion School. He qualified as an observer, and in 1930 as a wireless telegraphist. He learned to fly multi-engined aircraft, fighters and float-planes, and he was an outstanding aerobatic pilot. In 1932 he added aircraft mechanic to his other qualifications. He took part in many aerobatic competitions, winning several. Among other aircraft he flew a Consolidated Fleet 2. In 1934 he saw action in the Asturias campaign.He taught blind flying at the Aereo-Club of Madrid. In 1935 Morato organized the air section of the General Directorate of Safety.

The Civil War found him on holiday (vacation) in Great Britain, from where he flew across France to Burgos and Cordoba. His part in the war started with the defense of Cordoba. Over that city on 3rd August, at the controls of a Nieuport 52, he threw an enemy formation into total confusion and forced it to withdraw. On the 12th Morato had his first victory when he shot down a Vickers Vildebeest bomber over Antequera.

Garcia-Morato was one of the first Spanish pilots to fly the He-51 biplanes when they became available, and on 18th August he shot down a Potez 54 and a Nieuport while flying one. He shot down another Nieuport on 2nd September. He also piloted Ju-52s on bombing missions.

When the Fiat CR-32 fighters arrived in Spain he was the first Spanish pilot to try them out, having been posted with two comrades to one of the Italian units. On 11th September he scored his fifth victory, and his first with the CR-32, achieving three more by the end of the month. He shot down three more aircraft in October, and in November he tangled over Madrid with Russian-made I-15 aircraft, shooting down three of them - and a Potez 54 into the bargain.

In December the Nationalist air force had sufficient Fiats to constitute an independent group, whose command went to Garcia-Morato. Dubbed Blue Patrol, it operated in the south flying cover for the Nationalist Breguets. The Cordoba zone was being targeted by Soviet SB-2 bombers, modern, fast and hard to intercept. On 3rd January 1937, attacking from high altitude, he pounced on a pair of them and shot them down. In February he returned to the Madrid front to support the Jarama offensive.

On the 18th, acting with other Italian CR-32 fighters, the Blue Patrol took off on a sortie to escort Ju-52 bombers. Because of losses they had sustained the Italians were forbidden to cross the front line. When the bombers crossed the front line with no escort a large number of enemy fighters pounced on them. Morato and his comrades Salvador and Berm?dez de Castro gave fight, which persuaded the Italians to disobey orders and join them. That day, at the cost of the loss of one of their own aircraft, the Nationalist fliers inflicted several losses on the enemy and redressed the balance of mastery of the air in the sector.

On 17 th May, 1937 he was decorated with the Cruz Laureada de San Fernando for his actions until 18th February, 1937. Until the latter date he had made 150 sorties and participated in 46 combats, achieving 18 victories.

Blue Patrol was upgraded to a full squadron and later a group of two squadrons, designated 2G3. In September 1937, with a total of 27 victories, Garcia-Morato was sent to Italy, from where he returned in December that year. He was appointed Commander of the Hispana Air Brigade, embracing all air units in the north. In July 1938 he was given command of a new fighter group, 3G3, in which he increased his tally of victories to 35.

On 3 rd October neither Salvador not Morato returned to base: the former had been shot down and taken prisoner and Garc?a-Morato, shot up by Third "Mosca" Squadron's Lt. Luis Sirvent Cerrillo, had made a forced landing.

On 24th December his unit, Fontllonga, 20 km. north of Balaguer (Lerida), shot down nine enemy R-5 bombers, three of which were attributed to Morato. Of the 9 Natashas, 3 returned to their own side's airfields, (2 to La Garriga and 1 to Vic). Six were shot down, of which 3 were lost, while the remainder managed to land with varying fortune inside their own lines.

Overall the Natasha squadron suffered 3 dead, 8 wounded and 2 taken prisoner. Garcha Morato's unit suffered the shooting down and taking prisoner of captain Rafael de Mendiz?bal Am?zaga, while another Fiat had to land because of damage at Almenar (Lerida). His last victory, number 40, was an I-15 shot down on 19th January 1939.

At the end of the war he was Chief of Operations of the Nationalist fighter force. His log book showed 1,012 hours flown on 511 sorties, of which 56 were in aerial combat, with 40 aircraft shot down.

On 4th April 1939 he was putting his Fiat CR-32 (3-51) through various maneuvers over Gri??n airfield when, during low-level inverted flight, the engine failed. The aircraft crashed, killing the pilot. He was posthumously awarded the Individual Medal and promoted to substantive major for meritorious war service.

In 1950 he was given the noble title of Count of the Jarama, also posthumously.

Morato's emblem is currently worn by Ala de Caza No 11 (No 11 Fighter Wing), based at Mor?n de la Frontera and equipped with the F-18. This will be the first Spanish unit to receive the Eurofighter. This Air Force unit has inherited the weapons and ancient tradition of Spanish fighter aviation which belonged to Ala 11 (11 Wing) based at Manises, Valencia until its disbandment in 1999.

Angel Salas Larrazabal - A Fighter Ace in Two Wars.

DURING World War II, the Nationalist government of General Francisco Franco Bahanmonde decided to send a volunteer force to fight on the Russian front in a way to repay the assistance that Germany and Italy had given him during the Spanish Civil War 1936-1939.

A complete infantry division was raised with a fighter squadron “Escuadrilla” to provide protection to the “Division Azul”. But in the actual fighting the division and the squadrons would fight in different areas of the Russian front. The Spanish pilots would even had encounters with the Free French pilots, of the “Normandie-Niemen” fighter regiment.

A total of five “Escuadrillas” would fly on the Russian front being relieved every six month with a Junkers Ju-52 flight, that flew mail to the “Division Azul”. By 1944 Franco seeing the writing on the wall and under pressure by the US government, decided to pull the Division and by the 5/o. Escuadrilla Azul out of Russia and declare Spain a “Neutral” country.

A Spanish Legion was formed in place of the Division to continue the fight against the Russians, but even this Legion was eventually recalled home, leaving a number of Spanish volunteers that fought in the German SS until the end of the war.

As for the Spanish squadrons, they received their training in Germany and later in France, they would first fly the BF-109E, F and G models and the FW-190A-3. These Spanish “Escuadrillas” would fly as part of the JG27 and JG51 in Russia. A total of 659 Spanish air force personnel would serve in these units.

During the course of their stay in Russia the Spanish pilots would claim the destruction of about 163 Russian aircraft and 12 pilots scoring 5 or more victories. On the debit side a total of between 24-25 pilots including ground personnel would lose their lives, some posted as missing in action, while one pilot was taken POW, only to return back to Spain in April 1954.

Among the notable Spanish fighter pilots only one would become an “Ace” not only in the Spanish Civil war but in Russia as well, this honor fell upon Cmdte. Angel Salas Larrazabal who had shot-down 17 Republican aircraft over Spain and would add 7 more Russian aircraft to his score.

Angel Salas was born on October 10, 1906 in Orduna, Viscaya Spain. He joined the army in 1921. Later in 1927 he joined the military aviation, graduating as a aerial observer, in 1929 he undertook pilot training to receive his pilot wings in 1930.

At the start of the Civil War, now Captain Salas, defected to the Nationalist side in a Breguet XIX general purpose biplane. During the course of the civil was, he flew the De Havilland Dragoon, and later fighters like the Nieuport Ni-52, Heinkel He-51 and the Fiat CR-32 biplane fighters.

He became one of the original members of the “Patrulla Azul” led by Joaquin Garcia Morato ( who finnish the war as the top scoring pilot with 40 claimed victories). Salas flew Fiat CR.32 No. 3-61 (c/n.111) he later became commander of 2-G-3 in September 1937.

His most notable combat came on September 2, 1938, during the battle of Ebro, when in a single pass he shot-down 3 SB-2 bombers of the 4o.Escuadrilla de “Katiuskas” of Grupo 24 and one Polikarpov I-16 of the 1o.Escuadrilla de Moscas, it pilot Tte. Jose Martin Redondo managing to bailed out.

Salas was one of two pilots who would claim four kills in a single combat, the other was the German Oblt. Wilhelm Balthasar of 2./J88 claimed four SB-2’s on February 7, 1938.

At the end of the war Salas had flown 618 missions, 1,215 fight hours, was involved in 49 aerial combats, he was shot-down four times. But to his credit he had destroyed 48 vehicules and was credited with shooting down 16 Republican aircraft and shared one.

After the war he served in the following positions commander of the 21st fighter regiment and chief of the 4th section of the Estado Mayor.

He volunteer and was designated as the commander of the 1a. Escuadrilla Azul, (Escuadrilla Expedicionaria) that was formed with 17 pilots, some veterans of the civil war, with thier combined score totaled 79 aerial victories.

The unit crossed into France on July 24, 1941, later arriving in Germany in late part of the month, they were assigned to training at the Jagdfliegerrschule 1 at Werneuchen near Berlin, after completing their training on the BF-109E’s, the 1o.Escuadrilla left for Russia on September 26, 1941. At first the Spanish pilots were worried that they would arrive late to see any action, since they were kept informed of the progress of the German advance towards Moscu.

Celebration of Azul Escuadrilla's welcoming on East Front, Moschna airfield, September 1941.

The 1/o.Escuadrilla received a total of 12 BF-109E-4 and –7’s’s and they were assigned to JG 27 VIII FliegerKorps of LuftFlotte 2. They were known as the “15 Spanische Staffel”, and they started to fly their first combat operations October 2nd , 1941 and suffering its first pilot in that same day. Escorting German bombers and reconnaissance aircraft, they operated from 12 different airfields, On October 4th, the Escuadrilla Azul score its first aerial victories, when Cmdte. Salas opens the score board with the destruction of one I-16 fighter and a Pe-2 as he described in his after combat report:

I saw coming 6 Pe-2 and I went after them, cutting the distance between us I found myself below I opened fire from 150 meters with my small machine and much closer with my canons, I saw pieces jump from the aircraft after the second burst, it occupant taking to his parachute. Later I continue towards Cholm to join up with the group and see a “Rata” I attack him in a turn while trying to flee in a fast dive that rips his left wing and he crashes near the confluence between Dnieper and Wjasna. Later I attack twice another “Rata” with no effects.

On October 7th, the Escuadrilla undertakes 42 sorties and in the course of the day Cmdte. Salas shot-down an “I-18” for his third personal and unit victory. Days later on the 13th, two of Salas pilots shoot-down a Biplane and another “I-18” fighter. On the next day Salas in the company with three other pilots in a “free hunt” near Kalinin surprise three DB-3 bombers in the resulting combat Salas downs two, while Capt. Carlos Bayo Alessandri destroys the third DB-3, but during the heat of the combat Salas and Bayo collide resulting in Salas BF-109’s rudder being partially destroyed but he made back to base. But during this combat Cmdte.

Salas became the first Spanish pilot to become an “Ace” in the skies of Russia.

On the 25th,Salas with two other pilots destroyed on the ground three “I-18” Soviet fighters at the airfield of Klin. On the 27th, Salas during an combat between five Spanish pilot and reportedly 10 “I-18” fighters shot-down another “DB-3” bomber for his sixth personal and the 10th victory for the Spanish squadron.

On November 4th, Cmdte. Salas is force to land between German and Russian lines during an aerial combat, he was rescued the next day by German troops and returned to the squadron.

In the later part of November Cmdte. Salas reportedly shot-down an Russian biplane for his 7th personal victory, but there is some confusion, as his this kill was actually a ground victory, since in the listing of victories by the Escuadrilla Salas is listed with 6 aerial and 2 ground victories. That would end the score card for the 1/o.Escuadrilla Azul. For the remainder of their stay in Russia, they would continue fighting, flying escort mission, ground attacks etc, etc. but sustaining losses to it pilots.

The 1/o.Escuadrilla Azul receive the orders to return to Spain on January 6th, 1942. during their time in Russia the unit flew a total of 460 missions, engaged in 94 aerial combats and destroyed 10 enemy aircraft plus four on the ground, for the lost of 5 pilots (one KIFA, three WIA and one KIA) plus one wounded in action. Of the three missing in action, one is reported to have been taken POW by the Russians, but stayed in Russia and married a Russian woman and reportedly was living South of Moscu.

As for Comandate Salas he received the German Iron Cross .

After his return from Russia Cmdte. Salas served as a Air attaché in Rome, Berlin and Lisboa Portugal and during the 1950’s he was posted to Paris France. In 1956 he undertook training to become a jet pilot, he would retire from the Air Force in 1972 with the rank of Capitan General and his last post was Chief of Tactical Aviation and the commander of a Air Region.

He passed away on April 26, 1991.

bobbysocks

05-21-2010, 04:00 PM

Siergiey Luganski - Master of 'Taran' Attack.

Siergiey Luganski (1918-1977) was one of the best Soviet pilots. He achieved a total of 37 kills during the Great Patriotic War (1941-1945) - two of these kills were by "Taran" attacks (air-to-air ramming). He was highly awarded, twice appointed Hero of the Soviet Union.

Born in Alma Ata, Kazakhstan, he was facinated by aviation since early ages. In 1936 he joined the Military Aviation school in Orienbursk. In 1938, Luganski completed the Pilot’s School with the award of Best Student. Next, he went to a fighter regiment, first as an ordinary pilot, next - as leader of a section, and finally as deputy regimental commander. In 1939, he completed the Military Aviation Academy.

During the Soviet-Finnish War (1939-40) he flew 59 combat missions, downing one enemy aircraft. Luganski's Squadron (25 IAP), commanded by Ivan Ivanovich Popov, part of the 14th Soviet Fighter Corps, operated from the frozen lake Karchu-Lampi. The main task for this unit was ground-attack sorties against Finnish troops. During one of these sorties, on 28 February 1940, Luganski’s plane was hit by artillery shell (probably Soviet!), and he was forced to bail out, despite the fact that he was flying at a very low altitude. His parachute developed only a few metres above the ground. During the jump he lost his flying boots - which was some quite serious business at 40 Centigrades below zero. But the front line was close. Luganski, running only in his socks, was lucky to reach the Soviet positions. Next day he was airborne again, scoring his first aerial victory against a less fortunate Finnish aircrew. Flying together with his commander, Sen.Lt. Vladimir Nikolayevich Pieshkov (who was appointed Hero of the Soviet Union on 20 September 1940, after 3 kills in Winter War), he managed to down a Finnish reconnaissance biplane.

Luganski’s next kill almost finished his career: By mistake he destroyed a Soviet R-5 reconn-bomber. But Luganski was lucky again, escaping with only a few days in confinement. Following the Finnish surrender in the Winter War, all pilots were awarded, and Luganski received the Red Star Order. The combat missions he had flown during the war with Finland provided him with experience which would prove very useful in the coming years.

In beginning of the Great Patriotic War, Luganski flew a LaGG-3 fighter, and downed a few enemies. The squadron, commanded by Ivan Gluhih, was re-equipped with old I-16s. In air combat over Bataysk on 9 September 1941, two sections (6 planes) of Soviet fighters encountered 18 Germans. A German (whom Luganski assumed must have been an ace) shot down Vladimir Pieshkov. Luganski followed German in a long persuit, to revenge himself for his friend's death, but instead he got himself shot down. But once again, luck had not completely deserted him, as he managed to bail out and survive.

While covering Soviet Army’s river crossings, he downed enemy aircraft through ramming attacks twice. The first occasion was on September 14th, 1942. Having run out of ammunition, Luganski decided to perform a "Taran" attack against an enemy formation, which was approaching River Volga in the air above General Rodimtsev's division. He knocked down a Romanian He 112 with a damaged wing. Next time, the "Taran" attack was accomplished while flying cover over the Dnepr River - this time the victim was an He 111. And luck stayed with Luganski, who in both cases came out of the ramming attacks alive (unlike most Soviet pilots, who performed this type of attack). On the same day as he scored his second ”Taran” kill, he was awarded with the Alexander Nevski Medal.

In June 1943, Luganski’s squadron (12 aircraft) was engaged in a famous battle. Over the front lines, they spotted about 80 German bombers, from which they bagged 12. Several pilots scored multiple victories in this melee). One month later, Luganski's squadron came across 30 Bf 109's. During a prolonged and stiff battle, the Soviets managed to shoot down 8 enemies. On 12 September 1943, acting as squadron commander in the 270th Guards Regiment, Sergeiy Luganski was appointed Hero of the Soviet Union. At this moment he had 18 kills to his credit.

In another aerial combat, Luganski was seriously injured. Still not completely recovered, he returned to Alma Ata in the end of December 1943. The people of the city welcomed him with great enthusiasm, and raised funds which bought him a new Yak-1M. In May 1944, Luganski was put in charge of a Guards Fighter aviation Regiment in the 1st Guards Ground-attack Aviation Corps (1 GvShAK, commanded by V. G. Ryazanov), supporting the 1st Ukrainian Front. At this moment he had 18 kills to his credit. Shortly after taking command of this crack unit, Luganski downed a German fighter ace. In his memoirs 'Glubokiye Wirazhi' (Deep Turns), Luganski describes this event with the following words: In one of the days of May 1944 , Sergiey Luganski and his wingman took off on an important reconnaissance mission. While Viktor Usov accomplished his task of covering his commander, Luganski discovered some German tanks and armoured columns. They flew at low altitude in order to avoid enemy fighters. Having fulfilled their mission, the two Soviets entered their return flight. What they didn't notice was that a 'hidden' pair of Bf 109s followed them. Later, Luganski assumed they must have noticed the rich ace 'ornaments' on his Yakovlev, which made them decide to avoid an open confrontation, and instead seeking the chance in a surprise attack. They waited patiently, and when Luganski, having reduced the speed of his aircraft, started landing - they decided to hit.

The Ground control noticed the danger and warned both pilots by R/T. Viktor Usov turned sharply to defend his leader and soon he had shot the German wingman in flames. But just in that moment, the leader of the German section hit Usov's plane and he was forced to bail out. Now only the two leaders, the Russian and the German, remained in the air. The German pilot turned against Luganski. The Soviet ace was just come in to land. A small touch down with lowered landing gears probably saved his life. A stream of enemy rounds passed slightly above his plane. While closing his landing gears, Luganski entered combat. Following his first run, the German climbed to make his next attack. He had the advantage - Luganski was flying slowly at deck. The Bf 109 came after him again and opened fire. Several shells slammed into Luganski's Yak. The canopy and instruments panel were damaged, but the plane still was able to fight.

Luganski, noticing the top class of his adversary and aware that his own aircraft was almost out of fuel, realized that he had only one chance of surviving - to use the Yak's superior horizontal. The German pilot, obviously certain of his success, entered a turn fight. After few very sharp rounds, Luganski had the Bf 109 in his gun sight. A fire burst shattered the German’s cockpit hood, injured the pilot and cut the engine power off. The German aircraft slid in the air for a moment, then it made a belly-landing 3 kms from the Soviet airfield. Soviet soldier rushed to capture him and suddenly the hunter had become the prey. Luganski saw this and a few minutes later he landed on nothing but fuel fumes. The duel had lasted no more than 7 minuts long, but it was enough to completely exhaust Luganski. The German pilot was captured: It turned out that his name was Otto. On his killboard were 70 victories, including 30 on Eastern Front. He had just been appointed for the Oak Leaves to his Knight’s Cross. Next day the commander of the 1st Ukrainian Front, Marshal I.S. Koniev arrived at airfield. He inspected the wreck of the German ace’s Bf 109, and decided to award Luganski a second Golden Star, so Luganski received his second Soviet Hero title on 1 July 1944. By that time, his victory score had rosen to 33, achieved during 335 combat sorties.

During the battle of Lvov, Luganski often flew on free hunting missions with the Soviet Hero Yewgeniy Mienshutin acting as wing man. Once, they encountered a pair of Bf 109, one of them with a bright red nose, over the front line Mienshutin soon downed the leader of the pair, while Luganski hit the 'red-nosed' wingman with a long burst from a very short distance. The enemy plane hit the ground, but did not explode. The Soviets 'investigated' the body of this Bf 109’s pilot - it turned out to be an Italian pilot named Gibelli, credited with 50 (!? - after Luganski relation) kills.

In that period, the people of Alma Ata decided to raise funds to equip Luganski’s whole squadron with twelve of the brand new Yak-3 fighters! The 'Komsomolec Kazakhstana' squadron was included to Luganski's 157th GvIAP. Shortly afterwards, the regimment recived the name-of-honour 'Sandomirskiy' after its great achievements in the air over the city of Sandomierz (Poland). Unit also was awarded with the Bohdan Chmielnickiy and Alexander Nevski Medals.

Luganski finished the war with the rank of Major. His final score was 37 personal and 6 shared victories, on a total of 390 combat missions. Luganski's Fighter Aviation Regiment was credited with the destruction of 245 enemy aircraft in the air. In 1957 Luganski was promoted to Major-General, and in 1964 he retired. He passed away in 1977, in Alma Ata.

bobbysocks

05-21-2010, 04:06 PM

Stanislaw Skalski and His "African Circus

Stanislaw Skalski was born on 27 October 1915 in the country village of Kodyma. Completing Pilot Training School in 1938, Stanislaw was ordered to the 142nd Fighter Squadron in Torun. On 1 September 1939 he downed a German Hs 126 reconnaissance aircraft at 5:32 a.m (after his own interview's relation). A note of interest - - if Wladyslaw Gnys had not destroyed two Do-17s at 5:30 a.m. (as some sources claim), but instead at 7:00 a.m. (as Gnys himself reported), this would mean, that Skalski scored the FIRST victory of WWII! In September 1939, Skalski reached "ace status", by personally downing 6 German aircraft (1 Ju 86, 2 Do 17, 1 Ju 87, 2 Hs 126), plus 1 Hs 126 shared with another pilot. Furthermore, he damaged another three planes (1 Bf 109, 1 Hs 126, 1 Ju 87). Skalski flew his last sortie with his P-11c on 16 September. The next day he fled the country, as did several other Polish pilots, to Rumania, and from there to fight in France and England.

On 12 August 1940, 2/Lt Skalski joined 501st Squadron RAF (commander S/Ldr H.A.V. Hogan) and took part in the "Battle of Britain". Stanislaw Skalski's part in the combat of 5 September 1940, was very dramatic. Early in the morning, 501 Squadron took off to attack a large group of German aircraft. In first attack Skalski managed to hit an He 111 bomber, and set its right engine on fire. Following this, the Polish pilot shot down one of the escorting Bf 109s. The pilot of the Bf 109 bailed out. A few minutes later, as Skalski flew alone at 8000 meters altitude, he made a surprise attack on another Messerschmitt. With success! But in turning to his map to note the area of the victory, his own aircraft was hit by a well-aimed burst of fire. The shells slammed into the fuel tanks and the "Hurricane" immediately caught fire. Skalski bailed out from his diving fighter and parachuted to the ground. Severe burns kept him in a hospital for six weeks. During the Battle of Britain, Skalski shot down a total of six German planes.

Following the combat death of Capt. Ozyra on 29 April 1942 (in the same battle, Maj. Marian Pisarek was also killed), Capt. Skalski was given the command of the Polish 317 Squadron for five months. On 1 October 1942 317 Sqn was given a new commander, Capt. Zbigniew Czajkowski, and Skalski's African career began.

The Polish Fighting Team (PFT), popularly called "Skalski's Circus", was made up of the best Polish fighter pilots. All fifteen of them volunteered and Capt. Stanislaw Skalski was their commander. After a month«s transition, the Polish pilots arrived at Bu Grara airfield (250 km west of Tripoli) on 13 March 1943. They at first became part of 145 RAF Squadron (commanded by S/Ldr Lance Wade) as the "C" Flight. The call code of 145 Squadron was "ZX" and the aircraft of the Polish Flight received the individual code numbers "1" to "9".

Operational duty for the PFT began 17 March 1943. The first combat missions were in "Spitfire" Mk Vc trop fighters, but after a week the unit was re-equipped with new "Spitfire" Mk IX (while other flights of the 145th still flew the Mk V!). On 28 March 1943, the PFT drew its first blood. The flight led by Skalski encountered a group of Ju 88's escorted by Bf 109Gs of II./JG 77. No fighter planes were shot down on either side, but Skalski and Lt. Horbaczewski claimed killings of two Ju 88s.

On 2 April 1943, four Polish "Spitfire" pilots from 145 Squadron attacked 16 Bf 109s of II./JG 77 and claimed three Messerschmitt 109s shot down, one of them by Skalski. The record of II./JG 77 'Herzas' shows: the Bf 109s attacked a formation of Douglas Bostons escorted by "Spitfires", and Feldwebel Alexander Preinfalk claimed one Boston shot down (his 64th victory). Oberleutnant Heinz Dudeck's Bf 109 G-6 was the only German loss. Dudeck belly-landed and escaped the wreck unhurt. He was taken care of by some local Tunisians who fed him milk and ten raw eggs! On the Polish side the "Spitfire" piloted by Lt. Arct was damaged, but he was able return to base.

Two days later, the Polish fighters attacked a group of Ju 88s accompanied by Bf 109s. The German escort prevented them from attacking the bombers, but Skalski and Capt. Krol each downed one Bf 109. Lt. Martel claimed one 109 damaged. Next day, Lt. Horbaczewski scored a single Bf 109, but his "Spitfire" was heavily damaged on the mission. On the afternoon of 6 April, Lt. Sporny and Sgt. Malinowski destroyed two Bf 109s.

On 18 April 1943, the Polish Team of 145 Sqn ('C' Flight) sustained its only loss, as F/Lt Wyszkowski, lagging behind a formation, was bounced from the sun by a Messerschmitt Bf 109 - Rotte of 7./JG 53 'Pik As'. Unteroffizier Georg Amon shot down the "Spitfire". Wyszkowski crash-landed in enemy territory and was taken prisoner by the Germans. This was Amon«s first victory. Two months later (on 25 June 1943, vividly accounted in Johannes Steinhoff's book 'Die Strasse von Messina'), when JG 53 was based in Sicily, the Luftwaffe's Fighter General Adolf Galland (visiting Sicily at that time) personally ordered Amon to be court-martialled for 'cowardness'; Galland claimed that Amon had deliberately turned away from combat to avoid confrontation with B-17s. However, the general confusion on Sicily at that time saved Amon from the court-martial. With a total of nine victories, Amon was shot down by AA over Germany on 2 April 1945 and was taken prisoner by the Allies.

On 20 April 1943, the "Spitfires" of 145 Squadron made a surprise attack on a mixed formation of German and Italian fighters and claimed to have shot down nine, of which the Polish pilots claimed three Bf 109s and three Macchi Mc-202 "Folgores". That day, I. and II./JG 53 'Pik As' lost a total of five Bf 109 Gs in aerial combat. At least one - piloted by Leutnant Rolf Schlegel - was shot down by Spitfires.

On 22 April 1943, the entire 244 Fighter Wing with 145 Squadron acting as top cover attacked a formation of six-engine Me 323 Gigant of TG 5 escorted by Italian fighters and the Messerschmitt 109s of JG 27, JG 53 and JG 77. The P-40s of 7 Wing, SAAF, also took part in the attack, claiming the destruction of 31 Me 323s! Transportgeschwader 5 lost sixteen Me 323s. The Polish fighter pilots, led by F/Lt. Pniak, engaged the escort and claimed five Bf 109s and one Mc-202 shot down. In II./JG 27, three Bf 109s were lost: Leutnant Schlechter was shot down over sea and was saved by air-sea rescue, while Feldwebel Rudolf Lenz and Unteroffizier Heinz Golletz were missing. The only claims by II./JG 27 were made by Leutnant Schneider - two P-40s (his first and only victories in the war). JG 53 'Pik As' had one Bf 109 shot down: Leutnant Friedrich Fiebig of 6. Staffel bailed out with injuries. I./JG 77 'Herzas' suffered no losses, while one of its pilots - Leutnant Heinz-Edgar Berres claimed one "Spitfire" (his 43rd victory).

On 6 May 1943, "Skalski Circus" fought its last aerial combat. On this occasion, Skalski and Sgt. Sztramko downed 2 Bf 109s. On 13 May 1943 the war in Africa was over. During two months, the Polish pilots had shot down a total of 26 German and Italian planes. Capt. Skalski scored 4 aircraft, but the most successful of the unit had been Lt. Eugeniusz Horbaczewski been, with 5 confirmed victories.

After the Flight was disbanded, Capt. Skalski did not leave this theatre of war. As commander of 601 Squadron RAF "County of London", he took part in the invasions of Sicily and Italy. He returned to England in the end of 1943.

During period 13 December 1943 - 3 April 1944, Major Skalski commanded the 131 Fighter Wing (Polish Squadrons: 302nd, 308th, 317th, till October 15th, 1944 - Ist Polish Fighter Wing). On 4 April 1944 (remaining in this position until 3 August 1944) he was appointed commander of the other Polish Fighter Wing - the 133th (Polish Squadrons: 306th, 315th and British 129th). On 24 June 1944 Skalski, leaded the whole Wing, scored two air victories in a battle over Rouen. Altogether, Polish fighters claimed 6-1-4 enemy planes in this action, but unfortunatelly they lost Sgt. Adamiak from the 315th Squadron, when his "Mustang", FZ157, crashed in the St. Croix/Beaux area (north-west of Dreux).

Stanislaw Skalski was the most successful Polish ace of WW II, with a record of 22 confirmed victories, 1 probable, and 1 damaged enemy aircraft. Three times he was awarded the British DFC, and he received many other medals. Following his return to Poland after the war, he was imprisoned by the Communist regime in 1949, on a charge of espionage for the West. He spent 6 long years in a jail, waiting for execution. That was his "reward" from the communists, a fate he shared with many other Polish soldiers returning from the West for their heroic and sacrificing duty. In 1956, Skalski was finally released from prison.

bobbysocks

05-23-2010, 06:44 PM

Jan Dzwonek - Within an Ace of Death

The 161st Fighter Escadrille (consisting of III/6 Squadron), commanded by Cpt. Wladyslaw Szczesniewski, was assigned after the mobilization order to the "Lodz" Army. On 1 September 1939, despite being vectored many times against enemy planes, the pilots of the unit were unable to contact or engage the Luftwaffe. The next day, Squadron leader Mjr. Stanislaw Morawski assigned four pilots (Sec.Lt. Szubert, Sec.Lt. Dzwonek, cadet Kremarski, Sgt. Pretkiewicz) to fly a sunrise mission to ambush the enemy. During darkness, the four-plane formation was moved to a secondary airfield in Wola Wezykowa near Zdunska Wola. Dzwonek, together with Kremarski, downed a Henschel 126 on a reconnaissance mission. About 16:00 hours the same pair took off again to intercept Heinkel 111's. But the Polish pilots were surprised by Bf 109's - - Cadet Kremarski, was hit in the head and killed, his plane crashing in the forest near Sedziejowice, and Sec.Lt. Dzwonek was wounded in his left arm and leg. Dzwonek describes what happened next:

In a bleak mood I returned to the field airfield of our squadron. The plane had a lot of bullet holes. The cockpit instrument panel was almost all destroyed by Bf 109 shells. The only instrument untouched was the compass, and it showed me right way. Over Lask, our AA, defending a rail station, 'welcomed' me with gunfire. Luckily, they missed.

Suddenly, I noticed an unusual show. A few Bf 110's battled with our aircraft. The Germans had a great advantage. I had to decide whether to help my colleagues or safely land on the airfield. Without hesitating, I pulled full throttle. I moved my injured leg to avoid disturbing my steering. My left hand, sticky with blood, I laid on my thigh. I wedged my healthy leg into the rudder pedals for sure steering. Then, I flew away from the dogfighting planes to climb. Under me was Lodz city. Soon I reached a 500 meter altitude advantage over the swarm of clashing aircraft; I then trimmed the aircraft to a "nose-heavy" position to keep the P.11 better stabilized when diving.

I chose as a target the nearest Bf 110 and dropped my machine towards him. From the nearest distance I opened fire, the stream of bullets hitting the fuselage. High speed didn't permit me to open fire again. Black crosses passed nearby as I pulled up to avoid crashing with the Bf 110. I was again higher and turned to a second attack. After the second pass, the German slipped from my gunsight in a sharp turn. I wasn't able to follow him, because in diving the speed could reach 700 km/h. I flew down near the German and to drop him from my backside, I pulled the stick sharply. The inertial energy squeezed me into the seat. At the same time I blacked- out. Completing the pull-out, I was flying directly into the center of the dogfight. In my gunsight I caught one Bf 110, but the pass was too short. He banked right and escaped. I tired to follow him by banking inside his turn, but then I discovered another German sliding onto my tail. In some kind of unusual half turn I slipped under his gunfire, yet still received a few hits in my left wingtip. Again I encountered another Bf 110, and after a short pass, had to dodge again...

All the time I tried to join to my battling colleagues, without success. I attacked the next fighter. After a good targeting pass, the Bf 110 disengaged. He was damaged. Following the attack I noticed other Bf 11O's. One of them escorted the damaged plane and they left combat. I turned back to main arena and noticed a Bf 110 under fire by two P.11's. I shot a short burst at him. After our pair of 'Pezetel' fighters followed another Bf 110, I caught him in my crosshairs. German pilot discovered me and left our pair, who just burned first one Bf 110.

With the engine of my plane still at full throttle, I climbed up over the battling machines to begin my next attack. A German in a left turn tried to dip under my stream of bullets. Then we flew head to head, the Bf 110 growing to fill my gunsight. I pressed the trigger, sending a long burst into the Bf 110 and immediately pulled the stick back to avoid a crash. My fire was well targeted and effective, but my P.11 was being attacked from behind by another Bf 110 and in seconds my machine was on fire. Flames reached the cockpit and burned my face. I had to bail out.

I began to fry in the cockpit. My struggle with the seat belt and shoulder harness was so long, that I was almost resigned to my fate. Covering my face and eyes against the fire with my left hand, I opened the belts and with a great heave, bailed out the port side. We had had instructions to only open our parachute near the ground (after incidents of airmen being strafed in their chutes on 1st September, Polish HQ ordered pilots to open their parachute as low as possible). I looked at my hands - - they were white, simply fried, and I thought that 2000 meters lower they might be totally useless. I pulled the handle, and the pain was like holding molten metal. A moment later I felt the jerk - - the parachute was open.

I was hanging in the chute at about 2000 meters altitude when I noticed tracers passing near to me. They missed, but this pirate of the Third Reich not give up and attacked me again. This second time the wave of bullets also spared me. Shells passed to the left and right of my body. The German didn't get a third chance to kill me because my friend Jan Malinowski from 162nd Escadrille (flew on P.7a !) successfully attacked the German. On the first attack he set the right engine of the Bf 110 on fire, and on the second pass killed the pilot. The aircraft fell, crashing in pieces.

During my landing I damaged my backbone. I was transported to the hospital in Pabianice, where I heard someone say I had no chance to see next sunrise. I did go into a coma for 20 hours. When I awakened, the doctor told me, that in the same hospital was a Bf 110 pilot - - the one I downed."

The adversaries of eight PZL fighters of Polish Squadron III/6 were a formation of 23 Messerschmitt Bf 110's of I./ZG76. German pilots that day reported 2 victories (Leutnant Helmuth Lent and Oberleutnant Nagel), at the loss of three aircraft. Polish pilots claimed 2 kills: one shared by Sec.Lt. Koc and Sec.Lt. Glowczynski (the Bf 110 fell on a field in the village of Sladkowice, near Pabianice). The second victory was by Corp. Jan Malinowski of 162. Eskadrille. The third victory should probably be added to score of brave Sec.Lt. Dzwonek. Because he wasn't able to report his Bf 110 kill, his official victory score was only 1/2 of a Hs 126.

Besides the death of Sec.Lt. Edward Kremarski in further combat and the shooting down of Dzwonek, Squadron losses included one P.11c, piloted by Wieslaw Choms. He crashed while landing after combat. With Polish victories matching the number of Polish aircraft lost in this battle, you can appreciate the great effort of the Polish pilots, outnumbered 3-1 by enemy aircraft of far more modern design as was the Bf 110 C-1.

As he recovered form his burns, Jan Dzwonek changed hospitals several times to avoid German arrest. In December of 1939 he changed his name to Jan Jasinski (he used this name also in post-war period). After the war he flew as a glider pilot in the Polish Aeroclub. Jan Dzwonek-Jasinski died in Warsaw on 13 May 1982.

Eugeniusz "Dziubek" Horbaczewski and his Last Battle.

Eugeniusz Horbaczewski was born in 1917 in Kiev, but spent his childhood in Poland. His family moved to Brzesc over the Bug river. Since his early years Horbaczewski was fascinated by aviation. First, he built flying models, but as he matured, he started glider courses, quickly earning his class A and B ratings. On 14 August, 1935 he received his Bezmiechowa glider C rating. Next, he went to Officer Flying School in Deblin, where under the instructor Witold Urbanowicz he was awarded the rank of Pilot, Second Leutnant.

In September of 1939 Horbaczewski did not take part in any aerial battles against the Luftwaffe. On September 17th, with a large group of Polish aviators, he crossed the Romanian border and via Yugoslavia, Greece and France, arrived in Britain. After completing fighter training in British aircraft he was assigned to fly "Spitfires" with the Polish 303rd Squadron. To his squadron mates, Horbaczewski was also known as "Dziubek".

Horbaczewski first met with enemy planes on 6 October 1941, when the 303 Squadron escorted bombers over France. He came up empty on his first attack on three Bf 109s. Noticing a formation of eight Bf 109s, "Dziubek" decided not to attack, but soon saw a lone Messerschmitt which he jumped and put several bursts into. The German began burning, but the victim's wingmen forced Horbaczewski to disengage into the clouds. He landed on fuel fumes at West Malling, the first British airfield he spotted. The German aircraft was claimed as a probable.

During a ground strike on 13 December 1941 "Dziubek's" "Spitfire" was lightly damaged by flak. On 13 March 1942 the tail of his plane was riddled by much more threatening bullet holes. This day, during "Operation Circus" 303 Squadron's "Spitfires" covered "Bostons" attacking targets near Hazebrouck. From the sun suddenly appeared a gaggle of Bf 109s. In the ensuing combat, 303th Squadrons pilots claimed 2 enemy fighters destroyed by Cpt. Kolaczkowski, Cpt. Drobinski, and 1 probable by Lt. Lipinski. But the victories came at the loss of "Dziubek's" Flight "A" leader - the veteran pilot Lokuciewski parachuted down but broke his leg and was captured.

Horbaczewski's first confirmed victory was 4 April 1942, over France in the area of St. Omer. Squadron 303 was escorting a formation of twelve British "Boston's", when "Dziubek" noticed a Focke Wulf 190 opening fire at another "Spitfire", probably piloted by Lt. Daszewski. He attacked at full speed, and from 25 meters distance opened fire. The Fw 190 followed the smoke column of its victim "Spitfire", but too late to prevent the death of Lt. Daszewski, a veteran of "Battle of Britan".

On 16 April 1942, 303 Squadron again covered "Bostons" as they attacked Le Havre in "Operation Ramrod No. 20". Horbaczewski spotted a lone German fighter preparing to jump Polish Wing Commander Mjr. Tadeusz Rolski. From 100 meters Horbaczewski fired a burst, unfortunately missing. His second burst was devastating - the Bf 109 was nearly cut in two by the shells - and the German pilot bailed out.

On 19 August 1942 saw the invasion of Dieppe. When the Polish Squadron encountered a group of fifteen Fw-190s loaded with bombs, Horbaczewski and his wingman Sgt. Stasik attacked the last pair of Germans. Dziubek's first burst started one Focke Wulf smoking, the second burst totally destroyed the fighter. It was a good day for pilots of Squadron 303 - - they downed eight German planes and claimed another five as probables. That brought Horbaczewski victories to 3-1-0.

At the end of 1942 Horbaczewski joined a group of selected Polish pilots in North Africa under the command Stanislaw Skalski . After spectacular successes, they received the nickname of "Skalski's Circus". On 28 March 1943 Horbaczewski downed a Ju 88 near Sfax 1. On April 2nd his victim was a Bf 109.

6 April 1943 proved to be a very dramatic day. Spotting a formation of five Bf 109s, Dziubek left his flight and attacked alone. In first run he scored one "Messer" when its pilot bailed out. But 'Kameraden' soon hit the lone "Spitfire" ("ZX-1" EN 459). Horbaczewski dived with his flaming plane but as he was getting ready to jump, the fire suddenly stopped. He was able to coax the damaged plane to glider land at the nearest Allied airfield - Gabes. The next day he got a Jeep ride back to his home base, but his aircraft was written off. On 22 April 1943, in a major air battle over the Bay of Tunis, Horbaczewski shot down two Bf 109s. He had become the most successful pilot in the Polish Fighting Team, with five confirmed kills.

After the North African campaign, Horbaczewski took command of the RAF 43rd Squadron, 324th Fighter Wing. They flew the "Spitfire" Mk Vc, with squadron codes of "FT". In combat over Sicily and southern Italy, Horbaczewski added three victories to his scoreboard, two of which were Bf 109s he downed within 40 seconds!

On 16 February 1944 Horbaczewski took command of Polish 315 Fighter Squadron "City of Deblin," with squadron codes "PK". In March of1944, the Squadron was re-equipped, from "Spitfire" Mk Vs to "Mustang" Mk IIIs. On June 22, 1944 "Dziubek" had a performance of remarkable courage. During a ground attack on German units near Cherbourg, the aircraft piloted by Lt. Tadeusz Tamowicz was damaged and forced to land. Horbaczewski skillfully landed nearby on an airstrip just built by Americans. He found Tamowicz, who had injuries to both legs, and brought him back to "Dziubek's" P-51. Horbaczewski flew the two of them across the Channel to the home base of Coolham.

In the summer of 1944 the 315 Fighter Squadron took part in special missions to hunt V-1 flying bombs, Horbaczewski knocking down four of the squadron's total of 53 V-1s. On 30 June 1944 the 315th squadron escorted "Beaufighters" on a long mission to Norway. In combat, about 50 km off Norway's coast, "Dziubek" scored a single Bf 109 kill. He shared another one when his guns jammed. Squadron victories for that battle were: six Bf 109s, one Fw 190, and one Bf 110, without any losses

On 18 August 1944, at 7:20 a.m., a dozen "Mustangs" under Horbaczewski's lead took off from Branzett airbase, on fighter sweep "Rodeo 385". The mission target was in the area of Cormeilles-Romilly. When the Squadron was 13 km on north-east of Beauvais, Polish pilots noticed a group of sixty Fw 190 fighters of II./JG 26 taking off and landing.

The Polish pilots had the advantage of altitude and surprise. In 10 minutes of heated battle, the 315th claimed 16 kills, 1 probable, and 3 damaged, while the II./JG 26 pilots claimed 6 (of which 3 were officially confirmed). Amazingly, none of the Polish "Mustangs" were hit by a single German bullet, except for the P-51 flown by the Squadron Leader.

"Dziubek" destroyed three German fighters, but in the process, was shot down himself. His wingman, Lt. Bozydar Nowosielski, witnessed "Dziubek's" victories, but none of 315's pilots saw the moment "Dziubek" was shot down. When Lt. Eugeniusz Horbaczewski's "Mustang" crashed near the village of Vellennes, the pilot's final kill board read: 16 1/2 - 1 - 1.

Below are tables data about claimed victories and real losses by pilots for both sides in the battle over Beauvais on 18 August 1944. Note: it's higly possible that in that area flew and got losses also few FW 190's of JG 2, and becouse the log book of JG 2 is missed till present day, we cannot be certain of real number Luftwaffe's destroyed fighters. Interestingly, a P-38 "Lightning" appears as a confirmed kill for a Luftwaffe pilot.

bobbysocks

05-23-2010, 06:52 PM

Hannes Gentzen - first Luftwaffe ace in WW2.

When at the end of the September Campaign the Luftwaffe counted the successes of the German fighter units it appeared that in the air battles 90 Polish aircraft were shot down. In the second place in respect of the air wins was Jagdgruppe 102, the leader of which, Hauptmann Johannes Gentzen, claimed shooting down of as many as seven opponents. Altogether, his unit claimed the destruction of 78 Polish planes, of which 28 were destroyed in the air, and Gentzen appeared at the top of Luftwaffe shooters in the new conflict.

Hannes Gentzen was born in 1906 and succeeded in obtaining full training in the pre-war Germany, and at the end of the 20’s in the area of the USSR in Lipeck to the south west of Moscow. On Hitler’s seizure of powers, for people such as him the green light turned on and as a proffessional officer he undertook the training and organizing of new units. On the 1st of May 1939, in the rank of Hauptmann, he takes charge of Jagdgruppe 102 equipped with one-seated Messerschmitts Bf109D, which stayed at Bernberg airfield. At the end of August the unit was moved to Gross Stein (Kamień Wielki) near Opole (Opeln), from where it made attack on Poland.

For the first three days of the war the Jagdgruppe 102 pilots had no luck and they failed to meet Polish aircraft despite their performing of many flights to the close support of German bombers and Stukas’s. However, on the 4th of September the account of the unit was opened by Hauptmann Gentzen, who at about 9.30 a.m. shot down a lone Polish bomber PZL P37B Łoś (factory number 72.18). It was a machine of the 211th Eskadra Bombowa (211th Bomb Squadron) pursuing a reconaissance flight, and its crew was por. obs. Górniak, sierż. strz. Zejdler, plut. pil. Bonkowski, and kpr. strz. Puchała. And the crew fell down in flames around the mansion Gieczno near Rychłocice. Then Górniak and Puchała died.

It was not the end of the lucky day of Gentzen. Just after noon he led to ‘Freie Jagd’ in Lodz region the 1st Staffel of his unit and he succeeded one more time. Here is how he later remembered the flight:

“The Polish fighters were not tracked down without problems. However, bringing them to the ground is extremely important. Every Polish pilot is a master of acrobatics, and the green-brown color of their airplanes is an ideal camouflage. The Poles flying in their machines often were able to so color-wise remind a burning forest that it was very difficult to spot them.

However, in the first air fight my Staffel had a great success. We were flying over Lodz in the ‘stairway’ formation at the height of about 1000 meters, when we saw two Polish fighters climbing up in our direction. A part of the Staffel at once began the diver’s flight. I myself attacked one of the two Poles. My missiles must have hit in the engine because he immediately went down in the slide fight. We went after him, and to our surprise we saw that the field he wanted to land on was a perfectly disguised airfield. What a surprise! We would have certainly not found their hiding place were it not for the escaping pilot who led us to the airfield. During landing the shot down aircraft stood ‘on its head’ and then caught fire. The pilot jumped out of the machine and hid very quickly. Of the nine Polish aircraft that we discovered on the airfield, five stood in a row. We flew right above the ground and we shot them all and burned. Four others were standing with their ‘mouths’ in haystacks. It was not difficult – after a few machine gun series into the stacks they caught fire and four planes burned.

Meanwhile another Pole appeared above us. My friend jumped on him but he slid away and escaped. Anyway, he was attacked by another one and shot down.

The airfield Widzew near Lodz, base III/6 of Fighter Division belonging to the ‘Lodz’ Army Air Force fell victim to Jagdgruppe 102. Five fighters PZL P11 and P7 burned on land and further three were damaged. The unlucky pilot shot by Gentzen was ppor. Zadrozinski of 161th Fighter Squadron, and another Pole shot down was por. Jeziorowski. However, for Gentzen the day was not over. He keeps on saying this way:

“During our return flight we met three Polish bombers, of which two were sent to the ground by us, and the third found refuge high in the sky. Three flyers jumped out in parachutes. Unfortunately, one of them touched the fin and fell down with the plane. Another one was soaring right behind him and landed slightly aside.’’

The flight of the three Los’s belonged to the 212th Bomber Squadron and all of them were shot down by Jagdgruppe 102 pilots. Among them, one of the shot down was taken by Hauptmann Gentzen. During that flight the Jagdgruppe 102 pilots claimed destroying of four Los’s and two P24’s in the air as well as destroying nine further Polish planes on the ground. In this way Gentzen gained during one day three victories in two fighting flights.

For the two following days Jagdgruppe 102 fought Polish airplanes claiming victories almost everyday. The unit moved to Krakow on 9th September, but only two days later it seized the airfield in Dębica. Another Gentzen’s great day came on the 14th September, when a German reconaissance aircraft discovered in Hutniki near Brody (40 miles from the Russian border) the airfield of the VIth (Light) Bomber Squadron of Bomber Brigade. Knowing the moveability of the Polish fighting units the Germans decided to immediately force an attack expecting a strong defense of the Polish fighters. They decided to direct the first Jagdgruppe 102 before Heinkel He111 of KG 4, and the first Jagdgruppe 102 dispatched to flight its 1 Staffel of eight planes Bf1109D. When the Germans were approaching the airfield a group of light bombers PZL P23 Karaś appeared, which group was immediately attacked. Johannes Gentzen remembered the flight this way:

“One time, near Brody, as far as I remember we met Polish two-seated ground attack planes, where the shooter sits at the back. Of fourteen enemy airplanes, against our eight, only one escaped.’’

The pilots of 1st Staffel stopped air fight at the news of the closing bombers, claiming to have shot down five Karaś’s, of which Gentzen shot four in only ten minutes. It should be mentioned that the Polish planes flying on the remaining amount of fuel sat down on the ground where they could as they had not enough fuel to escape or defend from the attacks. As a result four PZL P23’s were shot down – two of them of the 64th Bomber Squadron as well as two of Reserve Reconaissance Squadron SPL Dęblin. On the ground were destroyed seven Karaś’s and two unarmed Los’s, and all the remaining P23 were damaged as well as one high-wing monoplane R.XIII. Gentzen enriched his account to seven shot downs and took lead among the German pilots in the September Campaign. As soon as the next day he received at the hands of Hermann Göring the Eisern Kreuzen First Class.

No later than 18 September Jagdgruppe 102 moved to Breslau (Wrocław), to quickly take the airfield Lachen/Speyerdorf near the western German border. Its Bf109D appeared to be obsolete against the modern allied fighters, which was confirmed on the 6th November, when in fight against Curtiss H75A’s of GC II/5’s, in spite of a great advantage numberwise the Germans lost four aircrafts and four others were seriously damaged. Gentzen alone shot down one of the opponents, and he was threatened by court martial for such high losses of his unit. However, he defended himself, and in February 1940 Jagdgruppe 102 was moved to Bonn, where it was given new two-engine aircraft Messerschmitt Bf110C as well as a new mark I/ZG 2. Gentzen was granted with a promotion to a Major’s rank, which he celebrated as well as he could by shooting one more Curtiss H75A on 7th April, this time together with a GC I/5.

After starting the offensive in the West, Major Hannes Gentzen in less than two weeks made his account of shot downs amount to 18. That successful career began in the Polish sky was suddenly abrupted on the 26th May 1940. During the takeoff from Neuchateau airfield to take over a group of British light bombers Battle his Bf110C crashed as a result of loss of power in one of the engines. Both Gentzen and his shooter, Oberleutenant Domeier, died. Gentzen was at that time the most efficient pilot of Luftwaffe.

Jorma Sarvanto and six kills in five minutes. (Finland)

The 'Winter War' was being fought and it was on 6 January 1940 in. At dawn (about 8:30) the weather in Southern Finland was fairly favourable to enemy bombers. The cloud cover at 300 to 400 m was patchy, providing enough visibility for orientation, but also protecting bombers from surveillance and interceptors, and then haze up to 4000m.

Four Fokker D-XXI fighters with ski undercarrige of the 4th flight of the 24th Squadron were located in the Utti air base. The reason that the Flight was there was that during the first days of the year Finnish intelligence had intercepted radio messages from Soviet weather recce a/c flying over Jyväskylä and Kuopio. This indicated that the enemy had targeted these towns. Col.Lt Lorenz, the commander of the 2nd Wing, instructed Maj Magnusson to place his fighters accordingly.

At 9:30 the air surveillance reported enemy planes. The Fokkers were sent in pairs to intercept, but due to poor visibility the enemies could be encountered by chance only.

At the same time Lieutenant Pehr-Erik "Pelle" (his nickname is shortened from the original, as “Bob” from “Robert”) Sovelius was ferrying FR-92 to Utti from Lappeenranta where the fighter had been undergoing periodic major maintenance in one of the few warm hangars of the FAF. As usual the machine guns of the Fokker were loaded even though it was to be a ferrying mission.

Sovelius was near the base as at 10.10 hrs he heard in his headphones: - 'Enemy planes north of Hamina at 3000m!'.

He saw eight DB-3 bombers flying in an abreast formation right in his direction.

Sovelus’ battle report of the engagement:

Place of the aerial battle: “Northern edge of the Utti airfield.”

Enemy a/c: “ DB”

Fate of the enemy a/c: “Dived burning to the ground between Utti and Kaipiainen, North of the railway line.”

Course of the aerial battle: “On a ferrying flight Lappeenranta-Utti I was informed by radio about the movement of enemy a/c at the Southern fringe of the Haukkasuo swamp, eight a/c, on a course to North from Kotka, flying altitude 3000 m. I intercepted the formation on “collision course”. Having climbed above the enemy I half-rolled my Fokker at the left wing a/c. I shot the gunner at 300m and then approached to a distance of 100m. At that moment the third a/c from the left fired at me, so I gave her a brief burst and the gunner fell silent.

Then I fired brief bursts (at the bomber) and the a/c caught fire. The left engine and wing were burning. The a/c crashed.”

Ammunition consumption: “500 pcs.”

Eventual evidence: “A/c found between Utti and Kaipiainen near the railway line.”

Other obervations: “The enemy a/c supported each other by flanking fire. My fighter took 8 hits.”

Signed by : Lt. P.-E. Sovelius Aircraft: FR-92

The other seven bombers continued northwards, and being almost as fast as the Fokker D.XXI they escaped among the clouds and haze. The enemy must have had intelligence information about the Utti base, the “home” of the Finnish fighter aviation, yet these bombers flew almost over it.

The enemy bombing target was Kuopio, population 22000, situated 400 km from the Southern coast at the railway line, which made the navigation easier.

Air raid alert was sounded in Kuopio at 10.52 hours. The town, totally lacking AA defence, was shrouded in frosty mist. The population hurried to take cover in hastily dug splinter shelters, cellars, holes in the ground or in the surrounding forest. Nine two-enigined Soviet bombers flew over the town, failing to spot it. The enemy flew to the North, then turned and dropped 7 high explosive (HE) bombs and fired with machine guns. No actual damage was caused.

Immediately another enemy escadrille was spotted. It was recorded to comprise 6 twin-engined bombers. (This was the 6. DBAP intercepted by Sovelius.) They also at first flew over the town and turned back at Siilinjärvi about 15 km to N. Now unfortunately wind had rosen and scattered the mist. The enemy approached at an altitude of 1000 m, dropped 54 HE bombs and fired with machine guns. 35 houses were damaged, but only one person was killed – by heart attack. ( Three ore lethal air raids followed later in January and February: 42 people were killed, hundreds wounded, 200 houses damaged or destroyed.) It was a terror raid, pure and simple.

The Fokker pilots at Utti kept their flying gear on and waited for the returning bombers. Lt. Sarvanto ordered his ground crew to keep his "FR-97", "white 2" warm (see profile in page bottom).

Message was received at 11:50 - '7 bombers flying south following the northern railway!'. The pilots of 4./LLv 24 climbed in their fighters, warmed up the engines and turned their radios on. Lieutenant Jorma Sarvanto listened to the radio traffic, soon he and his wingman (constituting one patrol) were ordered to take off. After take-off the wingman found that he had an engine problem (snow had clogged the engine air intake during take off) and he had to return. Lt. Sarvanto continued alone at the optimum rate of climb, direction N to meet the enemy.

The second pair (Lt. Sovelius and Sgt. Ikonen) took off after noticing that Lieutenant Sarvanto had to go alone, but Sarvanto had a good head start. Now the clouds had disappeared from the sky at Utti, and Sarvanto discovered the handsome formation of DB bomber bellies lit by dim sun shining through the haze. He counted seven silver coloured DB-3 bombers. To the left - a wedge of three, to the right - four abreast, all no farther than one plane length from each other. There was no fighter escort.

Sarvanto continued climbing, turning south by a right curve. For a moment he was within the range and sector of the bomber nose gunners, but remained unnoticed due to sun glare. When he was at the same altitude of 3000 m with the bombers, he was about 500m behind them. Sarvanto pursued the enemy at full power. He decided to attack the leftmost wing bomber, although the third from left was closest to him, to avoid getting into cross-fire from the rear gunners. At a distance of 300 m his plane vibrated unpleasantly - he had flown in a bomber gunner MG salvo.

The fighter pilot kept on approaching the bombers. At a distance of 20 (twenty) meters he aimed at the fuselage of his victim, the left wing bomber, and pressed the trigger briefly. The tracers hit the target. Next, he shifted his aim at the rear gunner of the tail bomber, and killed him. Lt. Sarvanto then carefully aimed at the right engine of the first bomber and fired a brief burst. The bomber's engine caught fire. He repeated the same maneuvre at the tail bomber with similar result. Two burning DB-3 bombers were leaving the formation.

Jorma Sarvanto cheered aloud and attacked the right wing of the formation while the bomber rear gunners blazed at his Fokker. He fired at each engine of the nearest bomber, making them smoke and forcing the bomber to leave the formation. Then he engaged the other bombers at a very close range. Each victim caught fire after two to three brief bursts of MG fire. Sarvanto glanced back - the latest smoking bomber was now in flames and diving to the ground.

Now Sarvanto decided to destroy every one of the DB-3 formation. Some burning bombers made a slow half-roll before diving down, another pulled up before diving down. All the time they were flying south, the sun shone red through the haze low in southern horizon unless dimmed by smoke from a burning enemy plane.

Bomber no.6 was much more resistant to his bullets. The Fokker wing guns were out of ammo by now, but finally the DB-3 caught fire, and Finnish pilot could engage the last bomber. He already had eliminated the rear gunner, so he could fly close to the target. He aimed at one engine and pressed the trigger. Not a single shot. Sarvanto pulled the loading lever and retried shooting, but again in vain. He had spent his ammunition. There was nothing to do but leave the bomber alone and return to the base.

Columns of black smoke hung in the air and burning bomber wrecks could be seen on the ground. Sarvanto checked his instruments, there was no damage to vital parts, but his radio was dead and the Fokker's wings resembled Swiss cheese When preparing for landing he found that the hydraulic pump for the landing flaps did not work, but he landed successfully despite that...

Luutnantti Sarvanto felt very satisified as he parked his Fokker, but he did not quite get out of the cockpit before his cheering ground crew grabbed him and threw him in the air. The flight lasted 25 minutes and the actual battle 5 minutes, during which he shot down 6 DB-3 bombers belonging to the 6th DBAP of the Soviet Air Force. Two Soviet airmen bailed out and were taken prisoners, but the sources do not mention their names. The mechanics counted 23 hits from the bomber rear gunners in FR-97, some of them near the cockpit, necessitating several weeks' repairs at the State Aircraft Factory.

The patrol that took off afterwards pursued the surviving bomber.

The second battle report by Lt. Sovelius:

Date and time: 6.1. 1940 12.30 hrs

Place of the aerial battle: “Gulf of Finland South of Kotka between Suursaari and Lavansaari”

Enemy a/c: “DB”

Fate of the enemy a/c: “Left engine burning, dived in the sea. Air surveillance center reported 12.25 hrs at map square 32C6.”

Course of the aerial battle: “This a/c belonged to the formation of seven of which Sarvanto shot down 6. This a/c continued flying. I pursued her with Sgt. Ikonen. Sgt. Ikonen ran out of ammo South of Haapasaari (rem: he kept firing at a long range) and he turned back. I continued still for a while and finally reached the range of 200 m. I fired a long burst whereby the enemy left engine caught fire and the a/c began to descend toward the sea. Dense fog made pursuit difficult.”

Ammunition consumption: “1000 pcs”

Evidence : “Air surveillance center report.”

Other obervations: -

Signed by : Lt. P.-E. Sovelius Aircraft: FR-92

Next night Sarvanto visited the local Air Defence Center in Kouvola. He was presented to an enemy Sr. Lieutenant who had parachuted out of one of the bombers, and he also was shown war booty found in the wrecks: Field manuals, training manuals, pistols. Another POW, a Captain, was in hospital with a broken leg.

The Finnish radio surveillance found that the enemy stations kept calling the destroyed escadrille far beyond the theoretical maximum flying time, late in the night.

This feat by Sarvanto received tremendous publicity in the word press, who considered it a world record at the time. Many major Western newspapers published a photo of Lt. Sarvanto holding a large creased sheet of aluminium with a big "5" on it, a trophy from one of the victims. The hero himself was rather embarrassed by his unexpected fame, he said that any of his fellow pilots could have shot down those six bombers if they had had equal opportunity.

The town council of Kuopio donated silver candlesticks for Sarvanto, Sovelius and Ikonen as a token of gratitude.

The reasons for this unusual success were the following:

Approaching at a close range and shooting accurately
The bombers flew passively and lacked fighter escort.
The half-empty bomber fuel tanks were vulnerable due to accumulated fumes.
It is no wonder that the enemy flew “passively”. Finnish pilots flying captured DB-3s found that she simply could not be coaxed by her pilot to do any reasonable evasive action, such as sideslipping. The DB-3 was very stable, a virtue during a bomb run but vice when under attack by fighters. But directing the bombers to fly next to a known fighter base is more difficult to understand.

It is also rumoured that the armourers had disregarded the regulations and had loaded the Fokker's MG belts with a larger proportion of scarce and expensive incendiary and armour piercing ammunition. Some Soviet sources imply that the bombers were lacking defensive armament but this is not true, both FR-92 and FR-97 were damaged by enemy machine gunners during the action .

This day also proved the VVS that bombers penetrating deep in the enemy airspace without fighter escort are bound to take heavy losses.

Finally, the actual battle report by Lt. Jorma Sarvanto:

Report of Air Battle

(about enemy a/c that have been damaged or shot down)

Date and time: “6.1. 1940 12.03 – 12.07 hrs”

Place of the aerial battle: “Utti-Tavastila (altitude omitted)”

Enemy a/c: “DB a/c (radial engines)”

Fate of the enemy a/c: “6 a/c caught fire in the air, one continued her course but the gunner was silent. A/c found.”

Course of the aerial battle: “I approached alone from ahead and below. I changed my course to parallel so that they flew over me and I got behind and below them. I shot the a/c in flames from right behind about in the numbered sequence (sketch below). In the beginning the gunners flank-fired but I suppressed their fire with brief bursts. My range varied from 20 to 150m.

I fired minimal bursts at the engines and each a/c caught fire at the 2nd or 3rd burst. Ammunition consumption about 2000 pcs.”

bobbysocks

05-24-2010, 04:56 PM

The highest scoring Fw 190 ace, Oberfeldwebel Otto Kittel, began his career on the Bf 109, but started slowly. An NCO pilot with the famed JG 54 Grünherz, the "Green Hearts," Kittel found the range once his unit converted to the Focke-Wulf in early 1943.

He was born on 21 Feb.1917 in Kronsdorf (in the Sudeten region of the present Czech Republic), and joined the 2.Staffel of JG 54 in February 1941. On 31.May 1941, due to engine trouble, he bailed out of his Bf 109 F-2, and landed at Spikeroog, only lightly injured. In June of 1941, with the start of Operation Barbarossa, he shot down a Yak-1 fighter, an SB-2 bomber and an IL-2. By the end of 1941, he had achieved 17 victories (not a very impressive number, considering the relatively easy time that the Luftwaffe had in those early days). JG 54 was based at Krasnogvardeisk.

In July, 1942, he was married, by means of a long-distance ceremony Fertrauung, a German wartime policy. On 19.Feb.1943 he shot down his 39th plane, which also was the 4000th victory of JG 54.

After achieving his 47th victory on 15 March 1943 (while flying FW 190A-4, serial number 2481), Kittel made an emergency landing 60 kilometers (37 miles) behind Russian lines. After landing on an open icy field, he immediately set out for some woods he saw at 2 kilometers distance. Sitting in the woods for a short break, he searched his pockets and found three "Drops" and two cigarette packets, but no matches. He also had a gun, a clock and a compass. In his haste to leave his landing site, he had forgotten his supplies and his gloves. Bitterly cold and underclothed, he crossed the frozen Ilmen Lake and after 3 days without food, reached the German troops. After he returned to his Group, 18.March 1943, he was promoted to Oberfeldwebel and got the German Cross in gold.

He received the Ritterkreuz des Eisernen Kreuzes (Knight`s Cross to the Iron Cross) on 29 Oct. 1943 upon achieving his 123rd victory. And he got the "Oak Leaves" in April, 1944.

From November 1943 through January 1944, he was Instructor of the EJGr.Ost, in Biarritz, France. 31.December 1943 , Kittel started to attack American bombers, but didn't get involved in a dogfight. Some of his EJGr.Ost comrades were upset because of that.

In March 1944, Kittel returned to JG 54 on the Russian Front, but after just two months was transfered to the western front, the Normandy invasion area, to help III./JG 54.

He earned his Schwerter (Swords) on 25 November 1944 after achieving 239th victory.

Kittel was killed on February 14, 1945 (his 583rd mission), over Courland by an Il-2 Stormovik.

Erich Rudorffer
Leading Bf 109 Ace

He flew over 1,000 missions, with 222 aerial victories, and was shot down 16 times, including 9 bailouts. He flew the Bf.109 in the Battle of Britain in late 1940.

He went to Tunisia in late 1942 when the Luftwaffe sought to check the American advances in North Africa. In February, 1943, he was flying the Fw.190 with J.G. 2 against the Americans. On the 9th, while based at Kairouan, his unit got word of an attack by dozens of USAAF bombers and fighters. They attacked the B-17s, as the P-40s, P-38s, Spitfires and Hurricanes came to defend them. In the ensuing dogfight, the P-40s went into a defensive Lufbery. But Rudorffer repeatedly penetrated it, and shot down six of the Curtiss fighters in a few minutes. As the dogfight broke up, he spotted some P-38s below, and destroyed two of them. Eight in one day! One of his best days ever.

He was sent to Russia in August, and achieved great success on that fronat as well, downing eleven Russian machines on two different occasions.

In 1944, he flew the Me.262 jet against the U.S. bombers that were attacking Germany. While the Me.262 was very fast,it had a lot of bugs, and there were simply too many Allied aircraft by that time.

Rudorffer also survived the war.

Gerhard Barkhorn
Second-highest scoring ace of all time

Gerhard Barkhorn scored 301 victories, achieved in 1,104 missions; all his victories were won on the Russian Front.

He was born on 20 May 1919 at Königsberg in East Prussia. In 1937, he joined the Luftwaffe, and began flight training in March 1938. After initial posting to 3./JG 2, Leutnant Barkhorn was transferred to 6./JG 52 on 1 August 1940. He flew his first missions during the Battle of Britain but did not shoot down any aircraft at this time. He was shot down over the Channel, and was rescued.

JG 52 transferred to the East just before Operation Barbarossa, and Barkhorn was soon flying ten sorties a day. Barkhorn achieved his first victory during his 120th mission on 2 July 1941 over the Eastern Front. Thereafter he was to score steadily, if relatively unspectacularly, in comparison to other Eastern Front Luftwaffe aces. On his best single mission he scored four victories, on his best day seven.

Highlights of Barkhorn's career include:

5 January 1942 - his 30th victory
1 March - Staffelkapitän of 4./JG 52
25 July - wounded while flying Bf 109 F-4 (# 13388) 'White 5'
23 August - awarded the Ritterkreuz, with 64 victories
19 December - his 100th victory

11 January 1943 - awarded the Oak Leaves, with 105 victories
8 August - his 150th victory
1 September - Gruppenkommandeur of II./JG 52
30 November - his 200th victory

23 January 1944 - 1,000 combat missions (the first fighter pilot in history to do so)
13 February - his 250th victory
2 March - awarded the Swords

5 January 1945 - his 301st, and last, victory
In the month of May, 1942 he recorded seven victories, 16 in June, and 31 in July. After a two month break, he recorded 14 victories in October, 7 in November, and 17 in December.
He claimed 24 victories in August, 1943, 15 in September, 23 in November, and 28 in December, including seven on 28 December (his best day of combat). His success did not come without cost. He was shot down many times (some source say 7, some 9), he bailed out once, and was wounded twice. On 31 May 1944, Barkhorn was flying his sixth mission of the day in Bf 109 G-6 (WNr 163195) 'Black 5,' when he was bounced by a Russian Airacobra and shot down. He received severe wounds to his right arm and leg which put him out of action for four months. He returned to combat duty at the end of October.

On 16 January 1945, Major Barkhorn was transferred to take command of JG 6 serving on Reichsverteidigung duties based at Posen. He led the unit until 10 April 1945 but was still suffering the effects of his wounds and eventually relinquished command for another spell in hospital. On recovery he joined JV 44. On 21 April 1945, flying an Me 262 jet fighter, an engine failed. He broke off his attack on some American bombers and returned to base at Riem. Pursued by the Mustang fighter escort he crash-landed his crippled machine in a clearing. The cockpit canopy, which he had opened to enable a quick escape, slammed shut on his neck. This put him back in hospital and out of the war.

After the war Barkhorn became a Generalleutnant in the Bundesluftwaffe. He retired in 1976. He died, with his wife Christl, in an automobile accident on 6 January 1983.

more on Hans-Joachim "Jochen" Marseille
The Star of Africa
One of the real playboys among the Experten was Hans-Joachim Marseille. Fighter pilots have always had an eye for the ladies, but Marseille, with his striking good looks and fame as the "Star of Africa," really indulged in exra-curricular activities. At 158 aerial victories, he was the leading Luftwaffe ace against Western fliers, and one of the nine aces to earn the "Diamonds."

Born in 1919, the son of an Army officer, Marseille joined the Luftwaffe in 1938. He qualified as a fighter pilot and was selected as an officer candidate, but, due to his lack of discipline and irresponsibility, was the last of his cadet class to earn his commission. Assigned to I/JG 2 in August 1940, he shot down his first enemy airplane, a Hawker Hurricane that month. His undisciplined attitude extended to his flying, as he would plunge into any dogfight, regardless of the tactical situation. During the Battle of Britain, he claimed five more victories, and was himself, shot down four times over the Channel.

He partied so hard that he frequently was unfit to fly, so that his commander, Macky Steinhoff, wanted him out, and he was transferred to I/JG 27 by the end of the year. The commander of that unit was considerably more flexible, and when they were transferred to Libya in April, 1941, the dearth of women helped Marseille focus on his work.

Marseille increased his skills gradually, learning to get close, close, close to his targets. By getting close and developing his deflection shooting, he minimized the amount of ammunition used to shoot down each victim, averaging just fifteen bullets each! His victories and medals mounted up: by February 1942, he had 50 and the Ritterkreuz; by June 6, 75 and the Eichenlaub. In the summer of 1942, he really hit his stride, and in just twelve days in June, shot down another twenty-six, for a total of 101, earning the Schwerter. On one day, September 2, he shot down seventeen aircraft in three sorties, bringing his total to 126, and earning him the Billanten.

September would see him score 54 kills, his most productive month. The 17 enemy aircraft shot down included eight in 10 minutes, as a result of this feat he was presented with a type 82 Volkswagen Kübelwagen by an Italian Regia Aeronautica squadron. This was the most aircraft from Western Allied air forces shot down by a single pilot in one day. Meeting Rommel, on 16 September, "The Desert Fox" congratulated Marseille on becoming the youngest Hauptmann in the Luftwaffe.

Marseille continued scoring multiple kills throughout September, including seven on 15 September. Between 16-25 September Marseille failed to increase his score due to a fractured arm. As a result he had been forbidden from flying by Eduard Neumann. Marseille had borrowed a Macchi C.205 from neighbouring Italian Squadron to test fly. The aircaft was the personal "mount" of Italian ace Lt Emanuele Annoni. Marseille crashed the aircraft on landing, highlighting his deficiencies in Marseille's flying skills. Marseille was becoming physically exhausted by the frenetic pace of combat. After his last combat on the 26 September, Marseille was reportedly on the verge of collapse after a 15-minute battle with a formation of Spitfires, during which he scored his seventh victory of that day.

Death
The two missions of 26 September 1942 had been flown in Bf 109G-2/Trops, in one of which Marseille had shot down seven enemy aircraft. Over the next three days Marseille's Staffel was rested and taken off flying duties. On 28 September Marseille received a telephone call from Generalfeldmarschall Erwin Rommel asking to return with him to Berlin, but Marseille declined for personal reasons. In a 1955 biographical movie, it was intimated that he had become aware of the Holocaust and disdained meeting Hitler on that account, but, there's no real evidence of this.

On 30 September 1942, Marseille was leading his Staffel on a Stuka escort mission, during which no contact with enemy fighters was made. While returning to base, his new Bf 109G-2/Trop's cockpit began to fill with smoke; blinded and half asphyxiated, he was guided back to German lines by his wingmen. Upon reaching friendly lines, "Yellow 14" had lost power and was drifting lower and lower. Marseille deemed his aircraft no longer flyable and decided to bail out, his last words being "I've got to get out now, I can't stand it any longer".

His Staffel, which had been flying a tight formation around him, peeled away to give him the necessary room to maneuver. Marseille rolled his aircraft onto its back, the standard procedure for bail out, but due to the smoke and slight disorientation, he failed to notice that the aircraft had entered a steep dive and was now travelling at a considerably faster speed. He worked his way out of the cockpit and into the rushing air only to be carried backwards by the slipstream, the left side of his chest striking the vertical stabiliser of his fighter, either killing him instantly or rendering him unconscious to the point that he could not deploy his parachute. He fell almost vertically, hitting the desert floor seven km south of Sidi Abdel Rahman. He had not even attempted to open his parachute, and was dead by the time he hit the ground.

His death, along with two other aces, severely affected morale in JG 27, and the unit was shortly withdrawn from North Africa. Many authorities regard Marseille as the best marksman and the best fighter pilot of WW2. The rudder of his last airplane, marked with his 158 victories, is in the Luftwaffe museum in Berlin.

bobbysocks

05-24-2010, 05:05 PM

Rudy Augarten - avenging the Holocaust
Written by Eric Bogomolny.

i see some irony that isreal uses former nazi ac for its defense...anyway

Rudy Augarten was in his early 20s when he flew P-47 Thunderbolts for the US Airforce. On June 10, 1944, soon after D-Day, Augarten left from a base in southern England for a search-and-destroy patrol in a flight of four P-47. The sky was overcast, and the planes came down through the clouds over the French town of Caen. Below, a battle raged between the Germans and the Allies. Caen was well defended by the Germans, and anti-aircraft fire started to rock the planes. The pilots quickly pulled up to avoid the German flak. Suddenly, smoke began to fill the cockpit of Augarten-s P-47. He had been hit. "You-re on fire!" one of the other pilots radioed to Augarten. Augarten-s situation was critical. By now, the patrol had drifted further inland over German-occupied France, and Augarten needed to bail out. He opened the plane-s canopy and dove over the side. The bailout did not go smoothly. Augarten had forgotten to take off his oxygen mask, and it hit him in the face. As he plummeted toward the ground, he groped for his parachute cord. It took a few moments, but he finally found it and pulled. Augarten landed in back of a French farmhouse. As Augarten hit the ground, he had with him only the uniform on his back and an escape kit that contained some food and a little bit of money v but no gun. The farmer in whose field Augarten came down had seen the plane crash. The Frenchman ran out to give the pilot a pair of overalls, but, apparently fearing the Germans might come at any moment, quickly sent Augarten on his way. Augarten started walking and, after about a mile or so, came to another farmhouse. He knocked on the door, and a farmer answered. Augarten knew only a few phrases of French, and he used one then: "Je suis American" ("I-m an American"). The farmer and his wife decided to hide Rudy. But he stilt wasn't safe. German troops came by the farmhouse regularly, and each time Augarten hid in the attic while they searched the area. After two weeks, Augarten felt he could no longer endanger his French hosts. He left early one evening and wandered through the countryside. He tried to work his way toward the front, hoping to sneak past the Germans and back to the American lines. As he walked, he was constantly on the lookout for German patrols. After hiking all night, he came upon another farmhouse, but this one looked strangely familiar. Augarten couldn't believe it v he had walked in a giant circle, and was right back where he started. He stayed for another week, but grew increasingly concerned about the harm to his hosts if the Germans found him. Augarten was also desperate to get back into action. There were railroad tracks a few hundred yards from the farm, and this time he decided to follow the tracks toward the front line. After walking for a while, he came upon some Frenchmen, and again identified himself as an American GI. One of the men led Augarten to a ditch, where a group of British paratroopers who had been dropped off-course were already hiding. Augarten and the other soldiers stayed in the ditch for about a week. Each day, a Frenchman brought food. One day, however, he told the men he had seen Germans in the nearby fields. With danger so close by, he could not continue to help them. The men decided to break up into pairs and leave the area. Most decided to go to Spain, about five hundred miles away. But Rudy and one of the paratroopers decided to try to get through the front lines. Before going their separate ways, they divided up their weapons, and Augarten ended up with a pistol and a grenade. That first night, Augarten and his partner encountered a group of German soldiers. From a distance, one of the Germans called out in Augarten-s direction, "Sind sie das, Karl?" ("Is that you, Karl?"). There was no time to think. "Ja", Rudy answered the soldier, using his scant knowledge of German to maximum effect, and walked away. Apparently convinced that he was another member of their unit, the Germans did not follow. Augarten and the British paratrooper continued walking through the night. Several times they crept past German soldiers sleeping in foxholes, as the two moved closer and closer to the front. As day broke, however, their luck finally ran out. They were walking down a road bordered on both sides by hedgerows when Augarten saw a German soldier a short distance away. "Halt!" - the soldier shouted. "I-m going to give up," - whispered Rudy-s partner. Augarten had other plans. He threw the grenade at the German and then scurried behind one of the hedgerows on the side of the road, finding shelter in a ditch. All hell broke loose. The grenade exploded. The Germans began firing their machine guns wildly, raking the hedgerows. They were trying to get him to fire back and give away his position. Augarten kept still. The Germans stopped shooting and started to search the area. Finally, after about half an hour, they spotted him. This time, Augarten had no choice. He surrendered, and was taken prisoner along with the British paratrooper. Augarten was relieved to discover that the Germans who captured him were not from the SS. Like all Jewish servicemen in the American military, his dogtags identified his religious faith with the letter "H" for "Hebrew." Augarten knew that, as a Jew, he would not have had much hope of surviving capture by the SS. But Augarten-s captors were not interested in his religion or ethnic origin. They took him and the paratrooper to an abandoned brick factory, where two captured Canadian pilots were also being held. After three days, the prisoners were moved to a horse farm, which had been converted by the Germans to serve as a POW camp. The farm had a U-shaped building with nearly two dozen stables surrounding an open courtyard. In each stable, the Germans placed ten-to-fifteen Allied soldiers, separated by rank. Augarten, a second lieutenant, found himself in a stable with thirteen other officers. Each morning, the Germans lined up the prisoners in the courtyard and counted them. Afterward, Augarten and the others were free to wander in and out of the stables, and talk to other prisoners. Soon after arriving at the farmhouse, Augarten met Gerald Gordon, a British paratrooper. Gordon worked in the farmhouse kitchen making food for the prisoners. Several days after the two men first met, Gordon smuggled a knife from the kitchen back into the stables and gave it to Augarten-s group of officers. With the knife in their possession, the men began to discuss a possible escape attempt. Augarten wanted to go, as did Gordon, the two Canadian pilots from the brick factory, and two British officers. The rest decided to stay. A few nights later, the six escapees gathered in Augarten-s stall. Using the knife, they cut an opening in the stable's soft wood ceiling. One by one, each man climbed through to the attic above. After a short search of the attic, they found a window. They realized their plans had not gone unnoticed. Someone, probably the wife of the stable owner, had left a large dish of butter by the window. None of the six had eaten butter for weeks. The two British officers quickly dug in with their bare hands. Augarten and the others grew impatient. They wanted to move on as quickly as possible. The British finally finished eating, and the men huddled around the window. Looking out, they spied a guard making a pass every quarter hour. The window was about fifteen feet above the ground, and the men knew they risked injury if they tried jumping. Moving quickly, they fastened a rope from some extra clothes and, timing the guard's passes, lowered themselves to the ground. The men went down in groups of two. Augarten watched as the two Canadian pilots lowered themselves down and ran across a street adjoining the stable. Augarten and Gordon went next. After sliding down to the ground, the two made their way across the street and into the woods. They hiked for a while, before running into a Frenchman who gave them some civilian clothes. But the two soon realized that the woods were slowing them down, and decided to try their luck on the roads instead. German tanks and trucks and refugees escaping the fighting choked the roads. Augarten and Gordon walked with the refugees, using them as cover. Suddenly, Augarten heard a shout. "Halt!" He turned and saw two German SS officers motioning for him and Gordon to come over. Wearing French civilian clothing and carrying their uniforms in bundles under their arms, Augarten and Gordon walked over to the Germans. Augarten tried to remain calm, but he was gripped with fear. The SS officers began asking the men questions in German. Augarten responded in his broken French. Luckily, the Germans knew even less French than Augarten, and didn't realize the American barely spoke the language. The officers motioned for the two men to continue on their way. The road became more and more clogged with Germans. Augarten and Gordon reluctantly decided it was too dangerous to continue walking out in the open. They found a farm and, after identifying themselves as Allied soldiers, asked if they could stay. The owner was too fearful to allow them to stay in the house. However, he agreed to let Augarten and Gordon hide in a little shack on his property, about a half-mile away from the main house. They remained there for three weeks, receiving food twice a day from the farmer's young daughter, Madeline. Then, one day, Madeline told the two men that the Germans were growing suspicious. They were coming over to the house frequently, making it too dangerous for Augarten and Gordon to stay. The family directed the escapees to another area where some other soldiers were hiding. A few miles away, Rudy and Gordon found half-dozen black Senegalese troops in hiding. They had hooked up with members of the French underground. The group told the two that the Germans were retreating from the area. The Senegalese were thinking of more than simple escape from the retreating Germans. They were armed, and hoped to pick off some of the Germans. With Augarten and Gordon in tow, the Senegalese and their underground comrades positioned themselves along a road bounded on both sides by a ditch and a hedgerow. The men split up into two groups and hid behind the hedgerows. As dusk approached, a German soldier riding a motorcycle came speeding down the road. The men held their fire, and the motorcycle passed quickly and without incident. About five minutes later, the same motorcyclist came back from the op- opposite direction. This time, one of the men squeezed off a round. The shot missed, and the German sped off into the distance, About an hour later, Augarten heard something coming up the road. He looked in the direction of the sound, and saw a group of soldiers marching alongside a tank. In the twilight, Augarten couldn't see the soldiers very well. All of a sudden, shots were fired from down the road toward the men and their tank. The tank stopped and the soldiers dove into the ditches sandwiched between the road and the hedgerows, only a few feet away from Augarten-s group. Augarten held his breath, straining not to make any noise. Just then, one of the soldiers who had jumped into the ditch whispered loudly, "For Christ's sake, McCarthy, get off my foot!" Augarten couldn't believe his luck. "Are you Americans?" he asked the men. "Yes. Who are you?" came the reply. The soldiers took Augarten and the others to the company commander, who arranged for the group to be driven to Allied lines, about fifteen miles away. The American's two-month adventure through German-occupied France had finally come to an end. Considering the ordeal Augarten had just been through, the army felt it appropriate to send him home instead of back into combat. But Augarten refused. He had pulled a lot of strings to get into the fighting in the first place, and had flown only ten missions before being shot down. Augarten formally requested permission to remain in Europe with his unit, and his request was granted. He telegraphed his parents to tell them he had survived, and went back to flying. During the remainder of his tour, Augarten flew over ninety missions. One of these stood out from the rest. During that flight, Rudy engaged several Messerschmitts, shooting down two. That feat earned him the Distinguished Flying Cross.

After the war, the twenty-three-year-old Augarten returned to the States and began his university studies. He was studying International Relations at Harvard, as events were heating up in Palestine in early 1948. On the suggestion of a friend, Augarten attended a lecture at the Harvard Library given by a young Palestinian diplomat, who turned out to be Abba Eban, then a diplomat and representative of the new State of Israel and, much later, Israel's foreign minister. After the lecture, Augarten told a friend active in a local Zionist group that he wanted to do something for his fellow Jews in Palestine. The friend gave him the address of someone to see in New York. On his spring vacation, Augarten visited the offices of Land and Labor for Palestine, a front organization recruiting volunteers to fight for Israel, in Manhattan and told them about his background. At that time, the Israelis had been able to recruit only a handful of pilots, and they were very impressed with his war record. They asked if he could go to Palestine immediately. Augarten agreed, and went to tell his parents about his decision. Augarten-s parents were bitterly opposed to his returning to flying. The strain of having a son missing in action for more than two months had taken its toll. They were not prepared for Augarten to return to the dangers of combat. Deferring to his parents, Augarten decided not to do anything immediately. He returned to his studies at Harvard. As reports of the fighting in Palestine got worse, however, Augarten could not stay away any longer. He got back in touch with Land and Labor and arranged to fly out as soon as exams were over. To avoid another confrontation with his parents, he sent them a letter, timed to arrive after his departure. Rudy arrived in Israel shortly before the second truce, after receiving his Messerschmitt training in Czechoslovakia.

A few words needs to be said about the main fighter plane of the Sherut Avir v Air Service, as the Israeli Air force was called in the beginning of the War for Independence. I personally consider the fact that this plane was Israel's first fighter one of the biggest ironies of history. The correct name of this plane is Avia S-199. After World War 2 a large number of Messerschmitt BF-109G airframes was left at the Czechoslovakian Avia factory, which was building planes for the Germans during the occupation. But the Daimler-Benz DB-605 engines used on the real Messerschmitts were not available. However, Junkers Jumo-211 engines were. These Jumo-211 engines were fitted to the Me-109 airframes. This resulted in the plane that was extremely cheap to produce, but with such flight characteristics, that the pilots, who flew it for Israel, nicknamed it "Nazi Revenge". The plane was called Me-109 out of habit, or, maybe, out of wishful thinking. Unfortunately, it was very far from the vaunted Messerschmitt flown by many German aces during World War 2. The engine switch caused the plane to pull left on take-off and right on landing, sometimes so violently that the Me-109 actually flipped over. Another problem was that its two nose machine guns had a tendency to go out of sync, causing several pilots to literally shoot themselves down. In addition to this, the 20 mm cannon that was firing through the propeller hub in the original Me-109 had to be removed. To increase the firepower two 20 mm cannons were added in the underwing pods, causing additional drag and weight increase. Nevertheless, the Israelis were happy to get any fighters, and even with all these problems, the Me-109 was still fighter plane enough for the veteran pilots of the new Israeli Air Force to hold their own against the superior Spitfires flown by the Egyptians.

Israel was in short supply of almost everything, and with less than ten serviceable fighter planes in the entire country, the 101st, the only fighter squadron in the country, was particularly afflicted. It didn't have enough planes for the two dozen pilots who were capable of flying them, and there was competition for each flight. On October 16, 1948, one day into the first major Israeli offensive against the Egyptians called Operation Yoav, Augarten-s turn had finally arrived. Egypt's air base at El Arish had been one of the sites of the previous day's raid by Israel's only fighter squadron, the 101st. Augarten was on a photo-reconnaissance mission to determine what targets the air force had destroyed, and what it needed to finish off. Although his assignment was simple, he was happy for the chance to be flying at all. Rudy flew southwest toward the coast. Suddenly, in the distance, he spotted two Spitfires flying in formation. Augarten could tell by their shape that they were not Me-109s, like the plane he was flying. Rudy was too far away to make out their markings, but it didn't matter. Even though the Israeli Air Force had several Spitfires in its arsenal, he knew immediately that the two Spits were Egyptian. Because mechanical problems and fuel shortages limited the Israeli Air Force to only a few planes in the air at any one time, the pilots were always confident when they saw another plane that it was not one of their own. Augarten carefully got into position behind the two Egyptians, hoping they wouldn't detect his approach. Just then, fellow 101 pilot Leon Frankel, who was patrolling in the area, saw Augarten beginning to engage the Spits. Trying to come to Augarten-s aid, Frankel rolled his plane over and dove toward the combatants. But before he reached the scene, Augarten lined up one of the Spits in his gunsight, and fired a burst from the Me-109-s two 7.92 millimeter machine guns. Pieces of the Spitfire flew off as the bullets pierced its thin aluminum body. The Egyptian plane plummeted toward Israeli lines, leaving a trail of black smoke. The other Spit fled the battle scene. With no other enemy planes in sight, Frankel and Augarten fell into formation for the trip back to the base. A few days later, Augarten got a treat few fighter pilots ever receive. An army unit took him by jeep to see firsthand the wreckage of the plane he had downed. Smiling broadly, he posed for a photograph in front of what remained of the Spit. With that victory, Augarten had experienced the Czech version of the Me-109 at its best.

His victory at the beginning of Operation Yoav was his first as a pilot in the Israeli Air Force, but it would not be his last. The next day after the capture of Beersheba, Rudy Augarten was again in the air over the Negev. This time, Augarten was in one of the squadron's new Spitfires. He was not alone on this flight. Canadian Jack Doyle flew the other Spit at Augarten-s side. As the two patrolled, they spotted four Egyptian Spitfires. Veteran pilots, Doyle and Augarten turned to come out of the sun at the enemy planes. They each picked a target, coming in with their guns blazing. Augarten recorded his second kill of the war, Doyle his first. The two pilots also damaged the other two Egyptian planes before returning home.

On November 11, Rudy Augarten left Kastina for a two-plane patrol near Egypt's El Arish air base. Augarten-s wingman, a South African named Boris Senior, noticed an Egyptian Dakota lining up to land. He dove down to attack. "What are you doing? This is a truce," Augarten radioed to Senior. But by then it was too late, Senior had already fired on the Egyptian. The Dakota kept flying, though, and it was clear that Senior had missed. With his wingman having already fired his guns, Augarten felt the fallout would be no greater if the Dakota was brought down. He maneuvered behind the Dakota and fired. His bullets found their mark, and the Egyptian plane crashed just before the airfield. Rudy Augarten was particularly adept at this, as his performance in the first four days of Operation Horev showed. On December 22, he climbed into a Spitfire in response to a report of Egyptian planes in the area, and damaged a Macchi that was about to land at the El Arish air- field. Two days later, he flew a P-51 Mustang on a fighter patrol. Later that same day, he escorted a bomber on an attack on the El Arish airfield, this time flying an Me-109. The next day, he was back in the Spitfire for a photo-reconnaissance mission over Egyptian positions. During the course of the war, he would shoot down four Egyptian planes, a total matched only by Jack Doyle. Augarten, who had flown a P-47 Thunderbolt during World War II, made his four kills from an Me-109, a P-51 Mustang and twice from a Spitfire. It was a remarkable display of flying skill. Many stayed on for at least a few months to help train young Israelis to fill the void created by the departing volunteers. This was particularly the case in the air force. In the 101 Squadron, Rudy Augarten and some other pilots remained in Israel to train the first class of Israeli fighter pilots. Augarten then returned to his studies at Harvard to complete his degree. He then came back to Israel, where he served for two years as the commander of the air base at Ramat David. When he resigned from the air force, he did so with the rank of lieutenant colonel.

Strange Encounter" by Roy Grinnel is depicting Rudy Augarten-s 1st victory for the Israeli Air Force. On the right - emblem of 101st

bobbysocks

05-25-2010, 07:43 PM

Anecdotes from Glatton

a collection of short anecdotes by various former members of the 457th Bomb Group. (from the 457th bg site )

British courtesy a la hospitality"

Returning from a mission in the Fall of 1944 in early evening on a fog bound night, we were short of gas and not certain of our position; searched for any likely landing spot. At a very low altitude we passed a stirp of concrete that appeared to be an acceptable solution to our problem. Following a sharp 360 degree turn we made an unapproved landing which ended with the plane coming to a halt abruptly at the end of a runway. An unfamiliar "jeep" escorted us to a parking space where we were greeted by several British combat bomber crew members.

We were taken to the clubhouse where "HIGH SPIRITS" were in hot demand. It appeared that every person in the bar demanded that he buy each of us a drink..........glass after glass became a milk shake glass filled with booze..........milkshake glass after milkshake glass continued.............to the dismal distress of a potted plant in the bar which was the recipient of the contents of the milkshalke glasses.

Then came dinner. We were served a hearty meal which include REAL EGGS. Apparently eggs were a real shortage in England and were served only to combat crews returning from a mission. (The American version of WWII eggs was a powdered version of a substance mentally described as a egg).......catsup useage received a huge boost during this period.

Later we were deposited at a billet for the night. All was well as the billet was a very comfortable place with good furnishings. The next morning we were a bit surprised to be watching a female service gal (Wren) ironing our uniforms & polishing our shoes.

Our many attempts to convince our American superiors to adopt the "in bed service" was never successful.
Frank Foster

Two Momentous Days
Two of the most momentous days of my entire life were Aug 6, 1944 and Mar 24, 1945. August 6, 1944 was my first mission, and Mar 24, 1945, was my 35th and last.

The story I'm about to relate happened on my last mission to a town called Hopsten in Germany. My job was to toggle the bombs, which I did successfully.

The flak was quite heavy over the target and after bombing we headed toward our base. The navigator had to relieve himself and he did so in his flak helmet. A short time later we ran into flak which was close......so close we could see the orange centers when the flak burst. The Navigator grabbed his helmet and put it on, and even the seriousness of the moment, was allayed by the look of this poor guy's appearence with urine running over his flak vest and flight suit. This, by the way, was his first mission and my last. I couldn't contain my laughter at his bedragled appearance.

He took it well, as he even gave me his whiskey ration when we got back to the base.
John Kearney

Dive Bombing in a B-17
There were times during our tour of duty when we managed to have some fun, even though it was not always approved by the field commander. I don't remember what date or time of year this was but it was a time of very bad weather in England in 1944.

We had prepared for a mission and had taken off with a full load of 500 pound bombs. After only a few of the Group's planes were airborn there was a mission recall. This meant that the mission was scrubbed, probably because of very bad weather over Germany. We were told via radio that we were to dispose of our bombs and return to our field.

Our Group's procedure for disposing of our bombs was to arm them and drop them in an area of the North Sea that cuts into the side of England known as "The Wash". The Wash was perhaps a hundred miles Northwest of Glatton airfield. The other primary rule for bomb disposal was to be sure that the visibility was good. We must also be out of site of land, and we were to drop our bombs only when we were sure no English fishing vessels or military boats were anywhere near the area.

We proceeded to the Wash only to find that there was a low thin cover of clouds whose top was perhaps 400 feet above the water and extending as far as we could see. There was never any thought of returning to the field with the bombs. Landing with a load of bombs and full gas tanks was too risky.
What to do?

We decided to go down to determine how low the cloud layer actually was. We made a slow instrument descent through the clouds. When we broke through at about 200 feet we found the visibility to be clear and we could readily see for a considerable distance over the water . A suggestion from our bombardier (Joel Lester) and with gleeful agreement from the rest of the crew, we decided that we would rise above the cloud layer, which was only a few hundred feet thick, arm a bomb, then dive down through the cloud layer, level off, observe that no ships were in the area, quickly release one bomb, pull up as quickly as possible and get as much distance between us and the bomb before it exploded.
We did not know how close we could be to an exploding 500 pound bomb without sustaining damage.

We first made a dry run or two before Joel finally armed one of the bombs. Then, down we went. We started at about 1000 ft altitude and dove down with engines at full throttle, broke through the clouds, "bombs away" came over the intercom from Joel, and up we went as fast as a B-17 could climb at full throttle. Just before we broke out of the cloud layer we heard the bomb explode with a loud 'WOOMMP'. Hearing the bomb explode surprised me since I had never experienced that before.

A check of the crew and the plane determined that there was no sign of damage and no one in the crew observed the bomb exploding through the clouds. We continued this bombing, one at a time, until we had exhausted our supply of bombs. Everyone seemed to enjoy this adventure and I kinda wished that we could do this with some of the Group's targets in Germany. Bad, bad, bad idea. This may be the only B-17 in the 8th Air Force to practice dive bombing.

As we returned to our home field there was much chatter on the intercom about the incident and the fun we had had dive bombing in a B-17G.
Willard (Hap) Reese

Isolation
After flying overseas from Kearney, Nebraska to England, we were assigned to a temporary facility near the "Wash" for about a week or more of training, mostly in aircraft identification. Then on to "Stone" to be assigned to a bomb group. We took a train to Peterborough and the standard GI truck from Peterborough to the 457th Bomb Group at Glatton.

Upon arrival at the 749th Squadron in May 1944, we immediately noticed something different from anything we had experienced before.......the men wore all types of outifits. Most wore A2 jackets as the outer cover. These A2 jackets were painted with all kinds of things......bombs on the front of jacket, and pictures of a airplanes or perhaps a girl on the back. We immediately felt a little out of place with our shiny new A2 jackets that had just been issued in Kearney Nebraska a couple weeks before.
As we got out of the truck we immediately noticed something even more unusual.......these veteran crews ignored us completely and went on about their business. There were no welcome shouts of "You won't like it here" or "You'll be sorry", that we experienced in the past at training fields when we first arrived. No one came over to see if they happened to know any of this new crew just arriving. Just nothing...... We were ignored. It was just as if we were invisible.

It did not take long for us to adjust and become just like the men that we had seen upon our arrival.
I was to spend 8 months in this squadron without knowing anyone who did not live in our quonset hut. The crew was everything, in our life. We worked with our crew and we played with our crew. No exceptions. Several other crews came to live in our hut along with us, but we stayed aloof from them. One crew came to our hut and was missing two days later. It simply did not pay to enlarge the friendship scene.

I flew 10 missions as a spare gunner with a different crew each mission. I did not learn a single name of any of them. I was told to report to a certain aircraft number and was given the pilots name after the briefing was over. Upon arrival at the aircraft and introducing myself, the pilot assigned me my gun position for the day. Never saw the crew before or after that mission.

I left the 457th on January 3, 1945 after having lived there for almost 8 months. When I left, there were three of my crew members still waiting to finish their missions. They were the only ones to wish me luck upon my departure. It was almost as a dream, I came in with a replacement crew and left alone. It was almost as if I had never been there.
Richard Gibbs

( side note from BS: a guy in my fathers group had a buddy in a bomber sq not too far away. so one afternoon they took a couple ac for "test rides" and landed at this bomber outfits base. my dad pretty much confirmed with that story was saying. it was far from the life on a fighter base. no one was friendly..no one made eye contact. he said it was like walking into a morgue...but couldnt blame them because they were constantly getting the crap kicked out of them. )

"Here's a different type of war story that I often tell but never bothered to write about:" - Murray Swerdlove

We got a week's R&R and went up to Edinborough, Scotland where we were able to stay with a delightful Scottish family whose name, I am ashamed to say escapes me. (At my age many names escape me!) We were treated royally and each night after we returned from "doing the pubs and the town" our host's two bonny daughters would bring us a platter of sandwiches for our midnight snack. With food so scarce, it was quite a sacrifice for them.

One highlight of our leave was a visit to a pub called The Green Parrot, where we had the best Scotch Whisky we ever had poured from an unlabeled bottle! While there a Mrs. Duncan dragged us into a small mini-bar and as a former American married to the Duncans of chocolate fame insisted, were given some very interesting alcoholic concotions.

Perhaps one of the warmest of memorable events of the entire war took place during our visit in Edinborough. When on leave away from our base in Glatton we were generally hungry as you were only allowed to get a meal costing no more than one pound and generally we would hunt up a Chinese restaurant as you got more food there. While on leave in Edinborough one day we took a taxi and asked the cabbie where we might be able to get a good meal. He drove us to a small fish and chips place called the Atlantic Cafeteria and ran in to speak to the manager. We hesitated to go is as we had hoped for a better choice of food. But he came out and told us to come with him, assuring us that we would be pleased with our meal.

We entered and were led by the proprietor back through the shop and down a flight of stairs to a lovely dining room where we were seated. No one came to bring any menu or take an order but after a bit a waiter came bearing plates of steak, potatoes and salad of highest quality and most generous portions. With no comment the waiter left. When we had finished this fine meal he came back with a great layer cake and coffee for dessert, again without us asking for it. We decided then that we were hooked into some black market operation and were waiting for the bill to come for this Lucullan feast. Finally the proprietor arrived and when we asked for the damages we paid just the one-pound as required. Unbelievable! We asked him how and why this was done and his answer was to the effect that you chaps came here and are fighting for us. We appreciate it more than you can imagine and it is our pleasure and honor to do this. He did add though, that we should come again but next time we'd have to settle for a chicken dinner!
Lovely folks, the Scotch!

Murray (Morris) Swerdlove - Bombardier
748th Squadron - Dave Summerville's Crew

bobbysocks

05-25-2010, 07:50 PM

Dogfight over Vlissingen

This short story is taken from the upcoming book, "Finn Thorsager – fighter pilot in combat", written in Norwegian language. This piece has been translated into English for you all to (hopefully) enjoy.

The book is written based on the memoirs of the first Norwegian fighter pilot ever to be involved in combat.

This specific piece is based on Finn Thorsagers own combat report from a dogfight over Vlissingen in 1943 flying with 332 squadron. At this point during the war they were flying Spitfire MkIX.

The translators first language is not English and therefore the text might not be as good and correct grammatically as it should.

Finn sits in the cockpit and tries to think a little before they take off for the mission. It seems that the Germans isn't as eager to meet them in combat as before. It had been a little increase of activity this spring, and he clearly remembers the german he had shot down a few months ago. The enemy plane had spun down with a tail of fire behind it. After those missions it had gotten more quiet again. Just as much flying, but more the routine type of missions – escorting the Americans into France and then meeting up with them again on their way home.

The bombers keeps pounding the German industry. Maybe the decrease in german activity means that the bombing is working? He's not sure, but he hope he's right. Finn gets the feeling that the war now finally have turned around for the allies. Thoughts of survival starts to sneak up on him. In the start of it all, the idea of surviving seemed almost unreal to him. It now seems to be a fair chance he can get out of if alive. By each mission he puts down in his logbook, the more days go by. It's still important to keep the lads on their toes. It's dangerous if they get apathetic and isn't concentrating to their fullest when they're out flying. A pair of Focke Wulf 190 might suddenly attack out of the sun and send two-three Spitfires into the ground before the Norwegians even understands what happening. It has happened before, and it can happen again.

Finn pulls the hood over his head. He feels tired when he does it. The sound of the Rolls Royce Merlin engine reminds him that yet again he's going out with the Wing on a mission. Where's Red 2? There, Finn sees him straight ahead. He pulls the stick a little back and the throttle forward. The Spitfire happily respons to his orders. Finn gets himself in position behind Red 2. He's Red 3 today. Helge Mehre, the Wing Commander at North Weald, is leading 332 on this mission. They will act as support of bombers and fighters now coming out of Belgium. They've taken the route several times before. The formation looks to be tidy and the altimeter shows 14.000 feet. They continue to go upwards to 26.000. Summer has arrived a long time ago already. Much earlier than what Finn is used to from back home.

«Tally Ho, tally ho!» And observant and excited pilot reports 25 bandits about 10.000 feet below them. Mehre knows his stuff and leads the Wing even higher before he pulls them into a turn which puts them directly against the Germans from above. The enemy is there under them. Still in formation. If they don't see the Spitfires soon, they will be in for a big surprise when the combat-hungry Norwegians from North Weald comes down on them.

«Going down, now!» Wing Co. Mehre calls the boys up on the radio and Finn pushes his Spitfire downwards with Mehre leading. He tightens his grip on the stick and tries to keep up with the leading Spitfires. The ailerons gets heavier the faster the Spitfire dives. Finn is fully aware of it. It's one of the few little problems the Spitfire got. The faster it dives, the heavier it gets on the controls. Finn checks his refleksmessigst. It's on. Canons ready to fire as well. Everything in order. Where's Sandvik who is supposed to be covering him? Finn takes a short glimpse behind. The wingman is right where he should be. Good. This attack looks to be going very well. Finn stares at the formation of Germans straight ahead. Pick one of them! He lets his eyes scan the dots of airplanes. The one to the left seems to be the perfect target. Don't fire too soon, wait for the bandit to be close enough. Now!

The Spitfire shakes brutally from the firing canons but keeps flying dead ahead. Finn's target, a shiny, silver Fw 190, gets taken completely by surprise by the attack. It takes several hits from Finn's guns. Two black puffs of smoke emerges from the engine before it stops dead. Second later black smoke gushes out from it. Violently the Fw 190 flicks over to the left. Finn pulls hard on his stick to avoid crashing with the stricken enemy plane. His arms feels like led, the oxygen-mask lets go of his nose is pressed down from his face by the gravitational forces. Far down to the left the Fw 190 explodes in a giant ball of fire after Sandvik gives him a final salute from the boys from Norway.

Finn pulls his Spitfire on to its back and pulls down and to the right. Filth from the floor hits him in his face while he's upside down. Where's Sandvik? Not in his mirror? Not good, he should be there! The kid must have lost him when Finn pulled away from the German after his attack.

Something silverish in color passes Finn on his left side. Another 190! He rolls the Spitfire over and goes after the it. It's one-on-one now, no help from either of their wingmen!

The 190 keeps jumping around in his gunsight. Finn fires, but the deflection-shot misses it's target. The damn Hun is too far away! The 190 keeps diving towards the earth. Finn thinks for a fraction of a second before he decides to go after the lone enemy pilot. He keeps track of the plane ahead while he presses the Spitfire into a hell-rising dive. This is absolutely not the place to be for long. How many times have he told unexperienced pilots about how dangerous it is to be alone in the sky? Way too many times.

Now, where did the German go? He was ahead a second ago! Finn sees something a bit to the left of him. Something grey is coming straight at him! Finn just manages to fire his guns before the German passes him in terrific speed. He saw hits around the cockpit area just before the enemy plane disappeared. Now he's gone and Finn is alone. A really close shave. His altimeter shows 8000 feet. He's not staying here a second longer. The area is probably swarming with enemy planes and being alone he's no match for them.

Finn presses the throttle forward as far as it goes, and heads for the coast. It doesn't seem to be too far. He can't have flown as far east as he first thought he did.

Sandvik appears over the channel and waves his wings at Finn. He can see him sitting there, in his cockpit, showing Finn thumbs up. Finn lifts his hand and waves back at him. It feels numb and a little shaky. It had been quite a fight!

Safely back at North Weald they round up the numbers. It had been a good day. 13 shot down and no losses. In a couple of days the King and Crown Prince of Norway will arrive at North Weald. This would really be something to tell them!

With a cigarette hanging from his lips, Finn reports one 190 destroyed and one 190 damaged. He could easily have been sitting in a Belgian field right now, his ass covered with dirt and a parachute he's desperately trying to hide before the Germans arrive. He's been lucky. Lucky and skilled? He hopes it to be both.

from: http://www.spitfirepilots.com/

bobbysocks

05-27-2010, 04:35 PM

adolf galland

Adolf Galland - Fighter General.
Written by Dariusz Tyminski .

Adolf Galland is probably the most known Luftwaffe pilot of WWII. Not because of number of his kills, but special kind of charisma , a characteristic for all great aces. He was the youngest general grade officer of either side in World War II, and at age 29, he was more competent in aerial combat, strategy and tactics than many of the experts nearly twice his age. As a fighter pilot he was credited with 104 aerial victories. He was also famous for making a lot of modifications to his Bf 109 fighters. He enhanced their fire power, installed better pilot armour and, a cockpit cigar lighter!

He was born in Westerholt, a small village in Westphalia on 19 March 1912. His father was an administrator of private lands and properties. Adolf was the second son, after Fritz. His younger brothers were Wilhelm and Paul. These two younger brothers followed Adolf into the Luftwaffe fighter forces. However they were not as lucky in combat. Paul (17 victories) was killed on 31 October 1943, mistakenly shot down by another pilot of JG26. Wilhelm (54 victories, Knight's Cross) was shot down a year later. Since childhood Adolf Galland was fascinated by aviation. He started building model aircraft when he was 12 years old. When he was 16, he began glider flights. In 1933 Galland realized a dream when he received his first pilot's license. During training in 1935, he crashed in a Focke-Wulf Fw-44 biplane and he was in a coma for three days. He had serious skull fractures, a broken nose, and a partially blinded left eye from glass fragments. His commander, Major Rheitel, an aviator from the First World War, assisted him during his recovery and getting back into flying. He returned to air duty, but a year later he crashed again, this time on Arado Ar-68. Galland again spent a lot of time in the hospital.

In 1937 he volunteered to go with a group of German pilots for service in the Spanish Civil War. In this group were other future aces like Hannes Trautloft, Wilhelm Balthasar, Günther Lützow, Eduard Neumann and Hajo Herrmann. They arrived in El Ferrol on 7 May 1937. Galland became a squadron leader in the Legion Fighter Group, equipped with Heinkel He-51 biplane fighters. Lützow led a squadron of the newest Messerschmitt Bf 109Bs. Galland entered action over Brunete in July 1937. He flew over 300 missions as a leader and he was awarded the Spanish Cross in Gold with Diamonds, only awarded 12 times in Spanish history. In 1938 he returned to Germany. Having great experience, was ordered to begin the organization of Luftwaffe ground attack units.

At the beginning of WW II, Galland flew in Poland in the Henschel Hs 123, until October 1, 1939, performing ground attack missions and proving the dive-bombing concept. For his efforts Galland was awarded by Iron Cross. Next, he was assigned to JG 27, commanded by Oberst Max Ibel. During the French campaign Adolf Galland scored his first kills on 12 May 1940, when he went with Gustav Rödel on a mission. Galland shot down two "Hurricanes" from 87th Squadron in two sorties. He had 12 victories by 9 June 1940.

When "Battle of Britain" started, Galland was assigned to JG26 Schlageter as Gruppenkommandeur of III/JG26. His debut in that unit was very successful: he shot down two fighters on his first mission. On 18 July 1940, he was promoted to Major and a month later (on 22 August) he received the Ritterkreuz (Knights Cross) after his 17th victory. During the "Battle of Britain" his score increased rapidly, and on 25 September he was decorated with the Oak Leaves (for 40 kills) by Hitler. Galland also succeeded Gotthard Handrick as Kommodore of JG26. On 1 November 1940, he scored his 50th victory and was promoted to Oberstleutnant (lieutenant colonel). One month later he became a full colonel.

Galland experienced being shot down himself on 21 June 1941, when JG26 was stationed at Pas de Calais. The Germans attacked Bristol "Blenheim" bombers and Galland downed two of them. However, some escorting "Spitfires" shot up his plane. He was forced to belly-land in a field. This same day, after lunch, he went on his next sortie. On that mission he shot down his number 70, but when following the burning "Spitfire", he was bounced and shot up badly. His plane caught fire, and he was wounded. He tried to bail out, but the canopy was jammed. After a dramatic struggle with the canopy, he was able to bail out at the last moment. His parachute opened just as he hit the ground. He was bleeding from his head and arm and he had damaged his ankle on landing. On 2 July 1941 Galland again was in trouble, but that is another story. Please check the text: Adolf Galland and the dramatic air combat July of 1941. On 9 August 1941 Galland 'welcomed' the famous Douglas Bader, who was just shot down by JG26 fighters.

At the end of 1941 Galland become General der Jagdflieger ("commander of fighter forces"), and went to Berlin. Gerhard Schoepfel became Kommodore of Galland's beloved JG26. On 28 January 1942, Hitler awarded him again, this time with the Brillanten (Diamonds). Galland still was at the rank of Colonel, but in 1942 he was promoted to General, then General Leutnant. He was enthusiastic about the new jet fighter project, and he gave great support to the Me 262 program. However, the protracted development time and Hitler's idea to turn the aircraft into a bomber "Schwalbe" slowed the entrance of this revolutionary fighter by a year.

In January of 1945 Galland and other officers (Lützow, Johannes, Steinhoff) had a notorious confrontation with Göring over the performance and future of the Fighter Arm. Galland was removed from his position and even arrested and threatened with a court-martial. Eventually he was allowed to organize a special jet unit using the Me 262. He created Jagdverband 44 a unit with most experienced pilots. His 'recruiting' officer, Steinhoff, traveled to all of the major bases, selecting pilots who wanted join to new adventure. Some very famous pilots joined over a period of weeks: Gerhard Barkhorn, Walter Krupinski, Heinz Bär , Erich Hohagen, Günther Lützow, Wilhelm Herget.

The newly organized unit flew several missions with varying success. Some aircraft used the anti-bomber R4M rockets. During his first attack with rockets Galland, with Walter Krupinski as a wingman, attacked a group of American B-26 "Marauders". Galland's rocket attack knocked down two of them.

In his last aerial combat in WWII, Adolf Galland took off on 26 April 1945. During an attack against Marauders his rockets would not fire, so he had use the 30 mm cannons. His Me 262 was hit by return fire from a rear gunner. The Allied bomber withstood Galland's fire. When Galland turned to finish the bomber, he was surprised by a P-47D flown by James Finnegan. Shells from the P-47's eight 12,7 mm guns destroyed Galland's instrument panel, shattered the jet's canopy, and struck his right knee. With his plane losing power and in great pain, Galland returned to his base, arriving just at the moment when a strafing attack by enemy fighters was underway. He successfully landed and escaped the wreck of his Me 262, avoiding the fire of the straffing attackers.

After war Galland was invited by Juan Perón to help build Argentinian Air Forces. Here he established a training and operations school, developed tactical training program. In 1955 he returned to Germany. Adolf Galland, a holder of the Knight's Cross with Oak Leaves, Swords and Diamonds, died in 1996.

Adolf Galland and the dramatic air combat July of 1941.
Written by Christer Bergström .

The short biography of Adolf Galland is described in story: Adolf Galland - Fighter General. . Here I decided to describe a small, but very dramatic episode dated July 2nd, 1941. This day JG 26 "Schlageter" spotted probably Polish fighters from 308th "City of Krakow" Squadron under command of Cpt. Marian Pisarek (details from Polish side on Pisarek's page!). Polish pilots claimed 5 destroyed "Messers'", but Germans from JG 26 lost at least 2 Bf 109s. One of them, piloted by Oberleutnant Martin Rysavy (8 kills) of 2./JG 26, was reportedly shot down by "friendly Flak". Rysavy was killed. But probably 308th Squadron can add him to score board.

On this day, Oberleutnant Josef "Pips" Priller (who at that time served as Staffelkapitän 1./JG 26) shot down his 29th enemy.

The Geschwaderkommodore Oberstleutnant Adolf Galland took off, despite wounds he had received when he was shot down on 21 June, and despite the fact that he had received orders that forbade him to take part in air combat since he was decorated with the Swords to the Knight´s Cross with Oak Leaves. He led the whole JG 26 in an attack against the formation of "Blenheim's" and escort fighters - probably of 308th Squadron, they just covered that bombers... Galland shot down one "Blenheim" (it was not confirmed, because he didn´t see the crash). As he was involved in a whirling dogfight with one "Spitfire", another "Spitfire" attacked his Bf 109F from behind.

The cockpit hub of Galland´s plane was hit by a 20 mm shell. But the armor plate which Galland´s mechanic Unteroffizier Meyer coincidentally had mounted on the Kommodore´s aircraft that same morning, saved Galland´s life. Adolf Galland managed to escape and landed at base, where he was hospitalized again - for the second time in twelve days. As a reward, he paid Uffz. Meyer 100 Mark.

"So viel war mein Kopf wert (so much was my head worth)...", Galland ironically commented later.

On the following day, 3 July 1941, one of the greatest German fighter aces on the "Channel Front" was killed: During aerial combat near Aire, the Geschwaderkommodore of JG 2 "Richthofen", Major Wilhelm Balthasar, was killed when one wing broke off his Bf 109. Balthasar had achieved a total of 40 victories in WW II and 7 in Spain. Only on the previous day, he was awarded the Oak Leaves to the Knight´s Cross.

During July 1941, the RAF reported that they lost 75 bombers and 120 fighters in daylight missions over the "Channel". According to German reports, JG 2 and JG 26 lost 77 fighters on the "Channel front" during the period 22 June - 31 October 1941.

One of the most successful pilots in JG 26 during the summer of 1941 was Hauptmann Johann Schmid of 8./JG 26. On 7 August 1941, he achieved his victories Nos. 11-13. On 9 August he achieved another three victories (Nos. 14-16). On 10 August, he shot down three RAF aircraft in three minutes time. On both 12 and 19 August he shot down another three RAF aircraft on each day. On 21 August he was appointed Staffelkapitän 8./JG 26 and was awarded the Knight´s Cross. During the following two months, he downed another 20 RAF planes. On 6 Nov 1941, he crashed into the Channel as he was following a Spitfire, and got killed. During the same period, Adolf Galland shot down 21 "Spitfires", 3 "Blenheims" and 1 "Hurricane".

JG 26 claimed more than 900 victories from 1939 to 31 Dec 1941 (including 400 since 1 May 1941), and lost 95 pilots killed and 34 POW during the same period (including 61 pilots killed or POW since 1 May 1941). Most successful pilots of JG 26 on 31 Dec 1941 were: Galland (94 victories), Hptm Müncheberg (62) and Hptm Josef "Pips" Priller (58).

Additional note.

On 21 June 1941, Galland was shoot down twice. At 12:30 JG 26 took off against Blenheims from 21 Sq RAF, covered by famous Polish 303 Fighter Squadron, flying as a part Circus 17 operation . After successful attack on Blenheims (1 confirmed kill) "Dolfo" fell under guns of young and not so experienced Polish pilot, P/O Boleslaw Drobinski. The right wing and cooling system Bf 109 F-2 WNr 5776 was heavily damaged, and German famous ace was forced to immediately belly landing. So, it looks that Galland experienced really bedluck, fighting against Polish fighter pilots... This same day, few hours later, commander of JG 26 was shot down by Sgt Grant from 145 Squadron RAF.

bobbysocks

06-02-2010, 05:34 PM

Marian Pisarek - one of most effective Polish aces.
Written by Dariusz Tyminski .

Marian Pisarek belonged to the most experienced group of Polish fighter pilots. In 1939, he was a Second Commander of 141st Fighter Squadron (and flew P-11c's). On September 1st, 1939, he shot down a German Hs 126 (after some sources this kill was shared with Stanislaw Skalski ). On the next day, he took part in a tragic attack on a German armored column, where a few pilots were killed. This same day, in the evening, Pisarek downed - by mistake - a Polish recon-bomber, a P-23 "Karas" (which looked very similar to a Ju 87). On September 4th, there was no mistake, he killed personally one Ju 87.

After receiving evacuation orders, he moved through Romania to France. Here, Pisarek came into the newly organised kpt. Tadeusz Rolski Squadron, but this unit was not combat ready till the end of the war in France. After France's capitulation, the Polish aviators, who had been at Gaillac Airfield, took French Caudron Goeland aircraft and flew to Oran. They next, by way of Casablanca, arrived in Great Britain.

After August 2nd, Lt. Marian Pisarek was a member of the 303rd "Kosciuszko" Squadron. He took part in the Battle of Britain. On September 7th, 1940, at 16:35, he started a sortie, with all 11 aircraft in his squadron, to catch a German bomber group. A Quarter of an hour later, the air combat began. The Polish fighters scored 14 confirmed victories (12 Do 215's and 2 Bf 109's) and 4 others, that were probably 2 additional Do 215's and 2 more Bf 109's. But unfortunately Pisarek, after shooting down one Bf 109, had to bail out in his parachute, and Second Lieutenant Kaszewski was gravely injured.

Mr Dennis Barnes, who was a witness of that epizode, remembers:

"During the battle of britian in 1940 I was a young lad living in Loughton in Essex close to London. On the afternoon of Sept 7th a great air battle was in progress above us. at about 4.56 pm a plane crashed not far away from us, and very soon after my mother, 2 sisters and I observed a parachutist who appeared to be coming to land at the end of our long back garden. Thinking it must be a german, I went into the house to get my father's 12 bore shotgun. Just then, much to my disappointment, or (relief) a gust of wind caught the chute and it was taken over some houses and into a field. A pilot who have bailed out of his hurricane after trying (typically) to steer it away from the houses and into a field was captain Marian Pisarek.

He had infact almost suceeded in doing this, but unfortunately the aircraft crashed in the garden of a house next to the field and killed 3civil defence personnel in an air raid shelter there. Pilot who landed in that field was given a rather rough handling.first by the local defence volenteers who thought he was a german and the aircraft that had crashed was german. Marian who i think could speak little english at that time was able to remove part of his flying overall and show the 'Poland' flashes on his uniform tunic to them. There were then frofuse apologies all round and i understand that soon after that the pilots of 303 squadron at Northolt were invited to a dinner at the Loughton town hall by the mayor in order to make ammends for this mistakes!

So I dont get to meet this great ace personally. After all I did get to meet his 303 Squadron pal. Canadian ace John Kent 12 years later as Wing Commander Kent DFC when I was introduce to him as a young airman at the end of the war, I was also able to sit in the cockpit of Douglas Baders personal Spitfire as an air cadet when he was the co at Northweald. i still remenber his mascot (a Scottish kilted doll) hanging from the windscreen.years later, I got to meet and speak to him when he came to British Airways h.q. to give a lecture to raes.the subject was 'THE BIG WINGS IN THE BATTLE OF BRITIAN'.

3 years ago i did visit the crash site of Hurricane R4173 at 40 Roding Rd Loughton. The owner told me that the site was excavated by an A/C PRESAVATION SOCIETY 4 years previously the engine had gone down deep. Even after all this time corroded .303 mg rounds are still found and he had to give up using a rotivator to till the soil as it was too dangerous still..."

(The autor of this recollection, Mr Barnes, in1945 joined 12 f squadron ATC attached RAF Northweald. In 1949 he joined RAF and became an engineer. After this he joined BOAC as an engineer staying till retirement in 1991. As a member of British Airways flying club and later Booker Gliding CLUB his favorite pastime was flying sailplanes. He had now been living in Malasia with his wife for the last 8 years. He still had an interest in the RMAF museum at Kuala Lumpur.)

Another very busy day for the 303rd Squadron was the 15th of September, 1940. Polish fighter pilots took part in two hard and great air battles, where they achieved 16 confirmed kills. Pisarek led a section with wingmen Sgt. Brzezowski and Sgt. Josef Frantisek (the later of the two a Czech pilot). Pisarek's victim, this day, was again one Bf 109.

On June 23rd, 1941, Captain Marian Pisarek was ordered to command the Polish 308th "City of Krakow" Squadron. The squadrons code letters were "ZF". Flight leaders were, at that time, Lt. Stefan Janus ("A" flight), and Lt. Erwin Kawnik ("B" flight). On June 27th, 1941, Polish fighters claimed 4 destroyed Bf 109's, one of them was by Pisarek. On that day, JG 26 only reported 2 Bf 109's destroyed and one damaged. In 4/JG 26, Unteroffizier Otto Friedrich was killed.

On July 2nd, 1941, the squadron escorted 12 "Blenheim's" on a mission to attack the electric facility at Lille. During the return, they were attacked by a big group, about 60, of German fighters from JG 26. The Polish fighters claimed 5 Bf 109's (one of them again personally by Pisarek) destroyed, 2 probables, and one damaged. But, in the battle 2 "Spitfires" crashed. Lt. Erwin Kawnik was killed, and Sgt. Pawel Kowala became a prisoner of war. Sec. Lt. Budrewicz luckily returned to the airfield with a heavily damaged aircraft. JG 26 lost, at least, 2 Bf 109's. One of them was piloted by Oberleutnant Martin Rysavy (who had 8 kills) from 2/JG 26. Also, in that battle, a Messerschmitt belonging to Adolf Galland (more details on German Ace page) was heavily damaged.

On July 17th, 1941, the 308th Squdron, under command of Captain Pisarek, was ordered to a recon flight over France, in the Bolougne-Calais area. A dozen Polish "Spitfire's" were attacked by a big group of Bf 109's. The leader decided to make a defence circle (ring) of fighters, were each plane covered an aircraft before it. The formation all slowly rotated to the Channel direction. The Germans, sure of their advantage, furiously attacked. The Polish formation defended itself well. Sec. Lt. Witold Retinger downed one Bf 109, next was one destroyed by Capt. Pisarek and Sec. Lt. Taeusz Schiele. During that battle, Sec. Lt. Tadeusz Hegenbarth was killed, and Sec. Ltn. Maciejewski had to parachute and was taken prisoner of war. On the German side, Unteroffizier Gerhard Oemler, of 9./JG 26, was killed.

On July 22nd, 1941, over German airfields in the area of St. Omer, Polish fighters had a lot of combat with Messerschmitts at low altitude. They scored 4 victories (one by Pisarek). Unfortunatelly, 2 pilots were killed -Sec. Lt. Wladyslaw Bozek and Sec. Lt. Miroslaw Orzechowski.

On 14 August 1941 Pisarek claimed a Bf 109F as destroyed. Here is his official combat report:

"Leading 308 (polish) Squadron N.W. of St. Omer, I saw 30-35 Me. 109E's & F's flying in formation at about 15,000 ft, above them and ahead. I ordered 308 and 315 Squadrons to attack, and 306 to give cover. The two Squadrons attacking, dived on the enemies out of the sun.

I attacked a Me. 109F firing three short bursts. After the third burst the enemy machine cought fire, and pieces fall off. It dived vertically towards the ground and disappeard in cloud. I attacked it from above and astern, firing the first burst from about 200 yds, and closing to about 50 yds.

My No. 2 (P/O Budzalek) saw this Me, dived vertically in flames. I claim this Me. 109F as destroyed"

In September 1941 Squadron 308 flew few dangerous Circus operations, and Pisarek added new kills for his score.

His combat report from 20 September 1941 describes dramatic dogfight: "On the way back to the Channel flying at 20,000 ft. I was leading the Squadron - the whole formation was retiring. I saw an Me. attacking P/O Zbierzchowski from close range - He was flying in my group of four. I warned Zbierzchowski to turn to the left - As he did so, I approached the Me. giving 5 short bursts from 100 yds, closing to 50 yds, from behind, to port, and above - The Me. broke away sharply - Later the same Me. attacked me from above and a dog fight ensued - I lost height in tight turns, and then suddenly shot up so that the Me., overshot me and found itself below me. I then got on his tail, and putting my nose down gave a long burstfrom 50 yds. The e/a belchced smoke and getting into a steep dive, plunged into Channel. I was then at 3000 feet. I claim this Me.109F as destroyed."

Next day - next combat (21 September 1941): "Circus 104. I was leading 308 Sqdn. which was supposed to be middle Sqdn. of the Northolt Wing. As I could not see any of our a/c above, I decided to increase height to 30,000 ft. After crossing the French Coast south of Le Touqet, I saw at the same altitude 8 Me.'s ahead and to port and 7 ahead and to starboard.

I gave order to attack the 7 that were closest. A number of dog-fights started. I attacked an Me. 109F from astern on the port side, but could not get close enough to fire - as a result of numerous dog-fights we found ourselves over Channel, and the Me.'s vanished.

I reformed the Sqdn. and once more flew into France. And we were again engaged by a group of eight or more Me.'s, probably the same we had previously seen on our port side - I attacked an Me. 109F from astern, the first burst was from 250 yds. I kept on his tail getting closer and from 200 yds. gave a second longer burst, and then a third burst from 150 yds. The me. started to smoke, I got to within 100 yds., and gave another burst, flames appeard, the E/A turned on it's back and went into a spin, with clouds of smoke and flames pouring out. As I saw three other E/A above me, and had no more ammunition, besides which my R/T was u/s, I dived down and flying low, returned to base"

Pisarek got his last kill, Bf 109, on 13 October 1941.

On December 10th, 1941, Capt. Marian Pisarek ended his tour of battle duty, and the new 308th Squadron Leader, Capt. Marian Wesolowski arrived. The 308th Squdron achieved, in 1941, mostly under Pisarek's command, the highest number of victories in all the Polish Air Forces: 52 confirmed victories, 10 probables, and 13 damaged enemy planes.

After April 19th, 1942, Major Marian Pisarek received command of the 1st Polish Fighter Wing (303rd, 316th, and 317th Squadrons). Ten days later, the wing had a fighter sweep in the Hardelot-Desrves-Marck area. Over Le Treport (other sources say Le Touquet or Bologne) the wing was surprised by an attack by 15 FW 190's. This strike hit the 317th Squadron. They lost, unfortunately, the Squadron Leader; Capt. Piotr Ozyra, and Wing Commander Major Marian Pisarek. The Germans, after rapidly attacking, disengaged from the battle. 303rd Squdron simply did not manage to enter into this combat. Pisarek was probably shot down by the famous German ace, Commander of the II/JG 26, Htpm. Joachim Muncheberg , or Obfw. H. Hoffman from the 4./JG 26.

Major Pisarek is ranked in 7th position on the list of best Polish aces, with a record of 12 confirmed, 1 probable, and 2 demaged enemy aircraft.

bobbysocks

06-02-2010, 05:37 PM

Urho Lehtovaara in Two Exciting Combats. (Finland)
Written by Ossi Juntunen .

Battle of Moranes

It was the 9th of August 1941 in Eastern Carelia, Olonez. Early in the morning 8 about 06.00) four MS-406 fighters of FAF HLeLv 28 were covering the advancing Finnish troops. The division was led by Sr.Sgt. Urho Lehtovaara flying the MS-304.

The Finnish pilots saw an approaching formation of 18 I-16 fighters: Lehtovaara gave order to attack the enemy. A "furball" ensued. The Soviet pilots were disturbed by their own numeric superiority, they were constantly in danger of colliding with each other, thus they had to watch each other as much as the Moranes. Also they were tempted to open fire at a long range in competition for targets.

The Finnish pilots knew what to do: they kept curving in one direction only and fired upon opportunity at a close range. Lehtovaara scored the first victory, but immediately a section of three I-16 managed to get behind his tail. But the stiff three-plane formation prevented the enemy wingmen making use of their superiority, the wing planes fired in the thin air as the leader fired at the Morane. After a while Lehtovaara managed to out-turn the three I-16 and he fired in the engine of the leader. The I-16 engine began to smoke, the fighter stalled and dived, the pilot bailed out.

Lehtovaara disengaged from the leaderless wingmen and checked the general situation. The other three Moranes were each fighting three to four enemies, without apparent problem.

Then Lehtovaara saw one I-16 that tried to disengage and dived after him. Lehtovaara fired, but the salvo hit the enemy armour, just alerting the pilot. The two fighters entered into dogfight, trying to out-curve each other. The I-16 pilot was very skillful, Lehtovaara begin to consider disengaging. None of his hits had had any effect on the rear armour of the enemy. Then the I-16 pilot for some reason pulled a slow vertical roll, exposing the vulnerable belly of his fighter. Lehtovaara was prepared and his salvo hit the enemy's engine. The enemy fighter caught an explosive fire and nosedived to the ground with its pilot.

Now Lehtovaara called his scattered pilots and ordered an assembly. All three responded. Their total score was seven I-16, three of which claimed by Lehtovaara. This battle was exceptionally successful for Moranes, planes often considered inferior due to its weak armament.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Memorable battle

In 1946 Jorma Karhunen, a fellow pilot and Knight of the Mannerheim Cross, met Urho Lehtovaara and asked him what had been the most memorable of his air battles. Lehtovaara declined to answer at first, but as Karhunen told that he was collecting history, not personal glorification of anyone, "Jatti" told about the 6th of March 1943 at Kotka.

The Kymi air base had been made inoperational by a snowstorm on the 4th March and it took two days to clear the snow completely from the runway. The 3rd flight of the Squadron 34 had nine Bf 109 of which five were airworthy.

On the 5th March a ship convoy had arrived through the ice in Kotka harbour and it was spotted there early next day by a reconnoitring Soviet Pe-2 before two Me's chased her away. Next day, in the afternoon of the 6th the enemy sent 27 Pe-2 escorted by 12 La-5 fighters to destroy the ships in the harbour.

The available Messerschmitts were scrambled at 14:00 hrs. Major Luukkanen took off first, after him Sgt.Maj. Tani, then Flight Mstr. Lehtonen. Sgt.Maj. Lehtovaara (he flew the MT-235) and Sgt. Lyly could start only a couple of minutes later since their fighters were not prepared for immediate take off.

Luukkanen and Lehtonen intercepted the first wave of nine Pe-2 and shot down two before the escorting La-5's intervened. The defensive AA guns fired indiscriminately at the aircraft, and the Soviet bombers released hastily their loads and turned away. Tani received one wave of the returning bombers heads-on and fired at each one he passed. He once was so close that saw how exploding 20mm shells ripped holes in the fuselage of a Pe-2. Tani damaged five and shot down one. Lehtovaara chased the bombers that had been scattered by the defence, and shot down two stragglers at Someri Island before retuning back to base to avoid contact with La-5's. The total score for the five pilots was five Pe-2 and three La-5. Major Luukkanen's MT-201 had been badly damaged in the fuselage by a La-5. There were no other losses. No ships were hit.

The enemy made a new surprise attack three hours later with 12 Pe-2 escorted by 17 La-5. The base was alerted by Sr. Sgt. Lansivaara who was on an ice reconnaisance mission. Again four Me's took off to intercept. This time the escort fighters were doing their duty better and prevented the Messerschmitt pilots from getting more than one of the bombers. The Finnish fighters were soon dispersed and each pilot had to fight for himself without help from the others.

Lehtovaara was engaged by a good La-5 pilot, who kept his altitude and speed advantage by doing "pendulum" attacks at the low-flying MT-235. Only the enemy's shooting skill was not equal to his flying skill. The Soviet pilot did not spare ammunition - the La-5 had 200 rounds for each of her 20mm guns against 135 rounds of the single Me cannon. The Soviet pilot fired at a too long range, and Lehtovaara kept evading quite easily. Staying calm and ready for counterstrike the Finnish pilot noticed that the enemy pilot was losing his temper after ten minutes. Finally the enemy failed to pull up with full speed after a firing pass, allowing Lehtovaara to get behind the La-5 in good range. One salvo from the cannon of the Me, and the La-5 dived in flames toward the Baltic ice.

Immediately four more La-5 attacked, and the pilots were equal to the first opponent. Lehtovaara was in great trouble now, because whenever he had dodged one attack, another enemy was already aiming at him. The Finnish pilot could not fly straight long enough to aim and shoot. Slowly the dogfighting fighters took altitude in the course of the battle. Finally three of the enemies retreated, probably due to fuel shortage, but the fourth was hanging behind the tail of Lehtovaara's Me. The altitude was now about 3000 m.

Lehtovaara was getting exhausted and he felt he could not shake the enemy off without doing something unusual. So he half-rolled and nosedived - the La-5 followed. Lehtovaara turned the Me with ailerons so that the setting sun shone him in the face and its glare combined with reflection from the ice impaired his vision. He dived as low as he dared at a final speed of nearly 900 kmh, then pulled out of the dive with two hands on the stick, blacking out.

As the Finnish pilot regained his vision, he was flying a few meters over the rough Baltic ice. He curved and looked back to see the enemy - but all he could see was a column of smoke over the ice. Lehtovaara flew closer to inspect. His adversary had not pulled out of the dive in time, the La-5 had touched the ice three times before the final impact.

Lehtovaara tested his guns - they were jammed. His radio was dead, and he felt great weariness when taking direction to the base. After landing he felt as if he were on a foreign planet, where he had no right to be. But for the mercy of God he and the MT-235 would have been a heap of rubble on the Baltic ice. However, this victory was not credited to him because later the wreck of the La-5 could not be found on the ice - it had been snowed over.

That day the 3rd Flight had scored thirteen proven victories at the cost of two damaged, repairable Me's. Three dead and two living Soviet airmen were found on the ice. The men taken prisoners were Lt. Seraphin Pimenow, 20 years in age and Sgt.Maj. Vladimir Varschidskiy, 23 years, both of the 12. Guards' Dive-bombing Regiment (12.Gv.PBAP). A dozen bombs had hit the town, destroying several houses and killing 6 civilians and five soldiers. The ships in the harbour had not been damaged in either attack.

The same action has been described in the official history of the Aviatsiya VMF (Moskva, 1983). We are told that on 6 March 1944 Kotka harbour was attacked once by 20 Pe-2 escorted by 18 Yak-9. The defence sent six Bf 109 and four FW 190 to intercept. In the ensuing battle the Soviets shot down five Bf 109 and one FW 190. One Pe-2 and three Yak-9 were damaged by defenders. (That is, no actual losses.) Several ships were sunk ...

You may notice some differences between the Soviet and Finnish stories. The Soviet story version of the day might not have been properly researched, and facts from an attack on an harbour defended by Luftwaffe on the southern coast of the Gulf of Finland may have been introduced in the story.

bobbysocks

06-02-2010, 05:39 PM

Lauri Pekuri - The Ace in Soviet POW. Finland
Written by Ossi Juntunen .

Lauri Pekuri was born on 6 Nov 1916 in Helsinki. (His original surname was Ohukainen which he abandoned as he got married. Connotations of his original name include "crépe" and "Stan Laurel".) As a young boy he decided to become a pilot and spent his time and energy consequently, in Civil Guard activities and constructing and flying model aircraft. He dropped out of school at the age of 17. In his obituary he is described as "purposeful person", a trait shown early.

In 1937 he applied for FAF training but was rejected, and he did his military duty in the Army. He was demobilised as Field Artillery Res. Ensign. He reapplied for pilot training and was accepted in 1939 for a Reserve Officer Pilot course. During training he completed his formal education and continued in the Cadet School in spring 1940.

Lt. Pekuri, with 160 hours of flying experience, was posted in Fighter Squadron 24 in August 1941 together with his friend Hans Wind. Both men were thrilled for getting a chance to serve in the best squadron of the FAF. Type training for the Brewster comprised four takeoffs and landings, then the newcomers were considered prepared for real missions.

During the first mission Lt. Pekuri loaded his guns and turned the safety off immediately after takeoff. When he responed to a radio message he by accident pushed the trigger instead of the transmitter tangent, nearly hitting his leader! The greenhorn pilot was much ashamed, but the older pilots were forgiving.

Pekuri fought his first successful battle on the 4th October 1941. Lt. Pekuri and Flt.Mstr. Turkka were escorting a Blenheim that had dropped leaflets to Medvedyegorsk. As they were returning, a lone I-153 tried to intercept the bomber and was engaged by Pekuri, flying BW-354. He ordered Turkka to stay by the bomber while he took on the enemy.

Two inexperienced fighter pilots were having a "turning contest" at 1500 m, just at the cloudbase. Turkka advised Pekuri to pull up and make use of his superior speed, but due to the cloud he could not do that. The Soviet pilot, however, was not able to turn his very manouverable plane tighter than the BW. The pilots circled "back to back" until both found themselves in the cloud and had to resort to instrument flying. Pekuri emerged cautiously from the bottom of the cloud and immediately saw the I-153 come tumbling out of the cloud, totally disoriented. The Finnish pilot fired a salvo in the Tchaika which continued its dive in the forest below. The wreck was later found and Pekuri's first victory confirmed.

Pekuri continued flying in Eastern Carelia and gained some victories and experience. On 10 Jan 1942 the 2nd Flight of LeLv24 was providing air cover for a field artillery battery placed in the middle of a frozen lake. Soviet fighters tried to strafe the guns, but BWs intercepted them. Pekuri shot down one MiG-3 and began to chanse another, but found that only his fuselage 7.7 mm gun was working. The panicked enemy pilot flew in a straight course to East without any evasive action. Seeing that the back armour of the MiG held, the Finnish pilot tried to damage the tail of the enemy, forgetting to look around. Another MiG surprised him, BW-351 was hit in one wing and another projectile smashed the fuel tank selector before holing the main fuel tank. Pekuri pulled a turn, the enemy pilot was not willing to continue the fight and disappeared to the East. The BW was leaking fuel and the pilot could not switch to another tank. He turned back and flew with full power until the holed fuel tank was empty. At the moment he was near Medvedyegorsk. Fortunately his fighter had been experimentally fitted with a ski undercarriage, so forced landing on a lake near the artillery battery he had been protecting was successful. Luckily, the suspicious artillerymen did not shoot Pekuri, who in gratitude treated them with brandy found in the rescue kit of the fighter. BW-351 was easily repaired and returned to service. Her pilot decided to be more careful in future.

The BW pilots based at Tiiksjarvi met Hurricane Mk.II fighters in spring 1942. On 30 March Pekuri led the flight to the enemy a/b Segezha to challenge the adversary. In response 12 Hurricanes took off. In the ensuing battle 8 enemies were shot down, Pekuri claimed one of them.

Some days later, on the 6th April 13.45 hrs Pekuri again led the flight on a recce mission to the Murmansk Railway. The mission was carried out and the BWs were just preparing to land as there was an alert of several dozens of enemy a/c approaching the base. Despite low fuel - the mission had lasted nearly 2 hours - the BWs turned to meet the enemy. 10 km from the base the Finnish pilots saw ten DB-3 bombers escorted by 20 Hurricanes. The defender was in an unfavourable position below the enemy, with 15 minutes worth of fuel. Pekuri ordered the six foremost Brewster pairs to engage the fighters, leaving one pair to attack the bombers. The result of the battle was 12 enemy fighters and two bombers shot down, the base AAA got three more fighters, without any losses to the BWs. Pekuri had shot down three Hurricanes as he landed at 15.50 hrs.

Then the spring thaw, "rasputisa", made the runways soggy and useless for weeks starting mid April 1942. The enemy had suffered heavy losses in aircraft and pilots which further dampened the air activities in the Maaselka front, until they got replacements in June 1942.

Lt. Pekuri was leading a Division (four a/c) on an interception mission on 25th June 1942 near Segezha. They failed to find the enemy but a radio message from Flt.Mstr. Juutilainen was received, requesting assistance in battle against superior enemy near Segezha. Pekuri's Division arrived at the scene at 5000m, the leader ordered the second pair to engage while Pekuri and his wingman, a newcomer Sgt. Anttila, provided top cover.

As more Hurricanes were seen to arrive to join the uneven fight, Juutilainen gave a general order to disengage. To enable this, Pekuri and Anttila tied the new enemies in a dogfight. But Anttila, in his first real dogfight, was not able to shake the enemy off and disengage. Pekuri saw how an enemy got behind his wingman, but he was too far away to be able to help in time. The Hurricane had fired fatal hits in Anttila's fighter before Pekuri got her in his gunsight and shot her down. (Sgt. Anttila made a successful forced landing and saved himself after two days' march in the wilderness.) Pekuri dived steeply to shake the enemies off and headed for the home base at a low altitude.

He had flown some 40 km and began to calm down from the exitement of the battle. He was thinking about the fate of his wingman as he suddenly heard cracking noises in the fuselage of his BW-372 and flames burst out of the engine, which stopped immediately. The damaged fighter decelerated rapidly, and the attacking Hurricane overshot her, filling the windscreen of the BW. Instinctively Pekuri pushed the trigger and the enemy fighter burst in flames and exploded.

Pekuri was far too low to use his parachute. He opened the cockpit canopy, and seeing a small lake ahead, decided to belly land there. Flames reached the cockpit and the pilot had to touch down at a too great speed. As the BW hit the water she nosed over and began to sink. The pilot got out of the plane and surfaced in burning fuel. Flames signed his cheeks and brows before he could dive again. Submerged, he saw how the burning slick extended. Pekuri resurfaced and saw he had 200 m to swim. He got rid of his parachute, then he kicked off his boots. Nearly exhausted he swam slowly on his back until his head touched the stones of the beach.

Pekuri had breathed some water, but he recovered quite soon. He was in enemy territory, but there was no trench line in the wilderness. He also had lost his map but he knew the lie of the land quite well, having flown dozens of missions there. He headed to the West, taking direction from the sun for the nearest Finnish stronghold. He also was virtually barefoot and expected to meet an enemy patrol any moment. After a few hours jogging he was tripped over by a steel wire that had been left in a disassembled minefield. The pilot was now sure he was heading for the right direction, and soon he found a live minefield which he slowly crossed, examining each spot with his hand before putting his foot down. Then he heard somebody sing a ditty in Finnish, and having got closer to the stronghold managed to persuade the infantrymen that he was a Finnish pilot, shot down 6 hours ago.

Maj. Magnusson offered Lt. Pekuri a recovery furlough but he declined. He was to get married on the 12th July and he did not want to change his plans. Instead he wanted to regain his self-confidence, which he did by flying six more missions before his wedding furlough.

Air activity at Maaselkä slackened as the German army found it impossible to make a breakthrough to the Murmansk Railway at Kiestinki. Mannerheim refused to co-operate, and without Finnish troops Germans could not operate in the unfamiliar subarctic terrain. Pekuri and his fellow pilots had shot down 50 enemy planes and lost four of their own, and one pilot while based at Tiiksjärvi. Splendid fishing waters and hunting grounds had to be abandoned as the BWs were transferred to the Carelian Isthmus in November 1942.

In early 1943 Lt. Pekuri was one of the pilots selected for the new Fighter Squadron 34 (LeLv 34) to be equipped with Messerschmitt 109 fighters. The personnell was summarily trained in Germany and the new equipment received. Pekuri served in capt. Ervi's flight that was assigned to defend Helsinki, and it was mostly boring on duty readiness.

In June 1943 Pekuri was promoted to Captain and he took over the 1st Flight from Capt. Ervi. The flight was moved to Suulajarvi to support LeLv24. Pekuri scrored only two victories in 1943.

In March 1944 Capt. Pekuri received orders to destroy a troublesome artillery observation balloon, and he selected "Illu" Juutilainen as his wingman for the task. The two pilots approached the target at very low altitude, "hopping" over the front line barbed wire entanglements, hoping to surprise the balloon crew. But the balloon was not there, only the defensive AA guns were, and a lucky Soviet gunner hit Pekuri's Me by chance. A single 40mm shell hit the fuselage just through the national insignia and exploded inside, destroying the radio and some of the tailplane controls. Juutilainen saw how pieces of metal sheet hung below the fuselage, as if the Me had had an open bomb door. Pekuri managed to control his fighter and even land without major problems. As he taxied to the dispersal the damaged fuselage was bent by its own weight...

Then Capt. Pekuri was assigned to fly new Messerschmitts from Germany to Finland, he made four trips, but he preferred fighting duties.

During the first days of the enemy offensive in June 1944 Pekuri shot down on 14 June one P-39 and one La-5 while escorting bombers.

On 16 June 1944 Immola air base was cleared to make room for the Luftwaffe Kampfgruppe Kuhlmey. The new base was Lappeenranta, and for the transfer flight Pekuri put on his best uniform and boots to spare them from the rigors of truck transport. As the fighters were grouping after takeoff, they received orders by radio to intercept ground attack planes harassing Finnish troops at Kivennapa. 16 Me's headed for the target and found about a dozen unescorted Il-2s. The enemy jettisoned their bombs, turned South and tightened their formation at a very low altitude for mutual protection.

Capt. Puhakka and his 3rd Flight attacked first, and Pekuri saw how Puhakka shot one enemy in flames at his second firing pass. Then the 2nd Flight attacked, and during his second pass Pekuri hit the pilot of one Stormovik. The enemy plane tilted slowly to the left, then dived and exploded upon impact with the ground. The Finnish pilot managed to avoid the debris flying in the air, then he pulled up for another attack.

During his fourth firing pass Pekuri heard a loud bang in the front of his fighter. Immediately the engine stopped and began to develop thick smoke. He had been hit by the Stormovik gunners or AA guns. A second later flames emerged from the seams of the engine covers.

Pekuri had "next to none" altitude and the stopped, unfeathered propeller decreased his airspeed. Instinctively he converted his remaining speed into altitude as smoke filled the cockpit. He had to bail out, but he did not have enough altitude for a regular parachute jump. He ejected the cockpit canopy, opened his harness and squatted on the seat. Quickly he glanced at the instrument panel through the smoke: altimeter reading was 100m, airspeed below 200 kmh.

Pekuri kicked the stick and the resulting centrifugal force popped the pilot out. A buckle of his harness hit him in the face, breaking a tooth, and a fraction of a second later the horizontal stabilizer grazed the back of his head. Fortunately the pilot did not pass out, he pulled the release of his chute. He was spinning in the air, then the chute harness jerked him just as his feet hit the ground!

The wreck of his MT-420 was burning fiercely about 100m away. Pekuri knew the place, it was the small auxiliary airstrip Jäppilä, near Ino. A Me passed overhead, so his pilots had seen him bail out. Pekuri heard a Soviet AA MG firing as he ran for the cover of the forest.

When safe, Pekuri thought of his chances. He was deep behind enemy lines, he had forgotten his compass in the pocket of his regular uniform, and he did not have any food. Also his map had been torn into shreds during the jump. But it was not the first time he was in such a situation. He had a rough map of the Isthmus in his mind. The enemy was advancing along the main roads, he would stay out of them and find Finnish troops.

The enemy was at that time advancing very fast; Capt. Pekuri managed to hide and run for five days and advance 60 km before he was caught sleeping in a barn. His days in the enemy rear were full of action but being unrelated to aviation not described here.

Capt. Pekuri was handed over to the GRU (Red Army Counterintelligence Service) by his captors. As interrogations started, Pekuri stuck to the Geneva Convention of treatment and rights of POWz, just telling his name and rank. His first interrogation streak took three days and nights. He was deprived of sleep, food and drink, threatened but not beaten. Then Pekuri feigned submission and described accurately a/b Suulajarvi - which was now in the hands of enemy. He was transferred one location after another, subjected to ever new interrogations, his wedding ring, watch, boots, even underwear were gradually robbed from him.

Once he was beaten: a Finnish speaking GRU Major told him that "it is your duty to help to crush the criminal activities of Hitler's gang by honestly answering all questions" (1993, p.78). Pekuri did not respond. The Major pulled his pistol and said: "I am going to count to three, if you by that time do not promise to answer my questions, I shall shoot you!" Looking at the pistol muzzle 2m away, the Finnish Captain decided that if that was not another empty threat, it would be better to die with clean conscience. He remained silent. The Major counted to three, then fired. The bullet hit the wall behind Pekuri, who said in a calm voice: " Your shot poorly, try again." The Major hit him in the face and Pekuri feigned K.O.

Interrogations continued day after another. One day Pekuri saw in the next cell a captured Finnish pilot, Lt. T. of his squadron. GRU had managed to break his will, and T. had told all he knew about Pekuri. Now the Soviets had some "real evidence". Pekuri was told his crimes: "You have destroyed some 20 Soviet aircraft and killed several Soviet airmen defending this country and the freedom of other nations, and other Soviet soldiers. You have lied in interrogations and refused to co-operate to crush the enemies of Soviet Nations. All these factors shall affect your fate." (1993, p.90)

Next day Pekuri was allowed to wash and shave himself for the first time in several weeks, and the day after that he was ordered to sign his interrogation protocols. They were in Russian, and Pekuri refused to take a pen in his hand. A GRU captain told him in Finnish: "You are more stupid than old women in Leningrad. You have sealed your fate. You shall never get back to Finland!" (1993, p. 98)

Pekuri was transported by train with about 100 Finnish POWs to Leningrad, where he was separated and sent to Fort Petropavlovsk, in the center of the city. There he spent about 8 weeks in a cell with half a dozen Soviet soldiers beingh tried for collaborating with Germans. It was the advice of his cellmates that saved Pekuri's life as he got dysentry and was told to wait 3 weeks for medical assistance. By this time the Armistice between Finland and Soviet Union had been concluded, but Pekuri had not received any news during his inprisonment.

From Ft. Petropavlovsk Pekuri was transferred to Shpalernaya Prison, where his father had been imprisoned 1918 and had escaped having bribed a guard. Now Capt. Pekuri was put in one 2x3m cell with five other captured Finnish Army officers without knowing why he was there and how long they would be held there.

Then one day a "tour" of POW camps started. In Camp Tcherepovetch he saw in the sick bay malnourished and sick men. "Skeletons like this were stumbling about in every POW camp, both in defeated and victorious countries' camps. The defeated ones were the only ones publicly condemned", Pekuri wrote in 1993.

Capt. Pekuri was returned to Finland weighing 48kg in the first lot of repatriation comprising 1241 men. After 3 weeks of quarantaine camp he could proceed to a/b Utti to report to Col. Magnusson who immediately granted him recovery furlough.

Capt Pekuri continued his service in the FAF. His career advanced, he became a part time one man evaluation team as FAF acquired new equipment in the 50's and 60's. He flew the MiG-15, Hawker Hunter, Folland Gnat, Mystere IV, Saab Lansen and also MiG-17, Mirage III, Saab Draken. He became the first Finnish citizen to break the sound barrier, in a RAF Hunter. In the Soviet Union he experienced matter-of-factly treatment, his time as POW was not referred to by anybody, including himself.

Pekuri retired as Colonel having finally commanded the Carelian Fighter Wing in 1968. He continued working in civilian aviation, as the manager of aviation maintenance training for Wihuri Oy.

He moved to Spain in the 80's but then the memories of 1944 came back and haunted him in his sleep. Many a time he woke up, not knowing whether he was in Shpalernaya or at home, until he wrote a book about his experiences (see list of sources). Then the ghosts of past left him alone for good.

One more time he was drawn into publicity as his old fighter BW-372 was retrieved from the unnamed Carelian lake in 1998. (check the link for more details: http://www.danford.et/buff.htm )

Col. Pekuri died on the 3rd Aug 1999, survived by his widow and five children.

(Sources: Pekuri, Lauri, Spalernajan sotavanki, Juva 1993 Hurtti Ukko, no. 2, 1942)

PS. Lt. T. 23 yrs in age, was on a bomber escort mission on 26 June 1944 as his fighter was shot down at 11.00 hrs. T. bailed out wounded and was captured. During interrogations a Soviet Major suggested to him that if he agreed to "supply military data for considerable financial remuneration" he could be sent home. T. agreed, to get home, without any real intent to become an enemy agent. Some time later he was sent across a waterway in the night and was met on the opposite side by a man in Finnish Army Sergeant uniform. On 10th July 1944 T. reported to his commander. He was transferred to rear echelon duties in another branch of the military for the rest of the war. T. had flown some 150 missions and scored 7 confirmed victories. T. died in Helsinki in the 1970's.
(Source: Hyvönen, Jaakko, Kohtalokkaat lennot 1939-1944, Vaasa 1982)

bobbysocks

06-06-2010, 09:02 PM

December, 1945
Statement of George R. Derdzinski
Navigator 1034
457th Bomb Group
751 Bomb Squadron

On May 28, 1944, 24th Mission, my crew, consisting of:
Pilot - Lt. Clyde Knipfer
Co-Pilot - Lt. Richard A. Bruha
Bombardier - Lt. Stanley V. Gray
Navigator - Myself................
and 5 other members were assigned to No. 5 position in the high box of our wing. The target was the airdrome at Dessau, Germany. The weather was perfect; visibility unlimited. The wing was rather spread out due to poor timing on assembly. We observed slight ineffective flak over the French coast on our way in.

After that, the mission was routine and uneventful until we entered Germany proper. At that time our fighter escort chancel reported heavy enemy fighter concentrations ahead. Within a half hour, we observed enemy fighter attacks directed at groups head of us. At approximately the Initial Point, which was 8 minutes from the target, our formation was attacked by a heavy concentration of ME-109's, FW-190's, and JU-88's. They came in at 3 O'clock level, in group formation in what can best be described as an entire formation attacking on a pursuit curve. This was the first time we had observed such tactics in our 24 missions. Needless to say they came in with their "lights blinking" (editors note - meaning, wing guns firing) and we returned the compliment.

The ship to our right was hit and smoke poured out of one of the engines, though there was no visible fire. A split second later, our left wing was hit and set afire. Our fighter escort which was too spread out to cope with the unorthodox enemy concentration was rather ineffective up to this time.
As soon as we were hit we left the formation and the pilot gave the bail out alarm and contacted all 9 crew members for confirmation, after which the pilot, the bombardier and the engineer bailed out at approximately 18,000 feet. The plane maintained perfect flight with the left wing still burning. When I prepared to leave the nose, I was surprised to see the co-pilot was still in the cockpit. After a damn short discussion, we decided to try for Switzerland (for all practical purposes Switzerland and Sweden were equi-distant, we chose Switzerland because the winds were more favorable for a southern course.)

At this point there were six crew members still in the ship. When the co-pilot made our plan known to the rest of the crew, three members, the tail-gunner, waist gunner and radio operator decided to bail out. The co-pilot, ball turret gunner and I, continued on course unmolested to Switzerland (at 18 thousand feet) with the wing fire showing signs of dying out. Then it became larger again. Finally, with the flame beginning to warm the seat of the ball turret gunner's pants and when gas fumes were evident throughout the ship, the three remaining crew members hit the silk (18 thousand feet) in the vicinity of Fulda, Germany.

On my way down I observed light flak, the first since we had left formation, directed at our ship, which was flying lazy circles on automatic pilot. I landed in a pasture, hid my parachute and made for a nearby woods. About 15 minutes later as I ran I heard voices, gun fire and soon the forest was alive with German civilians and soldiers. I hid in a ditch only to be discovered by a German soldier of the Luftwaffe.

I was immediately marched to a small town just east of Fulda and ushered into the Burgermeister's office. There I saw my co-pilot but we did not recognize each other. The town people came into the office one by one to pass their individual comments and returned to the street until quite a congregation had gathered. A few minutes later, the ball turret gunner, Sgt. Nicholas D. Furrie, appeared with an "escort". Sometime later (we bailed out at about 12:30 PM) the German army or rather a Lieutenant and 6 enlisted men came to claim us. They took us by truck to a quartermaster camp in the city of Fulda. At this point, Lt. Richard Bruha and myself were placed in a cell with a Lt. Kieley, who flew with another group in our wing. We spent two days at this location with intermittent individual interviews by a German officer. There was damn little food. Early one morning we were marched to the railroad station (Lt. Kieley had to be given assistance because of a sprained ankle.)

When the train finally arrived we were crowded into it. We arrived at Du-Lag Luft near Frankfort late that night. We went thru the usual routine there; solitary confinement and persuasive but ineffective interrogation by a German major. After two days, I was shipped along with some 50 other prisoners to an outdoor camp, the name of which I forget, where we received our issue of Red Cross clothing and our first shower and shave since we went down. After some 7 to 10 days, we were finally sent to the permanent camp at Stalag Luft III at Sagan, Germany.

There we found a rather well organized (under the circumstances) group in the west compound commanded by Col. Daar H. Alkire. I was assigned to block 169 where we lived 15 men to a room (there until Jan. 1945).
At that time the Russian advance was in full swing and they were threatening Breslau. We were marched out at 1 AM on a Sunday morning after approximately two hours notice by the German commander. The temperature was below zero and there was a heavy snow on the ground. We were issued a Red Cross parcel each as we left the gate. The entire camp marched to Spremberg, Germany. I don't remember how long it took. The weather was severe, our clothing inadequate, and many of the men including myself suffered from frozen feet and fatigue. The German guards, most of whom were quite old, did little better, As a matter of fact two of them died on this march. Although I had heard of rumors of loss of American prisoners, I do not positively know of any myself.

At Spremberg we were loaded 50 men to a car on the original 40 and 8 cards of the first world war. Some days later we arrived at Nurnberg for a 1 month stay which can best be described as a nightmare. The prison camp was located within 3 miles of the railroad yards, the primary target for our bombers at Nurnberg. The food situation was appalling; even the German soldiers did not get enough to eat. There was no Red Cross food and the railroad yards were bombed nightly and daily by our own Eighth Air Force and the R.A.F. respectively.

At about this time, Red Cross representatives made an appearance at the camp and informed us that our Government had consigned 50 white U.S. Army trucks to the Swiss Government for the purpose of supplying Red Cross food to us. Two weeks later, after his visit, the first Red Cross truck appeared. From that time on we were put on half ration of Red Cross food.

This camp was filthy and crawling with bugs. We were well satisfied upon receipt of a day's notice that we would march toward the Swiss border. It was early in April that the march began and by this time Col. Alkire was issuing orders to the German commander. The weather was warm, the white trucks supplied our food, and we were not required to march more than 8 hours in a single day. It was quite different than the march of the previous winter. After approximately two weeks on the road, we arrived at Moosburg, where we found the camp dirty and full of bugs but adequate food though never plentiful.

On May 28, 1945, early in the morning, we received the first indication that our liberation was in the offing. The German commander officially turned the entire camp over to our Senior officers. At noon, as two P-51's gave us quite an air show at low altitude, we observed an American tank followed by more coming over a not too distant hill. Although there was some scattered fire in the camp itself, the opposition to the 14th Armored Division, our liberators, was negligible.
A half hour later the American flag went up over the town of Moosburg. Later that same day, other Third Army units moved in. About a week later we were flown to Paris, from there to La Havre (a month stay in Le Havre) and then Home via Camp Kilmer, N.J.

After a 90 day leave I received my certificate of service at the AAFPDC, San Antonio, Texas. My terminal leave was completed on Dec, 12, 1945. At the time of separation I had been in grade as a 2nd. Lt. for 26 months.
George R. Derdzinski

bobbysocks

06-06-2010, 09:05 PM

Eyewitness...

On a mission to Merseberg (No 146) on Nov 8th, 1944, two planes of the 457th mysteriously collided while in formation. One of the planes was s/n 42-38064 named "Arf & Arf" piloted by Lt Arnet L Furr. The other plane involved in the collision was s/n 44-8418 named "Bad Time Inc II". The pilot of Bad Times Inc II was James Elduff. The copilot of "Bad Times Inc II" was Lt James Jenkins, Jr.

The official account says that "Arf & Arf" was cut in two by "Bad Time Inc II". The two portions of "Arf & Arf" spiraled into the sea with no survivors. "Bad Time Inc", while badly damaged, was able to return to base and flew again only to crash land in Belgium while on a mission to Euskirchen several months later

In the June 1991 issue of the Association Newsletter is a letter written to the Association by George Crockett regarding this incident. It is published here in it's entirety.

"Reading Lt Jenkins (Copilot on "Bad Time Inc.) article in a previous issue of the Newsletter brought back many vivid, but sad memories. I remember sitting across from Warren Rankin and Leroy Wetzel at breakfast on the morning of Nov 8th, 1944. It was to be the last time we would eat together or see one another. Our mission was to be the Luena synthetic oil plant at Merseberg. Fourteen of our planes were assigned to it. We had already crossed the channel when we were recalled due to bad weather.

As we were returning over the coast, we were met with a "flak" barrage and flew through it without any apparent damage. We were flying above and to the left of Lt Elduff. I was the right waist gunner on Joe Coleman's crew "Rattle Snake Daddy". Lt. Furr's, "Arf & Arf" was to the right and below Lt Elduff's "Bad Time Inc.". As I looked down on Furr's plane, I waved to their left waist gunner, and he waved back. As I watched, they started edging closer and were climbing closer to our level. At the time I thought they were just tightening the formation but they suddenly climbed up and under Lt. Elduff and hit him. The next thing I saw was "Arf & Arf" in two parts plumeting towards the water.

Contrary to the account in Col. Byers "Flak Dodger", one chute did open. We were instructed to 'hold position'. Joe (our pilot) said "To hell with you, I'm going down" and we went. We were going to try and drop a raft. We made two passes about 30 feet off the water and managed to drop a raft near him, thanks to Tom Crowley (our bombardier) who was calling the shots. The man in the water was Glen Wisdom. He made it to the raft and waved. We thought he had been saved but could not get any information on him. As we left the area, there was a swarm of fighters circling over him and the "flak" started up again trying to reach them.

It was hard to return to our hut and find their bunks empty and their personal effects gone. A lot of us cried to ourselves that night. We were given a 48 hour leave and found ourselves drowning our sorrows in London. When we got back, there was a new crew in their bunks and business went on as usual. There were two other survivors from that crew. Ed Rambler had left the crew a month before and Sgt Ramoe went to the hospital with severe abdominal pains the night before. He was replaced by Sgt Brunsvold, flight engineer. Joe must have caught "hell" for doing what he did but I thought he deserved a medal."

Explosion in Mid-Air

In the Honor Roll section of the Archives there is the following paragraph about the loss of Aircraft #42-97088 and the crew of Lt Jack W. Gazzale:
Plane s/n 42-97088 was forming up in formation over England when it's wing tip appeared to burst into flame. Several of the crew bailed out and shortly thereafter the plane exploded. The pilot, Lt Jack W. Gazzale, was blown clear of the plane and parachuted to the earth as did five other members of his crew. Three of the crew were killed in the explosion and Lt Fred Oglesby lost his leg from an injury."

Two weeks ago I happened to converse with Jack Gazzale (the first time ever) and he has given me a more detailed account of what happened on that fateful day. He wrote down his memory of this event some years ago and has kindly given me permission to post it here. The following is an account of that mission and what he and his crew experienced:
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On July 11th, 1944 we were just forming up on a mission to Munich, the fourth largest city in Germany. Our target was to be a jet aircraft plant located in the city and over 1200 heavy bombers were dispatched to the target. This was the Group's 86th mission and my 11th mission.
Our crew was made up of me, Jack W. Gazzale (Pilot), Jim Philips (Copilot), Fred Oglesby (Navigator), Ralph Hipsman (Engineer), Everett Broadie (Nose Gunner), his brother Robert Broadie (Tail Gunner), Bob Ehlert (Ball Turret Gunner), Burt Chenkin (Radioman), and William Becker (Waist Gunner).

At approximately 0930 and about one hour after takeoff and still forming up over England, the crew began to smell fuel. Suddenly the left wing was engulfed in flames and exploded, sending the aircraft into a severe spin preventing anyone from moving to an exit.Seconds later the main fuel tanks and possibly the bomb load exploded and the aircraft disintegrated. I was blown from the plane still strapped in my seat and Oglesby and Evertt Broadie (in the nose) were ejected through the nose section, severing Oglesby's left leg. Oglesby related that, as he fell toward earth unconscious, he became aware of something slapping him in the face and it was his boot and the severed leg. He pulled the ripcord and noticed his blood soaked parachute deploy before passing out again.
Witnesses on the ground reported seeing me plummeting toward the ground still strapped into my seat and at the last possible moment, unbuckling my seatbelt and pulling the ripcord. I received only minor injuries, but the trauma of injury and lost crew members was devastating.

Oglesby, bleeding profusely from his severe injury, was in a way, lucky. He landed in a tree beside the road just as an ambulance and crew came by on their way to a hospital with plasma. They and some farmers immediately removed Fred from the tree and applied emergency first aid, although they were unable to save his leg, he did survive and died only last year. Jim Phillips, Ralph Hipsman and Everett Broadie were lost in this crash.

The debris covered a five mile long path with an engine at the beginning and the largest piece, the tail section, at the other. Some debris fell on a B-24 base, causing a departing B-24 to abort it's takeoff after being hit by some of the debris.

Fred Oglesby and I are Colonels in the Confederate Air Force and I have the distinction of being a charter member of the High Sky Wing. Oglesby was a member of the Arizona Wing, which operates the B-17 "Sentimental Journey", whose markings are those of the 457th Bomb Group.

bobbysocks

06-06-2010, 09:08 PM

Major Raymond Syptak

The sixth of June, 1994, was the 50th anniversary of the greatest event that occurred in World War ll, and perhaps the event which the success, or lack thereof, would change the course of civilization for years to come.

This event, referred to as "D" Day, was the beginning of the invasion of Western Europe by Allied forces to free the Western European countries from the control of Nazi Germany, and which led to the ultimate defeat of that country.

The 50th anniversary of that event was celebrated by the Allied participants, in the area in which it occurred, which was Normandy, France. Many participants who survived the landings and subsequent battles gave their accounts of the invasion. These accounts were interesting and informative, and received world wide news coverage. D-Day occurred almost mid-way in my combat tour in England, flying bombing missions in B-17s over continental Europe. It occurred to me that perhaps a resume of my experiences during that tour might be of interest to my descendants and others.

To give the proper perspective, I must go back far enough to show how it came about that I was in that particular situation at that particular time.

It goes way back to my decision to go to Texas A&M. This was in 1937. At that time, A&M was a college for men only and participation in the Army Reserve Officer Training Corps (ROTC) was mandatory for all able-bodied students. The ROTC program had several military specialities, one of which had to be selected upon entry. There was the Infantry, Field Artillery, Cavalry, and others. I knew nothing of any of them, but my good brother-in-law, John B.Woiton, had finished A&M, and he advised me to take the Infantry.

The first two years of ROTC training was mandatory for all. At the beginning of the Junior year, it became optional. To continue in the ROTC required the approval of the Army staff at the college. If approved, you entered into a contract with the Army. One reason for my desire for continuation in the program was monetary. We were paid the grand amount of 25 cents a day. While that was not much, over the period of two years it just about paid for the required uniform. By completing the additional two years, and upon graduation, you became a Second Lieutenant in the Army Reserve.

I realized after experiencing some of the training that there were more desirable specialities in the Army then the Infantry. The Infantrymen were called "Paddle Feet". They were the ones who carried the rifles and did all of the walking and close-in fighting in battles.

A few weeks before graduation, a notice was posted on the bulletin board, stating that students majoring in certain subjects, mine being one, could request transfer to the Army Air Corps, non-rated. At that time, I didn't know what "non-rated" meant, but this seemed to be a great opportunity to leave the Infantry. So I applied for transfer.

The time was now the early part of 1941, and Hitler had already taken over a lot of Europe. Also, it had been announced that all ROTC graduates would go on active duty for one year upon graduation. My duty station was to be Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, where I reported on June 20, 1941 after graduating. After a couple of weeks of some rugged Infantry training, lo and behold, my transfer to the Army Air Corps came through, and I was to report to McClelland Field, in Sacramento, California. I immediately called my dear wife, Vera Mae, who was still working for the Agricultural Adjustment Administration in College Station. I told her to terminate her employment, and I would pick her up and we would be going to California to live.

While still at Fort Sam Houston, I remember listening to the radio, and the program was interrupted with the announcement that Germany had invaded the Soviet Union. Since Germany had been so successful in the past by taking over one country after the other in a very short period of time, seemingly invincible, and since the Soviet Union had had difficulty in taking little Finland, this was very bad news. If Russia (Soviet Union) were to fall, it meant Hitler would control all of Europe, except Great Britain. At that time, Britain was being pounded by German bombers. l thought if the Soviets fell, the British would probably give up. Things did not look very good.

In the next few months, Germany marched through Poland and Russia,and seemed to have little opposition. The German army was approaching Moscow and Leningrad (now St. Petersburg).

After a few pleasant months at McClelland Field, Pear1 Harbor, was attacked by bombers from aircraft carriers of Imperial Japan. This was on a Sunday morning, December 7, 1941. We lived in a house in North Sacramento. That morning I went to the drug store to get a newspaper. While in the store, the announcement of the attack came over the radio in the store. I went back to the house, and received a call to report to the base immediately. All officers were issued pistols to be worn at all times. This base, like all others, went on a war time alert. All leaves were cancelled and a seven day work week was put into effect.

As I previously said, I was non-rated, which meant that I was not a pilot, navigator, or any other aircraft crew speciality. After becoming acquainted with the pilots on the base, I started considering the possibility of applying for pilot training. As a non-flying Air Corps officer, there was no possibility of participating in any combat. It, like the Quartermaster Corps, was one of the best assignments to survive the war. However,like many others, I was interested in doing all that I could to insure victory for the United States. So I thought I should apply.

Physical examinations for pilot training were tough; however, l thought I could qualify, so I applied for pilot training and was accepted. Vera Mae, our nine month old son, Michael, and I reported to Santa Ana, California, for pre-flight pilot training in November, 1942. There were literally thousands of aviation cadets there, all with dreams of becoming pilots, navigators, or bombardiers. After six weeks of preflight training, I was transferred to Fort Stockton, Texas, for primary pilot training in the Stearman (PT17) aircraft. This was a bi-wing, open cockpit trainer. The instructors were all civilians.

The first ride in the airplane with the instructor was my second flight in an airplane. After about seven hours of training, I was allowed to solo. I passed the various check rides and finished the course with a total of sixty hours. Approximately one-half of the class washed out (were eliminated). Then to basic training at Pecos, Texas, in a single engine, low wing trainer, referred to by some as the "Vultee Vibrator". After another seventy hours or so, I finished this course successfully and was transferred to Marfa, Texas for advanced training in a twin-engine trainer, the AT-17. Upon graduation from pilot training, and receiving my pilot's wings, I was transferred to Moses Lake, Washington, for my first encounter with the B-17 bomber, the Flying Fortress. This was in August, 1943.

At this base, B-17 crews were formed and trained for eventual assignment to tactical units. After getting a crew, and, in retrospect, some sorry training, we were transferred to the 457th Bombardment Group at Ephrata, Washington. This was in October, 1943. The group had just been activated and we were among the first crews to arrive.

After additional training with the group at Ephrata, we were transferred to Wendover, Utah, for a short time, and then to Grand Island, Nebraska, our staging area. From there the group was transferred to England to participate in the war against Germany. This was January, 1944. I had gotten a brand new B-17 a couple of days before we departed Grand Island on the 23rd January, 1944.The flight to England involved a stop-over in Goose Bay, Labrador, where we stayed for a couple of days waiting for favorable winds. We launched along with other crews from Goose Bay about ten o'clock one night.

To put things in perspective against I now had about 700 hours of flying time, including student pilot time. The navigator had navigated only one flight in the B-17, since in the States, with all the radio stations, a navigator was not needed. So here we were, flying across the Atlantic where the successful arrival at the destination was up to this navigator. However, after several hours,during which the navigator stated he was not sure of our position, we could see land in the breaks of the clouds. Now the only problem was to find the correct air base, which was in Ireland. The ceiling of the clouds was approximately 500 feet, which didn't help. Finally, after some "stooging around", we found the base and landed.

We were one of the few crews who landed at the prescribed base. One crew landed on the beach. Others were at various bases. There were instances when a crew missed the British Isles completely and landed in France or Spain. Such was the capability of the bomber crews at that time. After two or three days, we were led in formation to our home base-to-be, which was called Glatton It was near Peterborough, about 75 miles north of London.

The quarters were quonset huts. There were no closets. The latrine was in a separate building, which contained showers, with cold water only. The mess hall was initially manned by the British. The food was inedible. Fortunately, we had some "K" rations that we could eat. Later our Group mess personnel took over. Then we had powdered eggs and milk. It still wasn't that good, but better. Lots of Brussels sprouts.

Initially we had some training flights to practice assembling in formation over a designated radio beacon. The normal formation for target bombing was an 18 ship formation. The Group aircraft complement was 60 B-17's. Finally, on February 25, I flew my first mission with my crew. The target was in Augsburg, Germany. I saw lots of German fighters, B-17s going down, some blowing up. My co-pilot was hit in the knee with a piece of shrapnel from flak. He was hospitalized for ten days or so. After landing we were told that there were 35 holes in the airplane; however, fortunately none resulted in damage to essential functions of the airplane.

At this time, the policy was that if one completed 25 missions, this constituted a tour, and one would be returned to the States. After that first mission, I remember asking myself "How can you possibly get through 25 of these?"

The day time formation bombing by the American forces, with the ultimate goal of destroying the war making capability of the German and Italian forces in Europe, was unique in warfare. While it didn't quite accomplish its goal in Europe, at least, it reduced the enemy capability sufficiently to allow army forces to win their battles and eventually win the war. One reason it was not completely successful was the inadequate power of the bombs used. We didn't have the atom or nuke bombs then. Life, at that time, consisted of work and very little sleep for me. I went over as an aircraft commander with a crew of nine other people. Their duties on the crew were: 1 co-pilot, 1 bombardier, 1 navigator, 1 radio operator/gunner, 1 engineer/gunner, 2 waist gunners, 1 ball turret gunner,and 1 tail gunner.

The B-17 was equipped with 11 guns. There were three gun turrets with two .50 caliber guns each. One was in the nose and was controlled by the bombardier. There was also a gun there controlled by the navigator. Another turret was just back of the pilots and on top, and was controlled by the flight engineer. Behind the bomb bay was the radio rooms which had a gun controlled by the radio man. In the bottom of the aircraft was the so-called ball turret. This was a big ball, barely big enough for a man to crawl into and be able to aim and fire the guns. There were two waist guns,one on each side, and the guns in the tail of the aircraft. These were controlled by individual gunners.

Shortly after arrival in England, l assumed the duties of Operations Officer of one of the squadrons (751st Squadron). In this capacity, I was responsible for the activities of the combat crews in the squadron. This involved assigning duties, scheduling training, and assigning crews to positions in the flying formations on the bombing misslons. We averaged fifteen to twenty crews per squadron, and the number was dependent upon losses sustained and the availability of replacements.

The missions were scheduled 8th Air Force Headquarters.

Weather over England,and especially over Europe, was the primary determinant of whether and when and how many sorties would be flown on a given day. Most take-offs for the missions were usually around six o'clock in the morning. This required getting the crews to briefing by two o'clock. Breakfast was served before briefing.

We were usually alerted for a mission the day before by six o'clock in the evening. After such an alert, the crew composition and positions in the formation were assigned. Theoretically, I could go to bed after this and be able to sleep until one o'clock or so. However, many times there were changes in the number of aircraft to be scheduled. This required changes in the number of crews and their positions. This was all done at Group operations. That reduced the time for sleeping. After the bombers took off on the mission, there was crew training and other things to take care of during the day. Then the aircraft returned around two o'clock in the afternoon.

Later I was assigned duties as Squadron Commander (749th Squadron) which allowed time for more sleep. At one point, I needed sleep so badly that I thought if my plane was shot down and I could have a successful bail-out, I would take it. Nothing to do in POW camps but sleep.

The initial missions produced various results, mostly bad. On one of these, the group failed to get assembled, resulting in some aircraft returning to base while others joined other formations. We were still learning.

Formation assembly was accomplished over a radio beacon. The lead ship took off, went to the designated beacon, and circled. While circling, multi-colored flares were fired. The colors identified the group. With so many airplanes in the air, this identification was necessary. It also identified the lead ship. The other aircraft followed at 30 second intervals and joined the circling formation. At the designated time after the group formation, the formation departed en route to the designated target. With so many bombers in the air over England at one time, meeting designated times over checkpoints was critical, as was time over the target. There were some air collisions.

Initially, weather over intended targets determined how many formations would be scheduled, if any. About mid-way in my tour, radar bombing, though somewhat unreliable and imprecise, was available. This considerably increased bombing and mission activity.

After two or three months, our bombing results improved considerably. Also, German fighter defenses diminished. This was due to shortage of aircraft fuel, fighters available, and pilots. Initially, the fighters attacked the bomber formations either singly or in small groups. Later,due to fewer fighters and inexperienced pilots, they attacked in larger group formations. With this tactic, the number of our planes attacked on any particular day was limited. However, the ones that were attacked suffered many losses. In fact, one group, the 100th, was almost completely wiped out on three different occasions. Our losses on missions varied. Sometimes we lost none. Sometimes two or three and up to five. There were nine losses on one particular mission. (Merseberg, Nov 2nd, 1944) We started with 60 airplanes in the group and by June or July had lost 60. Of course, replacements were provided.

The flak was intense at times, especially over prime targets. After D-Day, and as the Germans were pushed back, the flak was more intense because they moved their flak guns back to add to the defense of targets still under their control. However, I never sweated the flak like I did the German fighters. By the time D-Day came along on June 6th, I had flown about 15 missions. Some were rough (holes in airplanes), some easy, called "milk runs". I had no brakes on landing on one mission. The aircraft ran off the runway, but settled in the soft English mud with no damage.

I did not fly on the missions for D-Day. I had led the mission on June 4th, so it wasn't my time to lead. I remember listening to General Eisenhower announcing the invasion to the world and invoking the blessings of Almighty God for its success. It was successful, despite many casualties and Iosses. We lost no aircraft in the Group on D-Day.

As I have previously stated, the all-out bombing effort by the United States was unique in warfare. It was also unique, naturally, in the lives of the crew members who flew the missions. Reactions varied. At the beginning of a tour, most crew members assumed a fatalistic attitude of "I'm either going to make it,or I'm not". But, after completing half the required total, if successful, there was more anxiety. The thought then became, "If I have completed one half of the missions, I might make it". Then "sweating" the missions increased. Very few refused to continue and very few wound up in rest centers. The worst time for most occurred during the time between crew briefing and take-off. They then knew what the target was to be, and an estimate of the defenses that might be encountered. Also, after getting their equipment and going to their airplane, there was nothing to do but "sweat". I saw some vomit during this time, particularly on a rough target. Once the crew became airborne, there were crew duties to perform which required their concentration.

My seventeenth mission, flown on June 14th, 1944 was the roughest, from a life-threatening stand point. The target was the Le Bourget airport in Paris, which, of course, was being used by the Germans. This was not supposed to be a difficult mission because the distance was not great and it was in France, rather than in Germany. The assembly and flight to the target was uneventful.

I was the deputy leader on this trip. When flying as a leader or deputy leader, that individual occupied the co-pilot's seat in the airplane. The responsibility for the crew was the pilot's, who, in effect, was the aircraft commander. The leader was concerned with the success of the mission.

When we were on the bomb run we were attacked by numerous German fighters. Our aircraft received numerous hits, which resulted in the loss of one engine, all hydraulic pressure, all communication equipment, even within the aircraft, and all engine instruments. Additionally, there were explosions and fire in the cockpit. The explosions were caused by the flares that were to be used in the formation assembly, but were not used since we were the deputy lead. Apparently the fighter attack had ignited the flares. It was obvious that the three of us in the cockpit were going to have to leave that area. There were two doors, one in the back leading to the bomb bay and to the rear of the aircraft, and one that led to the bombardier-navigator compartment in the front of the aircraft. The aircraft was, at this time, on automatic pilot. I got out of my seat and went below. I told the people there that we were on fire and would have to bail out. Someone tried to jettison the escape hatch but it wouldn't jettison, which closed off that avenue of escape. By this time, things became real confusing. We were at 25,000 feet, and I had been without oxygen for a time. My instincts told me if I didn't get some oxygen soon, I would pass out. I started back to the cockpit. By this time, the fire had almost gone out. The floor of the cockpit was made of wood and it was still smoldering. I encountered the engineer, who had been fighting the fire. His clothes were smoldering, also, so I extinguished that fire with my hands. They got a fairly good burn, which I didn't notice at the time.

I finally managed to get back to the co-pilot's seat and grabbed the oxygen hose and started sucking on it. I don't know what happened to my oxygen mask. As I started to be able to focus my eyes, I noticed that the airplane was flying fairly level. I looked at the altimeter and we were down to 20,000 feet.

I asked the engineer (Sgt Paul A. Birchen) where the pilot was, and he informed me that he had bailed out through the bomb bay.

Since the airplane was still flying relatively well, and since the fire was out, why not try to get back to England? But I had a very sick airplane. One engine was out and the prop was windmilling and couldn't be feathered. Another engine was smoking real badly but was still running. All engine instruments were out. We were all alone in the air now, since, with all the problems and confusion, we could not stay with the group. Also, with the bad engine, we couldn't have kept up anyway.

We were now in the situation, a lone bomber, that normally invited further fighter attacks. I moved over to the pilot's seat. I further reduced our altitude because, among other things, it was easier to maintain air speed at a lower altitude. There were some clouds around and I tried, as much as possible, to stay in the clouds to avoid additional fighter attacks. After considerable anxiety, we approached the English Channel with a sigh of relief. We saw no more German fighters. Eventually we approached our base. Since we had no communication equipment, we could not ask for landing information. With no hydraulic pressure, we had no brakes on landing.

I tried to make the approach so that I would land as near the beginning of the runway as possible. We landed, and one of the gunners released his parachute, that he had attached securely to a part of the airplane. This helped slow our landing roll. We stopped before reaching the end of the runway. The fire in the cockpit had been of such magnitude that they retired the airplane because they were afraid some of the aircraft structure may have been weakened.

Following that mission, I was sent to Scotland for several days, and later was awarded the Silver Star and the Purple Heart for the Le Bourget mission. (Sgt Birchen, the engineer, also received the Silver Star for his gallentry in action). The remaining missions on my tour were relatively uneventful except one, in which clouds were such that the formation could not get above them. B-17 formation can not be maintained in the clouds, so all planes scattered and it was again single planes returning to England. Fortunately, we encountered no fighters. I guess they didn't like the weather, either.

Upon completion of my tour, the war was going good for the Allies. I packed my bags and went by train to a base in England that provided air transportation to the States. After a few days wait, I finally got on an airplane and arrived in New York around the middle of December, 1944. After processing at a base there, I caught a train for San Antonio. Upon arrival there, I was met by my wonderful wife and two year old son. A fitting climax to the most eventful year of my life.

The war ended in Europe May 8, 1945. The 457th Bomb Group returned to the States in May, 1945,and was disbanded in June, 1945.

The Group flew 236 combat missions and lost 94 aircraft.

In addition to the awards previously mentioned (Silver Star, Purple Heart) I was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, the Air Medal with three Oak Leaf Clusters, and the French Croix de Guerre.

bobbysocks

06-07-2010, 10:42 PM

WWII STORY: THIS IS IT !

about 9 pages of a great story. its copyrighted so i will not post it here but can give you the link so you can read all for yourself. enjoy..it is worth it.

http://aafo.com/library/history/B-17/thisisit.htm

bobbysocks

06-14-2010, 09:44 PM

some 51 boys..

Duane W. Beeson

Born 1921 at Boise, Idaho. Duane enlisted in the Royal Canadian Air Force in 1941, assigned to RAF 71st "Eagle" Squadron, later transferred to 334th Squadron, 4th FG/8th USAAF. Nicknamed "Bee", he decorated his aircraft as "Boise Bee." Beeson was one of the few 4th FG pilots to achieve real success in the P-47, scoring 12+ victories in the Thunderbolt. He was promoted to CO of the 334th Squadron on March 15, 1944. He scored his remaining kills in a P-51 Mustang. Like Dick Bong, Beeson was a consistent fighter pilot, scoring single (or double) victories many times. From May 18, 1943 through April 5, 1944, Major Beeson shot down German planes on 15 different occasions, scoring most heavily in early 1944 over Germany itself. All but one of his kills were against single-engine fighters (FW-190s and Bf-109s).

On April 5, 1944, in his own words: "Our group was strafing aerodromes near Berlin. We had left one drome behind with many burning Ju-88's on the ground when another was sighted, so we went in to attack it. There were five Ju-88's parked wing-tip to wing-tip along the perimeter track, so I opened fire on them. The first one burst into flame and there were strikes all over the others, so I picked a big-assed Me-323 to shoot at next. Just as I opened fire and began to see some results, tracers flashed past my cockpit and my Mustang was hit. Leaving the aerodrome behind I climbed to 1,000 ft. and tried to get the engines running again but had no luck so decided to get out. Had lost altitude down to 400 ft. when I finally shoved the stick forward and bunted my way out of the a/c. The chute opened just in time to carry me over a fence and deposit my carcass in a field surrounded by many members of the "Super Race" -- including one blonde fraulein on a bicycle." He spent the next thirteen months as a POW.

Victories: 24.25; 19.5 air, 4.75 ground. He earned the Distinguished Service Cross, Silver Star, Distinguished Flying Cross, Air Medal, and many other decorations. Duane was promoted to Lt. Col. after the war and died of a brain tumor 15 Feb 1947. He is interred at Arlington National Cemetery.

Leonard 'Kit' Carson

Top scorer of the 357th Fighter Group with 18.5 victories (plus 3.5 more by strafing). Formed at Tonopah, Nevada, the 357th was the first P-51 equipped unit in the Eighth Air Force, beginning combat operations in February 1944. Its aircraft were among the most colorful, with red and yellow nose checkers and a variety of nicknames and nose art.

Carson was on the verge of heading for the Pacific with a P-39 outfit, but instead joined the 357th. His first victory was on April 8, 1944. His chosen technique for success was to bore in close to his victim, rather than rely on deflection shooting. He chalked up the bulk of his score during the final six months of the war, flying Nooky Booky IV. He ran 'Clobber College' the 357th's combat school, for a time, passing on his skills.

When training, he emphasized the challenges of flying seven-hour missions in the harsh weather of Northwestern Europe. He stressed the importance of the "two-ship" element, and the defensive strengths of the P-51. "Do anything you can to break his line of sight on you. Once you've done that, he can't lay a glove on you." He insisted that the new pilots master instrument flying, a necessity in the rain, snow, ice, and poor visibility of the ETO. "Anyone who has a casual attitude toward flying in this climate is going to wind up wearing an 8,000 pound coffin at the bottom of the North Sea." He noted that they should all become intimately familiar with the east coast of England, as the biggest aid in zeroing in on home base.

For gunnery, he encouraged the new pilots to close in from behind, noting the difficulties of deflection shooting. "Get dead astern and drive in to 200 yards or less, right down to 50 yards and fire a couple of one-second bursts." He told the pilots to think about six and seven hour missions, and to dress as if they "were going to have to walk out of Germany."

John Godfrey

He scored 18 victories with the famed 4th Fighter Group.

December 1, 1943 - John Godfrey got his first kill, a Bf-109, in a fairly uneventful bomber escort mission to Solingen, Germany.

March 8, 1944 - The Group was again back to Berlin. They found the B-17s near Gardelegen, Germany and relieved the escorting P-47s. The first German attack was by Bf-109s and was intercepted with 3 enemy aircraft destroyed. Then 60 plus approached and attacked in pairs and groups of four. Combat raged all over. Several B-17s went down and parachutes dotted the sky. Most of the Group got trapped east of Berlin and forced the pilots to fly onto Russia. This was the first time that Don Gentile and John Godfrey teamed up. They knocked down six between them, making Godfrey an ace. This also tied Gentile with Duane Beeson at 14 and began their famous scoring race.

April 22, 1944 - Colonel Blakeslee led a Fighter Sweep to Kassel-Hamm, Germany. As they passed Kassel at 18,000 feet, 20 plus Messerschmitts were spotted 12,000 feet below. The Group bounced the Germans after orbiting to lose altitude. Several of the Bf-109s attempted to shake the Mustangs by doing aerobatics right on the deck but the Group picked off one after another. Willard Millikan managed to shoot down four 109s. John Godfrey got three.

August 5, 1944 - John Godfrey returned from leave in the U.S. on July 24 and was up for the first time since to down a Bf-109 in the air and three Ju-52s on the ground. Fred Glover got a 109 also.

August 24, 1944 - The Group was on a penetration target support mission to Misburg and then on a target withdrawal support to Merseburg, Germany. John Godfrey and a few other 336th pilots strafed an airfield. Godfrey got four Ju-52s, Melvin Dickey got three and Pierce Wiggin got one. As they worked over the field, Godfrey's plane was hit and he was forced to belly in. He was captured and spent the rest of the war as a POW. It was later determined that Dickey, Godfrey's wingman, shot Godfrey down by accident.

Godfrey died of Lou Gehrig's disease in 1958.

Lt. Col. John B. England

Lt. Col. John B. England was born January 15, 1923, at Caruthersville, Missouri. He enlisted in the military as a private in April 1942, and after attending aviation cadet training, he was commissioned and assigned as a fighter pilot. In November 1943, he was assigned to the 357th Fighter Group, 8th Air Force in Great Britain, where he took part in 108 combat missions for a total of 460 combat hours in the North American P-51 Mustang.

During his tour in Europe, Colonel England destroyed 19 (17.5 air) German aircraft and, on one mission, destroyed four enemy planes. For this gallantry in action, he was awarded the Silver Star. He owed part of his success to the technological advances incorporated into the P-51: the K-14 gunsight and the G-suit. On September 13, 1944 he was leading 'Dollar Squadron' (the 362nd FS) at 8000 feet when he spotted a Bf-109 in a dive. It was soon overhauled as England closed to 800 yards at an altitude of 3000 feet. Seeing that his quarry was heading for an airfield, England wound his P-51 up to 400 mph and turned tightly to close the range to 500 yards. With the K-14 (deflection-compensating gunsight) locked on, England fired, and saw the strikes on the Bf-109's engine and cockpit before it crashed. He went on to down two more Bf-109s that mission.

He was also awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross with three oak leaf clusters and the French Croix de Guerre. Colonel England returned to the United States in February 1945 and served with the Air Force until his death in 1954. Returning from a training flight in his F-86 "Sabre" aircraft November 21, 1954, Colonel England was killed while attempting to land at Toul Air Base, France. With the choice of trying to get over the barracks for a landing or swerving away for certain death, he choose the latter rather than risk sending other persons to their death. He turned left and crashed. Alexandria Air Force Base was renamed England Air Force Base June 23, 1955 in honor of Colonel England.

Ralph 'Kid' Hofer

Hofer scored 15 wins with the 334th FS of the 4th Fighter Group. He was tall and powerfully built; it was difficult to reconcile his frame with his chronic smile and guileless manner. He let his hair grow into a chestnut mane and he wore a snake ring and a blue & orange football jersey with the number 78 on it.

Hofer commenced bagging Huns as unceremoniously as he had enlisted in the RCAF. It was an accepted axiom that a pilot flew 10 or 11 missions before his eyes were good enough to even see a Hun, let alone bag one. But Kid Hofer bagged a 190 on his first mission and astonished all by gaily diving down to strafe a flak boat in the Channel. The veterans said pilots could not get a Jerry the first trip, but Hofer had combat film to show for it. It didn't take him long to become the only Flight Officer in England with five swastikas on his kite.

Hofer appeared to have a gay disregard for all the dangers European skies held. No other pilot in the group would prowl about there without a wing man, and preferably a squadron. Not so Hofer, who was out to see how many Huns he could bag. He got a bang out of the Salem Chamber of Commerce passing resolutions eulogizing his part in the global war and the newspaper clippings. One day he had to turn back from a mission because a wing tank wasn't feeding, but his mechanic quickly fixed it and Hofer took off before he was checked in. He took a spin around Holland and Belgium, scouring for Huns and blazing away at flak posts in the Zuider Zee. On his return he saw Lt. Col. Clark bouncing over the grass towards his plane. "I'm in for it now," Hofer murmured to his crew chief.

"Where the hell you been, Hofer?" Clark angrily asked.

"Sir, I had to turn back," said Hofer.

"But these guns have been fired. Explain that."

"Oh, that, sir, I -- well, I did that before I aborted," said Hofer. Another time he was on the tail of a Jerry blasting away. He could see the half-inch slugs ripping into the Hun, but the Hun suddenly pulled away and left him, for Hofer had used up the gas in his fuselage tank and had forgotten to switch over to his wing tanks. Meanwhile, another pilot whipped in and opened fire on Kid Hofer's Hun.

"Break! Break!" shouted Hofer.

The pilot, led to believe that a Jerry was barreling in on his tail, broke sharply to port and Hofer zoomed in to resume his firing and destroy the Hun.

On the June 26 shuttle mission, he flagrantly disobeyed Blakeslee's orders, and chased a German fighter to the deck; he failed to rejoin. He navigated to Kiev on his own, and rejoined the Group. On the return, he again disobeyed orders to go off on his own, this time rejoining the Group in Sicily. From here, Blakeslee organized a combined Fighter Sweep with the 352nd and the 325th. On this mission, Hofer was shot down and killed over Mostar, Yugoslavia. He was credited with 15 kills in the air, and 15 more on the ground.

William Whisner
Only one Air Force pilot was both an ace in two wars and a three-time winner of the DSC.

Lt. William Whisner joined the 352nd Fighter Group's 487th Squadron at Bodney, England, in the fall of 1943. He had the great good fortune to study air combat under two men who were to become masters of the art: Squadron Commander Maj. John C. Meyer and Capt. George Preddy, whose wing he often flew.

As with many of the top aces, Whisner's score mounted slowly at first. On Jan. 29, 1944, while flying a P-47, he downed his first enemy aircraft, an FW-190. The 352nd converted to P-51s in April. At the end of the following month, Whisner shot down a second -190 in a 15-minute dogfight against the best German pilot he encountered during the war. The next day, he shared an Bf-109 kill with Preddy; then it was home to the States on leave.

Whisner, now a captain, rejoined the 487th Squadron in the fall of 1944 . On Nov. 2, he downed a Bf-109 using the new K-14 gunsight. On Nov. 21 he led a flight of P-51s on an escort mission to Merseburg, Germany. As the bombers left their target, a large formation of enemy fighters struck. Meyer (now a lieutenant colonel) told Whisner to take a straggler in one of the enemy's three six-ship cover flights. In a linked series of attacks, Whisner shot down four FW-190s in the cover flight and probably got another.

With no more than two -190s left in the cover flight he had attacked, Whisner turned his attention to the main enemy formation, exploding a -190 that had not dropped its belly tank. Evading three -190s on his tail, he shot down another that was closing on one of his pilots. Then, low on ammunition, he joined up with Meyer and returned to Bodney.

Whisner was credited with five -190s and two probables that day. His score later was revised by the Air Force Historical Research Center to six destroyed, making that day one of the best for any USAAF pilot in the skies over Europe. For that achievement, Whisner was awarded his first Distinguished Service Cross--second only to the Medal of Honor.

During the Battle of the Bulge, which started on Dec. 16, the 487th Squadron was moved forward to airfield Y-29 near Asche, Belgium. On New Year's Day 1945, Whisner was one of 12 Mustang pilots led by Meyer that had started their takeoff roll when a large formation of FW-190s and Bf-109s hit the field. In the ensuing battle, fought at low altitude and before the 487th had time to form up, Whisner shot down a -190, then was hit by 20-mm fire. With his windshield and canopy covered by oil and one aileron damaged, Whisner stayed in the fight, shooting down two more -190s and an Bf-109. He was awarded a second DSC for that day's work--one of only 14 USAAF men to be so honored in World War II. (Meyer received his third DSC, the only Air Force pilot to receive three DSCs in World War II.) At the end of the war, Whisner had 15.5 victories, which put him in the top 20 USAAF aces of the European Theater.

Bill Whisner returned to combat in Korea, flying F-86s, and becoming the seventh jet ace of the Korean War and the first in the 51st Wing. Whisner was awarded a third Distinguished Service Cross, the only Air Force man other than Meyer to earn that distinction. He also became one of only six Air Force pilots who were aces in both World War II and Korea. In the post-Korea years, Whisner continued his career as a fighter pilot, winning the Bendix Trophy Race in 1953. After retiring as a colonel, he finally settled down in his home state of Louisiana. On July 21,1989, Col. William Whisner died of a yellow jacket sting.

Donald Bochkay
He flew with 363rd FS of the 357th Fighter Group. He scored 14.8 (13.5?) air-to-air victories (10.5 in Mustangs), the top ace of this group. the last victories being a trio of Fieseler Storches. Don Bochkay frequently flew as part of a flight of four pilots that included Jim Browning (7.5 wins), Chuck Yeager (11.5), Bud Anderson (16.25), and Bochkay himself. Major (from March 1945) Bochkay planned and led a number of successful missions against German jet bases during the closing weeks of the war, downing two Me-262s. His last three aircraft were all unnamed, but carried has large "winged ace" insignia on the engine cowlings. Bochkay was not credited with any air-to-ground victories.

But he was credited with the most memorable line uttered by any Eighth Air Force pilot in World War Two. He had managed to obtain some silk underwear, and was using the lure of the fine lingerie to impress an English barmaid. "Stick with me honey, and you'll be farting through silk."

In 1970 Don Bochkay visited Leiston, the 357th's base, and wrote this letter, which appeared in Bud Anderson's To Fly and Fight: Memoirs of a Triple Ace:

Dear Zack,
If you go to England and on to Leiston, don't be too disappointed in what you don't see there. I was there on our base in 1970. I was looking for a door off our hut that had a record of kills for Yeager, Browning, Anderson, Peters, and myself. Burned in with a hot poker.
I would have given $500 for that door. I didn't find it. I still have a hunch it exists.
Our base at Leiston was being chewed up by a concrete eater when I drove up un one of the runways. No one but us knows the feeling that went through me when I drove up on the active runway to see the big monsters destroying our base.
I relived a thousand days as I looked down that main runway, (thought) of boys who became men and did what they had to do, men who backed them to the hilt with their skills to make it possible.
I shed my tears at Leiston when I was there in '70, and I will remember it forever.
Have a good trip if you go to Leiston, and don't be ashamed to cry.
Yours, Don
He died unexpectedly in February 1981.

Bruce Carr
Thanks, Luftwaffe, for the ride home

Downed far behind enemy lines, an American P-51 pilot made a dramatic escape with the unintended help of the Luftwaffe.

Bruce Carr ended World War II as a lieutenant with 14 victories confirmed and the Distinguished Service Cross. Despite all that, he denies any claim to heroism--a doubtful assertion--but he can't disclaim his role in a daring experience, to our knowledge unique in the history of that war.

Bruce Carr was a P-51 pilot with the 354th Fighter Group. At the time of this adventure, the group was based in France. In October 1944, while on a mission over Czechoslovakia, he was downed by flak. After days of evading--cold, hungry, and physically exhausted--he decided it was better to turn himself in to the Luftwaffe than to risk capture by the locals. He knew from the surrounding air activity that there was a German airfield not far away.

Lieutenant Carr found his way to the field and hid in the forest outside a fence surrounding a revetment in the woods. An FW-190 was parked there; its ground crew was completing servicing the aircraft. It was full of fuel and ready to go. Carr's plan of surrender took a 180-degree turn to the positive side. Maybe he could "borrow" the enemy fighter and fly back to his base in France. If he were caught tinkering with the bird, things would not go well, but it was worth a shot.

As dusk fell, Carr slipped through the fence and climbed into the FW-190. In the failing light, he did his best to familiarize himself with the cockpit and get ready for a takeoff at dawn. All switches and gauges were labeled in German, hence of no help. Then by the gray light of dawn, the young lieutenant found the switches for gear and flaps. Now to start the engine and get on his way before the ground crew arrived to preflight the bird.

To the right of the seat was a handle that he guessed might have something to do with starting the engine. Already there were sounds of activity on the field, so he didn't have much time for experimenting. Cautiously, Carr pulled the handle. Nothing happened. He tried pushing it. He was rewarded by the sound of an inertial starter winding up. Pulling the handle must engage the starter, he guessed. He cracked the throttle, wound up the starter, and pulled. The engine came to life with a roar. Taxiing through the woods with no parachute, helmet, or radio, he could see a green field ahead and no signs of unfriendly reaction. Carr firewalled the throttle, then roared across the field and into the air, leveling off at treetop altitude. He saw no sign of pursuit as he headed for home. Flying the fighter was no problem. An airplane is an airplane, as they say. He didn't have time to consider what would happen at the field when the Germans discovered one of their planes was missing.

All went well until he reached the front lines. Every armed Allied soldier in range opened fire on him. There was little Lieutenant Carr could do in the way of evasive action since he was blowing leaves off the tops of trees, but his luck held. No hits.

Another problem lay ahead: the likelihood of being shot down by his own airfield defenses. Without a radio, he had no way of assuring them that this was a friendly FW-190. It was best to get on the ground as fast as possible. He came screaming in on the deck, pulled up, rolled over on his back, reefed it in for a short approach, dropped flaps, and pushed the button he thought would lower the landing gear. There was no reassuring thump of gear coming down. As he pulled up for another try, he could see the AA crews uncovering their 40-mm guns. With no parachute, his only option for avoiding another encounter with flak was to belly in. This he did without injury.

As the FW-190 ground to a stop, Lieutenant Carr was surrounded by MPs, whom he could not convince that he was a 354th pilot on a delayed return from a mission. Things grew more and more tense until the group commander, Col. George Bickell, arrived and stuck his head into the cockpit. His first words were, "Carr, where in hell have you been?"

After his extraordinary experience, Bruce Carr was back on operations in a few days. By April 15, he was credited with 7.5 more victories, five on one mission, putting him among the top 50 World War II AAF fighter aces. Today, retired Colonel Carr flies a P-51 owned by Dr. Joseph Newsome--but, he says, a little more conservatively than in years gone by. And with the consent of the owner.

Henry Brown

Beating Four Aces

Lt. Henry Brown pulled off one of the most amazing bluffs of the war.

Lt. Henry Brown was on his second tour in fighters, based at Steeple Morden, UK, with the 355th Fighter Group. On the morning of April 11, 1944, in his Hun Hunter From Texas, he was number four in the 354th Fighter Squadron's Blue Flight, escorting bombers to their target on the outskirts of Berlin.

After the bombers unloaded and headed for home, the 355th turned its escort duty over to another group and prepared to strafe targets of opportunity, the most dangerous of fighter tactics. The four squadrons fanned out, each to find its own targets. Blue Leader picked the Luftwaffe airfield at Strausberg to the east of Berlin. The four P-51s went down in a screaming 400-mph dive, their props cutting weeds as they came in over the field.

On the first pass, Lieutenant Brown burned a Ju-52, then riddled a Ju-88 bomber on his second pass. Spotting an FW-190 fighter taking off, he performed a chandelle to the left, pulling up behind the German fighter and shooting it down just as he ran out of ammunition. While Brown was busy reducing the Luftwaffe's inventory, the other three members of his flight had formed up and were on their way home.

Climbing to 15,000 feet, Lieutenant Brown saw four fighters in the distance, heading west. Maybe they were members of his group. As he closed on them, he discovered that they were Bf-109s--difficult to tell from P-51s at a distance. In perfect firing position but out of ammunition, he reduced power and slid into their blind spot at six o'clock low. Why had they not seen him? Then he spotted two Mustangs ahead and below. The -109s were so intent on hunting the Mustangs that they had not seen him.

Brown called a warning to the Mustangs, which broke sharply to the left with the -109s now almost in firing range. He told the Mustang pilots he would try to disrupt the enemy formation. At that moment, the Luftwaffe pilots picked up on Brown as he closed on their tails, not knowing he was out of ammunition. Henry Brown didn't pause to calculate his chance of survival. He saw what needed to be done, and he did it.

There followed a 20-minute engagement in which Brown outturned his four adversaries, who held all the aces, forcing them one by one to roll out of a Lufbery circle and dive for the ground. While Lieutenant Brown hovered constantly on the verge of a high-G blackout, the two Mustangs he had saved disappeared to the west, leaving him alone in an unfriendly sky.

Having won the Lufbery fight against incalculable odds, Henry Brown throttled back and turned for home. In that moment of relaxation, one of the -109s climbed back up and got on his tail. Suddenly, Hun Hunter was taking hits. Fortunately, the Luftwaffe pilot overshot, giving Brown time to split-S to the treetops. His sigh of relief was short-lived. There were holes in his left wing, but more serious, his compass had been shot out. With no friendly aircraft around, he could only guess at the correct heading for England.

Brown called in the blind, giving his approximate position and asking someone to tell him the sun position on his canopy for a rough heading to the UK. At length, a voice came back, telling him to put the sun on the second screw from the top of his left canopy railing. Correcting his course, he realized he soon was going to be above solid-to-broken clouds. No more ground checks. At last, through a small break in the clouds, he saw the coast of Holland.

A call to Air-Sea Rescue got him a rough heading to Steeple Morden. From there, he got a home steer from Steeple Morden tower. Six hours and 15 minutes after takeoff, Henry Brown touched down at home plate. He found out later that the two Mustang pilots he had saved, and who apparently had deserted him, also had been out of ammunition.

For a day marked by superior skill and unsurpassed valor, Henry Brown was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross to go with his Silver Star, multiple Distinguished Flying Crosses and Air Medals, and a Purple Heart. He tallied 11 more air-to-air victories, ending the war with 14.2 (17.2?), plus more than 14 planes destroyed on the ground. What his score might have been had he not been downed by flak while strafing an airfield on Oct. 3, 1944, is only conjecture.

On the day he bellied in, his squadron operations officer, Maj. Chuck Lenfest, landed to rescue him, but Lenfest's P-51 became stuck in soft ground. Lt. Alvin White also landed in an attempted rescue. The downed men were escaping and did not see him. White was able to take off and returned home alone. Brown and Lenfest ended the war as guests of the Luftwaffe.

Henry Brown remained in the Air Force, serving among other assignments as test pilot, combat pilot in Vietnam, wing commander, and deputy director of Operations, 7th Air Force. He retired as a colonel in 1974, one of the most decorated Air Force officers, and now lives in Sumter, S.C.

bobbysocks

06-15-2010, 08:50 PM

a stuka pilot gives an interview...3 parts

#1 shot down in french campaign

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rxaOhs0Z1JM

#2 the greek campaign

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6vM0LRLbxqU&feature=related

#3 attack on malta convoys

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BcD51ribM5Y&feature=related

bobbysocks

06-15-2010, 09:04 PM

Darrell R. Lindsey

On August 7, the Germans launched a counteroffensive aimed at securing Avranches, on the west coast of France. There they hoped to anchor a line that would confine the Allies to areas already held in Normandy and the Cotentin Peninsula. A key element for the German armies was transportation to move desperately needed supplies and reinforcements to the front. Most of the bridges over the Seine had been knocked out. One link that remained was the railroad bridge over the Oise River at L'Isle Adam, a few miles north of Paris. It was heavily defended by many batteries of 88-mm guns (a major threat to the B-26s that normally bombed from an altitude of 10,000 to 12,000 feet).

Ninth Air Force sent the 394th against the bridge on August 9, 1944. Leading 30 B-26s was 25-year-old Captain Darrell Lindsey, one of the group's veteran pilots. This was Lindsey's 46th mission, bringing him to 143 combat hours. He was known for his skill as a pilot and for coolness under fire. Both would be tested that day.

On reaching enemy territory, the formation encountered heavy flak, which continued with few interruptions as they approached the target area. Lindsey maneuvered the bombers past successive barrages with only minor damage. Before starting the bomb run, Lindsey's lead plane was hit, but was able to hold course. Worse was yet to come. On the bomb run, his right engine took a direct hit and burst into flame. The concussion hurled the B-26 out of formation, but Lindsey regained control and resumed the lead, his right wing sheathed in flame. The wing tank could explode at any moment, but rather than giving the signal to bail out and disrupt the formation at this critical point, Lindsey elected to continue the attack. This was a target that could help turn the tide of battle in Normandy.

Immediately after "bombs away," Lindsey ordered the crew to jump while he held the flaming Marauder in a steady descent. The last crewman to leave the plane was the bombardier. As he crawled out of the nose, he shouted that he would lower the landing gear so Lindsey could bail out from the nose of the aircraft.

Using all his piloting skill, Lindsey was barely able to keep control of the doomed bomber, its right wing now totally engulfed in flame. He knew that lowering the gear might throw the plane into an uncontrollable spin, probably making it impossibie for the bombardier to bail out. He told the man to leave through a waist window while the aircraft was still under control. By all logic, the tank should have blown by this time. It might hold long enough for the bombardier to jump. lt did, but before Captain Lindsey could leave the cockpit, the wing tank exploded. The B-26 went into a steep dive and hit the ground in a bail of fire.

For destroying four railroad bridges and an ammunition dump between August 7 and 9, 1944, the 394th Group received a Distinguished Unit Citation. On May 30, 1945, Captain Darrell R. Lindsey was awarded the Medal of Honor posthumously for his heroism and self-sacrifice on August 9, 1944. The Medal was accepted by his widow, Evelyn. Captain Lindsey was the only Marauder crew member to be so honored in World War II.

bobbysocks

06-21-2010, 05:53 PM

scapled from the wichita eagle...pics @ http://www.kansas.com/2010/06/06/1346574/b-24-pilot-finally-gets-to-thank.html#ixzz0qcn8mwsc

Last Sunday, The Wichita Eagle published the story of Loren Corliss' harrowing escape from death 65 years ago during World War II.

His B-24 bomber was shot down by Japanese fighter planes over the Philippine island of Mindanao. He parachuted out and spent 45 days in the jungle before an Army seaplane rescued him and his crew along a beach where the surf crashed with violent force.

The date was Dec. 22, 1944.

No reader in Wichita was more intrigued by that story than a 92-year-old former farm kid from Perry, Okla., named Harold Strub.

In a desk drawer at home in east Wichita, Strub keeps a seaplane log book.

* * *

East Wichita, May 30, 2010

A retired Boeing worker, Harold Strub has lived in Wichita the past 59 years.

He saw the date Corliss mentioned regarding his rescue: Dec. 22, 1944.

Strub walked downstairs, frail and slow, to a desk, which happens to be a walnut desk he made in shop class in 1936 in high school.

He opened a drawer, pulled out an aging brown seaplane pilot's logbook, and turned the pages.

Within moments he put his finger on a log entry, neatly handwritten by him 66 years ago, about a harrowing seaplane rescue flight. The date on his logbook entry: Dec. 22, 1944.

Strub opened his Wichita phone book and found the name Loren Corliss, a stranger that Strub had never heard of. He dialed the number.

* * *

December 22, 1944

Mindanao, the Philippines

Off the beach on the east coast of the island, the wind was up, the waves looked appallingly high, and PBY Catalina seaplane pilot Harold Strub took a deep breath.

Off the beaches near Pensacola, Fla., during rescue flight training, the trainers had taught him how to land in a surf like that.

Strub was a tough, skinny Oklahoman, 26 years old, a veteran of many dangerous flights. But the instructions on how to land in a surf like this scared him:

1. Head your nose perpendicular to the waves.

2. Skim just above the waves at 80 mph.

3. Surf usually makes one big wave followed by five smaller waves; aim for the smaller waves.

4. Stall the engines just before you hit water.

5. Brace for impact.

Down below on the beach, though Strub could not see them, eight desperate and starving B-24 crew members waited for him.

They'd survived 45 days in the jungle. Filipino natives had brought them to this beach, to the base camp of an American guerrilla fighter named Wilson, a survivor of the battle for Corrigedor. Wilson had used his short-wave radio to call in the seaplane.

The Japanese patrolled this section of beach fairly often, shooting at anyone they regarded as a foe.

Strub had taken plenty of chances already in the war. He had one of the craziest jobs imaginable: fly a slow-moving seaplane right through the Japanese air forces, cruise above the islands of the Pacific, and rescue shot-down pilots and bomber crews after they parachuted into the sea during bombing missions.

It was harrowing work. At most, he could coax his seaplane up to 100 knots. A Japanese Zero could fly more than twice that speed.

During the course of the war, Strub had seen Zeros fly right past him. One Zero, during one rescue mission, buzzed right past his Catalina one day, just to show Strub that he was a dead man if the Japanese pilot chose to shoot.

But the Japanese let him be; they knew his seaplane was helpless, and that his job was to save lives, even the lives of Japanese pilots bobbing in the sea.

During 600 hours of combat rescue missions, Strub rescued 14 downed airmen from the sea.

Strub turned into the wind now, skimmed his Catalina into big swells.

At the last moment, Strub cut the engines, and felt a jolt as the plane hit the water. Another jolt as it hit a big wave.

Strub and his crew bobbed into the air, and then slammed down as wave after wave rolled under them.

He looked toward the beach and saw half-naked Filipino native boatmen trying to wrestle outrigger canoes into the surf toward him.

On the canoes, Strub could see the slumped forms of half-naked American airmen trying to float on the canoes out to Strub's plane.

Behind him, Strub heard his own crew begin to yell.

The big wave had torn a seam in the Catalina's aluminum skin.

Water was pouring into the seaplane. The crew turned on the plane's sump pump to pump out the water.

It was a race now, as the canoes approached.

Which would be faster: The water pouring out? Or the water pouring in?

* * *

June 3, 2010

A neighborhood in east Wichita.

The afternoon sun beat down hard in one 2010's first really hot days.

Loren Corliss, still in good shape after 88 summers, walked briskly up to a house, only 14 miles from his own, that he'd never visited before, home to a man he'd never seen face to face.

He felt a twinge of guilt; in the seaplane, after the seaplane pilot rescued them, Corliss had not even thanked the pilot. He'd been so jazzed about getting off Mindanao alive that he never even glanced into the seaplane's flight deck.

He'd just sat there shivering. In the steaming rain forest he'd stripped himself down to his GI shorts, but he was shivering now on the seaplane, wrapped in a GI blanket, thanking God that he'd made it away from the Japanese.

He remembered now, 66 years later, that he had never thanked the seaplane pilot, who had lifted them off the surf with guts and skill. When the pilot had landed them back at an island base halfway between Mindanao and New Guinea, the ground crew had taken Corliss off the plane and directly to the hospital. He'd never even seen the pilot.

At the screen door now, Corliss rang the doorbell.

* *

Mindanao, 1944

In the outrigger canoe, while the native boatmen wrestled them into the surf, Corliss hugged the wooden canoe, weak from starvation; in the previous 45 days, he'd lost 30 pounds.

He and his fellow B-24 survivors, stripping naked in the jungle, had picked hundreds of blood-sucking leeches off each other.

They were all terrified. They had fallen 10,000 feet through the air after their B-24 began to disintegrate. Their parachutes had landed them in a rain forest so thick they had to cut through vines with nearly every step.

In the canoe now, rolling up and down over the waves, Corliss saw the seaplane bobbing, and the seaplane crew members gesturing frantically at the native boatmen to hurry up. The seaplane boys looked frantic; their gestures said hurry- hurry-hurry-hurry.

They looked either angry or scared, Corliss wasn't sure which. Corliss thought it was because the Japanese were known to patrol this beach.

The natives rowed them beside the plane.

The Catalina crew members reached down and dragged them into the plane one by one. The pilot called out to the rescued men, asking one of them to climb into the nose: He yelled at the airmen that he wanted the plane's weight distributed more evenly, to help the plane lift off.

The pilot gunned the twin engines, turned directly into the waves and revved his engines every time a wave hurled them upward.

Corliss thought, as they hit wave after wave, that they'd never get off the ocean. He thought he was going to die. Corliss hoped and prayed that the pilot knew what he was doing.

He did not remember, 66 years later, any water sloshing around inside the plane. He would not hear, until 66 years later, about that hole in the seaplane's skin, and how the water poured in, or how the sump pump kept up with it.

All he would remember later was that they hurtled up over the rushing waves, and then hurtled downward on the far side of each wave, with the seaplane pilot gamely gunning the engines each time they went up.

At last, at the top of a wave, they lifted off.

They were free.

* * *

East Wichita, 2010

After Corliss rang the bell, the slim form of an elderly man appeared: pale, thin, balding, and frail, with a voice made faint by 92 years.

"Hello,'' the thin man said. The voice, barely audible, conveyed a warm and alert courtesy.

"Are you Harold?" Corliss asked.

"I am," said Harold Strub. "Please come in."

"Well," Corliss said, grasping the pilot's hand. "It is a small world after all, isn't it?"

Reach Roy Wenzl at 316-268-6219 or rwenzl@wichitaeagle.com.

Read more: http://www.kansas.com/2010/06/06/1346574/b-24-pilot-finally-gets-to-thank.html#ixzz0rVoDPCtj

bobbysocks

06-21-2010, 06:17 PM

By Jim Mcbeth
Last updated at 11:48 AM on 8th June 2010

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1284757/Jack-Harrison-survivor-The-Great-Escape-dies-97.html#ixzz0rVtuU5i1

In the end, it was only time from which he could not escape.

Jack Harrison, one of the last of those involved in the 'Great Escape', has passed away, peacefully and quietly, at the age of 97.

It has been 66 years since the dark night when he waited with bated breath, preparing to crawl through ‘Harry’ and under the wire of Stalag Luft III.

Many years after the war the former RAF pilot, and his brave and resourceful comrades, would be immortalised by the iconic 1963 film - starring Richard Attenborough and Steve McQueen - which remains the staple fare of every Christmas Day celebration.

But, by then, the most audacious - and tragic - prisoner-of-war break out of the Second World War was only a memory to the Scots veteran, who had long since returned to his ‘real life’ as a husband, father and classics teacher.

Mr Harrison would go on to live a long and fruitful life, spending the last two-and-a-half years of it in the veterans' hospital at Erskine, in Bishopton, Renfrewshire.

Yesterday a spokesman for the charity that runs the hospital said: ‘It is with the greatest of sadness that we announce the passing of Great Escape veteran Jack Harrison.

‘Mr Harrison, thought to be the last survivor of the escape, passed away with his son, Chris, and daughter, Jane, by his side.’

The success of the film The Great Escape may have elevated the humble Latin teacher to the status of a war hero. But to his family, he will forever be ‘dad’. In a joint statement yesterday, his two children paid tribute to him.

They said: ‘To others, he was considered a war hero, but to us he was much more than that. ‘He was a family man first and foremost. He was also a church elder, a Rotarian, scholar, traveller and athlete. He took up marathon running in his 70s to raise money for charity.

He was also a caring father and grandfather and he will be missed by the entire family.

‘We are indebted to Erskine for the care and attention that he and we have received over the past two and a half years.’

Throughout his long life, Mr Harrison played down his important role in the daring escape bid from Stammlager der Luftwaffe III - meaning a camp for airmen - which was established at Sagan, in what is now Poland.

He was being unduly modest. Mr Harrison played a key role in the plot.

He acted as a ‘runner’ for Squadron Leader Roger Bushell, who was played in the film by Richard Attenborough.

Bushell was the mastermind behind the digging of the three escape tunnels, which were started in April 1943 and codenamed Tom, Dick and Harry.

His plan was to dig down to a depth of 30ft and then tunnel on three fronts towards the perimeter of the camp and into the woods beyond.

Stalag Luft III, which lay 100 miles south-east of Berlin, was a massive facility.

At its height, 10,000 RAF officers and non-commissioned aircrew were held there.

Planning the Great Escape required daring and ingenuity.

The prisoners would disguise themselves as civilians and split into three groups.

One group would trek out of the region, while others would use the railway network to effect an escape.

In an interview with the Scottish Daily Mail in 2008, Mr Harrison said: ‘The Germans knew about tunnels at other camps, so we had to be very careful - or you could be shot.’

Tragically, that would be the fate of many of his comrades.

The Gestapo captured and executed 50 of them within days of the escape.

However, no threat of capture or death could have persuaded the airmen not to do their duty and attempt to make it back home to rejoin their units.

Their exhaustive and intricate plan included creating fake documents and tailoring clothes.

By then, they had begun by digging Tom, Dick and Harry.

Tom and Dick had to be abandoned, but Harry remained.

The dirt from the tunnel was carried secretly into the camp where it was disguised as vegetable and tomato patches.

It was hoped that on the night of the escape – 24 March, 1944 - around 200 prisoners would go through Harry to the outside.

Each of the escapees was given a number that indicated his place in the ‘queue’.

Mr Harrison was Prisoner Number 96 and waited in Hut 104 to take his turn.

He was dressed as a civilian engineer, with fake papers to prove it, when he heard gunfire from outside.

Mr Harrison said: ‘The 77th prisoner was escaping when I heard the shots.

‘I was 96th in line and I was ready to go into the tunnel. I had my kit, false ID, railway passes and German money.

‘But unfortunately, “Harry” had fallen 30ft short of the wire surrounding the camp.’

Only 76 men had emerged before a guard, who had gone to the woods to relieve himself, raised the alarm.

‘We heard a rifle shot and it was all over,’ said Mr Harrison, who added: ‘I quickly burned the forged documentation in the stove and changed out of the civilian clothing.

Of the 76 who made it out of the tunnel, only three – two Norwegians and a Dutchman - eventually made it home.

The others were recaptured.

In an attempt to put off other prisoners seeking to escape, Hitler, Goering and Himmler ordered that those who were recaptured should be executed.

Mr Harrison said: ‘I knew quite a few of the men who were shot. For a while, we thought we would be next.

‘It was an anxious time. I was a long way from home and a very long way from my real life.’

The Glasgow-born veteran had been working as a Latin and classics’ teacher at Dornoch Academy, in Sutherland, when he was called up to serve in the Royal Air Force as a pilot.

On his first mission, in November 1942, to bomb German supply ships at the Dutch port of Den Helder, his Lockheed Ventura was shot down.

He was captured and arrived later that month at Stalag Luft III.

Mr Harrison, who was also a grandfather, recalled how he was released.

‘I was liberated as the Russians advanced,' he said.

‘We were marched for two days and nights and eventually we were loaded on to rail trucks and taken across Germany.'

Mr Harrison eventually got home. He recalled: ‘I had married my school sweetheart, Jean, in 1940 and she was living with her parents.

‘After the war, I worked as a classics’ teacher at the Glasgow Academy and we lived in the city until the 1950s.'

The family moved to Rothesay, on the Isle of Bute, in 1958 when Mr Harrison took up a post as Director of Education for the area.

Mr Harrison is survived by his son and daughter and two grandchildren, Mark and Stuart.

Major Jim Panton, the Chief Executive of Erskine Hospital, said yesterday: ‘It was a privilege and an honour for Erskine to care for Jack over the past two years.

‘Although a very modest and private man, he will be greatly missed by all of the staff and veterans in our home.

‘Our thoughts are with his family at this sad time.’

bobbysocks

06-21-2010, 06:22 PM

The following two stories come from the book “Un Pilota del Cavallino Rampante”, (edition La Galaverna-Flaviana, Battaglia Terme, Padova, 1999) written by Tenente Pilota Paolo Voltan, 4° Stormo Caccia, Regia Aeronautica Italiana. They refer to two different missions, flew by Paolo Voltan on August 14th and September 8th, 1943.

translated by EAF51_Bear

August 14th, 1943, over Sicily

On 14th of August our flight took off with 8 planes. They were all Macchi C.205, armed with two 20mm. Cannon (finally!) and the usual two m12,7 mm. Machine guns. I was the wingman of Ten. Querci, and we were the third section, flying close to him on his right side, as for the general rule in combat flying (…). Our flight of eight planes climbed up to 3.000 mt. Our orders were to climb up to 6.000 mt., escorting a flight of RE.2002, flying at 5.000 mt. The difference in height of 1.000 mt. should have allowed us diving attack, in case an enemy formation would attempt to intercept the RE.2002 in order to stop their bombing attack (….)
We were flying over Milazzo, when a short burst from our flight leader warned us that an enemy formation was in sight. I rased the head, and high in front of us, a little on the left, I saw a formation of not less than fourty Spitfires, diving toward us.
As soon they were about 300 meters from us, they opened fire all together, and an avalanche of red tracers hit us, while our sections break on the left or on the right, attempting to avoid the enemy fire.
Querci made an hard break on the right, and I followed him carefully, while feeling my sweat running on my head. My hand was firmly keeping the stick, my finger ready on the firing button, in order to open fire as soon as needed.
Closing on maximum turn, Querci was trying to position himself at 6 o clock of some bandit, because after the first merge it was only a matter of ability. In fact the manoeuvrability of our Macchi enabled us to engage the whole enemy formation, until the RE.2002 were on target. The Spitfires, meanwhile, were all around us in the sky, flying in sections of two planes.
I was still flying near Querci, continuously checking around to watch possible treats. Suddenly in front of us we saw two Spitfires turning hard on the left. Querci opened fire, but due to the turning rate, the tracers missed them near their tail. I was ready to engage them, but then I saw two other Spitfires coming from the right, aiming at Querci plane. With an hard bank on the right I turned toward them, hardly missing to hit them both, but making impossible to them to open fire on Querci.
I suddenly realised I was alone, while all around I can see a furball of British and Italian planes, firing and running the ones after the others, in the middle of an hell dogfight. In that moment two Spitfires crossed in front of my plane, flying in very close formation. They should have miss me, because they were turning on the left, following an isolated Italian plane. In a matter of seconds I close on their six, pushing my Macchi on maximum turn without falling in a spin. A few seconds again and I would have been able to put the enemy wingman in my gun sight. I felt the plane trembling and shaking as usual, announcing the beginning of an horizontal spin. Pushing a little forward the stick I succeeded in stabilizing her, while I realised I was slowly gaining advantage on the bandis, that probably did not spot me yet. Shooting at the wingman would give me an advantage. If the leader would not know the wingman was hit, I could lately attack the second target with another burst.
The progresses I was making spiralling totally took my attention, and I forgot to check my six, where suddenly I could find another section of Spitfires. The bandits were finally in my gun sight. I knew that if I wanted to hit them, I should aim ahead of them. On the contray our continuous turn on the left would have pushed my bullets away from the target. When I let the first burst go, I had the confirmation of my thoughts. In fact the tracers showed my burst were missing the bandit, sliding down, away from his tail, leaving the two planes still free to aim to their hunt to the other Macchi. A second burst hit the wingman Spit. The plane banked: initially a dark smoke burst out of his engine, than a sudden fire blow on the whole plane, that went down as a torch. I got him!
The other was not yet aware of having lost his wingman, because was still engaging the other Macchi. This was still turning on the left while climbing, knowing this was the best way to get free from the dog on his tail. Looking around I could see planes flying in all directions, but no one of the British was following the RE.2002, that in the mean time should have accomplished their mission. On my gun sight I still had the other Spit, and I was committed not to leave him for any reason.
The victory I got on his wingman push me to a wider turn, and I had to close again, if I wanted to get the other too. The hard turn was pushing me on my seat, and moving my head in the different directions was an enormous effort. A few seconds again, and I could fire another burst on my target. The shape of the spit was slowly entering in my gun sight, well centred in the external circle. I should just wait a little, to put it right in the central cross of my gun sight. Than I had to go further ahead, in order to aim before the Spit, and balance the turn speed. When I shoot, a burst erupted from the Macchi’s guns, shaking the whole plane. My tracers hit the target that, being turning, was totally exposing his full shape in gun sight. I can see my bullets entering his wing, the cockpit, the engine, but the plane was still flying as nothing was happened. I was ready to shoot again, when I saw some red lights passing near my plane. I turned suddenly my head, and what I can see where the turning propeller blades of two Spits, with a spiral painted on the nose, creating a strange visual effect, and together with tem, the flashing machine guns shooting at me.
At that moment I was not really thinking what I was doing. My reaction was pure instinct. With a sudden break I turned my plane on the right, closing the throttles. The two Spits passed over me in overshooting, and I found myself on their six, but unfortunately too far from them.
I opened full throttle, trying to catch them, but they were really too far, and I would have needed too time to do that.. I needed some rest after all that emotions: I had a look around, and I realised I was alone. The remaining Spits were heading toward the Mount Etna. No other Macchi in sight. My altimeter was showing 6.000 meters (…)Watching the clock and the televel, I understood I was flying since 70 minutes, and it was time to return to homebase…
__________________

September 8th, 1943 -

My Squadron, 73^ Squadriglia, belonging to the 9th Group of 4° Stormo (Wing), was based at Gioia del Colle since August 28th, 1943. We were flying Macchi C.205, finally armed with 20 mm. Cannons, and a maximum speed of over 650 Km/h.
We scrambled at around 10,30 AM. We got notice of a formation of 65 B-24 Liberator south of Pescara, flying toward south, returning to their bases in Tunisia.
We take off in eight planes (…) we climbed at maximum rate at 6.000 mt. (...) The possibility of attacking a group of 65 bomber was making all of us excited. The first to spot the Americans was Rinaldi, my wingman (….)
The American tactic was always the same: flying in boxes, so they can enforce their offensive power. A formation of 65 Liberators may provide firepower of 650 machine guns, and approaching them as very dangerous. We knew that their guns can fire horizontally for about 300 meters, than the bullet would change their trajectory, loosing a great part of their speed. As a consequence Liberators gunner did not open fire until our planes were very near. Our tactic was flying in the same direction as them, on the side of their formation, at a distance of about 500 meters. Their speed was about 450 Km/h, and therefore we had a speed margin of about 200 Km/h. So we flew straight, over passing them, and then with an hard turn, attacking them frontally. This was the side in which B-24 were more vulnerable, due to dead angles caused by the engines, where the gunners cannot fire.
When we over passed the formation of about 500 meters, a little higher than the bombers, dive toward them and firing. The volume of fire hitting our planes was terrible, but the duration of the attack was only a few seconds. As soon we were approaching the closer, we made a roll, turning our plane upside down, and reverse in a half split-s and fast diving toward the ground. While turning, we were showing all our shape to the bombers gunners, but only for a few seconds. Continuing our dive until being out of sight, we climbed again on the opposite side. Then we flew again on the side of the formation, waiting to be again straight in front of them, in order to start the next passage. This kind of maneuver might be repeated several times, at least until the remaining fuel in our fighters allowed us to attack again.
That day, as soon we spot the bombers, while moving on our attacking position, a formation of eight Spitfires suddenly appeared on our right side. Fortunately they were not higher than us, and so they did not dive on us firing. The four Macchis on the right side of the bombers abandoned the attack route, turning toward the Spits. The other four, including me and Rinaldi, continued in their pursuit of the bombers..
From my cockpit I could see the furball between the others. The altitude was favourable to the Macchis, because until 6.000 meters our planes were practically unbeatable. Mariotti, followed by his comrades, went into the dogfight wit a terrible commitment. In spite of being four against eight, the Italians soon were dominating the situation. The maneuverability of their planes, and the ability of the pilots put them in the condition of being able to fire without being fired. The duel last about ten minutes, while we were flying south, following the bombers.
The intercept happened south of Termoli, and the fight continued toward Puglia, with our series of attacks … At the third pass one of the leading planes banked on his wing, while a long black smoke was erupting from his wing. After firing at him, when I rolled upside down and dived, I could see her well and clearly while climbing on the opposite side. The B-24 was flying without control, in a narrow spiral dive. Was the end: the huge beast was going down smoking, while I could see some parachutes opening over her.
But we need to make another attack, although we already flew over Bari, heading to Jonio see.
In the following pass another B-24 started to smoke heavily and to loose hight, without loosing control. At least other five bombers were heavily damaged.. We were now flying over Santa Maria di Leuca, and our fuel level did not allow us to perform another attack, therefore we headed home, very curious about learning the story of the other section.
They were already arrived at home base before us. One spit shot down and confirmed, maybe a second one. A poor score, but obtained by only four Macchis against eight Spitfires, that at the end decided to disengage (….)
Each fight was always different from the others. After this dogfight our debriefing conclusions were two. The fighters attacking the Spits make a few comments about the ingenuity of the British, being outturned by the Macchis, without succeeding in break, and therefore hit by our fighters, and running home at the end, helped by the fact that our Macchis were out of fuel, and therefore cannot pursue them.
The other section got a good confirmation about their tactics in attacking bombers, able to produce good results. The limited fuel was the main reason why of the limited results. But it is also important to mention that we were only four against 65 of those huge bombers, and the volume of fire shoot at us was really terrible (…)

bobbysocks

06-24-2010, 09:09 PM

the one that got away...

Lt. Dale E. Karger
14 Jan. 1945

I was flying Greenhouse Green Four position on an escort mission to Berlin. Our squadron was sweeping out in front of the bomber stream when 100 plus enemy fighters were spotted coming from at least 2 directions. The squadron was still in a fairly close formation and still had our drop tanks on. I was in the tail end Charlie position in the formation. For some reason i glanced to my starboard side and was very much surprised to see a Me 262 jet opposite me up behind Greenhouse Two. The 262 was in so close in our formation that I was completely taken with excitement, and my thinking clouded up a bit to say the least. Up until this time we were on radio silence except for someone calling out the incoming bogies. I yelled on the radio, "There's a jet job on your ass!" which probably caused everyone in the group quickly check their 6. I was so excited I couldn't think clear enough to identify myself or the aircraft being trailed. I have no idea why the German pilot didn't hit his guns and take out the number 2 man. He had creeped in to a point blank position. One of the first things you are taught as a fighter pilot is to look more behind you than ahead, but I think the reason for me not doing that this time was the fact we were still in a pretty tight formation and it is rather difficult to look around as much when in closer.

The only thing I could think of to do under the circumstances was to swing my plane over and get behind the jet. The German must have anticipated this and immediately gave it full throttle straight ahead. By this time I was directly behind him lined up for a perfect shot. I squeezed the trigger anticipating to see tracers fly through the air....NOTHING happened! I squeezed again and again no guns. Gun switches ( heaters) were kept off as a precautionary measure to keep you from accidentally pulling the trigger and hitting one of your own people. Caught up in the excitement of the moment i didn't turn on my guns or drop my tanks. By now I was flustered and as I looked at the controls I drew a complete blank as to what switch to turn on ( yes, they are all marked). In the meantime due to his superior speed the jet was pulling out of range fast. After smacking myself on the side of the head a couple times, I regained enough composure to get the right switched on and let go a few quick bursts but to no avail. He was too far out of range.

I told this story to someone before and told them how lucky the guy was that I lost my cool because there is no way he could have out run my six 50 cal machine guns had the switches been on. The person I told the story to had another view of the whole thing that I had never thought of, He said maybe I was the lucky one and that maybe that jet could have pulled up behind me and shot my ass off first. Needless to say, I pondered that for a long while.

Well being as this whole thing was a fiasco from the start you would think nothing else could go wrong! As fate wold have it while I was above and out to the side of the group after the jet, the whole bunch turned left leaving me as we would say, "fat, dumb, and happy all alone at 25 to 30,000 feet." I figured I would make the best of a bad situation and so dropped my tanks to get ready for whatever would come next. Looking below me about 5000 feet I could see a big dogfight starting as everyone was turning left in a circle with lots of shooting going on. My next mistake was that I thought I would dive right in the middle of this mess and get some. As I did this I knew right away it was a bad, bad move. There were bullets flying and burning planes everywhere so I got out real fast! I figured I would sit on the outside and wait for a straggler to come out. It wasn't long before a lone Me 109 came along heading for the deck. I think he had his fill of what was happening and decided the easiest thing to do was go home. Anyway, in the meantime, Greenhouse Two ( the guy who originally had the jet on his ass) joined up with me as my wingman. As I started after the 109 at about 20,000 feet he made a slow decent East. I closed very quickly and throttled back, even had to drop a few degrees of flaps to keep from running over him. Still I ended up flying beside him almost wing tip to wing tip. When I dropped behind him to fire I was so close that I think most of the bullets were going around both sides of the cockpit and converging in front of him because I couldn't see too many hits. But enough of them found their mark. He may have been having engine or some other problems because he made no attempts at evasive maneuvers. When the 109 finally bellied into a field I made one quick pass and fired setting the craft on fire.

In spite of all the goofy things that happened this particular mission it ended up being pretty spectacular for the 357th Fighter Group. The sky was a perfect clear blue and any direction you looked you would see a couple burning planes going down. We were credited with shooting down 55 German aircraft and were awarded a Presidential Unit Citation and a commendation by General Doolittle. Our losses for the day were 3 to 4 as I best recollect.

This is probably one of the few stories my father ever wrote down and would comment on it saying that sometimes you you survive despite all your screw ups. Then again when I think of it, he was one month shy of his 20th birthday. When i think of the momentous decisions I had to make as a 19 year old...they pale drastically in comparison.

bobbysocks

06-28-2010, 11:07 PM

the whole interview with franz stigler. not only the charlie brown incident but time in africa and ...

http://109lair.hobbyvista.com/articles/pilots/stigler/stigler.htm

scottyvt4

06-29-2010, 07:16 PM

Bobby .......... dude tooooo much reading lol

truly awesome thread the detail in the accounts is staggering, well done fella keep up the fantastic work :):)

bobbysocks

07-18-2010, 08:28 PM

Here is a synopsis of Villamor's memoirs from the exploits of the
Sixth Pursuit Squadron, December 1941:

1st Kill: Mitsubishi Zero A6M (Navy Carrier Based Fighter)

On December 10, 1941 an alarm was sounded over Zablan field, Quezon
City. Current location of the AFP Supply Center and the Corps of
Engineers

From their base in Batangas Field, Batangas, Capt. Jesus Villamor,
Lt. Geronimo Aclan, Lt. Godofredo Juliano, Lt. Jose Gozar, Lt. Manuel
Conde, Lt. Antonio Mondigo were able to take off to intercept the
force attacking Zablan Field.

Uncle Jess got to 5000 feet and noticed a Zero on his tail. Rolls,
climbs, snap turns, nothing worked. The Zero could do everything
faster and better. At this point in time Uncle Jess regretted
underestimating (like the rest of the USAAC) the Japanese aviators and
their Zeros. He concluded that he could not outfly the Zero. He had to
outsmart him.

He dove down into the Marikina Valley, Flying at tree level, hugging
the ground flying through gullies, even flying underneath power lines.
He lost the pursuing Zero.

However, as soon as he climbed, another Zero was on his tail. He
climbed sharply. Doing so, he stalled his P-26. Struggling to gain
control, the P-26 stood on its tail and dropped, snap rolling to
recover, he found himself in front of, and head to head with the Zero.
They were so close that Villamor could see the Japanese pilot
struggling to avoid a collission. Instinctively he pulled the trigger.
Villamor saw tracers fly, and the incendiary rounds contacted the
Zero's wing. It ignited the Zero's fuel tanks and burst into flames.

2nd Kill: Mitsubishi G3M (Navy Attack Bomber) "Nell"

On December 12, 1941, a flight of 54 Attack Bombers and 18 escorts
were sighted enroute and the alarm sounded over Batangas Field,
Batangas.
Current location was the site of the former Philippine Constabulary
Headquarters of Batangas

Jesus Villamor was able to take off. This time with Cesar Basa, his
wing man. Villamor and Basa were able to reach altitude and pointed
their P-26' head-to-head with the "Nells." Villamor fired his .30 cals
in short bursts. To his astonishment, a Nell started to smoke, then
descend, then break up! A lucky shot!

Seconds later, the escorting Zeros were on them from out of the sun.
Villamor and Basa did all they could to outfly the Zeros to no avail.
Villamor looked back and saw Basa's plane have chunks fly off. Basa
was hit. Basa struggled to bail out of the cockpit as his mortally
stricken P-26 dove to the ground. The Zero followed.

Later that day, Basa's body was found not far from his plane's
wreckage. His body was riddled with bullets beneath his parachute. The
Zero pilot had machine gunned him. Lt. Ceasr Basa was the first
Filipino pilot to die in aerial combat.

Honors and Withdrawal

Douglas MacArthur, hearing of the Sixth Pursuit Squadron's actions,
sent out a communique to all forces under his command recognizing and
naming all of the Filipino pilots for their galantry. MacArthur
decorated Villamor and bannered him as an inspiration to the Filipinos
as he was calling upon the people to stand against the Japanese.

Later, another communique from MacArthur ordered the Sixth Pursuit to
conserve their planes. No more Interceptions. No more Pursuits. No
more hosite aerial combat. Reconnaisance missions only!

Manila was declared as an open city. MacArtur ordered the pilots of
the Sixth Pursuit Squadron to destroy their planes and withdraw to
Bataan.

Uncle Jess painfully said goodbye to his well worn and beloved P-26
#303 and ordered a sargeant to dynamite her.

Other Interesting feats from our pilots:

Lt. Geronimo Aclan on December 10th flew his his P-26 expertly, and in
a moment of fury tried to RAM a Zero, missing it by inches! It so
unnerved the Zero pilot that he flew away.

Villamor reminissces after the war that had Aclan succeeded with his
ramming maneouver, he would have been the first Filipino Kamikaze!

Lt. Godofredo Juliano, because of expert flying skills, was actually
able to line up a zero for a belly shot. As he was charging his guns,
the right cocking handle broke off in his hand. The left gun jammed.
He ended up being unarmed and flying into the clouds for cover.

Lt. Antonio Mondigo was shot down. He was able to bail out. floating
down in his parachute, a Zero approached to machine gun him (like what
happened to Basa). Lieutenats Aclan and Juliano came to his aide and
circled Mondigo and protected him from the Zero, which broke off the
attack. Mondigo landed safely, but was charged with Bolo, pitchforks
and spears by local villagers who mistook him for a Japanese. They
were yelling "Japon! Japon! Patayin natin!!! (...Japanese! Japanese!
Let's Kill him!!!)

He yelled in Tagalog, and was saved from being turned into hamburger
by the lynch mob.

bobbysocks

07-20-2010, 06:15 PM

An Account by Wing Commander Hank Costain MBE

In spite of the advances made in aviation, man is allowed to use the sky on sufferance, never as a right; and, as Hank Costain now tells us, the elements can regain control of their domain in the most brutal fashion.

During the summer of 1944 I was a Flying Officer with 615 Sqn operating Spitfire VIIIs. During the battle to repel the attempted Japanese invasion of India we had been flying from Palel on the Imphal Plain but the time came for us to pull back out of the front line for a brief rest. Accordingly, on August 10th, our 16 aircraft took off from Palele with the CO in the lead, for a nice easy trip to Baigachi near Calcutta; for a quarter of our pilots however, the flight would be their last.

For much of the route we had underneath us puffs of thin fair-weather cumulus and as we neared our destination we let down through them. Soon afterwards the cloud cover above us became complete, but as we had good contact with the ground everything seemed all right. Indeed it was, until straddling our path we found a thick brown storm cloud extending right down to the ground. Clearly we could not go forwards through it and, because we had passed our point of no return, we could not go back to Palel either. So the CO decided to take us back a little way, then we could climb up through the layer of cumulus and once above it we could search for a way through the storm; but it never happened that way.

Soon after re-entering cloud there was a sudden bang and everything seemed to happen at once: the sky turned black as pitch, my Spitfire reared up and the stick seemed to go wild in its attempts to wrench itself out of my grasp. Somehow we had slid into that dreadfully turbulent monsoon storm cloud. Within seconds I was completely out of control and with the artificial horizon toppled I had not the faintest idea which way was up. Outside it was so dark that I could not even see my wingtips and the pounding of the walnut-sized hailstones on the fuselage drowned out even the noise of the engine. In my earphones I heard the frenzied chatter of the other pilots as they treid to fight their way free of the storm's clutches.

Of all my flight instruments, only the altimeter seemed to be reading correctly and from its spinning needles I learned that I was in a violent up-current. After going up rapidly through nearly 10,000ft during which my stick seemed to have no effect at all, the Spitfire bucked and entered an equally vicious down-draft and we were plunging earthwards just as fast. Again, nothing I did with my controls seemed to make the slightest difference. As the altimeter reading neared 1,000ft it became clear that this was no place for Mrs Costain's young lad - I had to bail out.

First, I had to get rid of the hood, so I yanked hard on the jettison ball above my head but the tropical heat had perished the rubber and it came away in my hand. Charming! Since the hood would not jettison I slid it fully back on the runners, then trimmed the nose fully down and undid my seat harness. Finally, I let go of the stick and as the Spitfire bunted forwards, up I went like a cork out of a bottle. At least, I would have done if not for my parachute pack getting caught on the overhanging lip of the hood. The next thing I knew I was tumbling head-over-heels along the fuselage before ramming hard into the tailplane and shattering my leg. As the tail disappeared into the glood I grabbed at the parachute D ring and pulled it, then I glanced down to see the ground rushing up at me.

The parachute canopy deployed just in time, but even so the landing on my boken leg was excruciatingly painful. As I lay in a sodden heap in that flooded Indian paddy field and began to collect my wits, my first thoughts were for the perfectly good Spitfire I had just abandoned. "Good God" I remember thinking "what on earth am I going to tell the CO?" Luckily I was picked up soon afterwards by some of the locals and they took me to a doctor.

In less than 5 minutes, 615 Sqn lost its CO and 3 other pilots killed and 3 more injured; we had written off half of our aircraft, 8 of the most modern fighters in the theatre. And it all happened without there being a Japanese fighter within a 100 miles. When it is angry, the sky is a foe without mercy.

bobbysocks

07-20-2010, 06:31 PM

My brother, Dick, joined the RAF in August 1938 as ground crew. At the beginning of 1940 he was posted to 13 Squadron, an Army Co-operation Squadron with the BEF. When the German attack came in May 1940 the allied armies could do little to resist the enemy advance and a large part of the BEF was soon being evacuated from Dunkirk. The remainder, together with the French armies, was retreating southward. Unable to reach Dunkirk, Dick somehow extricated himself from the chaos that ensued and he made his way through France and eventually got back to the UK. His journey took ten weeks. My brother died in 1996 and when his wife died three years later his step-daughter sent me his personal papers. It was with the arrival of these papers that I began to realise that what he had told us many years ago about his 'adventures' in France in 1940 was true. From these papers and other sources I have pieced together the story of his escape.

A young Lancashire lad of just nineteen, he had never travelled abroad before and he knew no French. Yet he managed, using his wits and a lot of luck, to travel through occupied and unoccupied France during June, July and August 1940, eventually reaching Switzerland, from where he returned to England via Spain and Portugal. After the war he did occasionally talk about his adventures in France, but we as a family were busy with our own lives and never pressed him for details of his escape.
Apart from myself, my two sisters and a cousin are the only close family who now remain and from them very little information was available to help flesh out the details of Dick's escape. It was agreed that he was stationed near Abbeville. My cousin remembered him saying that the personnel of the camp were awakened by the words, 'RAUS! RAUS!' The Germans had overrun the aerodrome and they were taken prisoner. They were marched along a road in a long column - long enough for the guards to be at quite a distance from my brother. So Dick took a chance when the guards were out of sight and went over the wall that bounded the road and escaped.
My cousin also remembered that Dick had been arrested in Port Vendres on the south coast of France. A woman he met there with another couple tried to pass him off as her husband to enable him to escape by ferry to North Africa with the French who were being given preference. However, an Englishwoman, recognizing Dick as being English, demanded to know why he should be included with the French group and not her. The ensuing argument was heard by the police who arrested him and marched him off in handcuffs.

One of my sisters remembered Dick saying he was in a cabbage field being shot at but, when and where that was, she couldn't say. My other sister remembered the letter that came saying he was missing. My own memory is equally vague. My brother was given to romancing. He enjoyed telling a good story. I remembered a tale about a baronness - Irish - with whom he stayed, who gave him one of her husband's suits - how he escaped from a prison and, in the process, injured his ankle - how he set off in a boat from the south coast of France and was shot at and, somewhere in my memory, a man who accompanied my brother for some part of the journey who was(here the story goes off into family speculation) perhaps an agent - somebody who knew his way around. But my brother had kissed the Blarney Stone and so who really knew what had happened to him? It is possible that no one in the family ever learned very much about Dick's escape. When he eventually returned to England he was probably told to keep secret the details of what had happened. It was common knowledge in the family, however, that he managed to reach Switzerland and from there he was sent to Portugal. He was flown back from Lisbon to Poole in Dorset and then, after debriefing, he rejoined a squadron at Manston.

There were many great escapes that have been well documented by those concerned. Unfortunately, what I have is only an outline of my brother's travels with many gaps in it. From about the 24th May to the 28th August Dick was on the run, trying to return to England. What is so fascinating to me is that he managed it at all and so I am writing his story, hoping that some of the gaps may, even at this date be filled.
Opening the envelope from his stepdaughter was like opening Dick's life again. Things he had touched - had used - that had been the means of bringing him safely back to his family were there. The first thing I found was a passport issued at the British Consulate in Geneva and dated 10th August1940. It gave his full name and he was described as a chauffeur. It included a photograph of a much-slimmed-down-brother, and this passport was perhaps the most significant article in the collection of papers. This confirmed that Dick had in fact travelled through France and made his way to Switzerland safely. The passport also included transit visas issued by the French, Spanish and Portugese Consulates in Geneva giving him permission to travel through France and Spain by train to Portugal. A receipt from a jeweller in Grenoble dated 14th August1940 shows that he stopped there - to change trains most likely. It may be that this was where he bought a watch that he later wore. From there he appears to have made his way safely to Lisbon. This is surprising as he spoke no French, Spanish or Portugese. Did he return with a companion and was this man the family thought was a returning agent? The family, knowing about Dick's impetuosity, either created this shadowy figure to explain his success in coping with this journey, or he did exist. If he had got into Spain on his own, there is little doubt he would have been interned. It is almost impossible now to imagine what it must have been like on trains in the south of France at that period. The French police (or some of them) may have checked passports and arrested suspicious persons or, on the other hand, some French police may have helped my brother. it is clear that, during the journey from Switzerland to Portugal, his transit visas gave him immunity from arrest.

There was also a British Airways flight ticket dated 28th August1940 which he used to return to Poole in England, probably by flying boat. By this time my mother had received only four messages relating to him. The first was a Field Postcard from France on the 24th May saying he was 'quite well'. This was followed by a note, hastily written on a piece of lined paper, that reached my mother on the 4th June. This said:

Dear Mum, You OK? In fact I suppose everybody's OK. Am a bit pushed for time so forgive brief missive.
More later.

Love, Dick
PS Send this letter to Grandma. Don't reply.

Perhaps the brevity is understandable if one remembers what was going on in France at the time. Then,on the 10th August a telegram from Dick arrived from Geneva. It said:
'Dear Mother.
Am well and safe. Shall be home near future. Stop.
Cheerio. Dick Clifford.

The other letter was from the Air Force Record Office stating that Dick was believed missing. My mother had been in communication with the Air Force regarding Dick and a letter dated the 15th August1940 informed her that he was posted as missing 'consequent upon the withdrawal of our Forces from the Continent. You will appreciate' it said, 'that your sone being missing does not necessarily mean he is killed or wounded.' Luckily Dick's telegram had already arrived. These few documents were the only evidence I had at first of Dick's escape from Occupied France. It would have been easy to leave things there but their arrival had aroused my curiosity. An article in 'Saga'about the Escape Lines caught my attention. I contacted the author, Mr. Stanton, who was most helpful. He told me that all personnel who escaped from occupied Europe would be debriefed as soon as they got back to England and it might be possible to obtain a copy of my brother's debriefing report from the Public Record Office. The report confirmed Dick's story and gave more details of his escape. Sixty years after the events it makes fascinating reading.

On the 26th May Dick had arrived at a deserted aerodrome near Nantes. He found a car and petrol and started to drive south. He picked up some French refugees at one point who appear to have travelled with him for much of the journey south. It took them about a fortnight to reach the south coast at Perpignan. At that time this part of France was crowded with people trying to escape - French, British and other nationals and quite a number of allied servicemen. Dick and his companions tried to get into Spain but at the frontier near St. Girons they were turned back by the Spanish. They then maade their way along the coast to Port Vendres which was a port of embarkation for the British, but by the time they got there it was too late. It appears that Dick separated from his companions at this point. He met a wealthy gentleman from Monte Carlo who had two women with him (these must have been the people referred to by my cousin) but they were unsuccessful in their attempt to get him on the ferry with them. He was arrested by the French police in Port Vendres and he mentions walking throught he streets in handcuffs. This had obviously stayed in his mind. Until that time he would have regarded the French as allies.

On this occasion he seems to have escaped without much difficulty and somehow managed to steal a motor boat. But he was arrested before he could get very far and again escaped. Either the camp was carelessly guarded, if at all, or by now Dick was becoming an experienced escapee. He next reached Argeles, where an English woman, a Mrs. Davis, put him up for the night. Then he got a lift on a diesel truck to Avignon and from there another lift took him as far as a bridge over the River Rhone. He continued walking in the general direction of Marseilles and spent the night before he reached that city in a small village on the outskirts. When he reached Marseilles he found accommodation in a Seamen's Mission where he stayed for about two weeks. Whilst there, he met several British soldiers and a group of American seamen. He decided to try for Spain again with one of the soldiers but they soon split up. Dick made his way alone via Bohen, Salon and Arles to Beziers where again he was arrested - and again he escaped to continue his journey westward through Narbonne to Perpignan.

It seems that the French authorities treated escapees like Dick in a variety of ways. The Garde Mobile gave him a 'sauf conduite' whilst others arrested him. This period must have tested Dick considerably. Luckily it was summer and sleeping in an orchard or wherever would not have been too uncomfortable but there is no information about how he obtained food or what he ate. On his return he mentioned very few people who had helped him and one can only speculate as to how he survived. Of the people who helped him, those he specifically mentioned were Mrs. Davis and a Russian woman who was a refugee. But there must have been others (or so we would hope). Certainly this part of his debriefing suggests that, apart from the two weeks in Marseilles, Dick was constantly on the move. He now gave up the idea of getting into Spain and decided to try for Switzerland. Whilst in the Perpignan area he met a Czech who spoke English. Together, with some money given to them by the Russian woman, they took the bus northwards. How much of the jouney they walked and how much they went by bus is not clear, though Dick says they 'walked to Andancee and on to Vienne'. The Germans had troops in Lyons so they 'decided to go to Grenoble'. They walked another 9 kilometres from Vienne and 'stayed the night in a tramshed'. In this way, walking and sleeping rough, they reached Annecy, where they tried to obtain further 'sauf conduites'. This time Dick was asked why he had not been demobilised and presumably because he had no satisfactory explanation he was arrested again and put in 'a subterranean prison'. But the Czech was allowed to go free. Dick was beaten up and generally badly treated in the prison. Whether this was by the inmates or warders is not clear. perhaps the French authorities thought he was a German spy - he was tall and fair-haired. On the other hand this was about the time of the attack by the British fleet on French warships in Oran so it would not be surprising if many French people were anti-British. Dick became ill, possibly as a result of the harsh treatment, and was moved to the barracks from where he escaped yet again.

The final part of his journey to Switzerland he describes vividly - the railway line, the barbed wire, the sentry patrolling the border and the vineyards on the Swiss side. He made an unsuccessful first attempt(too noisy) and then was across. In Switzerland he wasn't asked to show any papers and soon arrived in Geneva and, from then onwards, was helped by the British Consulate. His journey from Geneva to Lisbon appears to have been uneventful. My brother's debriefing statement is now at the Public Record Office. That I was able to obtain a copy of it has helped me gain further information about his escape from France. When Dick was on the run there were no official escape lines. These were set up later. The designation of 'free runner' was given to those men who, like Dick, made their own way home. It seems to me a very appropriate description of my brother. After serving in the Air Force throughout the war and returning from France to be posted to Manston to take part in the Battle of Britain, he 'escaped' to new Zealand for a time and then to Canada and America before returning to England and settling down in Yeovil, Dorset. He never returned to France

One can imagine the tremendous relief felt by our mother and members of the family when this telegram arrived. There had been no news of him between the 4th June and the 10th August, about nine weeks. In fact he had been posted missing and a letter from the Air ministry to this effect did arrive in mid August, shortly after the telegram from Geneva.

printed with permission copywright bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar'

bobbysocks

07-20-2010, 06:41 PM

One of the least well documented episodes of the Battle of Britain concerns the activities of Corpo Aereo Italiano (CAI) when during the late stage of the battle the Regia Aeronautica was instructed to establish a force in Belgium to assist in operations against the British. It is not easy to see what the Italian high Command hoped this would achieve other than to boost home moral. Participation of the Regia Aeronautica at the end of the Battle of Britain was viewed as a political necessity - yet it was unwanted by the German High Command.
...............

On 29 October (the last day within the official limit of the Battle of Britain) saw a change in strategy - a daylight raid with a large fighter escort on Ramsgate Harbour. Fifteen bombers from 43o Stormo with Maggiore M. Tenti as leader with an escort of 39 Fiat CR.42s and 34 Fiat G.50bis plus a gruppe of Bf109E and Fs were briefed and took off. Three of the bombers were forced to abort due to engine troubles and two of them returned prematurely to Chièvres while the third was forced to land at Ostend-Stene.
The attack was performed at a relatively low level as if performing the Italian equivalent of the Hendon airshow, in formation wingtip to wingtip. All of the Italian were gaily painted pale green and bright blue, camouflage for a more exotic climate than Britain’s in late October, and made them stand out like peacocks among the ‘eagles’. The anti-aircraft gunners were as puzzled as everyone else by this strange sight in the sky, and it was a few minutes before fire was opened. The Italian armada then turned right in one formation, content to have over-flown enemy soil in order to provide Milan newspapers with appropriate propaganda and departed over Ramsgate - upon which 75 bombs were scattered at 17.45. During the attack five of the bombers were damaged and some of the aircrew injured. This would appear to have been as a result of AA fire. One aircraft of 243a Squadriglia (243-3) is so bad damaged that it need to force-land as soon as it reach Belgium. While approaching the machine-gunner 1o Avieri Giuseppe Monti panics and tries to parachute but the aircraft is unfortunately at a too low altitude and he is crushed to death near Courtrai when he hits the ground before his parachute deploys. The aircraft makes a perfect belly landing close to the mill at Kuurne with the four remaining crew-members, Maggiore Corrado Ferretti (commander of 241a Squadriglia), Capitano Romualdo Montobbio (pilot), Maresciallo L. Bussi and 1o Avieri P. Autrello, slightly injured. The rest of the aircraft all returns safely to Chièvres.

During the afternoon on 1 November 26 Fiat G.50s of the 20o Gruppo flew a sweep over Canterbury, meeting violent anti-aircraft fire near Folkestone, while 39 Fiat CR.42s of the 18o Gruppo swept over Ramsgate, Canterbury and Dover. No combats were recorded.

On the night of 5/6 November a night raid was flown by the ‘Chianti part’, as Fighter Command now had begun to call them, when thirteen BR.20s of 13o Stormo attacked Harwich and Ipswich without losses although one of the bombers returned with battle damage. Local newspapers unkindly reported that the bombers sounded like ‘rattling tin cans’ when they found out that Italians were responsible for keeping them awake!

In the afternoon on 8 November 22 Fiat G.50s of the 20o Gruppo flew an offensive patrol between Dungeness, Folkestone, Canterbury and Margate. They reported a combat with four RAF fighters, but didn’t submit any claims. Squadron Leader B. J. E. Lane (Spitfire Mk.II P7377) was bounced at this time by a reported Hurricane and made an emergency landing with Category 2 damage. It is possible that the Italian aircraft inflicted this damage, but it is also possible that Oberleutnant Hahn of I/JG77 who claimed a Spitfire destroyed at an unknown time inflicted this damage.

On the night of 10/11 November five Fiat BR.20Ms of the 43o Stormo made individual attacks on targets in the Ramsgate area.

November 11 (the same day half the Italian battle fleet was knocked out at Taranto by British naval aircraft) saw the largest operation mounted by the force. Although only ten BR.20Ms from 99o Gruppo (four from the 242a and and six from the 243a Squadriglia) led by Tenente Colonnello G. Battista Ciccu were involved the fighter force escorting was 42 CR.42s, 46 G.50s and supporting Bf109s. Again, the bad weather became an important factor, causing the G.50s and Bf109s to abort shortly after take off and return to base, leaving only the CR.42s as escort.
The BR.20Ms took off around midday, each of them loaded with three 250 kg bombs. They took the route Bruges-Ostend-Harwich and approached Harwich at 14.40 at 3.700 meters.

When the Italian bombers approached the English coast they were spotted by British radar and Hurricanes from 17 and 257 Squadrons were scrambled shortly after 13.30, whilst Hurricanes from 46 Squadron, already airborne patrolling a convoy off Foulness, were also vectored to intercept Bandits over the Thames Estuary by Fighter Control. The latter formation was slightly delayed while the investigated a formation which proved to be friendly and were forced to made a wide circle before attacking. Elements 249 Squadron were also on a convoy patrol patrolling the same convoy off Foulness.
Flight Lieutenant H. Peter Blatchford (in Hurricane V6962), leading 257 Squadron, sighted nine bombers flying in a tight ‘vic’ formation some 10 miles east of Harwich. These were heading west-north-west at 12,000 feet, and Blatchford climbed the squadron to 15,000 feet before leading them down in a beam attack on the starboard side BR.20 formation. 46 Squadron, meanwhile, was fast approaching from the port side and attacked almost simultaneously. As they did so they were attacked from above and behind by between 20 and 30 CR.42s.
Peter Blatchford first attacked the rear BR.20 to the starboard side, seeing no effect from his fire and passing across to the port side, where he delivered two rear-quarter attacks on the rear left bomber. This aircraft looped violently and dived vertically towards the sea, disintegrating before hitting the water. His second opponent was also probably attacked by Pilot Officer K. Pniak (in Hurricane V7292) of 257 Squadron, who attacked one bomber that began to smoke and burn and then turned onto its back before it dived into the sea 10 miles east of Harwich after one man had baled out. He then attacked another, which glided in towards the coast, trailing smoke.
Meanwhile Pilot Officer Kay of 257 Squadron attacked the extreme right-hand aircraft, which had broken away upwards, trailing smoke. This was given a burst by Pilot Officer S. E. Andrews of 257 Squadron and dived into the sea. Kay then attacked another with Pniak. It broke formation and headed for the coast. Flight Lieutenant L. M. Gaunce (in Hurricane V6928) of 46 Squadron had also attacked the first bomber, noting that it was then attacked by two more Hurricanes (Kay and Andrews), and indeed was also probably engaged by Pilot Officers G. North and P. A. Mortimer of 257 Squadron and by Sergeant R. J. Parrott of 46 Squadron.
North, after making an unsuccessful beam attack on one aircraft, made a stern pass on another, which fell away, diving towards the coast. He chased it, expended all his ammunition, saw four bombs fall away and the undercarriage drop. Mortimer, who had previously made a head-on attack, hitting one aircraft before engaging North’s opponent, then attacked this bomber. The bomber then caught fire and dived into the sea. One man baled out but pulled his parachute release too early and his canopy caught on the tail unit.
Sergeant Parrott saw a BR.20 heading for the coast pursued by a Hurricane that was obviously out of ammunition (North). He made two firing passes under fire from the rear gunner and on the second attack the bomber’s engines burst into flames and it dived into the sea.
Meanwhile, the aircraft previously attacked by both Pniak and North came under attack from three 46 Squadron pilots; Pilot Officer G. Leggett had already attacked one BR.20, from which one of the crew had baled out before it crashed into the sea, and now he joined forces with Pilot Officer Hedley and Sergeant N. Walker to chase another in over the English coast heading towards Ipswich. After several attacks the BR.20 circled, losing height, and finally crashed into a wood some 10 miles east of the town.
The last claims against the Italian bombers came from Sergeant S. E. Lucas of 257 Squadron who reported that he had disabled one bomber by putting one engine out of action. Pilot Officer B. Davey of 257 Squadron attacked the bomber on the extreme right, attacking from underneath and using up all his ammunition. He saw black smoke belch from both engines. This bomber was then attacked by a Hurricane from 46 Squadron.
Spitfires of 41 Squadron had also been scrambled, but although they arrived too late to take part in the main battle, they were the first to sight the CR.42s. The Spitfire (Spitfire Mk.II P7322) flown by Flying Officer E. P. Wells was attacked, but he evaded and claimed one CR.42 damaged east of Ofordness before the biplane fighters disappeared. This event apparently delayed the Italians from interfering with the initial attack by 257 and 46 Squadrons. While the Hurricanes were ripping into the BR.20s, the Italian fighter pilots had appeared above. Peter Blatchford was turning to attack the bombers again, but saw many fighters. He engaged one, opened fire and it “waffled extensively”, but he was unable to conclude this combat as he was then caught up in a dogfight with others. He found that he could turn with the agile biplane, but quickly ran out of ammunition and rammed the Italian fighter, striking the upper mainplane with his propeller. The CR.42 at once fell away. Blatchford headed for base, but saw a Hurricane coming under attack from three CR.42s in line astern. He made a dummy head-on attack on each, causing them to break away and head east. On his return, Blatchford found that nine inches had been lost from two propeller blades and that they were also splashed with blood.
Meanwhile, Sergeant Lucas of 257 Squadron, breaking away from his attack on the bombers, saw enemy fighters below and behind. He turned and took one in a head-on attack, seeing it go down in a spin. He was then attacked by four more and quickly climbed into cloud, but saw his opponent crash into the sea. In fact it is likely that the aircraft he saw was not his opponent, but that of Flight Lieutenant Gaunce of 46 Squadron, who had seen a CR42 appear beside him whilst the rest of the 46 Squadron Hurricane pilots were still shooting at the bombers. He turned and opened fire at close range. The CR.42 dived and Gaunce followed spinning and manoeuvring violently with his throttle closed in order to stay above. He then lost sight of his adversary and pulled up, engaging two more and firing a deflection burst at one of them. He then saw another pair, one of which he chased with closed throttle, opening fire at 150 yards. The CR.42 took no evasive action, but continued straight on, losing height. He lost sight of it, but then approached another CR.42 from the side. After a full deflection burst from 80 yards, it burst into flames and dived into the sea 15 miles east of Ofordness.
Pilot Officer Karel Mrazek, a pre-war Czech Air Force pilot, of 46 Squadron was flying with the intercepting force when he experienced partial engine failure in his Hurricane (V7610) and fell behind the formation. He then sighted a number of twin-engined bombers flying in five sections of three, and identified them as Fiat BR.20s. He wrote:

"the Italians veered eastwards towards Southend then making off on a slanting dive for Margate, the Straits and Calais. As they turned away I saw three BR.20s go down in flames followed by their crews in parachutes.
At that moment I saw about thirty to forty unknown biplanes which I realised was a gaggle of CR.42s, supposedly protecting the bombers - as they (the CR.42s) crossed my path without seeing me, I gave the second a short burst at full deflection - it went down like a fireball. The other turned to fight - due to its great manoeuvrability it kept getting on my tail, but after a series of successive bursts I saw it begin to smoke and flame."
The first CR.42 fell into the sea 4 miles from Ofordness and the second 3 miles from Ofordness. After the first claim he also noticed another CR.42 crash into the sea nearby, apparently the one attacked by Gaunce. After the combat he had to put the Hurricane’s nose down and re-cross the coast to land at Rochester with empty tanks and ten bullet holes in his wings and fuselage. He claimed one destroyed and one damaged.
Mrazek served as Pilot Officer with 43 and 46 Squadrons during the Battle of Britain. Later in the war he was promoted to Squadron Leader and took command over 313 (Czechoslovak) Squadron. Later still he served as Wing Commander of the whole Czechoslovak Wing. Mrazek was awarded with both the DFC and the DSO during the war. He returned to Czechoslovakia after the war as a Group Commander and lived in the town of Jablonec. Mrazek passed away on 5 December 1998.

Flight Lieutenant M. Burnett of 46 Squadron had not engaged the bombers, but had climbed above as 257 Squadron attacked. Then a large formation of CR.42s appeared from cloud to the south. He took one of the leading pair, opened fire, and as he closed turned his guns on the other, firing until his ammunition was gone. He saw strikes on the fuselage of his second opponent, which broke left in a step turn, leaving the others in a gentle dive.
Pilot Officer Hedley of 46 Squadron saw a CR.42 about to dive or spin and opened fire, but as it went down another Hurricane hurtled down and destroyed it.
Finally, Sergeant L. D. Barnes of 257 Squadron, who sighted approximately ten groups of CR.42s in sections of four, attacked one group, using up his ammunition. His opponent at once dived past the vertical, but the other three out-turned the Hurricane, which took one bullet through the wing before he shook them off and returned to base.
This was not the end of the story, for 249 Squadron also had Hurricanes airborne on convoy patrol duties. Wing Commander F. V. Beamish sighted one of the returning CR.42s and claimed a ‘probable’ 20-30 miles east of Southwold, while Flight Lieutenant Robert A. Barton attacked an aircraft identified as a Junkers Ju86P, which he claimed “went into the sea like a torch”. This could have been one of the BR.20s - although Luftwaffe lost several other aircraft this day. It is more probable that this was Focke-Wulf Fw58 (3551 ‘0J + AK’) of Stab III/JG51, flown by Unteroffizier Karl Nispel + 1 crew. This had been sent out to seek three shot-down fighter pilots from the morning’s operations over the Thames Estuary and did not return.

cont..

bobbysocks

07-23-2010, 05:16 AM

I, Khukhrikov, Iurii Mikhailovich, am a native Muscovite, in the fourth or even fifth generation. My ancestors were Dorogomilovo coachmen. My great grandfather, Stepan Khukhrikov, was a foreman of the Dorogomilovo coachmen. He drove cargo and passengers in the area of the Kiev Station. There used to be a Khukhrikov Lane, End, and Market in that area. The Khukhrikov Market was before the Borodino Bridge if you walked from the MID (the Ministry of Foreign Affairs), when descending toward the Moskva River. I was born in a military family. My father and uncle were military specialists. They had fought starting from 1914, and after the revolution worked in the Main Engineering Directorate of the General Staff starting in 1921. Father had the rank of a colonel, and uncle -- a lieutenant general. I was born in 1924 and lived and went to school at Chistye Prudy, opposite the Coliseum, now it is the Sovremennik Theater.

From 1930 to 1941 I went to School No.311 on Lobkovskii Lane, now it's called Makarenko Lane. I went to school with Iurii Nagibin [a well-known Soviet writer] (that's his mother's last name, back then he was Frumkin). Also with Zhenia Rudneva [Evgeniia Rudneva -- future female night bomber pilot]. She was older than me, and was already in the Aviation Institute before the war. Such were the people with whom I got to go to school.

In 1940, by fair means or foul, I joined an aviation club. They had turned me away from everywhere -- said I was too young. But I finally got what I wanted, and they let me in on the condition that I would bring a note from my parents saying they were not opposed. For the first time I took off into the air on a U-2 in September 1940, at the Kraskovo Airfield near Moscow.

In 1941 I was already 17. We had already flown from Kraskovo to Scherbinka, near Podolsk. There was a very flat field there. We organized an airfield, set up tents, and continued flying. On 1 May 1941 I, as the aviation club student, participated in the last peacetime parade on the Red Square.

In July 1941 I graduated from the club. They gave me a certificate of completion. It would help me out a lot later. All aviation clubs sent their students on to aviation academies. We were supposed to go to Tbilisi. But because the war started, all 1941 graduates were sent to Saratov, where we started flying SBs. They called it a "candle". It was completely unprotected, and besides that, made of duralumin -- any bullet or shell fragment caused a fire. I started flying it, and then an order came from the Defense Ministry: "Transfer the Saratov academy to the Airborne Forces". Soon they brought in gliders: US-4, US-5, Sh-10, G-9, "Stakhanovets". These were all sports models. There were also ones for airborne troops -- "RotFront-8" and "RotFront-11". Experienced instructors also came -- Iudin, Anokhin, and others. We immediately started flying gliders. We would be towed by U-2, R-5, SB, Douglas, and others. This way we gained experience. The plane would make a circle and at the height of 500-600 meters we would detach. We circled and were supposed to land near a landing sign. You couldn't afford to make a mistake in these gliders. For example, after making the last turn, if you miscalculated, you could fall before the landing signs, there was nothing to pull you up -- no engine! So you would fall. That's why we made our approach aiming to overshoot. And in order to descend, we banked and dived, which allowed us to lose altitude, and then landed with a minor deviation. We flew not in Saratov, but about 30 kilometers from the city, German villages were there. The residents had been deported. Villages remained unoccupied. That was where we lived and flew. Wide Volga steppe. A nice place to fly a glider.

Besides that I went through training as a diversionary group commander: explosives, hand to hand combat, fought dogs. Yes! Yes! We put on gloves, coats, and fought dogs. Like everyone, in October 1941, I submitted a request to be transferred to fighter aviation. It worked! On December 31 I was transferred to a fighter aviation academy. There we immediately began flying UT-1, UT-2, I-16. Our Belyi Kliuch Airfield was located 18 kilometers from Ul'ianovsk, not far from the Volga. Excellent airfield, good approaches.

Yes, I forgot to mention that in October I and my comrade Boria Bezrukov, with whom we had gone to school and the aviation club, and later found ourselves at the Saratov academy, had to deliver some things to Moscow. They were bales, boxes -- we came, signed, turned over the cargo. Then Boria and I decided, as patriots, to go to the front.

We infiltrated to the forward positions. Found rifles, fired them. 45mm guns were deployed next to us, real soldiers were there. Already experienced people. The Special Department worked well in that area. They found us out, that we were strangers:

"Who are you? Where from?" We told them everything that happened.

"What do you have?" That's where the certificates from the aviation club and the papers about our trip to Moscow helped us out.

"Get out and don't come back!" We picked up and ran. We got lucky with transport -- came to Saratov and no one found out about it. All of that took no more than a week, at least it went unnoticed. But I did get the "For the Defense of Moscow" medal. After I left for Ul'ianovsk from Saratov, Boria was killed. When we would fly gliders at night, 8 men sat in each glider as passengers. He happened to fly as a passenger. The glider caught up with the plane, the cable caught on a wing and tore it off. Everyone was killed.

We started to train in Ul'ianovsk -- and then an order came to retrain for IL-2.

A.D. The aircraft were delivered?

Yes. They brought in more than 30 from Kuibyshev.

I graduated from the Ul'ianovsk academy in 1943. Why so long? I was lucky! Many graduated after the war ended! They picked out only the most gifted, so they would teach us as little as possible -- there was no fuel.

So they sent us to a reserve airfield at Diad'kov, which was 18 kilometers north of Dmitrov. That's where pilots learned combat skills -- bombing, shooting. All of that took literally several hours. Possibilities were limited. A buyer from the front would come -- and we would go with him. Zhora Parshin came for us -- he was an ace! A ground attack pilot! He shot down ten aircraft in an IL! He fought from the first day of the war and to the end. Excellent man. I met him often later in Leningrad on the Liteinyi Avenue. It was 1944 when he took us. We found ourselves in the 566th Ground Attack Aviation Regiment. This regiment was the first to get its own honorary name -- Solnechnogorsk. It fought there, at Moscow. Everyone died, to a man. From 1941 only Afonia Machnyi remained, and even he lost his mind after half a hundred sorties, from 1942 -- only Leva Korchagin remained, from 1943 -- a little more, and so on. During the war the regiment lost 105 pilots and 50 gunners. 28 of us came to the division -- 15 were killed. Such were the losses.

I was put into the 1st Squadron of the 566th Regiment. Mykhlik was the squadron commander. Future Twice the Hero of the Soviet Union. We were lucky -- it was a period between operations, there was an opportunity to train, fly in formation, go into the zone. War began, and we started working at full steam in the Baltics. The regiment mostly fought in the Central and Leningrad fronts.

We fought in IL-2. It was an excellent aircraft for those times! Carried 600 kilograms of bombs, 8 rockets, 300 23mm shells for VIa cannon (150 per gun), and 1800 rounds for each machine gun -- 3600 rounds. The gunner had a 12.7mm Berezin machine gun, 10 DAG-10 distance aviation grenades for the protection of the lower rear hemisphere. If a German appeared, you would press a switch, and a grenade would fall on a parachute and explode 150 meters away. Besides that, an infantry submachine gun and grenades.

A.D. They say IL-2 was difficult to handle?

No. Not at all. I-16 -- yes. Especially when landing.

A.D. How useful do you think the rear gunner was?

The gunner was necessary. His usefulness is beyond question.

A.D. Did you already have all metal IL-2?

Yes. All aircraft were already equipped with radios. The only thing was that we sat on gasoline: a tank under me, a tank in front, a tank between me and the gunner. We were all in gasoline.

We started in the Baltics, went through Prussia, and finished in Wittenberg, from where we flew sorties to Koenigsberg and even Danzig.

We got hit a couple of times. A shell hit a wing on the twenty-eighth sortie. We made it back miraculously -- the hole was about a meter in size. If a bullet hits, the smell of burned metal can be felt. I smelled it. Turned my head -- there it was, a hole. But I was lucky -- the shock wave and fragments went to the gunner. His legs were mangled. Communications were disrupted. We landed in Wittenberg. I taxied, turned off the engine, jumped out onto the wing -- the gunner, Viktor Shakhaev, Siberian, born in 1926, was just lying there. Guys ran to us, pulled him out. Barely saved his legs. But it turned out that I was also hit. A fragment scratched the back of my head. Where did it manage to penetrate? They wanted to put me in a hospital, but I refused. War ended for me in Wittenberg. I had flown 84 sorties.

In the end of May 1945 men were selected from the regiments of our division for the Victory Parade. They picked out men about 1 meter 80 centimeters tall and sent them to Koenigsberg to drill. Our sergeant was a brilliant drill instructor. So he drilled us. In the beginning of June we were put on a train and rode toward Moscow. There we were formed into a combined battalion of pilots of the 3rd Belorussian Front. Our commander was General Prutkov, commander of the 1st Guards Stalingrad Ground Attack Air Division. They gave us tunics, boots, caps. It was a merry, nice atmosphere. We lived in the Chernyshevskie barracks, not far from Shabolovka. Where did we walk? VDNKh, at the Crimean Bridge, some other places. Special Voroshilov rations in the mess, even white bread on plates. I must say at the front the food was also excellent. The parade was on June 24. I also went to the banquet.

A.D. Did you fly as a wingman or a leader?

Everyone was at first a wingman at the front. Vasia Mykhlik and I flew about 40 sorties. He went to Moscow to get his Star (Gold Star of the Hero of the Soviet Union - trans.) and came back only in the end of April. I was already a leader. The last two sorties I already led eight -- basically a squadron. That was May 8. The first sortie was at 10 in the morning, and the second around 2pm. To the Zemland Peninsula. We worked over its very edge. Returned. They refueled us for the third sortie. We taxied, waited for the order. The Chief of Staff Nikolai Ivanovich Borkov ran to us: "Iura, taxi back. It's over!" We turned off our engines, fired into the air in joy. The war was over! And then I flew ILs and MIGs for a long time.

A.D. They say that there were 7 killed gunners for each killed pilot, is that true?

No. Let me explain. We had 105 pilots and 50 gunners killed, why? Because the regiment fought from the beginning to the end of the war. The first half of the war in one-seater aircraft. And the second half -- in two-seaters. And most of the time, they died together. A ground attack aircraft pilot, according to the statistics, managed to fly 7-8 sorties and then died. Such were statistics.

A.D. Were you escorted by fighters?

Always. Very often during the Prussian operation we were escorted by Normandie-Niemen.

A.D. Were missions assigned to eights?

Not necessarily. Depended on the mission.

A.D. What missions did you get most often?

Usually the bombing of the forward positions. I went to reconnoiter on foot once. The infantry commander said: "You guys don't have to shoot. Fly here and show yourselves. That would be enough. And if you bomb, you'll always be welcome guests!" Sunk ships in ports, 4 times flew against airfields. That was scary business! They were well protected. Worked on armor concentrations. Well, against those targets armies -- hundreds of aircraft -- were sent, in order to wipe everything off the face of the earth.

A.D. What was more dangerous, enemy anti-aircraft artillery or fighters?

AA artillery. Of course, in the beginning of the war fighters really made the lives of ground attack pilots difficult. But by the end of the war -- AA artillery. That was scary business! Several dozen small caliber AA guns were deployed and would fire into the same spot. And all around black clouds from medium caliber AA guns. You would fly and not know which of them would... kiss you. Of course, we performed an anti-AAA maneuver.

We usually flew 50 by 30 -- 50 meter interval and 30 meter distance. When approaching the frontline we spread out -- 150 meter interval. And threw our planes side to side. Then we would get into a circle above the target and start working it. Little ones [fighters] would cover us. Those were the mechanics.

A.D. How many passes would you make?

It depended on the situation. There could be such counteraction -- Lord help us! Then it would only be one pass. You would use everything at once -- rockets, guns, bombs. If the counteraction was not that great, then several -- 4, 6 times. The leader would snake away, allowing the wingmen to catch up. We approached the target in formation, if weather allowed at the altitude of 1200-1400 meters, and departed after assembling, also in formation, at the same altitude.

A.D. What was the most vulnerable spot of IL-2?

The engine. Wings were fine, more or less. If a fuel tank was hit, that wasn't bad either, why? When approaching the target we opened carbon dioxide canisters, which filled the empty space of fuel tanks. If a bullet pierced the body and hit a fuel tank, the sealer would fill the hole, fuel would not leak out, there would be no vapor, and consequently no combustion.

A.D. How effective were rockets?

They were 82mm rockets. Of course, we fired them into the general vicinity. But at the forward positions targets were all over, so heavy was the concentration of forces and vehicles. A group would work -- one missed, another would hit the target for sure. We also carried RS-132, but only 2 of them. In that case we took less bombs -- only 200 kg. But usually we took RS-82, sometimes 16 of them.

A.D. And did you install 37mm guns?

We had 37mm guns, 40 shells per gun. I didn't fly one of those. They didn't work out.

A.D. Was the German infantry well covered?

They covered themselves in only one way -- concentration of AA defenses. Not single guns, but concentrated in quadrants. I would sometimes count up to 40 guns -- an uninterrupted stream of bullets. Small caliber AA artillery was especially dangerous.

A.D. Did you attack from a dive?

Always from a dive, 30-40 degrees. You wouldn't have time to fire everything at a steeper angle. 30-40 degrees -- that is the angle that provided the complete use of all weapons.

A.D. Did you use anti-tank bombs?

Yes. We took about 280 of them. There were also 25 kg, 50 kg, and 100 kg bombs -- 4 bomb hatches, 600 kg load. We would bomb from the altitude not lower than 1400-1500 meters. If there were low clouds, 400-600 meters, but then we put in delayed fuses.

A.D. About how many sorties did you fly per day?

Sometimes 3... but that was a lot. A lot.

If someone says it wasn't scary -- they're lying. The moment of expectation was the scariest and most unpleasant. For example they would say: "1400 such and such airfield". You sit there: 1400 -- nothing, 1430 -- nothing, 1500 -- no order! Or you sit in the cockpit, waiting for a rocket, and nothing. Legs start shaking. A real panic starts. After all, there was no guarantee that you wouldn't be shot down during the mission. When a rocket would shoot up into the air your head would start working in a different direction, panic would be turned off. Then there was an unpleasant feeling when we approached the target but would not be attacking it immediately. They would be prepared for us and fire. After the attack started -- that was it, the pilot was at work, looking for targets, pushing triggers, rockets, guns, machine guns, pulling the ASSh-41 (emergency bomb release. Bombs could be released by the buttons, or if you wanted to release them all at once, you pulled that lever).

A.D. How was the effectiveness of a sortie determined?

Everyone had a gun camera, which was working when you were firing the guns. If you set a vehicle on fire, it wold be recorded. If you worked a tank, that would also be recorded. Besides that, gunners could have wide area cameras. There would usually be a couple of them per group. It covered a large area, and after we landed the film was printed. Besides that, when approaching the front line we established communications with the observer, usually a representative of the air division. We could recognize his voice. He would literally aim us: "Guys, a little to the right. OK. Now." Gave us the permission to attack. Told us where the bombs were falling. On the second pass introduced corrections. His confirmations were taken into account.

A.D. And how did you break in new pilots?

The usual. After the school pilots were sent to a reserve air regiment. There they passed through a short combat course. Bombing and strafing ground targets with cannon and machine guns. Then a buyer would come in. We were considered to be relatively ready for combat work.

A.D. And in the regiment?

After the above procedure we were flown in to the regiment and allocated to squadrons. Squadron commander would fly with each one, taking measure of everyone's level of preparedness, and picked out his wingman. I immediately became squadron commander's partner. I flew only with him. I loved flying and was almost always first.

A.D. Were there any IL-10 in your unit?

Of course. But only after the war. Their qualities were the same. Same weight, gunner, crew commander, pilot. The structure was more compact. Wing area was a little smaller. Same armament. Two cannon and two machine guns. Slightly different range. But mainly it was the same thing.

A.D. Did you ever hit friendlies?

We had Twice the Hero [of the Soviet Union] Len'ka (Leonid) Beda, we had gone to school together. An untidy person. Although, you shouldn't say anything bad about the dead. Once a general came, we were formed up. The general noticed him:

"Last name?"

"Beda" ("Beda" means "trouble" in Russian -- trans.)

"I am asking you what your last name is!"

"Beda, comrade commander!"

Len'ka killed 118 men at the end of the war. It wasn't his fault, they told him before the mission: "Bomb that target". But he had to get there first. Maybe 30 minutes. While they were flying there, the situation changed. We captured that place, but no one reported to him. The group worked the target -- 118 of our soldiers died. He returned, they tore off his shoulder boards, but immediately investigated, returned them. Later he was the Air Force Commander of the Belorussian Military District.

A.D. Have you ever encountered enemy aircraft?

I've never had to participate in a dogfight, but the rear gunner didn't sit without work -- after pulling out from an attack he fired at ground targets.

A.D. Were there any cases of cowardice?

There were single occurrences of cowardice. There was one time, when N. was leading a large group, about 20 aircraft, he turned away before reaching the target, the entire group returned to the airfield. Court martial. Gave him seven years. But he fought well afterward -- 4 Orders of the Red Banner. There were sly people as well. A small number, but there were some. He would gain altitude. We fly, attack, but he just hangs there, then descends to 1000 meters, releases the bomb load, gets in formation. But we see everything.

A.D. Did you beat him up?

Warned him. Told him: "Sasha, you do this one more time, we'll shoot you down". He was disrupting our interaction! We flew at a distance of 600 meters, he climbed, therefore the distance became 1200. Interaction was disrupted. The warning worked.

A.D. Were there penal ground attack squadrons?

No. They would send offending officers to us, not necessarily pilots. They would fly 10 sorties as rear gunners.

A.D. What was considered a combat sortie?

Only bombing enemy targets with photo confirmation.

A.D. Did you lose aircraft for technical reasons?

Technicians worked well. If a plane didn't return for technical reasons, something happened, that was very serious. Such occurrences were investigated.

A.D. Did you have to manipulate the engine's modes of operation?

Yes, of course. It was easy to do.

A.D. Did you use any special tactics?

Yes. You would make the first pass, second one, then they would say from the ground: "Wait a little, when the infantry passes, we'll redirect you to other targets". So we work this target, stay in the air, and then we work other targets based on the commands from the observation post.

A.D. Did you fly during operational pauses?

The most intense activity was during operations. Then we flew a lot, but for that time was needed, and corresponding preparation. Crews, equipment were being prepared. During pauses between operations we flew anyway. Performed tactical missions. Of course, with smaller forces. We would be sent to support infantry or to destroy columns on the march. For example, Pokryshkin flew more than 500 sorties. Participated in 84 dogfights. Shot down 59 aircraft. I also have 84 combat sorties. But if you translate our effectiveness into money, I wouldn't be short of him. Be sure of that. Of course, ground attack pilots' hands are covered in blood up to the elbows. But it was our duty, and I think we did a first class job. Did everything we could. Well, and God didn't pass us by with "crosses".

bobbysocks

07-26-2010, 05:15 PM

On June 19, 2010, at fundraiser for Honor Flight called “A Night With Heroes.”
four highly distinguished WW2 pilots ( Bud Anderson 357thFG, Morris Magnuson 36th FG, Alden Rigby 352nd FG, and Doolittle Raider Dick Cole )presented a panel discussion on their experience in combat. Each pilot gave a 10 minute presentation on their service, followed by an hour or so of Q&A from the audience.

It is broken up into 4 segmants from each pilot...pretty good stuff. nice to hear it in their words and with their sense of humor and sentiment.

http://www.johnmollison.com/JM/Honor_Flight.html

bobbysocks

07-26-2010, 06:00 PM

Robert S. Johnson survived an awful beating one day in June, 1943, when a Luftwaffe pilot shot up his helpless (but very rugged) P-47 Thunderbolt.
If that German pilot ever knew whom he hadn't killed, he surely lived to regret it. Bob Johnson would go on to score 27 aerial victories in his time with the 56th Ftr. Grp., one of the top scoring groups in the ETO, under its great leader, Col. Hub Zemke. The top two aces of the 8th AF, Johnson and Gabby Gabreski, both flew P-47s with "Zemke's Wolfpack."

On April 17th, the 56th was scheduled for a "rodeo" (fighter sweep) over Walcheren, a large Dutch island; German opposition was questionable. Just like in the movies, they synchronized watches at 10:01. Despite his excitement at his first combat mission, Johnson was determined to stay in formation, as ordered. His crew chief, Pappy Gould, had tuned the engine perfectly, and even sanded and waxed the Thunderbolt's aluminum skin, to lessen air resistance and add a few MPH that might make the difference. Everything went perfectly: run-up, take-off, climb to 31,000 foot altitude, the formation flying over the target. Except for one minor detail - the Germans neglected to show up. Johnson's long-awaited first combat mission was a non-event. After all the preparation and hype, he "felt like an idiot".
Later that month, he and several other pilots who had not completed the fighter pilot's gunnery requirement, went to Goxhill (a miserable place, full of coal dust) for gunnery instruction. They practiced shooting at a towed target sleeve, but he never "got the hang of it," achieving a high score (against the sleeve) of 4.5%, below the requirement of 5%. Thus, the second highest scoring ace of the ETO never actually qualified as a fighter pilot! (And the top ace, Gabreski, had almost washed out of flight training in 1941.)

The days and missions passed, but Johnson didn't see any Germans for a while.

But on May 14th, he received his baptism of fire, a "ramrod" (bomber escort) over Antwerp, which the Germans usually defended. Three 16-plane squadrons of the 56th went up that day, to help shepherd a force of about thirty B-17s. As they flew over the Dutch coast, heavy flak opened up, ripping into the bombers flying at lower altitude. Hub Zemke, leading the flight, plunged after some bandits, with Johnson and the other two members of the flight "glued to his tail." Eight more German planes came after Zemke's flight, and the four Thunderbolts turned to meet them head on. The antagonists flashed by each other, firing, and Johnson's guns stuck in the 'ON' position despite his repeated flicking of the arming switch. As he hammered on the trigger and switches, trying to shut off his guns, two Focke-Wulfs passed through his bullet stream and were damaged. When Johnson finally got his guns off, he was alone. He had been constantly warned against this exact predicament, a novice pilot alone and at low altitude to boot.
Looking for friendly aircraft, he spotted eight blunt-nosed fighters and sped towards them, in hopes of joining up. His recognition skills needed work, because they were FW-190s. he firewalled the throttle and headed the other way. Keeping maximum speed all the way across the Channel, he gratefully landed, only to have Hub Zemke chew him out for undisciplined flying. It hadn't been Johnson's intention, but this mission began his reputation in the Group as a 'wild flier.'

June 26, 1943 mission details:
Early in the morning forty-eight Thunderbolts took off from the advanced base at Manston. Having previously been criticized for going off on his own, this morning Johnson resolved to stay in formation. The three squadrons of the 56th Fighter Group were all up: the 61st (Johnson's), 62nd, and 63rd. Before the mission, Johnson felt the cold fear that he always felt, and which he was able to channel into higher alertness. They flew up, over the Channel, into France, and soon spotted sixteen Fw-190s. Before Johnson could communicate or coordinate with his flight, he was hit. 20mm cannon shells ripped through his plane, smashing the canopy, punching holes in the plane, and inspiring in Johnson an overwhelming urge to bail out. More explosions smashed the plane, and Johnson's frantic "Mayday!" calls drew no response. Fire began to envelope the cockpit.

The Thunderbolt spun crazily out of his control and the twisted and jammed canopy frame resisted his repeated, superhuman, full-body efforts to open it. As he struggled vainly with the canopy, the engine fire miraculously went out, but he could hardly see, as oil spewed back from the battered engine. He tried to squeeze out through the broken glass of the canopy, but the opening was just too small for both him and his chute. Trapped inside the P-47, he next decided to try to crash-land and evade. He turned the plane south, toward Spain - the recommended evasion route. After struggling with hypoxia and hallucinations(?), his thoughts came back into focus and he realized that the aircraft was still flying fairly well. He headed back for England, counting on his high altitude to help him make a long, partially-powered glide back home.

The instrument panel was shattered. The wind constantly blew more oil and hydraulic fluid into his cut up face and eyes. He had neglected to wear his goggles that morning, and any attempt to rub his eyes burned worse than ever. He and his plane were horribly shot up, but incredibly he was still alive. He made for the Channel, desperate to escape the heavily defended enemy territory.

Swiveling constantly, he froze in horror as he spotted a plane approaching him, an Fw-190, beautifully painted in blue with a yellow cowling. Johnson was totally helpless, and just had to wait for the German to get him in his sights and open up. The German closed in, taking his time with the crippled American fighter. Johnson hunched down behind his armor-plated seat, to await the inevitable. The German opened up, spraying the plane with 30-caliber machine gun fire, not missing, just pouring lead into the battered Thunderbolt. Johnson kicked his rudder left and right, slowing his plane to a crawl, and fired back as the German sped out in front of him.

The Focke-Wulf easily avoided the gunfire from the half-blinded Johnson, and circled back, this time pulling level with him. The pilot examined the shattered Thunderbolt all over, looking it up and down, and shook his head in mystification. He banked, pulled up behind Johnson again, and opened up with another burst. Somehow the rugged Republic-built aircraft stayed in the air. The German pulled alongside again, as they approached the southern coast of the Channel. Still flying, Johnson realized how fortunate it was that the German found him after his heavy 20mm cannons were empty.

As they went out over the Channel, the German get behind and opened up again, but the P-47 kept flying. Then he pulled up alongside, rocked his wings in salute, and flew off, before they reached the English coast. Johnson had survived the incredible, point-blank machine gun fire, but still had to land the plane. He contacted Mayday Control by radio, who instructed him to climb if he can. The battered plane climbed, and after more communication, headed for his base at Manston. Landing was touch and go, as he had no idea if the landing gear would work. The wheels dropped down and locked and he landed safely.

Egon Mayer
Johnsonn's opponent that day was the Luftwaffe Ace Egon Mayer: his rank was Oberstleutnant (Lt.Col). My friend, Diego Zampini, supplied the following details on Mayer:
He started to score victories in June 1940 (during the French campaign) with the famous JG 2 "Richthofen," and participated in the Battle of Britain, scoring several kills but being also downed four times. In July 1941 his tally increased to 20, and during only 21 days in the summer of 1942 he shot down 16 British fighters, being promoted to Gruppenkommandeur of III/JG 2. He was a Major when he met Robert Johnson’s P-47 on June 26 1943 and damaged it very seriously (Mayer at that flew time a Fw 190A-5). On this day the 61st and 56th FG were flying escort for 250 B-17s against Villacoublay airfield, being intercepted by Mayer’s unit, which shot down three B-17s of the 384th BG in head-on attacks. About that time when Mayer and Georg-Peter Eder created the deadly head-on attacks against the B-17s. On September 16 1943, the recently promoted Oberstleutnant Egon Mayer (now Kommodore of JG 2) shot down three Flying Fortresses in less than 20 minutes. He achieved his 100th kill in February 1944, but he was shot down and killed by a Thunderbolt on March 2 1944 over France while he was trying to attack an Allied bomber. Mayer was only 27 years old. (Source: Microsoft Flight Combat Simulator: in the section "Luftwaffe Aces.").
Not long before he passed away in December, 1998, Robert S. Johnson was interviewed by Colin D. Heaton, of Military History magazine. Excerpts of that interview follow:

Military History: Tell us about some of the types of missions that the 56th Fighter Group performed.

Johnson: We started flying bomber escort. The first missions were just flights over the coastline into France to get a feel for the terrain and the enemy-controlled area. We occasionally met the enemy over the North Sea, and sometimes they came over to visit us. They would strafe the fields and that type of thing. As time went on, we pushed them back from the coastline, but that comes later in the story. That was where I received my combat and aerial gunnery training, against the best the Germans had.

MH: That's true, you were flying against Jagdgeschwader 2 (JG.2) and JG.26 a lot--and they were definitely a sharp group of pilots.

Johnson: Yes, that's correct. They were at Abbeville and along the coast, right across from us.

MH: I understand that Oberstleutnant Hans Philipp, leader of JG.1, was one of your victories?

Johnson: That was on October 8, 1943. My wingman and I had become separated, as sometimes happens in combat. We were trying to find some friendly airplanes to fly home with. I had just shot down a Messerschmitt Bf-110, which was my fourth kill. As I pulled up from that dive I saw four FW-190s attacking the bombers. I rolled over until I was upside down so I could watch them, as they were some 5,000 feet below me. I was inverted and continued my dive, shooting while pushing the nose forward to give the necessary lead for my bullets to intercept one of the planes. I was shooting at the leader, and his number three or four man pulled his nose up, shooting at me as I was coming down. I continued the attack, and just as I hit the leader, knocking him down, I felt a thump in my airplane. How badly I was hit I didn't know, as I was very busy. I leveled out after that, and I found out 50 years later that my fifth victory was Hans Philipp, a 206-victory ace from the Russian Front. I pulled up right in the path of a group of Bf-110s and FW-190s coming in behind the four I had engaged. I immediately threw the stick left and dropped the nose. Nothing happened when I hit left rudder, and then I knew that my rudder cable was shot away. I had no rudder control at all, only trim tabs.

MH: What went through your mind at that time?

Johnson: Well, the main thing was to get clear of that cluster of enemy fighters. I dived away with the throttle wide open, and I saw some friendly P-47s and joined up with them. My first thought was to bail out, but I pulled up alongside them and found I could still fly, even with 35 feet of rudder cable piled up in the cockpit. Those planes were from the 62nd Squadron, part of our group. They said, "Sure, come aboard." Ralph Johnson turned out to be leading the flight. I still had the throttle wide open, and he said, "Jesus Christ, Johnson, cut it back!" I was running away from them. Well, I chopped the throttle back and we returned to England, landing at Boxted, which was the first base we came to. Ironically, we were later stationed there as a group. There was one little opening in the clouds below, and I saw there were some runways. At the time, we had a bomber and a Piper Cub*type airplane ahead of us, and we let them land first. They said, "Bob, since you're banged up, you go in first." I told them: "No, I have plenty of fuel, and if I mess it up none of you could get in. I'll just stay up here and come in last." They all landed and got out of the way. I came in a little hot, but I still had aileron control--no problem there. I came in, touched the wheels first, then the tail wheel dropped. I had to hold the left rudder cable in my hand so that I could get to my brakes. The minute I touched down I was pulling on the cable, using the brakes, and was able to stop. I pulled off the runway in case anyone had to come in behind me. I climbed out and walked the entire perimeter of that base; I could not see due to the foggy weather. I later found the other guys at the control tower, waiting on me. The next morning we looked at the airplane, which was only 50 yards from the tower, but I had walked in the opposite direction for about 2.5 miles to get to that point. We had some guys come over and put a new rudder cable in.

MH: Tell us about some of your most memorable combat missions.

Johnson: Well, four P-47 groups pushed the Germans back from the French and Dutch coasts to about a north-south line from Kiel to Hanover. They knew what our range was because they had captured a couple of P-47s and they knew it was a big gas eater. They set their defensive line at the limit of our operational range, where we had to turn back. On March 6, however, we had one of the biggest aerial battles right over Dümmer Lake. They attacked the bombers, and about 69 of the heavies were shot down. I had eight guys to protect the bombers against about 150 German fighters, so we were not very effective at that time. We were split into groups A and B, spreading ourselves thin since the Germans had not come up to fight. They showed up then on March 6, 8 and 15, and I was on all three missions. I was in Group B on March 8 and Group A on the other days, which was right up in front. I was the lead plane on those occasions. We lost 34 bombers on March 8, and on the 15th I was the lead plane moving north trying to find the Germans. Well, I found them. There were three groups of Germans with about 50 planes per group, and the eight of us went right into them head on. Two groups were level, coming horizontally, and the third was up high as top cover. We went in, since we had no choice, and fired line abreast. That stalled them a little bit. I was pushing every button I could find on my radio, including SOS. I gave the location where I found the Germans and what they were. In just a matter of minutes we had scores of planes--P-47s, North American P-51s and Lockheed P-38s. It was a big turmoil, but we lost only one bomber that day, due to flak. Usually when we could find no Germans in the air on the way home, we would drop down near the treetops and strafe anything of military value--airfields, marshaling yards, trains, boats, anything like that. Later, the Ninth Air Force took that up as they pushed ahead of our ground forces.

MH: I know that ground attack was not considered a choice assignment.

Johnson: I think that is another good reason why I'm still alive. An awful lot of guys who flew aerial combat with me ended up either as POWs or badly shot up doing that kind of business. Also, after my first victory I had a reputation as a sort of a wild man, and other pilots would say, "Don't fly with Johnson, he'll get you killed." Later they decided to make me a flight leader and then a squadron leader. I felt that even though I was a leader, the other guys were as good as I was, and we decided that if they were in a good firing position, they should have the lead. In our one flight of eight boys we had the four leading aces in Europe. Then we got aggressive, and everyone became competitive. We were competing not only against the guys in our squadron but also against other squadrons. Later, it was our group against other groups, that kind of thing. We had "Gabby" Gabreski, myself, Jerry Johnson, Bud Mahurin and Joe Powers, who was one of our leaders at that time. He was killed in Korea when his engine was hit as he was trying to make it back across Inchon Bay on January 18, 1951. He went down with his plane.

MH: Pilots generally swear by their aircraft. Günther Rall and Erich Hartmann praised the Messerschmitt Bf-109, Erich Rudorffer and Johannes Steinhoff the Me-262, and Buddy Haydon the P-51 Mustang. I have to say after seeing all of the old photos of the various Thunderbolts and others that were shot up, I can't imagine any other plane absorbing that much damage and still flying. What is your opinion of your aircraft?

Johnson: This is very similar to the German debate. As far as the 109, all of the German pilots loved that plane, but the FW-190 was harder to shoot down. Just like the controversy over the P-51 and P-47. The P-47 was faster; it just did not have the climb and range the Mustang did. But it had speed, roll, dive and the necessary ruggedness that allowed it to do such a great job in the Ninth Air Force. As far as aerial kills go, we met and beat the best the Luftwaffe had when we first got there. It was the P-47 groups that pushed them back, as I said before. The P-51s had the advantage of longer range, and they were able to hit even the training schools, hitting boys just learning to fly. As the war dragged on, many of the old German veterans had been killed--so much of the experience was gone. As far as the 109 versus 190 argument, the 109 had the liquid-cooled engine whereas the 190 had an air-cooled radial engine, much like ours. One hit in the cooling system of a Messerschmitt and he was going down. Also, none of the German fighters were as rugged as a P-47. When I was badly shot up on June 26, 1943, I had twenty-one 20mm cannon shells in that airplane, and more than 200 7.92mm machine-gun bullets. One nicked my nose and another entered my right leg, where the bullet split in half. I still have those two little pieces, by the way; they went in just under the skin. I had been hurt worse playing football and boxing. However, I had never been that scared, I'll tell you that. I was always scared--that was what made me move quick. "Hub" Zemke liked the P-51 because it had great range, but he put one in a dive and when he pulled out he ripped the wings off that airplane--that was how he became a POW. Adolf Galland, who was a very good friend of mine and who I had known since 1949, flew the Me-262 and loved it, but he still swore by the 109, although it was still easier to shoot down.

When his combat tours were finished, he returned Stateside, to a hero's welcome, and to PR roles like War Bond tours. Johnson enjoyed these pubilicity jobs, unlike his quiet, reserved friend, Dick Bong, America's "Ace of Aces," who had just come back from the Pacific.
After the war, Johnson went to work for Republic Aircraft, and spent some time in Korea, in a split role as a civilian observer and as a USAF Lieutenant Colonel. He wrote his autobiography in 1958, and later moved to South Carolina, where he ran a successful insurance business. He remained active on the lecture circuit and in military aviation circles under his death in December, 1998.

bobbysocks

07-27-2010, 04:11 PM

found a great site with interviews of soviet flighter jocks...

http://mig3.sovietwarplanes.com/pilots/pilots.htm

great stories and pics. here's one to entice you to go there and read.

Sergei Isakovich Nasilevec ( much more of the entire story at the site )

— You came to Stalingrad school in May 1940 and begun to fly straight away?

Yes. There were no U-2s in the school. We began flying UTI.

— How did you like Ishak (Donkey – a nick name earned by I-16 for similar sounding of it’s official name)?

A lot of pilots were killed in flight accidents. It was such a strict plane, that chief of school, when we graduated, said:
— If you mastered I-16, you may fly any other type of airplane. This is a strictest plane of them all. There is no pilot, who can’t land any other aircraft after I-16.

— Did you fly Chaika (Gull - nickname earned by I-153 for it’s gull wing shaped upper wings)?

Yes, it’s almost the same as I-16. You could train on both of them.

— There was no dual-control Chaikas.

No, there weren’t. It was lighter than I-16. I-16 was very strict on landing. It was like a spindle. On I-16 you had to keep your legs in tension all the time…

— In your voenniy bilet it is written that you kept studying till June 1943?

Yes. We wanted to go to the front, but we were not allowed… And we were told:
— You will study new equipment…How many flying hours you had when graduated from school?

About 250 flying hours, no less…

— How you were told about war?

We were graduated that day. There was an order already, we were directed to our new units, received suitcases, two uniforms in them, for daily use and for holidays, sheets for bed, everything really. We were told that we will go to celebrate at Volga shore. We came to Stalingrad, boarded a ferry and crossed the river. Everything was ready there, wind orchestra and dance area, a lot of people came for dances. Then suddenly, it wasn’t 12 yet:
— Alarm, flight crews to the school, immediately!
To school, fine. No one objected. We loaded to the ferries, and just when we were about to disembark, it was announced:
— There will be an announcement on radio by Molotov...
«War!» We were called back to the school; our suitcases were taken away… We began retraining…

— Did Timoshenko’s order about graduating in Sergeants rank touch you?

Just when I started studying this happened. Half of those who applied had failed exams on purpose, but almost no one was expelled. Whether you liked it, or not, you had to study.

— You graduated as Sergeant, were about to leave to your new unit, but were returned?

Yes. We were called back and told:
There will be a new plane.
A week later we received a Yak-1. Chief of school summoned us: Comrades! I’m talking to you not as with cadets, but as with pilots. You have to master new type of airplane. But there is only one airplane of this type.
I felt chills at my back. I don’t know this plane, and it’s a single seat…
"I," He continued, — Will check this plane. I’ll try it out in the air, fly in the zone. Then I will return, land, showing you the landing. Then we will decide shifts, and we all will fly it in turns...
I was the third one. We all made 10 flights each on Yak.

— How you felt Yak-1 after Ishak?

Excellent. After Ishak — «rest and smoke». And how it landed… Like by guitar string.
We kept training in I-16s… When time came to be sent to the front, we were given simple backpack, tablet…

— Your flight school was evacuated?

We were evacuated in 1941, when Rostov had fallen, it was warm yet. Airplanes were sent away earlier. We, personnel, crossed Volga by ship to Baskunchak, from ship we moved to train to Chelyabinsk, and to the town Kustanai. That’s in Kazakhstan. River Tobol. And training again. Everybody wanted to go to the front, while commanders were weaving fists at us:
— You are ready, but wait for an order. You are in reserve.
Then, a group was gathered very fast, six men, — I, Alexandr Matashov, Vladimir Morozov, Nikolay Lgotnii — he lived in Moscow, — We were loaded on train and sent to Moscow to Directorate. From there we were sent to 3rd Ukrainian Front. We almost by foot travelled to small railway station «Dedovichi», before Dnepropetrovsk. Germans were still in Zaporozhye, but they were already on the run…

— It was 1943 already?

Yes. June 1943, it was middle of Kursk operation.

— And where you ended up?

3rd Ukrainian Front. 161st fighter regiment. Simple, not Guards.

— You were a lieutenant then, or still a sergeant?

Junior Lieutenant.

— Until 1943 there were junior commanders, senior commander. Then there were officers ranks introduced, with shoulder board — «white guards»… What was your attitude towards it?

At first “officer” was indecent, and then we got used to it…

— There must have been people who were grumbling about these changes?

Of course. It is normal situation…

— You came to the regiment, say: «Hello!», and what in reply?

Our documents were checked, who we are, how and where we flew. A closed envelop was opened, commanders read the notes and divided us:
— You go to 2nd squadron, you to 3rd…
I was sent to 2nd. Commander was Andryushenko Alexandr Mitrofanovich, he lived in Voroshilovgrad, a former civilian pilot, good commander, nice man. His deputy was Lieutenant Korneev Mikhail — he lived in Moscow. During war he became senior lieutenant, and he became Capitan after the war. He was such a crook… After the war he was arrested and stripped of all awards for some reason.

— Who was a regiment commander then?

Kaftanov. He burned even worse than I did. How it happened: our regiment suffered losses and a few pilots remained. But it was needed to fly. And regiment commanders decided to fly themselves. Four pilots flew out in a group. They returned damaged, but alive. Regiment commander landed, but his landing gear did not extend, so he had to belly land. Perhaps, his wing structure was also damaged — he rolled over nose and caught fire, we couldn’t even come to his help. I remember how I sat near my airplane fully ready, with parachute on — we were supposed to take off on escort mission when they landed. When he ignited, I dropped parachute, and we ran with other guys towards his plane. Shells began exploding. We stuck our noses into the ground; it was senseless to try to help him while they exploded. Firing stopped, and we run close. We lifted airplane by its wing, and he walked out of fire alive. He was saved by leathern overcoat. He covered himself by it, except his nose, which was completely burned away.
Commander was absent for about four or five month, we even thought that his days were over... Then he returned to the regiment. He was operated on his face, and even his nose was reconstructed by plastic surgeons…
(On 06.08.44 regiment commander Pavel Kaftanov, with his wingman Boris Kobyzev were ordered to attack a group of 4 Ju-87 covered by 12 FW-190, which were going to bomb river crossing. Soviet pilots managed to down leading bomber, what caused other bombers to drop bombs without aiming. River crossing stayed intact. Two more FW-190 were shot down, but both La-5s were severely damaged…
Burnt, unconscious pilot was taken into hospital in Leningrad (note – city was still in blockade), where he was placed in a morgue... A call from I. Zhuravlev, Commander of 14th Air Army, made medics check Kaftanovs body again. He was still alive!
Pavel Kaftanov returned to active service after treatment, and quit active service in 1959 at a rank of General-Major)

— Who was your wing leader?

In our pair we both were newcomers: Victor Fedoseev and I. I became a wingman.

— How it was decided who was a leader?

Perhaps, commander decided that way because I was younger. Victor looked more adult. But there was no difference in combat. If leader was attacking, I had to cover him. When he was done attacking, I begun attack run — he had to cover me. But there was no difference in combat…

— So, your pair was a “floating” one?

Yes, yes.

— You were in a regiment, which was equipped with La-5s or La-5FNs?

La-5FN appeared only by the end of war.

— Before you came to the regiment you haven’t flown La-5s, so how long it took you to master it enough to fly combat missions?

Less, then you are sitting with me. Taxied, took off. It was a war…

— In different regiments commanders’ thought differently about training. What was your thought about La-5 after Yak?

There was almost no difference. The only difference was that I was in love with this plane. La-5 had air cooled engine. Yak had water cooled one…

— Your La-5 had a gargrot, or you canopy was already droplet-like?

With gargrot…

— What about La-5 armaments — were two cannons enough?

It was good. Good cannons. If you fired from both cannons, it felt as if airplane stopped in flight.

— Germans had 200 rounds per cannon, we had 100-120. Isn’t’t that not enough?

What could we do, there was no way to squeeze in more. It was enough for a fight, if you don’t waste it. If you will fire at target – enough, if just towards enemy in that general direction – two hundred will not be enough. Just like with rifle or pistol…

— Lavochkins and LaGGs had weak landing gear, so they couldn’t withstand side loads. Have you had such problems?

Never heard.

— It is also known that if Las throttle was given full throttle on landing, it had a tendency to roll?

You have to know your airplane. What kind of pilot are you, if you cannot predict your airplanes reaction…

— Do you remember your first combat mission?

First combat mission was at 3rd Ukrainian Front. We entered a fight, and I didn’t complete my first turn, when my tail was hit, and it fell off…

— That is, you were shot down in your first flight?

Yes.

— Who you fought against?

What do you mean against whom? Against Germans. «Focke-Wulfs»…
All my back was scratched down to the butt. I was lucky to open canopy. I landed on neutral strip, closer to our trenches. Germans wanted to capture me, but our artillery covered me. I had to lie on the ground for over an hour, like under umbrella. Then a feeling appeared — our soldiers waited for me, it was time to escape.

— Weren’t you disoriented? You were sure, where were Germans and our forces?

Why, I knew exactly. I saw it from the air, where Dnepr goes…
When we arrived to the regiment, Zaporozhye was still occupied; commander invited us to that same area — to show how land forces fight each other, so that pilots would see it from the ground. We came to the trenches, which were dug through the bushes… We were picking berries from those bushes, while commander showed us the situation... At that time Messerschmitts were flying low, just above ground — zoom-zoom. They caught our pilots from below…
That’s how they caught me…
We didn’t see them, and second pair didn’t see them too. So they hit me, and tail fell off. La-5 was made of wood, except, longerons were made of metal and engine frame, all the rest was made of wood…

— How long it took you to return to your regiment?

It was close by… frontline no further than 5 kilometers away… Our commanders were informed by ground forces and sent a truck after me.

— Weren’t you accused of loosing airplane?

No, war is war…

— When you made it to our forces, did you left your parachute behind?

Of course I dropped it. Germans used it for aiming. I was lucky to be able to make it out of there.

— What was your personal weapon?

TT Pistol.

— Did you fly with nine rounds, or with eight?

No, we did not place a round in the barrel, what if I hit it by accident… But I filled two pockets with rounds…

— After returning, you received a new plane straight away or had to wait?

There were few planes remaining. And there were several men older then we were, also young, but with more combat experience. We were sent to Gorkii after new planes.

— Did this misfortune in your first fight affect you?

I was young, and everything was fine. War is war… We had to continue fighting.
But I know about such stuff. After descent in Moldavia was dropped and we returned back several men refused to jump. They were court martialled and got eight years each for breaking an oath. There was a moment, when instinct fights brains.
My fellow men, we jumped together… And they stopped. You could shoot them on site, they won’t jump. Descent brigade commanders mother, a 79 years old woman had climbed to the training mast to show those boys:
— Look boys, I’m going to jump.
There were so many steps, and she needed help to climb up there. And she did jump with parachute; she was hooked to the training parachute and carefully brought down…

— You accomplished one mission, and were sent to Gorkii, and then regiment was pulled back. How long did it last?

I returned from Gorkii, fought for some time and then we were pulled out. We came there at winter time, and by spring we were at 3rd Pribaltiiskii Front, there we were based near French “Normandia”. «Normandia» was formed in Tula, they flew Yaks, we La-5s. And we had not a regiment formed, but whole division. Division commander Colonel Andreev was a friend of Marshal Novikov. We received La-5 airplanes at Gorkii plant, new ones.

— Did you have a possibility to choose airplanes?

Yes. They stood in rows — choose any one you would like. I bought my plane for a pack of cigarettes. A boy said to me:
— Man, for cigarettes I’ll show you best airplanes. Go over there, planes there are excellent! They, — he said, — are made of dry wood, from pre-war stocks.
He showed me:
— This one, number 25.
Airplane I got was a good one, but engines were assembled by children, and when we ferried airplanes from Gorkii, one cylinder fell off almost completely. I was covered by hot oil, and flew over Volga, while commander talked to me over radio:
— Hold on, Serezha, hold on, hold on, my dear friend. Hold on, if you will fall here, you will drown.
I made it to base, engine did not stall, but I landed soaked in oil. When engine cowl was opened, two cylinder heads were almost completely torn off…

— You were formed in ZAP?

Yes, this ZAP was at Seima station, it’s near Dzerzhinsk and Gorkii… There was GUTAP. Pilots were trained there for fighters and shturmoviks, there were a lot of planes.
We were there until January, and then we flew to Tula, town or village Volyntsevo. There our division was formed completely.

— Did you fly training missions in ZAP?

Of course. We flew a lot. Flew in pairs, new pilots came. We fired at cones too. There was a lot of training.

— How your planes were painted?

When I just came to the regiment, color was gray-green, gray with some sand, in camouflage. My No25 was pure green without any cammo…

— In which clothes you usually flew?

In flight suits at summer. At winter: trousers, fur coat…

— Did you have a leather coat?

No, there were no leather ones.

— What about Reglan coats?

No. Regiment commander had one old raglan, which saved him in the fire. We didn’t have one. We had fur coats.

— What kind of helms you had, our or German?

Let me show – and we can make a photo.

— How you were fed at the front?

No one was fed like pilots.

— And in the rear?

Fine. Everyone was fed great in aviation.

— How radio equipment worked?

Good… We already had radios.

— Were you keeping discipline in the radio communications or not?

It was differently… If we flew in a group with Korneev, he told us:
— Well, boys, let’s sing!
And he began singing… We helped him. He was a young man, large built…

— You fly singing, and here is a German pair attacks your group, how you would warn the others?

No one singed in combat. There is no time for that…

— Suggest, you saw an enemy, what was your actions? One hand on the stick, other on throttle? How you controlled prop blade pitch?

What for? I enter a fight with everything ready. There was no time for pitch control, move it to the front all the way… Only throttle and cannons. Start maneuvering as much as your strength allows you. So much that your head would spin.

— You fought mainly on horizontal or vertical maneuvers?

In initial meeting – in horizontal. Then – how it will go. If you are hit, like I was, here in horizontal — give foot in to try to extinguish the flame. If unsuccessful, — break away from the fight and go as far as you can towards your home base, gaining speed while engine works.

— How many enemy planes you shot down?

Six in all. Up till the last fight — four: «rama» (“Window frame” was a nickname of FW-189 reconaissance airplane), then three more — one «Messerschmitt» and two «Focke-Wulf 190». On 6 September 1944 I brought down two more in one fight, last one by ramming.
First one was «rama». We arrived to the 3rd Pribaltiiskii front, Pushkinskie Gory and Opochka, it’s on the River Velikaya, further on was town Ostrov. We went with Viktor Fedoseev on patrol to cover our troops. We arrived to designated spot, everything was fine. Clouds were a bit high. Then over radio we were told:
— Small ones, there is an artillery correcting airplane above you. Try to take it off.
For that we had to fly away, hide above clouds, Otherwise we couldn’t catch it, because FW-189 pilots when noticed that we were trying to intercept him would half-roll and dive straight down. If I would try to follow him, it was grave almost for sure. I wouldn’t catch him, because it was heavier… Then it made a sharp pull out above ground. Fighter had a large procorf, so if I would try to repeat his maneuver I would hit ground by belly and crash… That’s almost what happened to me.
Viktor ordered:
— Gaining altitude.
We gained altitude away from the front line, located him through holes in the clouds. Found him. I said:
— Viktor, I see him.
I was closer, from left side. Viktor ordered from behind:
— Attack!
I said:
— I won’t attack right now, let’s get closer to the clouds, and then I’ll hit him from the clouds.
— It’s up to you, I’ll cover.
I looked around, everything was clear. Engine worked like watches. I made a turn, approached from side accurately. I thought that I will strike him from the side... I thought too long — there were gunners in the rear. I just made a turn to start attack run, when he made half-roll and went down. I followed him and shouted to Viktor:
— Cover me!
I followed him, and pressed triggers with all force I had, tracers disappeared in it, but rama kept going down. I couldn’t catch it; it extended away, extended… I kept firing. Then Viktor yelled:
— EARTH!
I pulled stick as hard as I could, and blacked out. Thanks God, I made it, turned around. Then I noticed a pillow of black smoke.
— Alive? — Viktor shouted.
I replied:
— I’m alive.
— Look at the ground, he’s burning!
We returned, and regiment commander was waiting for us with open hands, he hugged us:
— Great!
First two fighters I shot down at Ukranian front, so when I returned to Pribaltiiskii front after hospital, they were not listed in my log book…
Kozhedub and other Heroes had shot down so many enemy planes… Kozhedub scored 63 kills. But what if he would fly escort missions like we did; He wouldn’t have shot down so many planes.

— What was most pleasant work for you, and what you did not like?

Most pleasant — free hunt… There was a case when we flew with Viktor. It was getting a bit dark, just before night. Towards Eastern Prussia there was a German airfield, we flew with Viktor to the side from it, when I noticed it. We flew far to the West, almost to the shore, to Pillau. We turned back, when I noticed that Viktor disappeared:
— Viktor, where are you?
He’s absent! I made a turn… Absent! Then I heard:
— I’m at the airfield, going to land.
Something must have happened to the engine… I said:
— Fine then, I’ll go and strafe…
So I turned towards that airfield. I shot at the parked airplanes, and went home… I returned home, when AAA guarding our field opened fire at me, I gained altitude, hoping that our gunners won’t kill me. I heard commander shouting:
— What are you, parasites, doing, that’s our plane.
They didn’t let me land on my airfield. Another division, that flew Yaks, was based nearby. I flew there. They allowed me to land — showed me the lights, and I landed. From my airbase a message came:
— If Nasilevec landed at your base, keep him till tomorrow; don’t let him fly at night.
On the next day I showed my hosts how La-5 can fly inverted, a thing that Yak was unable to perform. La-5 was equipped with completely different carburetor.

— Which one was more difficult to shoot down: «Messerschmitt» or «Focke-Wulf»?

How to say… Did you fight in your childhood? Did you? How you chose your opponent?

— That is not what I’m asking for. Let’s say: at which plane you used up more rounds? Which plane could take more damage?

Point is not in taking damage, as you put it. I’d say that everything is in pilots. If you shoot well — good at stick and gun sight, both planes don’t need a lot to be brought down. But enemy were good pilots too… Each plane had its strong and weak points. Me was more agile, FW had heavier armament. But it all depended on who’s flying it.

— Could you say which missions you did not like?

There were no such missions…

— What about sturmovik escort? You have to run around them like a dog on the leash.

That’s not exactly like this. We brought sturmoviks, and if enemy comes in with a task of not allowing attack, we have to meet him. Head on… I will not turn away — I have to defend sturmoviks. My commander connects with sturmoviks, they reply:
— Small ones, start fighting, we will protect ourselves.
They can protect themselves. They formed defense circle, one after another — they had good guns in the front, and they had a gunner with large caliber machine gun in the rear. They had to be protected from attacks from above and below. That’s why they flew as low as possible while bombing and strafing.
Then sturmoviks send a report that at this day, this time and place there was a fight in which such pilots participated, with a full description and results… Some where I have such report… And I have a letter from medical battalion, thanks to which I was not sent to the filtration camp.

— Explain please.

No one knew that I fought behind enemy lines, burnt, but was still alive. And that I spent many months in hospital — too.
Ivan Degtyar was shot down behind enemy lines. On the second day he came back, but was in filtration camp for three and a half month. He told us, that he was interrogated day and night.
Just imagine, how many people returned from POW camps after the war… There were cases when commanders were not traitors, but were in a situation, when they had no other choice? No weapons or ammo. Anything could happen…

bobbysocks

07-27-2010, 04:31 PM

part 2 tomorrow

Soviet Ace

07-27-2010, 04:32 PM

Funniest quote from the whole thing.

"— It is also known that if LAs throttle was given full throttle on landing, it had a tendency to roll?

You have to know your airplane. What kind of pilot are you, if you cannot predict your airplanes reaction…"

LMFAO

bobbysocks

07-28-2010, 09:50 PM

part 2

— But there were soldiers from Vlasov army. And they should have been identified.

Of course, they had to be identified and punished. There were a lot of them.
I was signed off, and everyone forgot about me, so I had to prove everything. Commander presented me with Combat Red Banner order.
This is what I got recently. Read it.

— From central administration of personnel of Ministry of Defense from chief of 3rd directorate A.Ilyin.
«As a result of studying documents in TsAMO RF, it is established, that for excellent accomplishing of combat missions in August-September 1944, courage and dignity shown in its course, by an order of 1st Air army commander No 03\n issued on 20.01.1945 you were awarded by order of Red Banner. In a presentation list there is written following: 06.09.44 pair of La-5s was on a mission to escort Il-2s in Aidera area, where they were to strafe enemy troops and equipment. In the target area had a dogfight with FW-190. In a head-on attack against two FW-190 had downed enemy leader, whose wingman set airplane of comrade Nasilevec on fire. When comrade Nasilevec had extinguished flames from his plane, it was attacked second time by a pair of FW-190 from behind, that set him on fire again. His burning plane comrade Nasilevec had guided at enemy FW-190 and rammed it, which fell in the area of Aidera. Comrade Nasilevec bailed out, suffering from burns on face, body and hands».

You see, what’s written there?

- «…Thus, all combat achievements, that you described in your letter, were marked and award was issued by USSR government, and there is no possibility to issue awards twice for one act».

That’s it. They fooled me. What do you mean how? For air ram in a burning plane I received nothing.

— It is written here: «Order of Combat Red Banner».

It was written tin the list later. I will explain. I was downed on 06.09.44. Award was issued 20.01.45. That’s almost five month away.
All this time I spent in hospital, where I was brought like a «roasted naked piglet». Professor gave me a vacation for 45 days. I asked him:
— If you give me a vacation time, please, send me to my unit.
He replied:
— I cannot send a cripple to the unit. You have to undergo one more operation. And I give you a vacation so that you would rest a bit.
I thought of a reason and said to him:
— Professor, my parents are in Ukraine. It is liberated, but there is an order, that officers going there for a vacation or temporary duty have to be armed with personal weapons. Otherwise I can’t go there.
I talked him into giving me a direction to my unit. There they did not know that I was still alive. Sturmovik pilots reported that there was a dogfight just like in the letter you wrote. I was written off as KIA. When I returned, regiment commander reported to 1st Air Army commander. The fight took place on 3rd Pribaltiiskii front, in 14th Air Army. When regiment commander took me to Hryukin, commander of 1st air army, we entered reception room, colonel was invited first ad he kicked him so much, that regiment commander came out all wet of sweat, and just weaved his hand — go in. I entered, introduced myself, Hryukin showed me award list and said:
— Your commander presented an award list for Order of Patriotic War. It is a small award for your work. What I can do — I crossed Patriotic War out, and wrote «Order of Red Banner» — this is all I can…

— Your attitude towards technicians?

I liked technicians a lot, because our life depended on their work.

— We talked to a Hero of the Soviet Union and he said:
— There is a statue of me erected at my homeland, but I want to see a monument for my technician by its side.

Fully agree.

— How interaction with bombers and fighters was organized? Were you warned that you were about to fly mission? Or you based at the same airfield?

We were based at different airfields. Shturmoviks can fly on their own. If shturmoviks need a cover, they ask for it from commander of 161 IAP. We were given a task with a route…

— Who set altitude of your flight?

We set it ourselves. Where we thought it would be more comfortable to meet the enemy, above or below. Above we have supremacy in altitude and speed.

— What was your attitude towards political workers?

How to say… We had a small Smirnov. There also was big Smirnov, fat, huge man. He moved from our regiment to some other, he should be living in Gatchina now… We had small Smirnov. And there was a pilot Antonyanz, aggressive fighter, so he chased this regiment political officer, small Smirnov around his plane. This political officer received Orders for asking pilots, who just returned from fight:
— How many airplanes you shot down?
He had to take notes and send them higher. This Antonyanz said:
— You bastard! Do you know what it’s like to shoot enemy plane down? Have you seen a dogfight at least from the ground? You didn’t even see it, but ask us! I’ll load you, parasite, in the cockpit tomorrow and take with me to the mission. I’ll see what you will be asking us then.
He jumped out of the cockpit and chased him round the plane.
— I’m going, — he shouted, — to kill you.
Political officer was sent away somewhere after this incident. Imagine, regiment commander burned alive in the plane, he had only one Order of Patriotic War for all war! Meanwhile political officer had five. There is how they worked, politicians.

— That is, your attitude towards them is negative?

That parasite, who… Hey, are you taking notes? Or those, how they were called — KGB?

— SMERSh.

If not one of them… For act like mine people are awarded posthumously. What if I perished? Good commander tries to show people act of heroism, issues awards. But this one: “What if he betrayed us, and we will award him. You, regiment commander, will be responsible for this”. And they refused to award me just in case…

— Were there cases of cowardice? Refusal to fly or fight?

No, there were no cases when someone would refuse to fight. There were no cases if somebody left a dogfight without a reason. But there were other cases, like some would break a plane. Or a thunderstorm would come, but we have an order for escort mission. How can we cover in a thunderstorm? It was forbidden to fly in thunder. We had a group leader at Ukraine that took his group and lead right through the cloud. He returned with a deformed fuselage, while others had perished. (In the area of Yaumatgale on 22.7.1944 Lieutenant, flight commander Anatolii Zelenov “crashed, after entering thunder clouds”)

— This isn’t cowardice…

It’s not cowardice, but what for he went there?…

— During war it is often needed to fly breaking the instructions. How often did you break flight instructions?

Listen, by instruction human body cannot withstand over 12 G loads.
In a fight you sometimes had to withstand more. Like when I followed the enemy in a dive I had to pull out with huge overload, but there was no other way to escape…

— Did you fly patrol missions?

A few times.

— I was told by a veteran that they were given precise time to patrol over frontline, so they had to fly at economic speeds, so that fuel won’t be expended too soon.

He is a fairy taller and coward. This is my answer.

— Why so? Explain, please.

Because pilot shouldn’t be telling such crap. Fuel expenditure rate was never specified for fighter pilots.

— There was an order of Stalin, to fly slower (Order No 142 was issued in 1942. Full text can be read in Russian at the following link http://bdsa.ru/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=375&Itemid=30) …

There was none. There was nothing like this… There was an order of Stalin concerning ramming, I know about it. But if I came to the front line, if I am in a fight, I can use as much fuel, as needed.

— That’s if a fight begun, but while patrolling…

I patrol at a speed that I will be sure I won’t be caught off guard. What kind of cover I will be then?
No, there never was something like this. Maybe I flew a little, not for four years, but there was nothing like this.

— How many missions you flew?

Just over 40 missions.

— For forty missions six planes downed…

Six downed, air ram…

— Did you shoot at ground targets?

Yes, two times. I singlehandedly strafed airfield… With guns. We did not have bombs.

— For what reason your regiment did not receive Guards?

I don’t know, it was Red Bannered, Suvorov regiment. (161st, Riga, Order of Suvorov Fighter Air Regiment) We were in reserve, and were thrown everywhere. I don’t know why we did not receive Guards.

— How many HSUs were in your regiment?

I don’t know them. Timur Frunze received an HSU for just a few flights. I don’t know how many planes he shot down.
Here an extract from official regiment history: «During GPW regiment flew 5943 combat missions, pilots participated in 710 dogfights, shot down 246 planes, destroyed trucks with supplies and troops - 594, killed 1386 enemy soldiers and officers».

— How a kill was confirmed?

Until it was confirmed, it was not credited. Confirmation could come from special intelligence or from ground troops…

— Pilots from your group could confirm a kill?

From our flight? No. Sturmovik pilots could.

— Sturmoviks confirmed your ram?

All in the documents. And it was written in the award presentation list…

— Did you have a tradition to draw stars for kills? Or, perhaps, some inscriptions or drawings?

I had an inscription on the left side of the fuselage: «For combat friend and comrade Viktor Fedoseev».
Fedoseev was killed during liberation of Ostrov. (Jr. Lieutenant Viktor Fedoseev was killed in action 23.8.1944) We flew in a pair; behind us was a pair, and a flight in front. I didn’t even see it coming, Fokker dove past me out of the sun, sent a burst into Viktors plane, I tried to follow German in a dive, but it got away – speed difference was too great. Viktor burned alive in his plane…

— With whom you were in your last fight?

With Vladimir Suharev.

— Did he survive?

No, he perished… (Lieutenant Vladimir Suharev was killed in a dogfight near Tartu on 06.09.1944)
It was reported to the regiment, that his plane went in a steep dive and hit an opposite river bank.

— How many pilots, with whom you came to the regiment made it to the end of war?

Alexandr Matashov, here is the photo. Vladimir Morozov, Denezhkin… A lot of those pilots were killed, who were in the regiment before my appearance there…
Home village of our pilot Lieutenant Mogiley — Pyatihatki, behind Dnepropetrovsk was not liberated yet. He flew to the village to show his relatives that he was alive and coming; Germans noticed his flight, found and exterminated all his relatives… Mogiley was killed in 1943 at 3rd Ukrainian Front I was in the regiment, when it happened…
(Quite possibly, he speaks of Lieutenant Grigorii Mogiley, from reconnaissance squadron 113 GvIAP, 10 IAK. Was born in Pyatihatka. Did not return from combat mission 23.9.1944. Possibly, was shot down while in ranks of 161 IAP in 1943, was wounded, and after recovering was sent to 113 GvIAP for further service)

— On average how many flights young pilot lived?

How to say… If one made it through 5-6 fights, it meant that his chances were very high.

— Was there a “national question” in your regiment?

I’m Ukrainian, there were Russians…
I believe there were more Ukrainians. Ivan Staroryko was Ukrainian, Mogiley was Ukrainian. There were a lot of Ukrainians. There were no Byelorussians. Armenians were present… Very good fighters. Antonyanz was a good guy, tall man, we were friends. Very good guy… (Lieutenant Georgii Antonyanz, born in 1922 in Irkutsk. Killed in a dogfight on 17.8.1944) He was shot down over Pskovskoye Lake.
There were two Jews: Polevich — he was shot up in a first dogfight, he didn’t make it to the airfield and made an emergency landing. After that he became frightened and started complaining about headaches and so on. He was transferred to stab, where he somehow earned an Order of Red Banner. Second one, Makarevich was transferred to another regiment in Seim.

— Here are two pilots near Lavochkin, Who are they?

I believe they are both dead by now. Colonel Alexandr Matashov was a flight technique inspector in Leningrad. Second one — Vladimir Morozov. He was sent to Japanese war and perished there. They were my friends.

— Were you bombed at the front?

Not at the front. When our flight school was rebasing, we crossed Volga and were bombed near salt lake in Solemolki.
There was a big hospital in a former school building, full of wounded, and bombs hit it. After bombing finished we went there to look what happened, and noticed blood figures on the walls. Doctor explained that a nurse was running through a corridor when bomb blew up, and she was thrown at the wall. All wounded and most of the personnel were killed in that hospital…

— What was your personal opinion about Stalin and Communist party?

We were all in Komsomol then. We were raised by Party and Komsomol - communists. We were not talking about Stalin, we discussed how to get to the front and defend our Motherland.

— You said that German tried to kill you while you descended in a parachute. Have you heard about such cases from our side?

Can’t recall, really.
He was my enemy, I fought him, and maybe just moments ago I killed his wingman, so he was trying to kill me. On the other hand, I was descending at German held territory, so there was no reason in shooting at me.

— I’m asking if our pilots strafed parachutists. Rudel in his book wrote that it was a standard practice.

I don’t know. I don’t know of a single case.

— What was a strong and what was weak side of our pilots? And of Germans?

Listen, — our pilots had lots of courage, bravery, intention to win at all costs. Germans never rammed a single our airplane.

— In which aspect German pilot was better than our pilots? And which deficiencies they had?

There were aces that were shot down by our beginner pilots. Dogfight is a dogfight. Whatever ace he was. At flying technique we were roughly equal. But I will say once again — they lacked courage of our pilots.

— What about airplanes? Were we equal, or La-5 was worse than FW-190?

It’s not that airplane was worse. At first we were a bit too careful about it. A lot was said about Focke-Wulf. It’s like boxers in the ring. So much is said about one of them, that his opponents really think that he is so great, while in reality... Time passes and everything gets in its place... Messerschmitt was a good plane, maneuverable, good in handling. But I wouldn’t trade my La-5 for any other plane… I could fly it so hard, that no one could get me.

— Let’s return to a fight when you rammed. You bailed out, or fell with your plane?

It is written here that I bailed out. Did author of this reply know that cockpit was full of fragments? That I had no possibility to open cockpit, and leave it with parachute, so I was sentenced to death… They write that I bailed out. Hero was given for air rams when author stayed alive, and brought plane to the ground. What I did was a death wish.
I know of no other case, when air ram was made on a burning plane. Those parasites hid this case from the people. But I have no health to keep fighting them. At the age of 25 I was a wreck. No one recognized me, when I returned to the regiment; I had a mouth that I could hold only a cigarette…
13 days I was in the marsh, without food or treatment, it’s a miracle that I stayed alive. Motherland must have thanked me for what I did…

— Let’s return to the beginning…

Let me tell you how it happened. How I hate these democrats! He wrote an answer to me without looking inside of the problem…
I rammed on 3rd Pribaltiiskii, but was awarded from commander of 1st. Almost half a year later. I returned to service only on 5 May. For 8 month professor treated and cared for me, I was like a torn soldiers boot. Doctors wanted cut my legs away, but I didn’t let them. And my legs still with me. I was blind, and have a document to prove that. I worked until 60 and now I almost completely blind again… I can see just a bit out of this eye. When I wrote a letter to Putin, he was a president then, and asked to provide me with a cheapest car, which I can’t buy on my own, so that my daughter could take me somewhere away from my room, because I cannot walk the streets anymore, he forwarded my letter to governor of Leningrad Oblast Serdyukov. He, in turn forwarded my letter to local social service burocrat Markina. Do you know what she found in me to refuse in my wish? Elderness! I wrote here a letter: «If you were where I became old in 25, you wouldn’t write me things like this».
There was a chief of electrical service, and when he was a child he tried to disarm something and lost two fingers… He received a car among the first…
I went to Ukraine, there was a man working in official structures, who knew me. He asked me:
— How are you, Sergei Isaakovich?
I told him everything. He wrote to the government, you read the answer…

— We met things like this…

Well, I’ll start from the beginning.
We were sitting by our planes smoking, when a flare was fired. We took off, met a six plane Il-2 formation. Our task was to escort six Il-2s to strafe enemy troops and equipment at Egueima river crossing.
Shturmoviks flew at an altitude of 800-1200 meters, not higher. We were escorting them a bit above. Just as we crossed frontline, it was 20 kilometers behind Tartu… I heard:
— Small ones take a fight…
I began attack run, Vladimir said:
— I’ll cover you.
I replied:
— I’m aiming at closest leader.
I took aim. I thought, this bastard is going to get it. He was holding to the last moment — he thought that “Russian will turn away”. No, bastard, «turn away» my ass! I saw how he banked and put full load at his belly. He immediately caught bright fire and went down, I followed. Vladimir shouted:
— Stop! Get out of the fight.
As I was pulling out, I was hit from below left behind… airplane caught fire. I pressed a pedal — flame reduced, then extinguished. Just as I stopped skidding I got a second hit from below. Those were two hunters… If you saw enemy in a fight, it was not a problem to defeat him. Worst of all was when you couldn’t see them coming. Those two hunters approached from below. How did they make it, Shturmoviks were there? We had a bit of extra altitude, so he attacked me from below, when I tried to get away from a fight. I flew away, made a half roll, and noticed enemy planes. Vladimir was attacking one of them, while another chased him from behind — about to open fire. I pushed throttle forward, airplane responded well, well, thanks God! I had to pay enemy for everything! And I went… then we collided

— That is, you hit from front below?

Yes. It was the only way. I was coming from below, and he did not see me. German was in a climb, trying to get to Vladimir’s tail.
When I hit him, my plane made a roll over remains of the left wing above his fuselage and fell apart. I still remember this far… Past this moment I lost conscience.
Shturmoviks reported on the ground that both planes fell to pieces. I came to my senses, but saw nothing. I was spinning and something strangled me. Belts were connected here by a special lock. I pulled it and belts unfastened. I pulled the parachute string. Parachute opened, right boot fell down, helm was compressing my scull, and I tried to take it off…

— If you are tired, maybe we should come some other day?

Give me a moment, I’ll catch my breath. I have poor health now. I became old. Where we stopped?

— You are descending on a parachute.

My face was burnt, but goggles saved my eyes. I noticed that flight suit was still on fire. Wherever I touched, my body ached… then a stream of tracers flew past me. Those were Germans trying to execute me in the air. There were ten of them. I downed two of them, and Vladimir was attacking… but at least seven remained… shells flew past me, but he returned for another run. He strafed me three times, while I was hanging there, and managed to snap a few cords… But most frightening was that I was going to land right at Tartu-Tallinn road. It was just strafed, trucks were burning… Folwark was to the left, marsh — to the right. And a crowd of Germans near folwark.
I was descending closer to marsh and river, on the opposite side from the road. Germans were looking like fascist was trying to shoot me.
When I landed, I took off parachute. When I lifted my head, Germans opened fire from machine guns and assault rifles… Bastards! I jumped into the river. Got over it, hid in the bushes, took my helm away, left boot, which was still on, got pistol out. Checked it, made sure that pockets with ammo were still with me.
I decided not to give up. Better to finish myself off. There was a trench full of water, and a field with cut grass, and a hay pile. I got into this trench, to be sure that they won’t find me in the bushes. Dogs were barking… I got into the water up to the neck.
I held pistol in one hand, other one was completely burnt. I decided to stand there. Germans opened fire with machine pistols, grass was falling around me, but they did not hit me… A night passed, I heard some fire at a large distance. Then there was silence. By this time I began understanding that I was about to die. At first it was even comfortable – cold water eased pain in my burns… But my legs were not working by now. I froze. There was no ice around me, but when extended my hand I reached a place where it was forming. I thought to myself: «Well, Sergey, this is where you are going to die – in a swamp…».
Morning came. Airplanes were flying over me, but without any fighting. In the morning they once again strafed this swamp. At the evening of the second day I carefully listened around, and tried to get out of the water. Legs were not working completely, with a lot of difficulties, pulling on a grass; I made it to the swamp shore. When I sat down, I was exhausted. That was it. Then I noticed a pile of hay on the other side of the trench, and a bit further another one. No one around... Absolute silence... Then I thought, if I was going to die, then I will die doing something. Once again I crawled into that trench. With great difficulty I crossed it, when a hare scared me to death, I decided that it was a German, and hardly contained myself not to shoot. I whispered:
— Oh, my God…
After lying in a trench a bit I reached hay pile and got inside. I have no idea, how long it took me… Legs and hands were completely worthless. Somehow I made it inside, camouflaged entrance hole as good as I could, and fell asleep. No idea how long I slept. I dreamed of sitting in a restaurant, eating some delicatessen… Perhaps, my body demanded food this way. I dug out a hole in the ground near me, took out first aid kit. It was in oilcloth coating. I tore it, took out bandages, and used it to get some water, I could only suck it, because my mouth was scarring with only a small hole remaining… I laid there sleeping, woke up, sucked some water and doze off again. I felt that the end was coming. If I won’t get out, I’ll die. I heard our airplanes flying over, but I heard no AAA fire. Thus, it came to me that front must have moved West wards… I got out of the hay and sat by its side. My legs couldn’t bed, so I just sat there, but I hid a pistol behind my back. I was hoping that some locals would come by. If there are hay piles, there should be civilians. Then, a dry branch cracked, my hart began racing. What if those who were coming would press a trigger…? I couldn’t’t see who it was. He came close to me and asked:
— Who are you, tank crew member?
I replied as I could:
— No, I’m pilot.
— How did you get here?
I answered:
— My plane was shot down, I burned.
— O-o-o-o… Brother, how did you managed to survive here?
I said:
— You see how I lived here.
— What should we do with you? You can’t even speak well? Oh, we are even scared to look at you.
I replied:
— I can’t open my mouth. And I look like I my condition allow me. Take me to the road. There should be a road nearby.
— We can’t. We are side patrol, our unit is moving to the front.
I asked:
— Is front close by?
— It’s far away, 20-30 kilometers towards Tallinn.
— Oh, and I’m lying here all this time…
Two men picked me up, and then one said:
— Let me hold him alone, there is nothing left of him, only bones.
When they lifted me they saw a pistol in my hand:
— What is this, you were trying to defend yourself?
— Of course.
They brought me to the road and placed at the road side and said:
— When trucks will pass, independent where they will be going, to the front or to the rear, raise your hand, and they will take you.
They left, and maybe ten minutes later I heard engine sound, I raised hand, and truck stopped. Driver shouted:
— Well, get in.
How could I get in, when I was about to go to the other side... I weaved my hand. He got out, walked towards me.
— Are you tank crew member?
Damned, I was getting tired of this:
— No, I’m a pilot.
— Where can I take you, I have to take ammunition to the front?
I said:
— I don’t care anymore, just take me somewhere away.
— Damn, I will take you to the field hospital at the frontline.
He positioned me in a truck, closed the door and we took off. I asked:
— What’s the date today?
— Nineteenth. Why do you ask?
— I was shot down on 6th…
I lost conscience, and came to my senses when he was calling medics. They dragged me out of the cabin and took to the hospital.

— How long was your travel from hospital to Moscow?

Oh, I don’t know. Not too long, as I was brought there by plane.
Then a letter from a nurse of that hospital came, I keep it with me all my life, as it saved me from filtration…
When I was in Moscow, twice people from SMERSh came to check me. First time professor didn’t let them in, because I was blind then. On the second visit I gave them this letter. They checked all facts in it and returned it…
For eight month professor Vishnevskii treated me in Central Aviation Hospital (Professor, Academic Alexandr Vishnevskii, 1874-1948. Famous Russian surgeon, inventor, founder of Moscow Surgery Institute. Central Aviation Hospital was founded on 7 May 1942 with a sole purpose of treating wounded aircrews. Was located in Sokolniki area of Moscow. After the war it took part in examining possibility of manned space flights. Currently still exists as a part of medical wing of MO RF).

— When you returned to your regiment your belongings…

Were already taken by the other pilots. I came – nothing was left.
— We thought you were dead. — They said.
When I arrived, they firstly dragged me to the canteen. From control post it was announced that such pilot came back. A whole truck of people came to the Control post to meet me. They brought me to the canteen, where the same girls worked who knew me before:
— Sergey, you are alive!
«Bla-bla-bla…» As I sat in the canteen and ate, whole regiment came there:
— We are going to celebrate in the evening…

— By the way, when you received 100 grams?

At the evening at front only. When there were flights. If we were on the ground, then we were looking for it ourselves.

— Did you receive extra 100 grams for shooting own enemy planes?

Can’t remember about extra 100 grams, but we were paid for shooting enemy planes down. Bomber cost 2 000 rubles, fighter — 1 000. «Rama» was accounted as bomber. We also were paid for number of accomplished missions…
When I demobilized, I had about 25 000 rubles.

— How you found out about war end?

How I found out… I came on 5th May, and even managed to accomplish two flights on 9 may.
Regiment commander asked:
— Well, do you remember how to fly?
— No way.
— Well, let’s try.
He sent a technician.
— Prepare an airplane for him.
I took parachute, tested it at full throttle.
— Try to taxi.
I taxied, and then took off. Flew over Konigsberg, looked at it, and landed.
Two times I flew with my friends. Germans kept fighting there until 15 May. There was so much equipment there…
We later went there by foot. We also walked to Konigsberg, looked at the fortifications. Everything was in concrete, well prepared.

But still, when you were told that war ended?

On 9 May it was announced over radio. But we had to kill those who did not want to surrender…

— In Eastern Prussia there were a lot of Vlasov army soldiers. Were you informed about them?

I was afraid of those parasites. There were cases when pilots disappeared…

— War ended for you on 15 May, what happened next?

Then we were sent to Novgorod, airfield Krichevitsy. When we came there, everything was destroyed, only walls remained, so we had to rebuild all village first…
In April 1946 I demobilized.

— You never flew again?

I was invited to fly U-2 in a detached light transportation and connection squadron, but I couldn’t fly it due to open cockpit, since my face was burnt… So I decided to quit.

— May be a stupid question. If you had a chance to repeat everything, what you would have changed?

Nothing. I would live it all again with pleasure… Even if when I studied I dreamed of a piece of bread with a half kilo of jam on top… It was hard to live, but interesting. We helped each other…
I gave an oath to defend Motherland, and was ready to give my life away if needed... I stayed alive miraculously. My time passed, but I don’t regret about a single minute…

Nomad_of_war

08-03-2010, 03:53 PM

That was an amazing read Bobby, thanks for posting that!

Lost Apiarist

08-11-2010, 03:16 PM

Re-posted from http://109lair.hobbyvista.com/articles/pilots/stigler/stigler.htm

This is a sitdown interview with German Ace Franz Stigler, who is perhaps most famous for escorting a wounded B-17 back to safety.

Interview and narrative © Michael Fuller 2003 exclusively for The 109 Lair.

Is that your plane, the big picture?

That was my plane in Afrika…

You know…I really don’t know how to start…I really appreciate you sitting down with me and spending this time. Do you mind if I just start asking you a few questions?

Yeah, go ahead…

You began your career with Jagdgeschwader 27…how did you get involved with them and the Luftwaffe…Had you always wanted to be a pilot?

Well, I was a pilot before, uh…the Air Force...also. At the time…we, uh…became pilots…we had nothing to do, uh…with the Air Force, so we were attached to the Lufthansa, and uh…so we were also…I mean, I was out, uh… of my own training…uh…as a pilot…as a…as a private person, and, uh…then I went to, uh…to train in seaplanes… I had an unlimited seaplane license.

Wow…did you always want to fly as a boy?

Well…I wanted…My father was a pilot in the first world war, my grade 5 teacher was a…a fighter pilot in the first world war…my brother and I…we… joined the flying club with glider planes, you know… when I was 12 years old, my brother was…16 at the time. I think my first glider flight…was a little… between 12 ½ and 13 years.

So you were fairly experienced then?

Oh, yeah…

When did you report to JG27?

I didn’t report…I was reported…and so…in…1942.

Now, the first plane you flew in the Luftwaffe was the 109?

Yeah…

Which was the first Model was it?

F

How did you like it?

I liked it a more than any other one…this is an F model.

(Franz points back to the massive painting behind me)

Cool…it has the tropical filter as well.
Yeah…and where is a G…(Franz looks around date the multitude of painting and photographs)… that is a G model here…(Franz points to another smaller painting, again featuring a G-6 in his original colours)…that’s the last 109 I was flying.

The last one you flew was a G?

Yeah…actually it was a K model, but uh…we used it as a G model, you know…and then I was a…a pilot for the 262 also.

How did you like it? I mean you had so many years as a pilot, and you basically went from a prop driven plane over to a jet. Did your experience flying help with the 262, or did you have to learn over again, being something totally new?

No, no…my flying experience as I said…was with all kinds of - I don’t know how many different types I flew, maybe a hundred...and uh, so…it was something that we flew…same with the flying boat, you know. I flew all kinds of flying boats, you know...up to 4 motors… at the time

From what I understand, the 262 was very dangerous? The engines had a tendency to overheat…

Oh yeah…

…Did you feel safe in it flying?

Oh yeah, oh yeah, very safe you know…our engines were very good, you know… which in the end it helps. No…I… once had an officer in Germany, but uh…

(Franz stopped himself…it sounded like it was quite personal, so I didn’t pry…)

What was you first impression when you first flew the 262?

Well, we…uh…we had only single seaters, you know…there…and then at the first factory where I had learned to fly it, we were 14…the first 14 men, I was one of them. They, uh…stud on the…stood on the wing, you know, we were sitting in the cockpit, and they showed us everything…and so, then they said to us, “this is your speed for take off, and then, uh…that’s your landing speed… now take off!”… you know…

Really! (I start laughing).

…And that’s how we learned to fly it.

Wow…The cockpit in the 262 was much bigger than the 109 wasn’t it?

Yes, big…and comfortable…it was a comfortable airplane and a safe airplane, let’s put it this way, you know. My Number 3 got…2 days before the war was over…a friend of mine… had not a chance to fly the airplane yet, he had so many flights, only he had not very many with it and so I said, “okay, fly it”, you know…he killed himself…on takeoff. (Through research I found out that it was Leutnant Pirchhan. After persuading Stigler to allow him to fly the plane, soon after take-off Pirchhan crashed at Oberweissenfeld, north of the airfield, totally destroying the aircraft and was fatally wounded. He died a few hours later being comforted in Stigler’s arms in a farmer’s field)

On the 109 and the 262, the Revi sights were always mounted slightly to the right…

Yes, uh…on the panel…in front sometimes…but usually they were in the middle.

Why did they sometimes have them to the right?

Uh, usually we were…uh, right handed, you know…and so…on the 109 they were not so to the right…on the 109 they were right in front of you.

Your favourite was the F model, yet the one that was produced the most was the G6…

Yeah…

…But most pilots preferred, like yourself, the F models and the earlier G’s, like the G-2. What was the reason behind that?

The G6 basically had a heavier motor and could fly higher…not more speed, but that’s it…it starts getting heavier every time they put something new in.

Did you ever have the GM-1 boost or MW-50 in any of your planes?

Oh yeah, we used it quite often…in combat you know.

How long did it last?

Uhh…you were not allowed to have it at more than 5 min., you know…if you used it 10 minutes, then motor has to come out.

It makes the engine worse?

It wrecks the motor.

And this was for the higher altitude?

Higher…yes…

And at what speed could you get up to?

Oh boy…I don’t remember…450 or 500 km…

Like you said, you could only use it for 5 min. otherwise you would burn out the engine. How many 5 min. intervals could you use? Did you have to shut it down for a period of time to let the engine cool?

That’s okay…that uh…it didn’t matter. You…but you never used it for five minutes…a minute, minute and a half and that’s it.

The armament, you used on the Messerschmitt…you used the Mk108 cannon…

Yeah we had it in the middle…we had two centimetre…or later a three centimetre Cannon…and then a thirty millimetre on top…two of them.

Was there a fairly big muzzle flash from the cannon?

Oh yeah…oh yeah…(Franz pints to a picture of his Me262). Up there we had four, three centimetre cannons…I shot a wing off a B-17 once...

Did the aircraft move quite a bit when you fired the weapon?

No, no, not at all.

Really? I assumed that because of the large calibre cannon, the plane would move quite a bit.

No, no…only very small…but that’s all.

What about the gun pods…a lot of pilots had the option of these…they found that -

Oh, I never… I hated them!! I never had them on my airplane. As soon as I got a new airplane… I say, “That’s a damn part, off with them!”...Made it sluggish, you know.

Yeah, I heard a lot of pilots hated them…so, if most pilots didn’t like them, as it made the airplane sluggish, poor manoeuvrability, why do you suppose they kept trying to incorporate them?

Just more firepower...

Now, in the F model, you had the automatic Prop Pitch control… I know the early Emils it was all manual. Did you ever switch to manual settings?

You could…have uh, have it not automatic, but uh…as soon as we were off the ground we would put in automatic.

So it just handles the engine better?

Because uh...in the air… you might overrev it, and the motor will start to burn

Okay…so you would only switch it to manual for take off and landing?

Yeah…

I know on your left side you had the throttle and adjustments for prop and the mixture lever.

Yeah…

Where did you adjust the prop?

Oh, you can FORGET about the mixture control!! It’s not like in a…in a…like in an American airplane or British airplane they had their mixture control. Forget about it, we never had to...it was automatic. Like once throttle had a button on…for prop control…and uh…you could shift it like a gear thing and it would make the motor...you just push it and could adjust it and make it more…

And that was on the throttle?

Yes, there was a button and you could switch it. There was a clock there… in the air…on the control panel… that showed you how your prop…and uh, how it works and was condition.

I’ve actually seen pictures of Galland, and it looked like he mounted a telescopic gun sight to the Revi…like a rifle scope. Have you ever seen that?

(Franz laughs) No, never…

Now the view from the Me109…backward was really difficult. Did you keep yourself completely strapped it when you were flying?

Oh yeah..

And how did you compensate for the lack of being able to see behind.

Well you could turn your head hundred-eighty degrees around. We didn’t have any mirrors in like the Spitfire…what you did was when you strapped yourself in, you had your shoulder straps loose…and uh…and not so tight…so you could move…you could put it in autopilot too… you know…

You flew the Me110 as well correct?

Yeah…(Franz makes a “disgusted” face)

Did you ever fly the Focke Wulf 190?

Oh yeah, I flew it for a few hours, but not in combat.

Did you like it?

I liked it very much…but we were all so used to the 109. But uh, Focke Wulf 190 D model, was far better than we had…and the 152 was even so better.

Yeah...the 152 was the final one…How was the view…the canopy was a lot bigger…

Oh yeah,

…Than that of the 109…did you find the view a lot easier?

Oh yeah, it was…but…the landing gear you had to be careful, because we had a narrow landing gear, the FW had uh…a wider one.

So being on the western front, you obvious flew against the Mustang, Spitfire-

P-7 – uh, P-47, Spitfire, Hurricane…the P-38...and no more…some of them I flew, also…the captured ones.

What did you think of the American and the British planes?

Well it, uh…the P-47 and the… P-51 was a…a good airplanes, you know…and depends also who was sitting in it…it’s always this. Did you ever see the Spitfire out in the Vancouver Airport?

No, I haven’t.

It uh…was the Spitfire Fourteen…(Franz leans over and grabs a journal from his desk and pulls out a business card). If you like, you can write the phone number down…Just phone him and he, uh…let you look at it, yo u know... (Franz opens a book containing a wealth of business cards, all aircraft related)

I didn’t know they had one there actually...

Penta…

I look at the business card. “Penta Aviation”.

His name is uh…Bob Jens…he’s just now rebuilding a...a Mosquito…But he has the money… so. Owns two…owns two hangers out there at Vancouver airport…but costs a lot of money…really a lot

So when you were flying, how easy was it to spot an aircraft? Could you recognize it at 500, 1000 meters?

It depends, uh…I could, I had pretty good eyes…and I could see pretty far. Of course that’s what you needed, especially in Afrika, where you could see the enemy before he saw you.

What were the conditions like in Afrika…the weather…did it affect you at all as a pilot?

No, I was uh…I was used to it; I was two years there. We had people who they had to send them to Russia because they couldn’t stand the heat and sun…both sides was the same.

The Trop F model had these odd attachment points for a “Sun Umbrella”. Did you actually use those things?

(Franz laughs) Umbrella? No, no. See, we had also a rifle in there…inside...in the airplane...two shotguns and one rifle. Three barrels, you know…in a box. The only thing was we never used it. But uh, as soon as one airplane belly-landed, the rifles disappeared!

(I laughed) I can imagine…someone taking it for their collection! If you were flying against a Mustang or a spitfire, was it easy to lose sight of them?

That depends, you know…I mean I had a lot of experience…I flew a lot of different airplanes… and I flew the Spitfire XII, V, and IX. I flew. In Afrika the Five, and in Germany the Nine. And this one out there at Vancouver Airport is a Fourteen, the last model…2000 hp, 5 bladed prop.

Yeah, I’ve never seen the 5 bladed one…the 3 and a 4 bladed one for sure...

The last ones. Big Griffon engines. With the engine of 2000hp, they couldn’t build a prop so big, so they made 5 blades.

What plane of the American or British did you fear the most, or show the biggest challenge for you?

…The P-51.

It was one of the fastest.

Yeah… It was one of the fastest and most manoeuvrable.

What was you favourite thing to do…in Afrika…or anywhere on the western front… when you weren’t flying? When you were on leave, what did you like to do as a hobby, what did you like to do for fun?

(Franz smiles quickly)…Play with the girls!

(I laugh)…well that’s a…that’s a good hobby! Actually, I heard a rumour that pilots used to fill their drop tanks with beer, is that true?

Oh yeah…sometimes we used to drink from it…sometimes for transport.

We share a laugh.

…I had a Messerschmitt 108 here in Vancouver…

Yeah, I think I saw a picture of it here.

Yeah…this one here. I had this one for 16 years. I sold it to an Australian.

Lost Apiarist

08-11-2010, 03:29 PM

Continued....

You had it painted in the Luftwaffe colours as well.

Yeah…exactly to the replica of the colours I had.

So, what was the 108 used for mainly?

To bring…uh, generals from the rear back to the front also…only for transport.

You have some beautiful pictures here…. Did you ever operate from the same fields as JG 51, JG 53...did you ever meet any of the pilots?

I have…after the war, not uh…during the war…during the war when they were shot down. But after the war I was…I met survived American Fighter aces and a few times invited…you know…up there is Douglas…(points to a picture)…the left one…with 2 wooden legs…and the middle one, was uh…was one of his…Squadron Commanders…

(Looking around he room I see a panel from Galland's F-4) Is this here an original?

This is a side panel from an airplane, you know.

This is an original?

Original, yeah…

Do you mind. If I take a look at it.

Oh yeah, it was taken from uh…the manufacture of the last year of the F... You see that little tag...see that little tag, that’s the manufacture of it. On the bottom left is an original Werk number plate. That was General Galland’s.

Wow! I have to take a picture of it before I go. You had to bail out before and use your parachute…

Yeah, six times…I belong to the Caterpillar Club. Six survived by parachute…it’s an international club.

What was it like the first time you used your parachute? You were obviously trained to use them…

No.

No? Really?

We were not trained, but, uh, when you use…when you HAVE to use them…then you use them - We didn’t give a shit about anything else.

(I start to laugh)

The first time my airplane was on fire…the motor, uh, flames were coming in, and had to get out fast. I still had my hands and my face burnt, you know…but uh…you get out fast.

You didn’t even think, you just pushed the canopy and jumped?

No, you just take…the canopy takes off. You just pull a lever and the canopy takes off…And you threw the…the belts from the airplane because you were tied down… and you just take ‘em off…take the stick… and fly and push it down… if you can still use it, because sometimes you cannot, uh…control the airplane anymore, no. Half a wing missing or both…I jumped six times I jumped...

Did you ever get used to it?

No…I never could get used to it.

When you did lose an airplane either due to a bad landing or enemy fire, how did you get a new one assigned to you when you got back to your airbase? Did you automatically get a new one?

There was always something there, some other airplane there. The Jagdgeschwader Squadron Commander always had 2 airplanes as well...

When new pilots came in…younger pilots….

They had to bring their own airplane with them.

Okay…so when a new models came out…because you had so many missions did you get priority over the newer pilots? Did you get the aircraft first then the younger pilots?

No, we didn’t do that. We didn’t get priority. We didn’t do it. Whoever came in last with the latest model, that’s his airplane, you see. Whoever it was a Corporal or, uh…it was a General it doesn’t matter who it was. We had other pilots, Corporal, Private with us you know, like…uh… the squadron got bigger and in rough shape…with a bunch of youngsters you know, all kinds of ‘em…Lieutenants, and…Sergeants. (Franz points to another photo) These guys together shot down within about 15 minutes, uh…24 B-24’s.

Wow, in 15 minutes! Did you always have the same wingman?

Uh, usually, yes…I kept ‘em. We usually flew with 4 people…another 3. Schwarm we’d call it….”Swarm”…it was a…a wingman and then again a leader and this also a wingman.

And you usually kept the same wingman.

Yeah…as long as he was there...

If your aircraft was being repaired, would you borrow someone else’s? I know you said there was always an extra one...

Yeah, if you wanted you could borrow…but let them fly their own airplane. For repairs…change the whole motor was in-fact four-hour job. And, uh, if you had holes in it, you’d just put tape on it to cover the holes. As long as nothing was…destroyed inside, y’know controls and so on…there they had special tools…

Did you fly with Edu Neumann?

Edu Neumann…that was my Gruppe Commander in Afrika... I met him 3 years ago…and he’s in poor shape now...getting old…91 years old…

Do you guys meet when you can…other pilots?

Yeah…I meet some of them…we are not of many left for JG27. We had a…a meeting and they took 3 different units together because there wasn’t too many pilots left…. I am one of the oldest ones - If I’m not the oldest one...except Neumann.

What was he like?

I did not fly with him… he didn’t do much flying though.

What about Gunter Rödel…

Yeah that’s Rödel there. (Franz points to a picture of a black and white officer posing on a desk with a phone on his ear)

Oh here on the left, the one with the phone?

Yeah. He was my, uh…firsts Squadron Commander...and I made my first missions I flew with him.

Did you learn quite a bit from him?

Oh yeah…he was good…

Out of all the pilots you have flown with was there one who made a really good lasting impression on you?

Uh, well…this depends...someone a year or so…I had a Sergeant...and he had a Ritterkreuz. And he, uh…he got shot down…uh…in Germany…over Germany. He had a Cross of Knights and then he got after he was killed...he got the one with oak leaves. He was only non-com (NCO) that had this got one.

What was his name?

Oh…damn…I’m terrible with names…my wife might know the name, she would know his name…

Did you as pilots always have regular training courses on escape and evasion, survival…

Yeah, we had them, but no one gave a shit. You lost everyday you lost a few pilots…everyday…and so…we are sitting there every night writing to a wife or to parents, you know…you’d have half a bottle of cognac besides you…because that’s the only way you could do it, you know. We’d have to write about what a “hero” he was, and so…late in the afternoon there’d be about 6…multiply by…by 2…but, uh…we were sitting out of the evening with all the other men, the liquor and the beer…and we were sitting in the office and writing…and we had to write it by hand…We couldn’t get the…the Master Sergeant to write the letters, no…YOU had to write the letters.

With new pilots…obviously you have better experience with the aircraft like the F and the G…did the new pilots have problems?

You’d put them in the middle…for the first few flights, you know…so they know what is going on. The…the new pilots they hardly could fly the 109…they had seventy or eighty hours of flying time. They had of heck of a time learning to fly the airplane…take off and land, you know. As I said, every pilot came with a plane. They came form the school and then they went to uh…to the manufacture, or someplace where they had the airplanes, and they would come with them…especially in Afrika.

In Afrika, was the tropical filter used just for takeoff?

Yes, for takeoff and landing you close it…because of the sand, you know…after you go about a couple of thousand feet high…and then you open it…

How many times were you out per day flying missions?

Sometimes three a day, three times, yeah…especially in Afrika. And we didn’t waste any time because if the bombers.

How long did it take for fatigue to hit you, tiredness, wanting to take a break?

I don’t know, I don’t remember…we had no time for fatigue.

Out of all the planes you’ve flown in your whole life, including like your 108…what was you favourite plane, from the day you started flying?

My favourite plane?…I had a Heinkel 70 …have you heard of it?

Yeah, it’s big plane.

It was like…looked like a Spitfire…only bigger, it was 6 seater. One pilot in the front, and in the middle down there, the passengers. It was a kind of a…how do you say it…a commuter plane…you bring a pilot from some, uh...airport to the main area…and I had it for…oh, I don’t know how long. I teached my students with it…I visited my girlfriends with it…on the weekend I could fly anywhere I wanted…

So that was your favourite?

Yeah! It was fast, you know. At the time it was the fastest airplane there was.

What year was this?

Uh…43 or 44…No, 33 or 34

There was a gunsite for a Me262 (EZ42)…my friend Roger waned me to ask you about it…

Yeah…on the 262 it adjusted itself for the speed and acceleration, so…it was a Revi too, for all aircraft types it was the Revis…but o the 262 you saw it in the windshield…the reflection.

Did you ever have any dogfights or battles, where you didn’t think you would make it back home, or uninjured?

Oh yeah, it happened quite often, but you don’t even think of it. We…we always uh…in the, the home defence we were always under...under...had less than the other side.

There were lots of American fighters, Germany had lots of fuel shortages and…

I can quite remember a night in ’43 in Afrika we flew over the Junkers 52’s transport planes with fuel and ammunition…and as we came over there, I had 6 airplanes with me…6 fighter planes as escort. We came over there, and the sky looked like a swarm of bees!…P-51s, you know… and uh…uh…Spitfires. Of course we were always short. I always made it home…but not quite…

Did the transport planes make it?

…no…

…Did you ever, just for fun, did you ever fly your plane without permission?

Oh yeah…we had also, uh…aerobatic planes, you know, little biplanes, and we went up and cut loose and just have yourself fun. We had those cloud, those… pillow clouds, and we’d fly around them. Looked like Blanket against the wall, you know.

What were your favourite memories?

I…I don’t know…I…one is I didn’t shoot this guy down… this guy down this B-17…Charlie Brown, I let him get away…I was talking yesterday with him. He might come here to our airshow. They want to make a film down there, I don’t want to. I just want to have my quiet peace, you know…that’s all.

Now…I’ve read the story…(Franz’s cat walks over, meows). If you downed one more plane, you could be nominated for a Knights Cross. It was pretty much illegal not to shoot an enemy aircraft down was it not?

Yeah, more or less. I didn’t do my job, I should have shot him down. If I wouldn’t have not seen a person I would have shot him down. I came from a…I was flying above, and uh...I figured out how to finish him off…I’d say I’d do it the normal way from the rear. And I came from the rear…and I was waited…waiting and gave the tail gunner a chance to lift the guns…the guns were hanging down, you know. And he never lifted the guns. And I came closer and closer…and at about 20 feet…and I saw him lying in there in his blood…so I couldn’t shoot. I flew up…next to his right side...and uh… the plane was bad, you know…much damage. I was surprised it flew even…I tried to get him to land…in Switzerland…because of the damage, I never saw so much… next to him, I flew for many minutes…until he got to the sea…and then I flew home…

Why did you stay with him for so long?

…Because I didn’t want anyone else to get him…

Wow…

Yeah…and it took him forty years to find me. In out Jagr magazine…we have this uh…this pilot magazine…(Franz pulls out a copy of a pilots magazine). He had an ad and…as looking for the pilot who let him go…now we meet every year. Charlie and I meet every year now. Right now I cannot fly I have an asthma you know…so I am not allowed to get insurance…because of the stupid air and air-conditioning in the airplane...it’s dangerous… you know…not too long ago a woman died in an airplane because of it.

So, when you came back from the B-17, were you scared at all, that someone might find out that you didn’t -

- I didn’t tell anybody. No definitely not… I couldn’t tell anyone…I couldn’t…I’d be court-martialled. I shot, on the same day I shot two B –17’s down, you know.

Lost Apiarist

08-11-2010, 03:38 PM

Continued...

Was it was it easy to keep formation in the group?

Oh yeah…yeah, you get used to it.

The armour glass was first on the outside of the aircraft, and then they moved it to the inside for the G model. Is that correct?

Yeah…

It was about 2-3 inches thick…even at that thickness, were there times when it didn’t help?

My windshield saved me…I have a hole…from the tail gunner of a B-17...(Franz points to a dent in his head). Through the thick glass in the windshield.

It went right through the windshield?

Yes, it had exact enough power to stick.

When you bailed out, you’d just pull the lever…did you ever have any problems getting out?

Yeah, on the right hand, you had a lever on there…as soon as you pull the lever…the air took off, uh…took the canopy away…

Did it ever get stuck?

No…- oh yeah, once…it was shot in there once by a bullet, it was sitting in there so I couldn’t get it…but you get strong!

Did you choose the camouflage yourself…your own emblem?

Oh yeah, you could put your girlfriends name on…like this one here…that’s my first wife’s name on here (points to a picture of a G-6). But, uh…sometimes you’d change the name so often (Franz smiles)…you’d go to a new airport and have a new girlfriend…and then you would have to put on a new one…

Where did you meet your first wife?

Yeah, I met her…the last time I saw her was 14 years ago. And I knew her parents very well. And I had a girlfriend at that time…and she was coming over…and I was seeing her parents…and then I was there in Afrika, and it was under pressure again…when we were arriving (Canada) I chose, you know…asked her to come over here…she was then twenty-five years old, twenty-four…and we were up in the Queen Charlotte Islands, and we were there for 5 ½ years...And we loved EVERY minute if it. After a year she was so home sick…so then, “you go home”…because everybody begged that she wouldn’t come back (Canada), you know…but after 8 weeks she was back again. And we remained for 47 years.

Wow…all these pictures that are in here, do you paint these?

No, nothing. Somebody else did them for me. This one of a 262, was an artist from the air force in Port, ah…in Portland. This one here, and the top one. He is from Kamloops. The other one is a famous painting…the one in the middle there…is worth about $2000.00 now…signed by Galland.

You have a beautiful room here…there just so much history here.

…There is a picture here…of General Galland in this room here…the little one. Galland was…one of my best friends I ever had. Oh yeah…he came over here, 4 times he was here. I went hunting with him and he got a lot of the moose. In Germany there is no moose, you know. And he shot a good one…a big one!! We went up to the North in a cabin there…and we went and flew around in a Beaver and showed us where…and he shot a REAL big one! He was happy with it.

(Cat jumps on my leg)

Oh get down!

(Franz was talking to the cat by the way J) Do you want me to put her down?

Yeah just on the floor there…

You weren’t in the 262 for very long were you? How may missions?

I had the 262 for over half a year…you know they build ‘em… one down in America.

Yeah! They flew one few months ago!

They got it up…I was there. If the pilot would have done what I told him…he wouldn’t have grounded it...

They wrecked the landing gear didn’t they?

Yeah, the undercarriage collapsed…

What did he do wrong?

What we always did…when we came in for a landing, and we were high yet, we sideslipped so the undercarriage would really lock.

And he didn’t?

It was common that it did that, you know…automatically. We had the same problem. Thing is, if we didn’t get the wheels even, you know, because the airplane exploded right there. Because on the front there was a little gas engine on each side, you know… and the gas tank there, and as soon as it hit the ground…something happened to set the tank off.

The engines over heat a lot?

Yeah, you had to be careful because, don’t forget the engine was a 28 hr. engine…if you made 20 hours you were a hero, you know.

The whole engine was replaced after?

Yeah, replaced…and very fast. But…we were under- powered too…they now in the US had 50% more horsepower then we did, you know…and it’s a 10,000 hr. engine. That’s the problem piloting it… I’ll have to phone ‘em….

I know they were finishing a 2-seater…

Yeah, that was a 2-seater…the second one is a…for the Messerschmitt Foundation…and it’s almost finished. They built 5 of them.

I think one is going to Arizona…

Yeah, some uh…judge bought it.

Very expensive…

…Two million dollars.

So when you rocked the plane side to side to lock the landing gear, did you have to do that for any other plane?

No, no…only on the 262.

It had 4 cannons in the front…

Yeah…four, three centimetre cannons…all in the front there…

How was that?

We would, uh…start normally shoot head on with the 262…but after, we didn’t do it. Well, you’d shoot the wing off a B-17…just like nothing.

I was reading that pilots specifically had a fairly large camaraderie and respect for each other…even against an enemy. Was reading an article on the Finnish Ace “Illu" Juutilanen, and whenever he could, he would sometime fly over the aircraft he shot down to look to make sure the pilot was okay.

In combat you count them…like when I shot a B-17 down…and I…you had a tendency of counting the parachutes, you know…how many parachutes came out, you know…or…when she… she exploded…you felt sorry, you know…same when if you shot a fighter down…and…and most of the time they…could jump…unless you killed him

(There was pause from both of us at this point. It felt like it lasted a couple of minutes). Did you normally shoot a specific area of the plane, like the wing root?

You’d shoot anywhere you can, because you’re position was not always good. You didn’t just shoot at the wing…you shot everything.

With all these tail gunners shooting at you, were you mainly diving, then coming back around, or would you go from behind?

That was…you can’t really say that…because you’d do it all automatically. In the first place you had to be a good airplane pilot…Most of the time we don’t remember what we did…

Did you choose the camouflage yourself…your own emblem?

Oh yeah, you could put your girlfriends name on…like this one here…that’s my first wife’s name on here (points to a picture of a G-6). But, uh…sometimes you’d change the name so often (Franz smiles)…you’d go to a new airport and have a new girlfriend…and then you would have to put on a new one…

Where did you meet your first wife?

Yeah, I met her…the last time I saw her was 14 years ago. And I knew her parents very well. And I had a girlfriend at that time…and she was coming over…and I was seeing her parents…and then I was there in Afrika, and it was under pressure again…when we were arriving (Canada) I chose, you know…asked her to come over here…she was then twenty-five years old, twenty-four…and we were up in the Queen Charlotte Islands, and we were there for 5 ½ years...And we loved EVERY minute if it. After a year she was so home sick…so then, “you go home”…because everybody begged that she wouldn’t come back (Canada), you know…but after 8 weeks she was back again. And we remained for 47 years.

Wow…all these pictures that are in here, do you paint these?

No, nothing. Somebody else did them for me. This one of a 262, was an artist from the air force in Port, ah…in Portland. This one here, and the top one. He is from Kamloops. The other one is a famous painting…the one in the middle there…is worth about $2000.00 now…signed by Galland.

You have a beautiful room here…there just so much history here.

…There is a picture here…of General Galland in this room here…the little one. Galland was…one of my best friends I ever had. Oh yeah…he came over here, 4 times he was here. I went hunting with him and he got a lot of the moose. In Germany there is no moose, you know. And he shot a good one…a big one!! We went up to the North in a cabin there…and we went and flew around in a Beaver and showed us where…and he shot a REAL big one! He was happy with it.

I was reading that pilots specifically had a fairly large camaraderie and respect for each other…even against an enemy. Was reading an article on the Finnish Ace “Illu" Juutilanen, and whenever he could, he would sometime fly over the aircraft he shot down to look to make sure the pilot was okay.

In combat you count them…like when I shot a B-17 down…and I…you had a tendency of counting the parachutes, you know…how many parachutes came out, you know…or…when she… she exploded…you felt sorry, you know…same when if you shot a fighter down…and…and most of the time they…could jump…unless you killed him

(There was pause from both of us at this point. It felt like it lasted a couple of minutes). Did you normally shoot a specific area of the plane, like the wing root?

You’d shoot anywhere you can, because you’re position was not always good. You didn’t just shoot at the wing…you shot everything.

With all these tail gunners shooting at you, were you mainly diving, then coming back around, or would you go from behind?

That was…you can’t really say that…because you’d do it all automatically. In the first place you had to be a good airplane pilot…Most of the time we don’t remember what we did…

So it was all instinct?

Yeah…but...there was too much, uh… combat. You’d combat for half and hour and you’re worn out…up and down…and…

How did the oxygen regulator work when you were fighting at higher altitudes?

You didn’t do anything. You’d put the mask on, and that’s it...that’s all. Yes, you could see…from the meter, how you…when you breathe in.

I brought with me an Oxygen Regulator from a Messerschmitt, because I had some questions about it

Wow, is that German?

Yeah…it’s from a Messerschmitt. (Franz held the Oxygen Regulator and examined it for a couple of minutes).

Oh yeah…if you needed more oxygen, you’d push this button…you’d did the same thing when you uh…are out with your girlfriend…(Franz smiles)…you jump in the airplane for 5 min. and with the heavy breathing…and you’d need the oxygen...

(We share a laugh) The Messerschmitt was a very small, cramped cockpit.

Uhhh, well… we didn’t need a shoehorn to get in, but pretty close. But it was comfortable when we were sitting. Everything is right there. This one had a big uh…cabin (pointing to a pic of a 262)…was also comfortable…it was bigger, we had to get used to it…there was lots of room in there.

Did you ever have to bail out of a 262?

No...I flew home a few times with one engine, you know…but I never bailed out.

You flew home on one engine? That must have been very hard to control?

No… you can change the rudder, uh…the rudder tilt, and the airplane flew still straight, you know…no it wasn’t a problem.

Did you every use flaps only for take off and landing, or did you use them during combat as well for tighter turns?

Not in combat, no…no, never…only for take-off and landing.

How about trim?

Mmm…yeah, perhaps …well…sometimes, yeah… The 262 there was pretty hard on…on pressures… on stick pressure. The control pressure was very high…

It was a bigger control stick, no?

Yeah, yeah…a real long one.

Was that just so you had more movement?

No, you didn’t do much movement, you just had to move the stick a little bit, that’s all.

Were there any tactics that you were trained in using that you thought didn’t work?

…yeah…ahhh, I mean, it didn’t matter…I have 487 combat missions, you know…that’s a lot. You don’t know which one was which. It’s not like the Americans that make thirty missions, and then they go home. As long as you could climb in the airplane, you flew…the reason why we lost so many of the old-timers, you know…they got...worn out and had a very low chance of surviving… (Franz began browsing though the copy of Prien and Rodeike’s I brought with me) I tried to get this book, you know…where did you buy it?

Umm…this one I ordered form the US.

Yeah, it’s a nice book

…It’s called “The Pictorial History of the Me109 F-K series. I got it only about 1 month ago, and it’s very, very good.

(Franz looks through the pictures) Yeah, it’s a German translation…it’s very good…I have some 109 books, you know…(Franz pulls out a few smaller 109 books he has on his massive bookcase)

There’s actually 2 pictures of your plane in this one. (I point out the 2 pics on pg. 128. Franz continues to study the photos). Did you ever have to belly land?

11 times I had to…

In the handbook/flight manual, it says to never release the landing gear…why is that?

You somersault…if there were fairly fair sized fields, you know…then it was never a problem…especially as the glider planes I flew…they were all the same…it was a little faster…

How many planes did you go through?

About 18 maybe...

You said you flew the K-4?

Yeah…I didn’t like it very much because the tail-wheel was retractable, and most of the time I couldn’t get it out anymore… then…you know, we would just not use it…

Did you find the tail wheel caused a lot of problems when it was down though, with wind resistance?

Oh yeah…The first, uh…262’ s we had, had a tail wheel…and when they took off, after you hit a certain speed… shot on the breaks a little bit, and the tail came up, you know.

Do you mind if I take some pictures of your place here? (Of course is where my digital camera decides to mess up on me. Luckily I had a regular camera in the car, but only enough for 4 pictures I later realized).

No, go ahead…

How did you get this, this panel here?

I had it given to me…by Galland…

What do you do in your spare time now?

Now? Oh, I have no spare time…right now I built my bench in my shop out there…I was given a big model of the Go229, I don’t know which one, but you know this airplane? (Franz shows me a picture of the Go229 from one of his many aircraft books) This…omni wing. I flew it only as a glider plane…and one of my pilots, he was testing it…and he killed himself…he was an old fighter pilot too, and he flew all those wingless planes of this sort…

Wow…

…What was left over from this airplane the American’s took with them. At the end of the war there was…there just building a few yet, and…the Americans took them with them…the B-2 was built after this one here…There’s a new one coming out now, a space thing…the Lufthansa designed one…and ah, the Lufthansa…built and designed this airplane which is 7 days around the world with one gas…I met this girl who was flying it…

bobbysocks

08-11-2010, 06:53 PM

a cool story of a b 17 crash ..

On the morning of November 15, 1944 a B-17G bomber (AAF Serial Number 42-97728), nicknamed ‘NONE’ of the 301st bomb group, 352nd squadron) crashed over the Austrian Alps. The aircraft and crew of 10 American airmen were returning to Lucera, Italy, following a successful bombing mission of Linz Tank Works, Austria.

http://www.kleinsoelk.at/flugzeugabsturz_eng.html

Rambo Rich 360

08-11-2010, 07:22 PM

This is good stuff! Thanks again for posting all this, it is greatly appreciated. Makes for a pretty awesome read. :-)

bobbysocks

08-15-2010, 04:39 PM

IT WAS A FORTRESS COMING HOME
They Could Hear It Before They Could See it
By Allen Ostrom

They could hear it before they could see it!

Not all that unusual in those days as the personnel at Station 131 gathered around the tower and scattered hardstands to await the return of the B-17’s sent out earlier that morning.

First comes the far off rumble and drone of the Cyclones. Then a spec on the East Anglia horizon. Soon a small cluster indicating the lead squadron. Finally, the group.

Then the counting. 1-2-3-4-5…..

But that would have been normal. Today was different! It was too early for the group to return.

“They’re 20 minutes early. Can’t be the 398th.”

They could hear it before they could see it! Something was coming home. But what?

All eyes turned toward the northeast, aligning with the main runway, each ground guy and stood-down airman straining to make out this “wail of a Banshee,” as one called it.

Not like a single B-17 with its characteristic deep roar of the engines blended with four thrashing propellers. This was a howl! Like a powerful wind blowing into a huge whistle.

Then it came into view. It WAS a B-17!

Low and pointing her nose at the 6,000 foot runway, it appeared for all the world to be crawling toward the earth, screaming in protest.

No need for the red flares. All who saw this Fort knew there was death aboard.

“Look at that nose!” they said as all eyes stared in amazement as this single, shattered remnant of a once beautiful airplane glided in for an unrealistic “hot” landing. She took all the runway as the “Banshee” noise finally abated, and came to an inglorious stop in the mud just beyond the concrete runway.

Men and machines raced to the now silent and lonely aircraft. The ambulance and medical staff were there first. The fire truck….ground and air personnel….jeeps, truck, bikes…..

Out came one of the crew members from the waist door, then another. Strangely quiet. The scene was almost weird. Men stood by as if in shock, not knowing whether to sing or cry.

Either would have been acceptable.

The medics quietly made their way to the nose by way of the waist door as the remainder of the crew began exiting. And to answer the obvious question, “what happened?”

“What happened?” was easy to see. The nose was a scene of utter destruction. It was as though some giant aerial can opener had peeled the nose like an orange, relocating shreads of metal, plexiglass, wires and tubes on the cockpit windshield and even up to the top turret. The left cheek gun hung limp, like a broken arm.

One man pointed to the crease in chin turret. No mistaking that mark! A German 88 anti-aircraft shell had exploded in the lap of the togglier.

This would be George Abbott of Mt. Labanon, PA. He had been a waist gunner before training to take over the bombardier’s role.

Still in the cockpit, physically and emotionally exhausted, were pilot Larry deLancey and co-pilot Phil Stahlman.

Navigator Ray LeDoux finally tapped deLancey on the shoulder and suggested they get out. Engineer turret gunner Ben Ruckel already had made his way to the waist was exiting along with radio operator Wendell Reed, ball turret gunner Al Albro, waist gunner Russell Lachman and tail gunner Herbert Guild.

Stahlman was flying his last scheduled mission as a replacement for regular co-pilot, Grady Cumbie. The latter had been hospitalized the day before with an ear problem. Lachman was also a “sub,” filling in for Abbott in the waist.

DeLancey made it as far as the end of the runway, where he sat down with knees drawn up, arms crossed and head down. The ordeal was over, and now the drama was beginning a mental re-play.

Then a strange scene took place.

Group CO Col. Frank P. Hunter had arrived after viewing the landing from the tower and was about to approach deLancey. He was physically restrained by flight surgeon Dr. Robert Sweet.

“Colonel, that young man doesn’t want to talk now. When he is ready you can talk to him, but for now leave him alone.”

Sweet handed pills out to each crew member and told them to go to their huts and sleep.

No dramatics, no cameras, no interviews. The crew would depart the next day for “flak leave” to shake off the stress. And then be expected back early in November. (Just in time to resume “normal” activities on a mission to Merseburg!)

Mission No. 98 from Nuthampstead had begun at 0400 that morning of October 15, 1944. It would be Cologne (again), led by CA pilots Robert Templeman of the 602nd, Frank Schofield of the 601st and Charles Khourie of the 603rd.

Tragedy and death appeared quickly and early that day. Templeman and pilot Bill Scott got the 602nd off at the scheduled 0630 hour, but at approximately 0645 Khouri and pilot Bill Meyran and their entire crew crashed on takeoff in the town of Anstey. All were killed. Schofield and Harold Stallcup followed successfully with the 601st, with deLancey flying on their left wing in the lead element.

The ride to the target was routine, until the flak started becoming “unroutinely” accurate.

“We were going through heavy flak on the bomb run,” remembered deLancey.

“I felt the plane begin to lift as the bombs were dropped, then all of a sudden we were rocked by a violent explosion. My first thought – ‘a bomb exploded in the bomb bay’ – was immediately discarded as the top of the nose section peeled back over the cockpit blocking the forward view.”

“It seemed like the whole world exploded in front of us,” added Stahlman. “The instrument panel all but disintegrated and layers of quilted batting exploded in a million pieces. It was like a momentary snowstorm in the cockpit.”

It had been a direct hit in the nose. Killed instantly was the togglier, Abbott. Navigator LeDoux, only three feet behind Abbott, was knocked unconscious for a moment, but was miraculously was alive.

Although stunned and bleeding, LeDoux made his way to the cockpit to find the two pilots struggling to maintain control of an airplane that by all rights should have been in its death plunge. LeDoux said there was nothing anyone could do for Abbott, while Ruckel opened the door to the bomb bay and signaled to the four crewman in the radio room that all was OK – for the time being.

The blast had torn away the top and much of the sides of the nose. Depositing enough of the metal on the windshield to make it difficult for either of the pilots to see.

“The instrument panel was torn loose and all the flight instruments were inoperative with the exception of the magnetic compass mounted in the panel above the windshield. And its accuracy was questionable. The radio and intercom were gone, the oxygen lines broken, and there was a ruptured hydraulic line under my rudder pedals,” said deLancey.

All this complicated by the sub-zero temperature at 27,000 feet blasting into the cockpit.

“It was apparent that the damage was severe enough that we could not continue to fly in formation or at high altitude. My first concern was to avoid the other aircraft in the formation, and to get clear of the other planes in case we had to bail out. We eased out of formation, and at the same time removed our oxygen masks as they were collapsing on our faces as the tanks were empty.”

At this point the formation continued on its prescribed course for home – a long, slow turn southeast of Cologne and finally westward.

DeLancey and Stahlman turned left, descending rapidly and hoping, they were heading west. (And also, not into the gun sights of German fighters.) Without maps and navigation aids, they had difficulty getting a fix. By this time they were down to 2,000 feet.

“We finally agreed that we were over Belgium and were flying in a southwesterly direction,” said the pilot.

“About this time a pair of P-51’s showed up and flew a loose formation on us across Belgium. I often wondered what they thought as they looked at the mess up front.”

“We hit the coast right along the Belgium-Holland border, a bit farther north than we had estimated. Ray said we were just south of Walcheren Island.”

Still in an area of ground fighting, the plane received some small arms fire. This gesture was returned in kind by Albro, shooting from one of the waist guns.

“We might have tried for one of the airfields in France, but having no maps this also was questionable. Besides, the controls and engines seemed to be OK, so I made the decision to try for home.”

“Once over England, LeDoux soon picked up landmarks and gave me course corrections taking us directly to Nuthampstead. It was just a great bit of navigation. Ray just stood there on the flight deck and gave us the headings from memory.”

Nearing the field, Stahlman let the landing gear down. That was an assurance. But a check of the hydraulic pump sent another spray of oil to the cockpit floor. Probably no brakes!

Nevertheless, a flare from Ruckel’s pistol had to announce the “ready or not” landing. No “downwind leg” and “final approach” this time. Straight in!

“The landing was strictly by guess and feel,” said DeLancey. “Without instruments, I suspect I came in a little hot. Also, I had to lean to the left to see straight ahead. The landing was satisfactory, and I had sufficient braking to slow the plane down some. However, as I neared the taxiway, I could feel the brakes getting ‘soft’. I felt that losing control and blocking the taxiway would cause more problems than leaving the plane at the end of the runway.”

That consideration was for the rest of the group. Soon three squadrons of B-17’s would be returning, and they didn’t need a derelict airplane blocking the way to their respective hardstands.

Stahlman, supremely thankful that his career with the 398th had come to an end, soon returned home and in due course became a captain with Eastern Airlines. Retired in 1984, Stahlman said his final Eastern flight “was a bit more routine” than the one 40 years before.

DeLancey and LeDoux received decorations on December 11, 1944 for their parts in the October 15 drama. DeLancey was awarded the Silver Star for his “miraculous feat of flying skill and ability” on behalf of General Doolittle, CO of the Eighth Air Force. LeDoux for his “extraordinary navigation skill”, received the Distinguished Flying Cross.

The following deLancey 1944 article was transcribed from the 398th BG Historical Microfilm. Note: due to wartime security, Nuthampstead is not mentioned, and the route deLancey flew home is referred to in general terms.

TO: STARS AND STRIPES
FOR GENERAL RELEASE

AN EIGHTH AIR FORCE BOMBER STATION, ENGLAND - After literally losing the nose of his B-17 Flying Fortress as the result of a direct hit by flak over Cologne, Germany on October 15, 1944, 1st Lt. Lawrence M. deLancey, 25, of Corvallis, Oregon returned to England and landed the crew safely at his home base. Each man walked away from the plane except the togglier, Staff Sergeant George E. Abbott, Mt. Lebanon, Pennsylvania, who was killed instantly when the flak struck.

It was only the combined skill and teamwork of Lt. deLancey and 2nd Lt. Raymond J. LeDoux, of Mt. Angel, Oregon, navigator, that enabled the plane and crew to return safely.

“Just after we dropped our bombs and started to turn away from the target”, Lt. deLancey explained, “a flak burst hit directly in the nose and blew practically the entire nose section to threads. Part of the nose peeled back and obstructed my vision and that of my co-pilot, 1st Lt. Phillip H. Stahlman of Shippenville, Pennsylvania. What little there was left in front of me looked like a scrap heap. The wind was rushing through. Our feet were exposed to the open air at nearly 30,000 feet above the ground the temperature was unbearable.

“There we were in a heavily defended flak area with no nose, and practically no instruments. The instrument panel was bent toward me as the result of the impact. My altimeter and magnetic compass were about the only instruments still operating and I couldn’t depend on their accuracy too well. Naturally I headed for home immediately. The hit which had killed S/Sgt. Abbott also knocked Lt. LeDoux back in the catwalk (just below where I was sitting). Our oxygen system also was out so I descended to a safe altitude.

“Lt. LeDoux who had lost all his instruments and maps in the nose did a superb piece of navigating to even find England.”

During the route home flak again was encountered but due to evasive action Lt. deLancey was able to return to friendly territory. Lt. LeDoux navigated the ship directly to his home field.

Although the plane was off balance without any nose section, without any brakes (there was no hydraulic pressure left), and with obstructed vision, Lt. deLancey made a beautiful landing to the complete amazement of all personnel at this field who still are wondering how the feat was accomplished.

The other members of the crew include:

Technical Sergeant Benjamin H. Ruckel, Roscoe, California, engineer top turret gunner;
Technical Sergeant Wendell A. Reed, Shelby, Michigan, radio operator gunner;
Technical Sergeant Russell A. Lachman, Rockport, Mass., waist gunner;
Staff Sergeant Albert Albro, Antioch, California, ball turret gunner and
Staff Sergeant Herbert D. Guild, Bronx, New York, tail gunner.

bobbysocks

08-16-2010, 08:56 PM

you always wonder what its like to fly them for real...here a guy got to check out a rata and tells all about it.

Aircraft from the Spanish Civil War 1930’s have always had a special appeal to me. I was particularly intrigued by tales of violent, dangerous close-in dog-fights between early 109’s, Fiat CR32s and the Polikarpov series fighters, Ratas, Chatos and Chaikas.

Of course the pre-war types are impossibly rare. I remember talking with Robs Lamplough soon after one of his warbirds recovery coup’s of the late 1970’s and early 80’s and him telling me about a Rata which had reputedly been belly landed on a remote hillside in Spain and which was still lying there in dilapidated but complete condition. I felt almost desperate with excitement to attempt to retrieve and rebuild this aircraft.

Nearly fifteen reasonably maturing years later, how incredible then to arrive at a high, dusty, mountainous airfield to see a flight of Ratas sitting outside, cockpit doors opened and straps set as if they were ready to take off for one last duel. This was the remarkable and very exciting sight greeting my father and me when we arrived once more at Tim Wallis’ Alpine Fighter Collection in Wanaka, New Zealand.

Tim and his chief engineer, Ray Mulqueen, encountered a great deal of difficulty in fulfilling Tim’s objective in rebuilding six original Ratas and three Chaikas (the gull wing biplane comrade to the Rata) in Russia. But finally after five years of work, here at last were the first half of his Russian squadron.

The Rata looks extremely racy. It is very small and overpowered for its time. Russian pilots more used to biplanes, looked with horror at the tiny wings and lack of flaps (in the later variants). Modern pilots also look at the same features with raised eyebrows and a certain amount of trepidation. These features plus the almost full span ailerons ("must roll like hell"), lack of trimmers, an undercarriage retraction system looking like a winch from a boat, an appalling view forward in a three point attitude, plus not an English caption in sight, all promised a fairly exciting ride ahead.

As you approach the aeroplane and begin a walk round, you immediately notice the ply/beech wooden fuselage which is very well finished and extremely strong. You also notice with some surprise, the fabric covered metal construction of the wings and again the huge ailerons (most Russian aeroplanes roll very well).

Other unusual features are the very delicate looking undercarriage complete with wire and cables for retraction leading up in to the guts of the aeroplane, numerous exhaust stubs emanating all around the cowling, big two bladed propeller with little ground clearance to absorb all the power from the ASh 62 IR 1,000 horsepower motor, cowl flaps are in the front of the cowlings (good for Russia but not needed in New Zealand in early summer). The cockpit is protected by a tiny windscreen and small side doors similar to the Spitfire but on both sides of the fuselage and of course, no canopy.

Climbing on board, the blended wood fuselage is very smooth and you need care to mount the aeroplane in a dignified manner. Once sat down, you are aware that the ground angle is extreme and that the view forwards is very poor. In comparison the visibility over the nose in a Spitfire or a P-51 is fantastic. In fact, in the Rata it is worse than the Me109. The next problem is that if you choose to sit high in order to see out, the small curved cockpit doors are so tight when you close them that you now almost have to sit sideways to fit in! In conclusion, you simply end up sitting low! Having said that, there is a quaint translated note from the Russian test pilot which states "do not be shy or embarrassed to open the side doors in flight prior to landings to help you see out".

Once finally settled in the aeroplane and looking around left to right you see in order, an emergency fuel shut-off cock, "wobble pump", throttle and mixture controls together both working in the conventional sense and a little further forward the carb heat and prop lever co-located.

The main instrument panel is well appointed with all the standard instruments (although there is no artificial horizon). As with most Russian aeroplanes, there are a bank of switches used to ’arm’ systems and to provide electrical power to them (such as fire system, turn and slip indicator, engine instruments etc.). In addition starter energiser and engage switches (on a fly wheel system a bit like the T6), plus primer, gear lights, fuel gauge and an odd pull push handle to make it read. Other peculiarities to Westerners include ASI in km/h, plus boost/manifold pressure in mm of mercury giving 0 boost at 760mm. The pilot’s straps are superb and really keep you firmly glued to the seat.

Starting the Rata is simple. Mixture on, throttle set, wobble a bit - get some fuel pressure, prime five or six shots, energise the fly wheel, noise builds to a high pitch - engage and mags on and she’ll fire. The noise from the multiple exhaust stacks is spectacular and very satisfying. In sympathy, white smoke coughs and belches randomly from the engine. The noise and vibration levels are very similar to the Yak 11. It’s good practice to warm up to 600 to 700 RPM for a minute and then gently increase to 1000 RPM.

The next parameters to look for are 120 degrees cylinder head temperature and 50 degrees in the oil, prior to checking the engine. Once the cylinder head and oil is increasing, you can start a gentle taxi - the brakes are not spectacularly good and taxying is best achieved by power, rudder and judicious amount of forward stick to turn. If you keep the stick back - the elevator grinds the tail wheel hard against the dirt and you will drive along in straight lines all day!

At the hold, with the temperatures and pressures in the green, you stand on the brakes and start to increase power, hoping to get 760mm and about 2000 / 2100 RPM. There is a good chance the brakes will start to slip beforehand - say at 1700 - 1800 RPM, so cycle the prop back and forth slowly once, twice and more quickly a third time. Check the mags - not less that 100 drop per side.

Next the simple pre take-off checks consist of Trim - N/A; Throttle Friction - tight; Mixture - rich; Pitch - full fine; Fuel contents, pressure, primer; Flaps - N/A; Gills - open; Oil cooler - open; Gyros - set; Instruments in the green; oxygen - N/A; Hood - N/A; Harness - tight and secure; Hydraulics - N/A (brakes holding?); Controls - full and free.

It’s time to go - the power can be applied quite aggressively and you can keep it coming to 820mm & 2250RPM. The increase in noise is fantastic and it is possible to lift the tail quickly to vaguely see where you’re going - you need to have the horizon cutting the 10.55 and 1.10 position on the forward cowling. There is very little tendency to swing and she runs pretty much straight as an arrow, although the rough Wanaka grass gives a harsh ride to the hard sprung oleos, the Rata and you!

If you have not figured it out before, it is now that you realise that excellent goggles are a must!! With a ground roll of about 400 yards and the smallest of rotations suddenly she’s airborne and with a quick glance down you see the speed very rapidly at 200 km/h which is both the best climb and gear up speed. The Russian test pilots recommend gear retraction not before 1000 metres!! This is rather conservative - but with good reason - getting the gear up is a bit of an epic.

Power back now to max continuous 2000 & 760mm and holding the nose up to contain the speed at 200 km/h. Holding it down low after take off and snappy gear retractions are not the Rata’s forte. There is warm buffeting air everywhere, but the aeroplane immediately feels right. With a positive rate of climb it is time to sort the gear out. Check the "brake spring" is set - check the handle lock is released (allows the retraction handle to rotate) select another handle for the "hoist" ratchet gear to the up position and then start to crank like mad!! 44 turns later you can see the wheels entering the belly of the aeroplane underneath you - suddenly the handle stiffens, a last turn or half turn and "hurrah" 2 red lights telling you the wheels are up.

By now we’re at 2000 feet and it is noticeably warmer in the cockpit. Power back to 1900 & 680 mm and the speed builds to 350-360km/h. Temperatures and pressures are good, with the oil temperature stable at 75 degrees and the cylinder head temperature at 180. How does she feel? We’re holding a slight push force on the stick (remember no elevator trim) - roll rate is excellent and very positive - about 100 -120 degrees per second. Pitch is also very effective and the Rata is delightful in aerobatics - although as speed increases in the dive, passing 400 km/h the push force on the stick reduces to 0 and then as 430 km/h is reached, a very slight pull force is required - something that needs a little care running in low level for the start of a display. The aeroplane accelerates very quickly in the dive and when seen from the ground, appears extremely fast. Stalling in manoeuvre gives plenty of warning with pronounced tail buffeting before she drops the left hand wing quite progressively and definitely not violently.

The aeroplane delights in reversing from a max. rate turn in one direction rapidly to the other. You can see that this is a superb close in dogfighter. The delightful handling characteristics, plus the open cockpit, vibrations and noise provide a very exciting ride. Rolling requires little rudder input to stay balanced. I have the feeling that you could snap roll the Rata deliberately very precisely. Vertical performance is excellent and with excess energy pulling up and unloading straight up in to the vertical produces spectacular performance.

Stalling clean and dirty, is an interesting experience - below 250 km/h you are holding a pull force which is slightly perturbing until you get used to it. She stalls slower clean than with the gear down! Stall is at about 135-140 km/h and again is very gentle power off with a gentle wing drop that stops immediately when back stick is released.

It is back in the circuit that the work load goes up again. You need to select the gear selector down, release the handle lock, grab hold of the gear crank handle very positively, select up slightly to release the up locks - then very carefully start to crank down. The handle will immediately start to try to run away and you must keep hold of it (it’s not that difficult) whilst the gear, aided by the airflow, comes down through the same 44 turns (only much easier than up).

As soon as the wheels break from the underside of the wings, the through draft of air up through the cockpit starts the same buffeting as before. Finally 2 greens and you are now down wind at 200 km/h, holding a pull force and starting to turn finals. I have to say that it is here that I least like the Rata - landing on Wanaka’s narrow grass, concentrates the mind and the problem is that if you three point the aeroplane - the view forwards is really terrible. It would be fine at Duxford or on a wide concrete strip - but otherwise I am sure you are better off wheel landing the Rata. Definitely not something I expected originally. Basically, you should fly a slightly power on "hot" approach speed bleeding through 180km/h to not less than 160 km/h on very short finals to touch for a tail down wheeler. This seems to cause fairly consistently reasonable landings and the landing roll out is still only 500 yards or so, even not using brake. I have to say that, after only 5 sorties, I’m not exactly the prophet when it comes to landing Ratas - it definitely needs a bit of practice.

How do they compare with other WW2 fighters? Well, I believe, very favourably with some of the other aeroplanes. I had just flown a Hurricane for the first time, a week before the Rata and sorry to Hurricane aficionados, but I was really surprised and disappointed in the aeroplane’s handling and performance (although very interesting and lovely to fly the type). I felt that you would be better off fighting in a Rata. At any rate I felt quickly far more comfortable in it. In air combat against early low powered 109’s, I would suspect that the two aircraft were very comparable. Later variants of the Messerschmitt would easily be able to dictate the fight against the Rata due to the 109’s superior speed and vertical performance.

Considering the Rata was in full squadron service by 1936 and was the first heavily armed, retractable gear, monoplane fighter in the world, it has many merits and surprisingly few vices. It is a real classic in its own right with a European connection and history beyond its combat on the Russian front. I would thoroughly recommend the aeroplane to anyone who would like to own a very reasonably priced exciting example of flying history.

I would like to thank Tim Wallis for letting me fly his Ratas and very much look forward to having a go in the Chaika.
Written by Mark Hanna.

bobbysocks

08-29-2010, 06:05 PM

great aviation quotes about combat:

Good flying never killed [an enemy] yet.

— Major Edward 'Mick' Mannock, RAF, ranking British Empire fighter ace of W.W. I. 61 victories.

Once committed to an attack, fly in at full speed. After scoring crippling or disabling hits, I would clear myself and then repeat the process. I never pursued the enemy once they had eluded me. Better to break off and set up again for a new assault. I always began my attacks from full strength, if possible, my ideal flying height being 22,000 ft because at that altitude I could best utilize the performance of my aircraft. Combat flying is based on the slashing attack and rough maneuvering. In combat flying, fancy precision aerobatic work is really not of much use. Instead, it is the rough maneuver which succeeds.

— Colonel Erich 'Bubi' Hartmann, GAF, aka Karaya One, worlds leading ace, with 352 victories in W.W.II.Jagdgeschwader 52.

Men were going to die in the air as they had for centuries on the ground and on the seas, by killing each other. The conquest of the air was truly accomplished.

— René Chambe, 'Au Temps des Carabines.'

Up there the world is divided into bastards and suckers. Make your choice.

— Derek Robinson, 'Piece of Cake.'

A top World War II ace once said that fighter pilots fall into two broad categories: those who go out to kill and those who, secretly, desperately, know they are going to get killed—the hunters and the hunted.

— General Nathan F. Twinning, USAF

I belong to a group of men who fly alone. There is only one seat in the cockpit of a fighter airplane. There is no space alotted for another pilot to tune the radios in the weather or make the calls to air traffic control centers or to help with the emergency procedures or to call off the airspeed down final approach. There is no one else to break the solitude of a long cross-country flight. There is no one else to make decisions.
I do everything myself, from engine start to engine shutdown. In a war, I will face alone the missiles and the flak and the small-arms fire over the front lines.
If I die, I will die alone.

— Richard Bach, 'Stranger to the Ground,' 1963.

The more mechanical becomes the weapons with which we fight, the less mechanical must be the spirit which controls them.

— Field Marshal Archibald P. Wavell.

I mean, I had fast motor cars and fast motor bikes, and when I wasn't crashing airplanes, I was crashing motor bikes. It's all part of the game.

— Sir Harry Broadhurst, RAF, 12 victories WWII.

I wish to have no connection with any ship that does not sail fast for I intend to go in harm's way.

— Captain John Paul Jones, in a letter to le Ray de Chaumont, 16 November 1778.

The hunters are the ones who go out and kill. Maybe one out of ten good fighter pilots will be one of the hunters.

— Jack Ilfrey, USAAF, 8 victories WWII.

To the aircraft I aim, not the man.

— Francesco Baracca, Italy's leading ace of WWI, in Italian "è all'apparecchio che io miro non all'uomo," the prancing horse emblem he sported on his aircraft was used by Enzo Ferrari on his cars. Corpo Aeronautico Militare, 34 victories WWI.

It was war. We were defending our country. We had a strict code of honor: you didn't shoot down a cripple and you kept it a fair fight.

— Captain Wilfrid Reid 'Wop' May, RFC, 13 victories WWI.

I hate to shoot a Hun down without him seeing me, for although this method is in accordance with my doctrine, it is against what little sporting instincts I have left.

— James McCudden, VC, RFC, 1917.

My habit of attacking Huns dangling from their parachutes led to many arguments in the mess. Some officers, of the Eton and Sandhurst type, thought it was 'unsportsmanlike' to do it. Never having been to a public school, I was unhampered by such considerations of form. I just pointed out that there was a bloody war on, and that I intended to avenge my pals.

— Captain James Ira Thomas 'Taffy' Jones, RFC, 37 victories in 3 months W.W.I.

Fight on and fly on to the last drop of blood and the last drop of fuel, to the last beat of the heart.

— Baron Manfred von Richthofen.

Fighting in the air is not sport. It is scientific murder.

— Captain Edward V. 'Eddie' Rickenbacker, USAS, 'Fighting the Flying Circus.'

The first time I ever saw a jet, I shot it down.

— General Chuck Yeager, USAF, describing his first confrontation with a Me262.

Of all my accomplishments I may have achieved during the war, I am proudest of the fact that I never lost a wingman.

— Colonel Erich 'Bubi' Hartmann, GAF.

It was my view that no kill was worth the life of a wingman. . . . Pilots in my unit who lost wingmen on this basis were prohibited from leading a [section]. The were made to fly as wingman, instead.

— Colonel Erich 'Bubi' Hartmann, GAF.

The wingman is absolutely indispensable. I look after the wingman. The wingman looks after me. It's another set of eyes protecting you. That the defensive part. Offensively, it gives you a lot more firepower. We work together. We fight together. The wingman knows what his responsibilities are, and knows what mine are. Wars are not won by individuals. They're won by teams.

— Lt. Col. Francis S. "Gabby" Gabreski, USAF, 28 victories in WWII and 6.5 MiGs over Korea.

There is a peculiar gratification on receiving congratulations from one's squadron for a victory in the air. It is worth more to a pilot than the applause of the whole outside world. It means that one has won the confidence of men who share the misgivings, the aspirations, the trials and the dangers of aeroplane fighting.

— Captain Edward V. 'Eddie' Rickenbacker, USAS.

And I have yet to find one single individual who has attained conspicuous success in bringing down enemy aeroplanes who can be said to be spoiled either by his successes or by the generous congratulations of his comrades. If he were capable of being spoiled he would not have had the character to have won continuous victories, for the smallest amount of vanity is fatal in aeroplane fighting. Self-distrust rather is the quality to which many a pilot owes his protracted existence.

— Captain Edward V. 'Eddie' Rickenbacker, USAS, 'Fighting the Flying Circus.'

Nothing makes a man more aware of his capabilities and of his limitations than those moments when he must push aside all the familiar defenses of ego and vanity, and accept reality by staring, with the fear that is normal to a man in combat, into the face of Death.

— Major Robert S. Johnson, USAAF.

The duty of the fighter pilot is to patrol his area of the sky, and shoot down any enemy fighters in that area. Anything else is rubbish.

— Baron Manfred von Richthofen, 1917. Richtofen would not let members of his Staffel strafe troops in the trenches.

Anybody who doesn't have fear is an idiot. It's just that you must make the fear work for you. Hell when somebody shot at me, it made me madder than hell, and all I wanted to do was shoot back.

— Brigadier General Robin Olds, USAF.

The most important thing in fighting was shooting, next the various tactics in coming into a fight and last of all flying ability itself.

— Lt. Colonel W. A. 'Billy' Bishop, RCAF.

In nearly all cases where machines have been downed, it was during a fight which had been very short, and the successful burst of fire had occurred within the space of a minute after the beginning of actual hostilities.

— Lt. Colonel W. A. 'Billy' Bishop, RCAF.

You must take the war to the enemy. You must attack and go on attacking all the time.

— Major Willy Omer François Jean Coppens de Houthulst, Belgian Air Service, 37 victories W.W.I..

I fly close to my man, aim well and then of course he falls down.

— Captain Oswald Boelcke, probably the world's first ace.

Aerial gunnery is 90 percent instinct and 10 percent aim.

— Captain Frederick C. Libby, RFC.

I had no system of shooting as such. It is definitely more in the feeling side of things that these skills develop. I was at the front five and a half years, and you just got a feeling for the right amount of lead.

— Lt. General Guenther Rall, GAF.

When one has shot down one's first, second or third opponent, then one begins to find out how the trick is done.

— Baron Manfred von Richtofen.

I put my bullets into the target as if I placed them there by hand.

— Capitaine René Paul Fonck, French Air Service, 75 victories W.W.I..

You can have computer sights of anything you like, but I think you have to go to the enemy on the shortest distance and knock him down from point-blank range. You'll get him from in close. At long distance, it's questionable.

— Colonel Erich 'Bubi' Hartmann, GAF.

I am not a good shot. Few of us are. To make up for this I hold my fire until I have a shot of less than 20 degrees deflection and until I'm within 300 yards. Good discipline on this score can make up for a great deal.

— Lt. Colonel John C. Meyer, USAAF.

Go in close, and when you think you are too close, go in closer.

— Major Thomas B. 'Tommy' McGuire, USAAF.

I opened fire when the whole windshield was black with the enemy . . . at minimum range . . . it doesn't matter what your angle is to him or whether you are in a turn or any other maneuver.

— Colonel Erich 'Bubi' Hartmann, GAF.

As long as I look into the muzzles, nothing can happen to me. Only if he pulls lead am I in danger.

— Captain Hans-Joachim Marseille, Luftwaffe.

Everything in the air that is beneath me, especially if it is a one-seater . . . is lost, for it cannot shoot to the rear.

— Baron Manfred von Richthofen

I started shooting when I was much too far away. That was merely a trick of mine. I did not mean so much as to hit him as to frighten him, and I succeeded in catching him. He began flying curves and this enabled me to draw near.

— Baron Manfred von Richthofen

A fighter without a gun . . . is like an airplane without a wing.

— Brigadier General Robin Olds, USAF.

See, decide, attack, reverse.

— Colonel Erich 'Bubi' Hartmann, GAF.

I'm waiting to be told how cobras, hooks, or vectored thrust help in combat. They're great at air shows, but zero energy is a fighter pilot's nightmare. Shoot your opponent down and his number two will be on your tail thinking it's his birthday — a target hanging there in the sky with zero energy.

— Ned Firth, Eurofighter

So it was that the war in the air began. Men rode upon the whirlwind that night and slew and fell like archangels. The sky rained heroes upon the astonished earth. Surely the last fights of mankind were the best. What was the heavy pounding of your Homeric swordsmen, what was the creaking charge of chariots, besides this swift rush, this crash, this giddy triumph, this headlong sweep to death?

— H. G. Wells, 'The World Set Free,' 1914.

I was a pilot flying an airplane and it just so happened that where I was flying made what I was doing spying.

— Francis Gary Power, U-2 reconnaissance pilot held by the Soviets for spying, in an interview after he was returned to the US.

The Yo-Yo is very difficult to explain. It was first perfected by the well-known Chinese fighter pilot Yo-Yo Noritake. He also found it difficult to explain, being quite devoid of English.

— Squadron Leader K. G. Holland, RAF.

. . . my pilot pointed to his left front and above, and looking in the direction he pointed, I saw a long dark brown form fairly streaking across the sky. We could see that it was a German machine, and when it got above and behind our middle machine, it dived on it for all the world like a huge hawk on a hapless sparrow.

— James McCudden, VC, RFC.

Fighting spirit one must have. Even if a man lacks some of the other qualifications, he can often make up for it in fighting spirit.

— Brigadier General Robin Olds, USAF.

I never went into the air thinking I would lose.

— Commander Randy 'Duke' Cunningham, USN.

Speed is life.

— Anon.

Speed is the cushion of sloppiness.

— Commander William P. 'Willie' Driscoll, USNR.

It is probable that future war will be conducted by a special class, the air force, as it was by the armored Knights of the Middle Ages.

— Brigadier General William 'Billy' Mitchell, 'Winged Defense,' 1924.

Most healthy young men or women from sixteen to forty years of age can be taught to fly an ordinary airplane. A great majority of these may become very good pilots for transport- or passenger-carrying machines in time of peace; but the requirements for a military aviator call for more concentrated physical and mental ability in the individual than has ever been necessary in any calling heretofore.

— Brigadier General William 'Billy' Mitchell, 'Skyways,' 1930.

Their element is to attack, to track, to hunt, and to destroy the enemy. Only in this way can the eager and skillful fighter pilot display his ability. Tie him to a narrow and confined task, rob him of his initiative, and you take away from him the best and most valuable qualities he posses: aggressive spirit, joy of action, and the passion of the hunter.

— General Adolf Galland, Luftwaffe.

Aggressiveness was a fundamental to success in air-to-air combat and if you ever caught a fighter pilot in a defensive mood you had him licked before you started shooting.

— Captain David McCampbell, USN, leading U.S. Navy ace in W.W.II.

The smallest amount of vanity is fatal in aeroplane fighting. Self-distrust rather is the quality to which many a pilot owes his protracted existence.

— Captain Edward V. 'Eddie' Rickenbacker.

Fly with the head and not with the muscles. That is the way to long life for a fighter pilot. The fighter pilot who is all muscle and no head will never live long enough for a pension.

— Colonel Willie Bats, GAF, 237 victories, W.W. II.

The air battle is not necessarily won at the time of the battle. The winner may have been determined by the amount of time, energy, thought and training an individual has previously accomplished in an effort to increase his ability as a fighter pilot.

— Colonel Gregory 'Pappy' Boyington, USMC, 26 victories, W.W. II.

The experienced fighting pilot does not take unnecessary risks. His business in to shoot down enemy planes, not to get shot down. His trained hand and eye and judgment are as much a part of his armament as his machine-gun, and a fifty-fifty chance is the worst he will take — or should take — except where the show is of the kind that . . . justifies the sacrifice of plane or pilot.

— Captain Edward V. 'Eddie' Rickenbacker.

There was only one catch and that was Catch-22, which specified that a concern for one's own safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind . . . Orr would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if he didn't, but if he was sane he had to fly them. If he flew them he was crazy and didn't have to; but if he didn't want to he was sane and had to.

— Joseph Heller, Catch 22, 1955.

Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.

— Muhammad Ali (nee Cassius Clay).

A good fighter pilot, like a good boxer, should have a knockout punch . . . You will find one attack you prefer to all others. Work on it till you can do it to perfection . . . then use it whenever possible.

— Captain Reade Tilley, USAAF.

He must have a love of hunting, a great desire to be the top dog.

— Sergei Dolgushin, Russian Air Force, 24 victories WWII.

Know and use all the capabilities in your airplane. If you don't, sooner or later, some guy who does use them all will kick your ass.

— Dave 'Preacher' Pace, USN.

You fight like you train.

— U.S. Navy Fighter Weapons School, TOPGUN.

Fight to fly, fly to fight, fight to win.

— U.S. Navy Fighter Weapons School, TOPGUN.

The first rule of all air combat is to see the opponent first. Like the hunter who stalks his prey and maneuvers himself unnoticed into the most favourable position for the kill, the fighter in the opening of a dogfight must detect the opponent as early as possible in order to attain a superior position for the attack.

— General Adolf Galland, Luftwaffe.

If you're in a fair fight, you didn't plan it properly.

— Nick Lappos, Chief R&D Pilot, Sikorsky Aircraft.

The British were sporting. They would accept a fight under almost all conditions.

— Gunther Rall, Luftwaffe, 275 victories.

It's just like being in a knife fight in a dirt-floor bar. If you want to fix a fella, the best way to do it is to get behind him and stick him in the back. It's the same in an air fight. If you want to kill that guy, the best thing to do is get around behind him where he can't see you . . . . and shoot him.

— Captain William O'Brian, 357th Fighter Group, USAAF.

A squadron commander who sits in his tent and gives orders and does not fly, though he may have the brains of Soloman, will never get the results that a man will, who, day in and day out, leads his patrols over the line and infuses into his pilots the 'espirit de corps.'

— Brigadier General William 'Billy' Mitchell, USAS.

The greater issues were beyond us. We sat in a tiny cockpit, throttle lever in one hand, stick in the other. At the end of our right thumb was the firing button, and in each wing were four guns. We aimed through an optical gunsight, a red bead in the middle of a red ring. Our one concern was to boot out the enemy.

— Group Captain Peter Townsend, RAF.

Victory smiles upon those who anticipate the change in the character of war, not upon those who wait to adapt themselves after the changes occur.

— Giulio Douhet, 'The Command of the Air.'

I saw the lightnings gleaming rod.
Reach forth and write upon the sky
The awful autograph of God.

— Joaquin Miller, 'The Ship In The Desert.'

We were stripped down, even the turrets were removed. You were light and real fast, though. Our 12th squadron motto was 'Alone Unarmed Unafraid.' As you can imagine, this actually translated into something more like, 'Alone Unarmed and Scared Shitless.'

— Theodore R. 'Dick' Newell, Korean War pilot, 12th TAC Reconnaissance Squadron, on flying the reconnaissance version of the B-26.

Yea though I fly through the valley of the shadow of death... I fear no evil ... for I fly the biggest, baddest, meanest, fastest motherf***er in the whole damn valley.

— Anon.

In blossom today, then scattered:
Life is so like a delicate flower.
How can one expect the fragrance
To last forever?

— Vice Admiral Ohnishi, Kamikaze Special Attack Force

No guts, no glory. If you are going to shoot him down, you have to get in there and mix it up with him.

— General Frederick C. 'Boots' Blesse, USAF.

I don't mind being called tough, because in this racket it's the tough guys who lead the survivors.

— General Curtis LeMay, USAF.

Watching the Dallas Cowboys perform, it is not difficult to believe that coach Tom Landry flew four-engines bombers during World War II. He was in B-17 Flying Fortresses out of England, they say. His cautious, conservative approach to every situation and the complexity of the plays he sends in do seem to reflect the philosophy of a pilot trained to doggedly press on according to plans laid down before takeoff. I sometimes wonder how the Cowboys would have fared all this years had Tom flown fighters in combat situations which dictated continuously changing tactics.

— Len Morgan, 'View from the Cockpit.'

Everything I had ever learned about air fighting taught me that the man who is aggressive, who pushes a fight, is the pilot who is successful in combat and who has the best opportunity for surviving battle and coming home.

— Major Robert S. Johnson, USAAF.

I think that the most important features of a fighter pilot are aggressiveness and professionalism. They are both needed to achieve the fighter pilot's goal: the highest score within the shortest time, with the least risk to himself and his wingman.

— Colonel Gidi Livni, Israeli Air Force.

The aggressive spirit, the offensive, is the chief thing everywhere in war, and the air is no exception.

— Baron Manfred von Richthofen

Eyesight and seeing the enemy first, or at least in time to take correct tactical maneuvers was very important. However, most important is the guts to plough through an enemy or enemies, and fight it out. There are no foxholes to hide in . . . there is no surrendering. I know of no Navy fighter pilot in the war who turned tail and ran. If one did, he would lose his wings and be booted out of the service for cowardice.

— Richard H. May, USN

There are only two types of aircraft — fighters and targets.

— Doyle 'Wahoo' Nicholson, USMC.

Do unto the other feller the way he'd like to do unto you, an' do it fust [sic].

— E. N. Westcott, 'David Harum.'

The essence of leadership . . . was, and is, that every leader from flight commander to group commander should know and fly his airplanes.

— Air Vice-Marshal J. E. 'Johnnie' Johnson, RAF.

A speck of dirt on your windscreen could turn into an enemy fighter in the time it took to look round and back again. A little smear on your goggles might hide the plane that was coming in to kill you.

— Derek Robinson, 'Piece of Cake.'

There are pilots and there are pilots; with the good ones, it is inborn. You can't teach it. If you are a fighter pilot, you have to be willing to take risks.

— General Robin Olds, USAF.

Today it is even more important to dominate the . . . highly sophisticated weapon systems, perhaps even more important than being a good pilot; to make the best use of this system.

— General Adolf Galland, Luftwaffe.

An excellent weapon and luck had been on my side. To be successful, the best fighter pilot needs both.

— General Adolf Galland, Luftwaffe.

One of the secrets of air fighting was to see the other man first. Seeing airplanes from great distances was a question of experience and training, of knowing where to look and what to look for. Experienced pilots always saw more than the newcomers, because the later were more concerned with flying than fighting. . . . The novice had little idea of the situation, because his brain was bewildered by the shock and ferocity of the fight.

— Air Vice-Marshal J. E. 'Johnnie' Johnson, RAF.

Only the spirit of attack borne in a brave heart will bring success to any fighter aircraft, no matter how highly developed it may be.

— General Adolf Galland, Luftwaffe.

The man who enters combat encased in solid armor plate, but lacking the essential of self-confidence, is far more exposed and naked to death than the individual who subjects himself to battle shorn of any protection but his own skill, his own belief in himself and in his wingman. Righteousness is necessary for one's peace of mind, perhaps, but it is a poor substitute for agility . . . and a resolution to meet the enemy under any conditions and against any odds.

— Major Robert S. Johnson, USAAF.

To be a good fighter pilot, there is one prime requisite — think fast, and act faster.

— Major John T. Godfrey, USAAF.

Mark Twain said, "Courage is the mastery of fear, resistance to fear, not the absence of fear." At times the nearness of death brings an inexplicable exhilaration which starts the adrenaline flowing and results in instant action. The plane becomes an integral part of the pilot's body, it is strapped to his butt, and they become a single fighting machine.

— R. M. Littlefield, 'Double Nickel — Double Trouble.'

Being a stealth pilot is one of the most labor intensive and time constrained types of flying that I know. We have very strict timing constraints: to be where you are supposed to be all the time, exactly on time, and that has to be monitored by the pilot. For example, during a bomb competition in training in the US, I dropped a weapon that landed 0.02 seconds from the desired time, and finished third!

— Lt. Col. Miles Pound, USAF

Two phrases are stamped on the key ring that every new 'Bandit' (a pilot who has soloed in an F-117) receives:
Stealth Equals Death.
When it absolutely, positively has to be taken out overnight.

Ode To The P-38

Oh, Hedy Lamarr is a beautiful gal, and Madeleine Carroll is too,
But you'll find if you query, a different theory amongst any bomber crew
For the loveliest thing of which one could sing (this side of the pearly gates)
Is no blonde or brunette of the Hollywood set -
But an escort of P-38s.

Yes, in the days that have passed,
when the tables were massed with glasses of scotch and champagne,
It's quite true that the sight was a thing of delight us,
intent on feeling no pain.
But no longer the same, nowadays is this game
When we head north for Messina Straits
Take the sparkling wine-every time,
just make mine an escort of P-38s.

Byron, Shelley and Keats ran a dozen dead heats
Describing the views from the hills,
of the valleys in May when the winds gently sway
In the air it's a different story;
We sweat out our track through the fighters and flak
We're willing to split up the glory
Well, they wouldn't reject us, so heaven protect us
and, until all this shooting abates,
Give us courage to fight 'em - one other small item -
an escort of P-38s.

— Frederic Arnold, 'Kohn's War.'

I didn't turn with the enemy pilots as a rule. I might make one turn - to see what the situation was - but not often. It was too risky.

— General John C. Meyer, Vice-Chief of Staff, USAF.

It is generally inadvisable to eject directly over the area you just bombed.

— USAF Manual

Nothing is true in tactics.

— Commander Randy 'Duke' Cunningham, USN, first American ace in Vietnam.

We were too busy fighting to worry about the business of clever tactics.

— Harold Balfour, RAF. W.W.I fighter pilot and British Under-Secretary of State for War.

Beware the lessons of a fighter pilot who would rather fly a slide rule than kick your ass!

— Commander Ron 'Mugs' McKeown, USN, Commander of the U.S. Navy Fighter Weapons School.

For most of the time carrier aviation is more challenging than flying in a spacecraft

— Astronaut James Lovell

Fighter pilots, above all else, know who among their peers are hunters and who are hunted. They absolutely will not fly into a tough combat situation with a wingman they don’t trust and not all men make the cut. Where we work is a vicious place. I’ll attempt to describe it, but the full comprehension comes only in a sky full of hot metal and smart missiles that all seem to be looking at you. You’re in a machine that is so fast and powerful that you intuitively know that if death comes, it will be full of hot fire. Frail human that you are, you will be shredded to pieces. Worst of all, you’ll be alone in a fierce place where your comrades cannot hold you while you die. That is the real environment of a fighter pilot.

— Jerry R Caddick

The ordinary air fighter is an extraordinary man and the extraordinary air fighter stands as one in a million among his fellows.

— Theodore Roosevelt

... a fighter pilot must be free to propose improvements [in tactics] or he will get himself killed.

— Commander Randy 'Duke' Cunningham, USN.

When I took over my wing [in Vietnam], the big talk wasn't about the MIG's, but about the SAM's ... I'd seen enemy planes before, but those damn SAM's were something else. When I saw my first one, there were a few seconds of sheer panic, because that's a most impressive sight to see that thing coming at you. You feel like a fish about to be harpooned. There's something terribly personal about the SAM; it means to kill you and I'll tell you right now, it rearranges your priorities ... We had been told to keep our eyes on them and not to take any evasive move too soon, because they were heat-seeking and they, too would correct, so I waited until it was almost on me and then I rolled to the right and it went on by. It was awe inspiring ... The truth is you never do get used to the SAM's; I had about two hundred fifty shot at me and the last one was as inspiring as the first. Sure I got cagey, and I was able to wait longer and longer, but I never got overconfident. I mean, if you're one or two seconds too slow, you've had the schnitzel.

— General Robin Olds, USAF.

Every day kill just one, rather than today five, tomorrow ten . . . that is enough for you. Then your nerves are calm and you can sleep good, you have your drink in the evening and the next morning you are fit again.

— Colonel Erich 'Bubi' Hartmann, Luftwaffe.

The closest modern equivalent to the Homeric hero is the ace fighter pilot.

— W. H. Auden

To become an ace a fighter must have extraordinary eyesight, strength, and agility, a huntsman's eye, coolness in a pinch, calculated recklessness, a full measure of courage—and occasional luck!

— General Jimmy Doolittle

The most important thing for a fighter pilot is to get his first victory without too much shock.

— Colonel Werner Moelders, Luftwaffe. He got his first victory, and 114 others.

It is true to say that the first kill can influence the whole future career of a fighter pilot. Many to whom the first victory over the opponent has been long denied either by unfortunate circumstances or by bad luck can suffer from frustration or develop complexes they may never rid themselves of again.

— General Adolf Galland, Luftwaffe.

It is wonderful how cheered a pilot becomes after he shoots down his first machine; his morale increases by at least 100 percent.

— Captain James Ira Thomas 'Taffy' Jones, RFC, 37 victories in 3 months W.W.I..

I gained in experience with every plane shot down, and now was able to fire in a calm, deliberate manner. Each attack was made in a precise manner. Distance and deflection were carefully judged before firing. This is not something that comes by accident; only by experience can a pilot overcome feelings of panic. A thousand missions could be flown and be of no use if the pilot has not exchanged fire with the enemy.

— Major John T. Godfrey, USAAF.

As a fighter pilot I know from my own experiences how decisive surprise and luck can be for success, which in the long run comes only to the one who combines daring with cool thinking.

— General Adolf Galland, Luftwaffe.

The most important thing to a fighter pilot is speed; the faster an aircraft is moving when he spots an enemy aircraft, the sooner he will be able to take the bounce and get to the Hun. If you have any advantage on him, keep it and use it. When attacking, plan to overshoot him if possible, hold fire until within range, then shoot and clobber him down to the last instant before breaking away. It's like sneaking up behind someone and hitting them with a baseball bat.

— Duane W. Beeson, P-51 pilot, 4th Fighter Group.

Months of preparation, one of those few opportunities, and the judgment of a split second are what makes some pilot an ace, while others think back on what they could have done.

— Colonel Gregory 'Pappy' Boyington, USMC.

How this can happen is a mystery to us.

— Lieutenant-General Ray Henault, Canada's Chief of Defence staff, regards the friendly fire deaths of four Canadian soldiers by a USAF F-16 in Afghanistan, 18 April 2002.

Success flourishes only in perseverance — ceaseless, restless perseverance.

— Baron Manfred von Richthofen

If he is superior then I would go home, for another day that is better.

— Colonel Erich 'Bubi' hartmann, GAF.

If I should come out of this war alive, I will have more luck than brains.

— Captain Manfred Baron von Richtofen, in a letter to his mother upon being decorated with the Iron Cross.

I was struck by the joy of those pilots in committing cold-blooded murder . . . Frankly, this is not cojones. This is cowardice.

— Madeleine Albright, US Ambassador to the UN, 1996, regards Cuban fighters shooting down unarmed American Cessnas.

I scooted for our lines, sticky with fear. I vomited brandy-and-milk and bile all over my instrument panel. Yes, it was very romantic flying, people said later, like a knight errant in the clean blue sky of personal combat.

— attributed to W. W. Windstaff, an alleged pseudonym of an American pilot flying with the British RFC.

There’s something wonderfully exciting about the quiet sing song of an aeroplane overhead with all the guns in creation lighting out at it, and searchlights feeling their way across the sky like antennae, and the earth shaking snort of the bombs and the whimper of shrapnel pieces when they come down to patter on the roof.

— John Dos Passos, letter written in Bossano, Italy while serving in the American Red Cross Ambulance Service to his friend Rumsey Marvin. 18 February 1918.

It was no picnic despite what anyone might say later . . . . Most of us were pretty scared all the bloody time; you only felt happy when the battle was over and you were on your way home, then you were safe for a bit, anyway.

— Colin Gray, 54 Squadron RAF, W.W.II.

There is no question about the hereafter of men who give themselves in such a cause. If I am called upon to make it, I shall go with a grin of satisfaction and a smile.

— Lieutenant David Endicott Putnam, America's first 'Ace of Aces,' in a letter to his mother. He was shot down by German ace Georg von Hantelmann. 12 September 1918

Won't it be nice when all this beastly killing is over, and we can enjoy ourselves and not hurt anyone? I hate this game.

— Captain Albert Ball, RFC, in letters to his father and fiancée. Ball was the first British ace idolized by the public, 44 victories when killed in action. 6 May 1917.

After a scrap I usually drink my tea through a straw.

— Derek Robinson, 'Piece of Cake.'

The heavens were the grandstands and only the gods were spectators. The stake was the world, the forfeit was the player's place at the table, and the game had no recess. It was the most dangerous of all sports and the most fascinating. It got in the blood like wine. It aged men forty years in forty days. It ruined nervous systems in an hour.

— Elliott White Springs, 13 victories WWI.

. . . It is as though horror has frozen the blood in my veins, paralyzed my arms, and torn all thought from my brain with the swipe of a paw. I sit there, flying on, and continue to stare, as though mesmerised, at the Cauldron on my left.

— Ernst Udet, ‘My life as Aviator,’ 1935.

I counted them all out and I counted them all back.

— Brian Hanranan, carefully worded broadcast regards the number of British aeroplanes involved in (and potentially lost in) the raid on Port Stanley. BBC news, 1 May 1982.

I suppose I'm as good as the next guy, but that's about all. Only reason I'm still flying while a lot of other great guys are gone is because I've had the breaks so far. I believe though, that the breaks are going to continue my way. The minute a flyer gets the notion that his number is up, he's finished. I start out, and know I'm coming back, and that's all there is to it.
Fear? You bet your life. But it's always on the way up. Then you get to thinking about a lot of things, but that all leaves you as you reach combat. Then there's a sense of great excitement, a thrill you can't duplicate anywhere. Then there can be no fear, no thought of life or death, no dream of yesterday or tomorrow.
What you have at that moment is — well, it may sound strange, but it's actually fun. The other guy has his chance, too, and you've got to get him before he gets you. Yes, I think it is the most exciting fun in the world.

— Lt. Col. Robert B. "Westy" Westbrook, USAAF, one of the leading aces of the Pacific, 'Los Angeles Examiner,' 20 June 1944.

It got more exciting with each war. I mean the planes were going faster than hell when I was flying a Mustang, but by the time I got to Nam, it scared the piss out of a lot of guys just to fly the damn jets at full speed. Let alone do it in combat.

— Brigadier General Robin Olds, USAF.

He who has the height controls the battle.
He who has the sun achieves surprise.
He who gets in close shoots them down.

— anon.

Dicta Boelcke

Try to secure advantages before attacking. If possible, keep the sun behind you.

Always carry through an attack when you have started it.

Fire only at close range, and only when your opponent is properly in your sights.

Always keep your eye on your opponent, and never let yourself be deceived by ruses.

In any form of attack it is essential to assail your opponent from behind.

If your opponent dives on you, do not try to evade his onslaught, but fly to meet it.

When over the enemy's lines never forget your own line of retreat.

For the Staffel: attack on principle in groups of four or six. When the fight breaks up into a series of single combats, take care that several do not go for one opponent.

— Hauptmann Oswald Boelcke, 1916. Germany's first ace, died in 1916 with 40 victories.

Whatever Boelcke told us was taken as Gospel!

— Baron Manfred von Richthofen

I will be like Boelcke.

— German pilots' motto

Ten of My Rules for Air Fighting

Wait until you see the whites of his eyes.
Fire short bursts of 1 to 2 seconds and only when your sights are definitely 'ON.'

Whilst shooting think of nothing else; brace the whole of the body; have both hands on the stick; concentrate on your ring sight.

Always keep a sharp lookout. "Keep your finger out"!

Height gives you the initiative.

Always turn and face the attack.

Make your decisions promptly. It is better to act quickly even though your tactics are not the best.

Never fly straight and level for more than 30 seconds in the combat area.

When diving to attack always leave a proportion of your formation above to act as top guard.

INITIATIVE, AGGRESSION, AIR DISCIPLINE, and TEAM WORK are words that MEAN something in Air Fighting.

Go in quickly - Punch Hard - Get out!

— Flight Lieutenant Adolphus G. 'Sailor' Malan, RSAAF, August 1941.

Because operators are based thousands of miles away from the battlefield, and undertake operations entirely through computer screens and remote audio-feed, there is a risk of developing a 'PlayStation' mentality to killing.

— Philip Alston, United Nations special rapporteur on extrajudicial killings, report to the UN Human Rights Council, 2 June 2010.

bobbysocks

08-29-2010, 07:16 PM

Dicta Boelcke ( expanded )

1. Try to secure advantages before attacking. If possible keep the sun behind you.

*'Advantages' for WWI aircraft included: speed, height, surprise, performance and numbers.

Speed - the pilot with the faster of two machines has control over the combat. He has the choice to break off combat and retire. The slower machine can not catch him. The pilot of a slower machine must stay on the defense. He can not run to safety. A fast moving aircraft can perform elaborate manoeuvres, giving its pilot many options. A machine flying close to its stall speed can do little beyond wallowing in a more or less straight line. Aircraft engines available in 1914 and 1915 provided just enough thrust to keep machines airborne at 80 mph, and not much more. Level flight was fine, but climbing to a higher altitude took several minutes and cut air speed nearly in half. Diving, on the other hand, could add half again to a plane's top speed. By 1916, engine power and speed increased. By the end of the war, aircraft were operating regularly at speeds over 130 mph. Speed was critical.

Height - From the advantage of flying above his opponent, a pilot had more control over how and where the fight takes place. He could dive upon his opponent, gaining a sizable speed advantage for a hit and run attack. Or, if the enemy had too many advantages, numbers for instance, a pilot fly away with a good head start. On average, WWI aircraft climbed slowly. Altitude was a hard earned 'potential energy' store not to be given away capriciously.

Surprise - getting the first shot before one's opponent is prepared to return fire was the 'safest' and preferred method for attack. Most air victories were achieved in the first pass. Without all-seeing devices like radar, a pilot could approach his foe stealthily, using clouds, haze or even using the enemy aircraft's own wings or tail to conceal his approach. The glare of the sun, especially, provided an effective hiding spot.

Performance- Knowing the strengths, weakness and capabilities of your own aircraft, and that of your foe, was also critical. Who was faster, who could turn tighter, how many were there, etc.? He argued against foolish acts of 'heroism.' If he could not 'secure advantages,' he would not attack. One of Boelcke's pupils, Manfred von Richthofen, learned this rule very well and became the war's top scoring ace.

A documented example of Boelcke 'securing advantages' took place on 17 September 1916. Boelcke and his pilots intercepted a flight of bombers and fighters crossing the lines. He chose not to attack right away, but had his Jasta climb higher above the bombers, keeping themselves between the bombers and the sun. There they circled and waited. When the bomber pilots, observers and fighter escort pilots were preoccupied with the destruction they were causing on the ground, Boelcke signaled for his pilots to attack. Several enemy aircraft went down and Jasta 2 lost no one.*

2. Always carry through an attack when you have started it.

*Rookie pilots would start a fight, but instinct (fear) would convince them to break it off and run. This inevitably presented the rookie's tail to his opponent's guns, making the rookie an easy victory for his enemy. Boelcke learned that it was far better to stay and continue mixing it up -- waiting for his opponent to make mistakes or flee -- than to break and run. To turn tail and run was to surrender most, if not all, of the advantages a pilot might have had.

As an example, when Manfred von Richthofen met British ace Lanoe Hawker in November 1916, each persisted in trying to get on the other's tail. Both stuck to Boelcke's second dictum. When their endless circling had brought them down near the ground behind German lines, Hawker had to chose between landing and capture or fleeing. He chose to flee. Richthofen was then able to get behind him and shot him down.*

3. Fire only at close range and only when your opponent is properly in your sights.

*A common rookie's urge was to start blasting away upon sighting his first enemy machine. Shots taken at ranges of 1000 yards stood little chance of hitting their mark. The rattle of machine gun fire would alert the intended target and gave them time to react.

The machine guns available for aircraft during the Great War were not highly accurate at longer ranges. Add to that the difficulty of aiming from a moving, bouncing gun platform at a fast moving target and it is a marvel that anyone ever hit anything. Boelcke preferred to fly to within 100 yards or less before firing, to ensure hitting what he aimed at with his opening burst. Once the rattle of his guns was heard, the advantage of surprise was gone, so it was best to make that first shot most effective.

Another aspect of making each shot count was the limited supply of ammunition carried in WWI aircraft -- usually only several hundred rounds. This could amount to less than 60 seconds of sustained fire. Reloading in the air varied from dangerous to impossible. Spraying the sky with lead in hopes of hitting something, eventually, was not an option. Shots had to be chosen carefully. Early in the war, when a sense of chivalry still held sway, some men allowed their opponents to depart if they were out of ammunition or had jammed guns. Total war did not allow such courtesies to last for long.*

4. Always keep your eye on your opponent, and never let yourself be deceived by ruses.

*The first part, 'keeping your eye on your opponent,' sounds obvious enough, but it needed to be stated. In the hustle and bustle of an air fight it was easy to lose sight of your adversary. A restatement of this rule might be: never assume you know where your opponent is or will be. If a pilot 'lost' his foe, the advantage shifted to the foe. A successful pilot did not allow himself to be distracted from his opponent.

Ruses. It was not an uncommon practice for a pilot to feign being hit, going into a supposedly uncontrolled spin or dive, in order to exit a fight that was not going well. This practice traded on the chivalry of their opponents. To continue hammering a man who was already going down, was thought unsportsmanlike. Boelcke recognized that too many enemy were being allowed to escape and return to fight another day. War for national survival was not sport. He taught against the accepted notion that once a machine began to spin down, that one could move on. If it was a ruse, the enemy pilot would pull out at the last moment and either escape or return to attack, perhaps now having gained the advantage of surprise. Boelcke wanted his pupils to follow their opponent down. Make sure they were out of the fight or resume the fight if necessary.*

5. In any form of attack it is essential to assail your opponent from behind.

*Firing at a machine flying across one's path required 'leading' the shot -- aiming ahead of a moving target to compensate for its speed. While a few pilots were adept at the mental calculations necessary and good areal marksmen, most were much less adept. The velocity of a moving gun platform, the speed of bullets plus the speed and direction of a moving target could be a lot to consider in the heat of battle. Furthermore, in deflection firing, the target could cross the stream of fire whose bullets were 200 feet or more apart. Such crossing gave less exposure to the bullets.

Head-on attacks or head-to-tail attacks required little or no calculated deflection in aim. Head-on attack, however, exposed one directly to the enemy's guns. Far safer and more effective to have one's target and bullet stream all traveling in more or less the same direction. This required little or no 'leading,' and exposed the target to a greater concentration of fire.

Because of the prevalence of attack from the rear, aircraft design adapted to allow for rear firing guns in two-seaters and larger bombers.*

6. If your opponent dives on you, do not try to evade his onslaught, but fly to meet it.

*This rule is related to dictum #2 above. The instinctive reaction of many rookies was to turn and flee from an approaching attacker -- especially a diving one. This simply presented their tail to the attacker, usually with disastrous results. Boelcke taught that a pilot had to conquer that instinct. Turning to face the attack could force the attacker onto the defensive, or at least keep the situation unsettled, which was far better than presenting your tail. Even though climbing to meet an attack would reduce speed, it was better to try to bring one's own guns to bear than flee.*

7. When over the enemy's lines never forget your own line of retreat.

*If a pilot chose to flee a superior force, or was coming down with damaged machine, it was critical to spend what little time he might have going in the right direction. This rule sounds as though it is stating the obvious, but Boelcke found it necessary to include. More than a few pilots came down behind enemy lines because they got confused and lost their way. In WWI, areal navigation was done mostly by sight. Taking regular note of landmarks helped a pilot get his bearings quickly, perhaps making the difference between safety and captivity.*

8. For the Staffel: Attack on principle in groups of four or six. When the fight breaks up into a series of single combats, take care that several do not go for one opponent.

*In the first year or so of WWI, air combat was more of a one-on-one affair. The early aces, like Pegoud, Garros, Boelcke and Immelmann, hunted the skies alone. Later in the war the sheer number of machines in the sky increased. Several reconnaissance machines traveled together for mutual protection, further protected by escorting fighters. Boelcke recognized that the days of the lone hunter were over. Many young pilots, however, still came to the front expecting to dash valiantly into battle alone as an errant knight, only to be quickly overwhelmed by multiple enemies.

Boelcke tirelessly lectured his pupils on the need for teamwork -- sometimes scolding them for acting too independently. Attacking in a group allowed the leader to concentrate his attention exclusively on his target, while his 'wingmen' protected his tail.

Air battles later in the war could involve dozens of aircraft from each side at the same time. The sky could become a swirling tangle of machines. When 'your' side was at a numerical disadvantage, it was especially important not to double up on one opponent. The concentrated fire was of dubious value, since you were just as likely to get in each other's way as hit the enemy. Doubling up also left an enemy machine somewhere unbothered and free to tail one of your side's machines. Later in the war, teamwork became the primary key to success and survival.*

bobbysocks

08-31-2010, 06:23 PM

Ilmari Juutilainen - Finland's Ace of Aces

In two wars, Ilmari Juutilainen and his fellow pilots helped preserve their country's independence and taught the Soviet Union a lesson: "If you threaten Finns, they do not become frightened--they become angry. And they never surrender."

Ilmari Juutilainen scored more than 94 victories in two wars, flying Fokker D.XXIs, Brewster B-239s and Messerschmitt Me-109Gs.

Neither Jossif Stalin nor Adolf Hitler regarded their nonaggression pact of August 1939 as anything more than a postponement of inevitable hostilities between the Soviet Union and Nazi Germany. After they had divided up Poland between themselves in September, Hitler became embroiled in a war against Britain and France, while Stalin grabbed what he considered strategic territories adjacent to Russia. One concession Stalin sought was part of Finland's Karelian Isthmus on which he wanted to build air and naval bases. (Stalin`s real plan was to occupy the entire Finland just like the Baltic countries, see Edvard Radzinski`s book "Stalin". FTA remark) When Finland refused to give up her lands the Soviets bombed Helsinki and launched and invasion on November 30, 1939.

The ensuing conflict, known as the Winter War, ended on March 13, 1940, with the Soviet occupation of 10 percent of Finnish land, but not before the Red Army had suffered several humiliating defeats at the hands of the Finns. The Voyenno Vozdushny Sily (Red Army air force, of VVS) had suffered even more disproportionate to the outnumbered but highly skilled pilots of the Suomen Ilmavoimat (the Finnish air force).

Epitomizing the elan and training that made the Ilmavoimat so formidable was Eino Ilmari Juutilainen, whose 94 official victories made him the Finnish ace of aces. In an exclusive interview with Military History editor Jon Guttman, "Illu" Juutilainen described his most notable exploits during the Winter War and in the Continuation War, as Finland called her participation in World War II as a co-belligerent rather than a formal ally of Germany.

Military History: Could you tell us about your prewar background?
Juutilainen: I was born in Lieksa on February 21, 1914, but I spent my childhood in Sortavala. As a teenager I was a member of the Volunteer Maritime Defense Association and we had a fine time sailing at the Laatokka Sea.

MH: What inspired you to take up flying?
Juutilainen: There was an Ilmavoimat base in the middle of our town, and it was a permanent source of interest for all of us youngsters. Many of us became pilots later - for example, my Winter War flight leader and Continuation War squadron commander, Eino "Eikka" Luukkanen. One important inspiration was a book about the Red Baron; Manfred von Richthofen, which my older brother gave me. I remember sitting by the upstairs window, dreaming about aerial maneuvers. I began my national service as an assistant mechanic in the 1st Separate Maritime Squadron from 1932 to 1933, then got a pilot's license in a civilian course. I then joined the Ilmavoimat as a noncommissioned officer and got my military pilot training in the Ilmasotakoulu (Air Force Academy) at Kauhava from 1935 to 1936. I had the opportunity to choose my first assignment, and on February 4, 1937, I went to LeLv (Lentolaivue, or air squadron) 12 at Suur-Merijoki Air Base near Viipuri. In 1938 I went to Utti Air Base and got one year of really tough fighter flying and shooting. Then, on March 3, 1939, I was assigned to LeLv 24, a fighter unit equipped with Dutch-built Fokker D.XXIs, at Utti Air Base.

MH: What was training like in the Ilmavoimat?
Juutilainen: The international trend in the early 1930's was to use a tight, three-plane formation, or "vic", as a basic fighter element. The fighter pilots in Finland knew that they would never get large numbers of fighters , and they considered the large tight formations ineffective. From studies conducted between 1934 - 1935, the Ilmavoimat developed a loose two-plane section as the basic fighter element. Divisions (four fighters) and flights (eight aircraft) were made of loose sections, but always maintaining the independence of the section. The distance between the fighters in the section was 150 - 200 meters, and the distance between sections in a division was 300 - 400 meters. The principle was always to attack, regardless of numbers; that way the larger enemy formation was broken up and combat became a sequence of section duels, in which the better pilots always won. Finnish fighter training heavily emphasized the complete handling of the fighter and shooting accuracy. Even basic training at the Air Force Academy included a lot of aerobatics with all the basic combat maneuvers and aerial gunnery.

MH: What were your feelings when the war broke out on November 30, 1939?
Juutilainen: I was mentally ready, because the signs had been so clear. Still, it was hard to believe that it was really true when we took off on our first intercept mission. I think in general the people were angry. We knew, of course, of Stalin's demands that we give the Soviet Union certain areas to improve Leningrad's security. And our answer was clear enough: No way! The nation's reaction to the war was not analytical - it was emotional. The feeling was, "When I die, there will be many enemies dying, too."

MH: What sort of preparation occurred?
Juutilainen: As the international situation worsened, our defense forces started so-called extra exercises in early October 1939. All fighters and weapons were checked, more ammunition belts loaded, and maintenance equipment and spare parts packed on the lorries to be ready to move. On October 11 we flew from Utti to Immola Air Base, which was nearer the border. Shelters were built for the fighters and we kept flying combat air patrols - careful to stay on our side, so that we didn't provoke the Soviets. The younger pilots got additional training in aerial combat and gunnery. During bad weather we indulged in sports, pistol shooting and discussions about fighter tactics. Our esprit de corps was high despite the fact that we would be up against heavy odds. We were ready.

MH: What was the Fokker D.XXI like to fly?
Juutilainen: It was our best fighter in 1939, but the Soviet Polikarpov I-16 was faster, had better agility and also had protective armor for the pilot. I flew later a war booty I-16, and it did 215 knots at low level and turned around a dime. I liked that plane. In comparison, the Fokker could make about 175. The D.XXI also lacked armor, but it had good diving characteristics and it was a steady shooting platform. I think that our gunnery training made the Fokker a winner in the Winter War.

MH: Can you describe your first fight?
Juutilainen: December 19, 1939, was the first real combat day after a long period of bad weather. I had some trouble starting my engine, and so I got a little behind the rest of my flight. When I was close to Antrea, I got a message of three enemy bombers approaching. After about half a minute, I saw three Ilyushin DB-3s approaching. I was about 1,500 feet above them and started the attack turn just like in gunnery camp at Käkisalmi. The DB-3s immediately dropped their bomb loads in the forest and turned back. I shot the three rear gunners, one by one. Then I started to shoot the engines. I followed them a long way and kept on shooting. One of them nosed over and crashed. The two others were holed like cheese graters but continued in a shallow, smoking descent. I had spent all of my ammunition, so I turned back. There was no special feeling of real combat. Everything went exactly like training.

MH: What were the circumstances of your 1/6 shared victory on December 23?
Juutilainen: At that time, Soviet bombers flew without fighter escort, and that was a typical situation when our flight attacked a formation of Tupolev SB-2s. Several of us shot at several targets, and the kills were then shared, because it was impossible to distinguish a decisive attack. Later, I stopped counting those shared cases and always gave my share to the younger pilot.

MH: What about your first encounter with an I-16 on December 31?
Juutilainen: That was a classic, old time aerial duel. I was initially in a very good position behind that Red pilot, but he saw me and started a hard left turn. I followed, shooting occasionally, testing his nerves. Our speed decreased as we circled tightly under the cloud deck, which was as low as 600 feet. My opponent's fighter was much more agile than mine, and he was gradually gaining the advantage, so I decided to pull a tactical trick on him. As he was getting into my rear sector, I pulled into the cloud, continuing my hard left turn. Once inside it, I rolled to the right and down, out of the cloud. I had estimated right - I was again behind my opponent. When he next saw me, I had already closed to a range of about 100 yards. He apparently decided to outturn me, as he had done before. I put the sight on him and squeezed the trigger. My tracers passed a few yards in front of him, and I eased the stick pressure to adjust my aiming point. My next burst struck his engine, which began to belch smoke. I continued firing, letting the tracers walk along the fuselage. Then once more I pulled hard, taking a proper deflection and shot again. There was a continuous stream of black smoke as the target pitched over and went into the forest.

MH: What other missions did you carry out besides interception?
Juutilainen: Our reconnaissance aircraft were obsolete, so they had to carry out their missions at night or in bad weather, while we flew many daytime reconnaissance missions in our fighters. We also occasionally carried out some ground-attack missions until the last days of the war, when the enemy tried a flanking offensive over the ice of the Gulf of Finland at Viipuri Bay. Those were decisive operations, but for us fighter pilots they were also the most miserable missions of the war, for the Soviets massed their fighters to cover the ground troops. We could achieve surprise by using the weather conditions and coming from different directions every time, quickly attacking over the ice, then fighting our way back to base to rearm and refuel for a new mission. During those missions, I personally fired some 25,000 rounds into the Red Army.

MH: What were your feelings when Finland was forced to accept Soviet terms in the end?
Juutilainen: I was disappointed. We had been able to stop the Soviet offensive, they had gained only a limited land area, and we had inflicted heavy losses on them. Thanks to small losses and deliveries of new Gloster Gladiators, Fiat G.50s and Morane-Saulnier MS 406s, our fighter force was stronger than it had been at the beginning of the war. We felt ourselves winners, but now we had to give them some areas that were firmly in our hands. Later, when the economic situation became clearer, the decision was more understandable. Sweden was neutral, Germany was hostile and support from France and Britain proved to be inadequate. Finland simply did not have enough resources to continue a prolonged campaign alone. Ultimately, the important thing was Finland's independence. We had been fighting to save that, and we had indeed saved it. I think we also taught a lesson to Stalin and company: If you threaten Finns, they do not become frightened - they become angry. And they never surrender.

MH: What did you do between March 1940 and June 1941?
Juutilainen: At the end of March 1940 we flew from our last wartime base, Lemi (which was on the ice of a lake) to Joroinen, where our fighters were overhauled. Then we gave our Fokkers away and began to familiarize ourselves with a new fighter, the Brewster B-239. Some of those planes had already arrived in the last days of the Winter War ( see Brewsters to Finland), and now they were picked up from Trollhättan, Sweden, where Norwegian mechanics were assembling them after sea transport. American test pilot Robert Winston acted as his company's representative in that process. The Brewsters were flown to Malmi Air Base near Helsinki, and our squadron started to operate there. On June 14, 1940, two Soviet bombers shot down one of our airliners over the Gulf of Finland, shortly after it had taken off from Tallinn, Estonia. I was searching for the plane with my Brewster, and I found a Soviet submarine in the middle of aircraft debris, obviously looking for diplomatic mail. In August 1940, we moved to a new base at Vesivehmaa, north of Lahti. There, we tested the Brewster's performance and gunnery characteristics and found both to be quite good. Many pilots put all their bullets in the target. On June 17, we got and order to stay at the base, in continuous readiness, so we guessed that we would be at war rather soon.

MH: What were your impressions of the B-239?
Juutilainen: I started my Brewster flights in the beginning of April 1940, doing all the aerobatics maneuvers, stall and dive tests. I was happy with my Brewster. It was agile, it had 4,5 hours endurance, good weaponry - one 7,62 mm and three 12,7 machine guns - and an armored pilot's seat. It was so much better than the Fokker that it was in another category. If we had had Brewsters during the Winter War, the Russians would have been unable to fly over Finland. It was also a "gentleman's traveling plane", for it had a roomy cockpit and room in the fuselage, as we used to say, for a poker gang. We unofficially transported mechanics, spare parts, oil canisters etc. in our Brewsters. Once, though two pilots went a little too far - a flight sergeant was flying, and in the fuselage was a second lieutenant, his friend, his dog and a lot of baggage. Upon landing the plane went off the runway and the suitcase came out. Both pilots were punished. Humorously, the lieutenant's sentence started with:"As the commander of the crew of a single-seat fighter.."

MH: What was the situation in Finland at the time of the German invasion of the Soviet Union on June 22, 1941?
Juutilainen: It was rather problematic after the Winter War. The Soviet Union continued its pressure, and Vyacheslav Molotov (Soviet commissar for foreign affairs) during his visit to Germany in November 1940 demanded Finland as Russia's share of their 1939 pact. France and Britain were at war, and it was very difficult for Finland to improve her defenses. Then, rather unexpectedly, Germany's hostile attitude toward Finland changed. During its preparations to invade the Soviet Union, Germany saw Finland as a useful partner. Finland did not like a political alliance with Nazis, but military cooperation with Germany was the only option to counter the Soviet threat and it presented an opportunity to get back the stolen land areas. Preparations for war were complete when Germany invaded Russia, but Finland joined the war only after the Soviets had made several air raids against Finnish targets on June 25, 1941.

MH: Can you describe your first victory of the Continuation War?
Juutilainen: We were at Rantasalmi Air Base on July 9, 1941, and we received information that Soviet aircraft were coming to attack our army troops early in the morning. We took off at 4 a.m. and after about half an hour's waiting, we saw the first enemy aircraft - Polikarpov I-153 "Chaika" (gull) biplane fighters. The battle started at 13,000 feet, just west of Huuhanmäki railway station. I had already made a couple of attacks when I saw some movement below, against the surface of the lake. There were enemy fighters trying to escape. I dove after them and quickly caught up with one of the Russians, who was flying right at treetop level and who obviously thought he was safe down there. At a range of about 20 yards I squeezed the trigger. I had to pull my plane up to avoid a collision, and the Chaika crashed right into the forest. At that point, my engine started to sputter, while at the same time a Chaika was approaching me from directly ahead and above. I set up for an emergency landing in a small field near the village of Miinala. Just as I was about to land, my engine came back to life. The Chaika apparently didn't see me and passed directly overhead. I turned quickly after it.

After a while, I saw a new target, which seemed to be joining the plane I was chasing. They flew over Sorola Island and, after getting to the Laatokka Sea, turned and headed for their home base. At that point, I rammed the throttle full power and went for them. Aiming carefully at the wingman, I fired. Maybe the enemy pilot suspected danger, because he broke away at the same moment. But it was too late - my bullets had done their work. I had no time to fire at the other airplane because he broke away at the same time and disappeared among the small islands. I was tempted to go after him, but my rough-running engine deterred such thoughts. Partly unsatisfied about the unfinished work, I flew home. Esprit de corps at the base was high. This had been the first real, large aerial engagement of the war, and our squadron had destroyed nine enemy aircraft

MH: What about the circumstances of your downing three I-16s on August 18, 1942?
Juutilainen: We had come to the Gulf of Finland area. On the evening of August 18, an alarm came in, and the entire flight hurried into a big air battle near the Soviet Island of Kronstadt. Planes were coming from all directions - I-16 "Ratas" (rats), Hawker Hurricanes and even a Petlyakov Pe-2 was dashing into the fray. I got one Rata in my sights, approaching it from above and behind. I put some metal into his fuselage. The airplane went down and very nearly took a comrade with it. I pulled up in a very tight turn to keep my back clear. I flew amid the anti-aircraft fire of eight guard ships, which happened to be on the sea below me, until I got back in the melee. I had time to notice more enemy fighters taking off from Kronstadt to join our merry-go-round.

At one point we estimated that there were about 60 enemy planes in the furball. One Rata attacked me from straight ahead and below. I rolled inverted and simultaneously pulled back hard on the stick. I aimed quickly, fired into his fuselage and his airplane spun, crashing into the sea. Again I had to climb in that anti-aircraft fire. I was dodging one diving enemy fighter when another flew right in front of me. Staying tightly behind the target, I fired a long burst and began to think I would run out of ammunition. Finally, it fell in flames into the sea. By then it was becoming so dark that it was very difficult to determine friend from foe, so both sides began to retire. One of our pilots, 2nd Lt. Aarno Raitio, had bailed out and died in the stormy sea that night. The enemy lost 16 aircraft.

MH: Do you recall any other memorable combats in the B-239?
Juutilainen: Yes, there was another engagement over the Gulf of Finland that was rather peculiar. We had just attacked a formation of MiGs and Supermarine Spitfires on September 20, and I was just about to shoot a Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-3 when my propeller transmission broke and my engine power decreased. I reported my status and asked for help, if anybody could afford to do so. One of the enemy fighters was moving into a good firing position a little below me. I quickly rolled my fighter inverted above him. My unexpected maneuver apparently frightened him, because he broke off and dove away. I sighed with relief, then tried to make my way back to base while carefully watching the enemy aircraft above me. Sure enough, a Spitfire came in from behind and above, expecting an easy kill. I tried to look as though I didn't see him.

cont...

bobbysocks

08-31-2010, 06:34 PM

pt 2...

When the Spitfire came into firing range, I made a quick, controlled roll, stamping heavily on my rudder bar. My fighter slid heavily sideways, and I continued with a hard level turn of about 90 degrees. The enemy couldn't keep me in his gunsight, and at the end of the maneuver he was so close that he actually slid past me. I quickly turned back to my original heading and the Spitfire was in front of me, pulling up to the right. My speed was gone, but the range was short, about 70 yards. I aimed carefully and squeezed the trigger. The tracers hit the target like a whip, and the plane started to smoke heavily. Almost vertically and slightly inverted, it crashed into the sea. Then, almost immediately, another Spitfire arrived to avenge his comrade. I pushed the throttle open and the engine stopped! It was a really nasty feeling. The enemy plane came in above and behind at high speed, so I made a tight turn under its nose. The Spitfire couldn't turn with me and after a failed attack, continued its dive toward Lavansaari. I turned my plane toward the Estonian coast, intending to make an emergency landing. Then I noticed that when I didn't put the throttle in a full-power setting, the engine would cough back to life. I had again begun to climb toward my flight when a MiG attacked me at an impossible deflection angle. There was no need to even dodge. Then I saw a MiG-1 dive steeply toward the water, but it pulled up at the last moment. Now it was my turn to do the attacking. The MiG didn't seem to notice me at all and pulled up right in front of me. I had only to change my nose position slightly to line up the target, then I squeezed the trigger. The plane rolled over and went into the sea. When I again began my climb, I found our pilots controlling the area, and I joined them.

MH: Did you have any general impressions of the Soviet airmen?
Juutilainen: There were very good Soviet pilots, and then there were those who were not so good. They usually handled their airplanes quite well, but I think their shooting accuracy was not as good as ours. Maybe they didn't emphasize individual pilot skills as much as we did, counting more on numbers.

MH: What about their aircraft, including Western Allied Lend-Lease planes like the Hawker Hurricane, Supermarine Spitfire or Curtiss Tomahawk?
Juutilainen: The I-16 was in the same category as the B-239. The Lavochkin-Gorbunov-Gudkov LaGG-3 was faster but not very agile. The Lavochkin La-5 and Yakolev Yak-9 were clearly better than the Brewster. The Hurricane was a rather easy opponent to deal with, especially at low level. No problems with the Tomahawk, either. The Spitfire, of course, was superior to the Brewster.

MH: Didn't you also shoot down a captured Heinkel He-111 that the Soviets tried to use for a clandestine mission?
Juutilainen: The He-111 incident happened on October 20, 1942. I was chasing a Pe-2 into a cloud over the Gulf of Finland when I suddenly came up behind a Heinkel. Of course, at first I thought it was a German plane, and I decided to let him be, but when the rear gunner began to fire at me, I decided to shoot back. It was then that I noticed there were no national emblems anywhere on the plane. After shooting the rear gunner I set both of its engines on fire. Three men bailed out of the plane's belly, but they all died in the cold water of the Gulf of Finland.

MH: When did your unit receive Messerschmitt Me-109Gs?
Juutilainen: On February 8, 1943, I joined the newly formed LeLv 34, and on February 10 we flew to Germany to get our new Me-109G-2 fighters (see Messerschmitt Me-109s to Finland). We flew familiarization flights in the German fighter school at Werneuchen. The Germans had prepared a rather extensive course for us, but our leaders told them that we had come to pick up our fighters and not to learn how to fly. I flew once in an Me-109E and two flights in the Me-109G, testing its performance and maneuverability. I would say that whereas the Brewster was a gentleman's airplane, the Messerschmitt was a killing machine.

MH: On August 31, 1943, you downed your first La-5. Was the appearance of that new Soviet fighter disturbing to you and your colleagues?
Juutilainen: The La-5 was more agile than the Me-109G but otherwise in the same category. We Messerschmitt pilots had no special problems with La-5s, but Brewster pilots had to use tactics in which they flew in several divisions - one above the other, with a great height difference - to cover each other. I often used one tactical trick against the La-5 that worked every time. When a La-5 pilot got behind me, I started a climbing turn, so that the enemy pilot would point his guns at me but could not take the proper deflection. Usually he fired and, of course, missed. I gradually tightened my turn, and the enemy pilot tried to pull more and more deflection. If we started at low level, it took me some 13,000 feet before the enemy began to lose his speed and turned down. Then I just rolled after him and shot him down.

MH: Your score includes seven Ilyushin Il-2s. How did you manage to bring down those armored ground-attack planes?
Juutilainen: The Il-2 had really tough armor, and from directly behind you could only eliminate the rear gunner. There were three separate armor plates behind the pilot and the engine. The aircraft flew usually at low level, so the only approach was from above. We attacked their formations from both sides to disperse their defensive fire. From the side and above, one could shoot at a place in the armpit of the Il-2's wing, which normally caught fire.

MH: You are also credited with a Lockheed P-38 Lightning on July 10, 1943 - along with two I-153s. What was a P-38 doing over Finland at that time?
Juutilainen: Our squadron's intelligence officer identified it only after I described it to him. Our radio intelligence guys told us later that the enemies we met that day were ferrying new fighters to Lavansaari and bringing old planes out. Maybe the Lightning's visit had something to do with that exchange. We didn't see them later.

MH: Another unusual plane on your victory list is the North American P-51 Mustang of which the Soviets received only 10. Could you describe your two encounters with the Mustangs?
Juutilainen: The only time we saw Mustangs was during the peak of the Soviet summer offensive of 1944. The Mustangs we met were older models, with Allison engines. On June 26 we had just been escorting Bristol Blenheim bombers and were returning over the front line when I saw a Mustang approaching me from my right side in a right turn with his belly toward me. I yanked the throttle to idle to let it slide past me. The Mustang pilot, however, recovered his turn and then saw me. He also pulled his throttle back, and I saw long flames backfiring from his exhaust pipes. He also kicked his rudder to slow down, but I was doing the same thing, and because I had started sooner than he, the Mustang slid right out in front of me. The Mustang pilot then went to full power and tried to shake me off his tail with a climbing turn. In so doing he made his last mistake and flew directly in front of my gunsight. I fired, and soon the Mustang was burning in the forest near Tammisuo. Two days later my section was returning from a reconnaissance mission and made the usual detour to have an aerial engagement before returning to base. Soon we saw an Il-2 formation coming toward us escorted by three Mustangs. One of them pulled left and the other two went into a dive. In a tight diving turn I went after the airplane that had broken left, firing short bursts to break the pilot's mental backbone. It worked, for he apparently got nervous and went into a dive. The pilot kicked his rudder, but much too rapidly, only causing the tail to waggle while his plane stayed rather comfortably in the middle of my sight. The target was at an altitude of about 150 feet when it caught fire and crashed into the tall pine trees.

****side note. it has been verified later that there were no 51s in finland at that time. it is a case of misidentification by 2 fin pilots who had claims of 51s. these kills were infact yaks. the p38 was probably a fw 189. bobby
http://www.sci.fi/~ambush/faf/juutilainen.html
**********

MH: On June 30, 1944 you tied Jorma Sarvanto's one-mission record of six victories. Was yours also in a single mission?
Juutilainen: It was during one mission, but in three separate engagements. The first started when our four sections met about the same number of Bell P-39 Airacobras, during which I shot down two in the Viipuri area. Next I thought there was a dark cloud in the eastern sky, then looked again and realized that it was an enormous formation of enemy planes heading for Tali. We regrouped, climbed and called more fighters to the scene, then we attacked. In that battle I shot down two Yak-9s over Juustila. When the fight was over, we continued our patrol, and the next enemy formation came from the direction of Viipuri, including Pe-2 dive-bombers, Il-2 ground-attack planes and La-5 fighters. We attacked, and I first shot down an Il-2 between Juustila and Tali and then got an La-5 near Viipuri. My fuel-level warning light had been blinking for quite a while, and I called the other guys to break off. Only during the flight home did I realize that I had shot down six enemy planes. After landing our fuel was practically gone. Also, all of the ammunition was gone.

MH: What were the circumstances of you last confirmed victory?
Juutilainen: On September 3, 1944, my section was on a reconnaissance mission, and I was flying at 1,600 feet when a Yak dashed toward me from directly ahead. I shot in his face and he dove under me. I turned around but couldn't see him anymore. After a while, I noticed a twin-engine airplane in front of me. I identified it as a Douglas DC-3 transport, having the Soviet designation Lisunov Li-2. I looked around suspiciously while I sneaked up behind it. I fired first at the fuselage, then at an engine, which started to burn. Then I fired again at the fuselage. The plane crashed in a field near Nurmijärvi.

MH: Where there any other combats in the Continuation War that particularly stand out in your mind?
Juutilainen: Well, there was one combat during which I didn't fire a shot. On March 8, 1944, I was returning from a reconnaissance mission and approaching Suulajärvi when our control center reported four enemy fighters very near our base at an altitude of 13,000 feet. I began to climb, hoping ardently that the enemy would wait for me, because it was a rare opportunity to fight this deep in our own territory. I was already at 12,500 feet when I saw four La-5s in a nice formation about 1,500 feet below me, between Perkjärvi railway station and our base. As I approached from behind and above, I found myself admiring their sleek forms and beautiful camouflage paint job. I got the leader in my sight, sure of achieving surprise. I was just about to press the trigger when, like an explosion, they broke away in different directions and tried to climb above me. They had seen my approach and waited for just the right moment. That was no wonder, for my radio intelligence controller informed me that the leader of my adversaries was an ace named Medvetjev (probably colonel Aleksandr A. Matveyev, the commander of the 275th Fighter Division, who would survive the war with 15 victories).

I had more speed than my adversaries, so I pulled off and above them. They kept on climbing, and whenever I tried to turn into one of them, he would dive and the rest would pile in behind me. At the very moment the battle began, my fuel warning light blinked on. That meant I still had enough fuel for 20 minutes of cruise power. Unfortunately, it was much less time if I had to stay at maximum power, which was now the case. Our radio intelligence controller told me that Medvetjev had requested more fighters into the battle, so during every turn I squinted toward the sun from where the additional force would surely come. Our altitude was then about 20,000 feet and I had not yet put on my oxygen mask. I grabbed it from my side, turned the valve open and without time to properly snap it on to my helmet, jammed it on to my face gripping the middle rib of the mask with my teeth.

There was a nasty consequence to that makeshift arrangement. I was breathing heavily, and my humid breath was escaping out of the side of the mask and frosting up the inside of the canopy, except for the bulletproof windshield directly in front. Then the first reinforcement arrived, another La-5 whose cannon flashes I could see from long range. I pulled steeply under his nose and immediately after that pulled my plane up into a tight climbing turn, simultaneously using my thumbnail to scrape a small area of frost off the panel on the side where the enemy ought to be. Just as I had expected, there was the nose of an enemy fighter visible through the peephole. It was firing and the burst passed so close underneath my plane that I was tempted to rise up in my seat. It was very hard to keep all five of my opponents in sight especially when some started climbing to attack me from above and behind while the others were forcing me to turn. I caught a brief glimpse of swirling snow at our base 26,000 feet below, indicating that our fighters were taking off to help me. It was a comforting sight! I only wished I could hold those wolves for the time it would take them to climb to our altitude. The radio intelligence controller told me that a sixth fighter had joined Medvetjev's group. We had been dogfighting for 15 minutes, and I was soaked with sweat. I dodged another attack by pushing under the enemy's nose, turned into another plane attacking from above, then got the enemy in front of me in turn and had an opportunity to shoot. I frantically scraped another peephole and was following the enemy tightly when my engine coughed and quit from fuel starvation.

I made a diving turn under another enemy fighter that was firing at me, continuing in a vertical dive. It was now my only salvation. I knew that the La-5 had the same diving speed limit as the Messerschmitt - 513 knots - so I let my Me-109 fall vertically for 20,000 feet, and the speed rose to 595 knots. The controls seemed to be fixed in cement, and my ears were buzzing like telephone lines. At 6,500 feet, I started a slow pullout and turned the trim wheel. The nose began to rise slowly, but the ground was rushing up at me. Anytime now, I expected the wings to break off. As speed began to decrease, my elevator response increased and I was able to apply more and more back stick. The airplane achieved level flight at a height of 500 feet and my speed was down to 485 knots. The danger was over. I converted my speed to altitude and circled the base preparatory to an engine-off landing, lowering my gear and flaps and making and otherwise uneventful recovery. Our base personnel told me that two enemy planes followed me down, but broke off their pursuit after descending about 5,000 feet.

MH: How did you react to the second armistice on September 4, 1944?
Juutilainen: Personally, I was so used to the fighter pilot's life that I really had bittersweet feelings when we stopped combat flying. The Continuation War ended very much like the Winter War. We were able to stop the Soviet offensive, and again our fighter force, thanks to the small losses and continuous deliveries of aircraft, was stronger than it had been at the beginning of the war. During July, we noticed that Soviet pilots began to avoid aerial combat, and at the end of that month, they fled when they saw us. During our reconnaissance missions, we also saw that the Soviets had started to remove troops from the Karelian Front. This had been the only Soviet offensive to fail during their advance westward. On the other hand as in the Winter War, Finland did not have the resources to continue the fight alone when Germany was collapsing. So we gave the Soviet Union some areas that were in our hands when the war ended. Again, the independence of Finland was the most important thing. We had saved it again and thus made one interesting point. Of all the countries in the European theater that participated in World War II, there were only two that were never occupied: Finland and Great Britain. We developed quite civilized relations with the Soviet Union after the war and benefited economically by importing oil and raw materials while exporting industrial equipment and products. But every time they tried some of their political tricks, our leaders firmly said no. And they retreated each time.

MH: Did you fight the Germans after the armistice?
Juutilainen: There was a plan for our squadron to participate in operations against the Germans in Lapland, but it was then canceled.

MH: What decorations did you receive from your government?
Juutilainen: I was one of only four people - two of whom were fighter pilots - to receive Finland's highest medal, the Cross of the Mannerheim Order, twice. (The other was Hans Henrik Wind, the second-ranking Finnish ace with 75 victories.) I got my first Mannerheim Cross on April 26, 1942, and became a "double knight" on June 28, 1944. In addition, I received the Medal of Freedom, the Cross of Freedom 4th Class with Oak Leaves, and the Cross of Freedom 3rd Class with Oak Leaves.

MH: In retrospect, which wartime role did you prefer when you were in the air - lone wolf, team player or leader?
Juutilainen: I guess I was each one of those, depending on the situation. I tried always to carry out my mission completely, so I often chased the enemy long distances and stayed in the arena as long as possible. Therefore, there were many occasions when I found myself alone, although it was not planned to be so. I lost almost 30 kills from my score because of that. In the Ilmavoimat, we had a rule that to confirm a victory, either the wreck of the downed plane had to be found, or some eyewitnesses had to see it fall. Many times I asked for cameras for our fighters, but we didn't get them. Most of the time, I was a team player, since that was the way we had been trained. Quite often I flew as top cover, and it was a respected position in our formations. I was also a leader in section and division formations, and I often was an instructor, too.

MH: Were there any fellow Finnish airmen whom you particularly admired?
Juutilainen: I considered all my colleagues top guys. If I had to pick just one, it would be Oiva Tuominen. He was a brilliant pilot and an exemplary combatant, with 44 victories. When he saw an opponent, which he usually did before anyone else in the flight, he had already formulated a strategy and proceeded to implement it

MH: What of your postwar aviation career?
Juutilainen: I stayed in the Ilmavoimat until May 17, 1947, when I retired. I then continued flying in general and commercial aviation. I also had my own de Havilland Tiger Moth, which I could fly on wheels, pontoons or skis. I have flown only occasionally since the mid-50's.

MH: Have you met any Axis colleagues or former Allied opponents since the war?
Juutilainen: After the war, I met a very interesting old French pilot, Robert LePetit, who had been a squadron commander in World War I. He told many interesting stories about the French ace of aces, René Fonck. I also met a Russian general. He told me that he had heard about me almost every day during the war and now he wanted to meet me. We discussed all kinds of things, and then I offered him a flight in the Messerschmitt. He just smiled - he was already so fat that we would have needed a shoehorn to get him into the tiny cockpit of the Messerschmitt. I also met some Allied airmen. One of them, an American, had been in Boeing B-17 Flying Fortresses and flew 33 missions over Germany. It was interesting to hear about those operations. In Finland, we have a brotherhood of wartime pilots. We meet once a month and enjoy the friendship that is refined by hard times.

MH: Do you have any additional comments on any aspect of your career in aviation?
Juutilainen: I think that history has shown the value of air power. If a nation wants to be free and independent, it has to invest in the fighter force. In those investments, quality is much more important than quantity. And the quality of the personnel is more important than the quality of the materiel. Well-trained, first-class fighter pilots are a nation's strategic asset, which must be kept in good shape.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Military History editor Jon Guttman would like to thank Lt. Gen. Heikki Nikunen (Finnish Air Force, ret.) for his help in translating and preparing this interview. Recommended reading: Finnish Fighter Aces, by Kalevi Keskinen, Kari Stenman and Klaus Niska; and Juutilainen's autobiography, Double Fighter Knight.

chromehead

08-31-2010, 07:48 PM

Found that fasanating,makes me feel rather humble really,we have such a easy life compared to those hero's and what they did for a safer world..they put their life on the line everyday,nowdays people dont realise how brave those pilots were.we need to remember them,thanks for posting that bobbysocks.

bobbysocks

09-07-2010, 08:02 PM

a little more on marseille. one of the things that dawned on me was a great many top LW aces out lived early F' ups and near misses with death...

Hans Joachim Marseille
The most amazing fighter pilot of World War 2

Hans Joachim Marseille, a young German fighter pilot, was the most amazing, unique, and lethal ace of World War 2. A non-conformist and brilliant innovator, he developed his own personal training program and combat tactics, and achieved amazing results, including 17 victories in one day, and an average lethality ratio of just 15 gun rounds per victory. Marseille was described by Adolf Galland, the most senior German ace, with these words : "He was the unrivaled virtuoso among the fighter pilots of World War 2. His achievements were previously considered impossible."

Marseille, who later became one of the ten most highly decorated German pilots of World War 2 and was nicknamed "The Star of Africa" by the German propaganda, ("Jochen" by his friends), had a very unpromising and problematic start. At age 20 he graduated the Luftwaffe's fighter pilot school just in time to participate in the Battle Of Britain in the summer of 1940. He initially served in fighter wing 52 under Johannes Steinhoff (176 victories). In his third combat sortie he shot down a Spitfire and by the end of the Battle Of Britain he had seven victories, but he was also shot down four times, and his behavior on the ground got him into trouble. A charming person, he had such busy night life that sometimes he was too tired to be allowed to fly the next morning. He also loved American Jazz music, which was very politically incorrect in the Nazi military. As a result, he was transferred to another unit as a punishment for "Insubordination". His new unit, fighter wing 27, was relocated in April 1941 to the hot desert of North Africa, where he quickly achieved two more victories but was also shot down again and still had disciplinary problems.

Luckily for him, his new Wing Commander, Eduard Neumann, recognized that there might be a hidden potential in the unusual young pilot and helped him get on the right track. With his problems on the ground finally over, Marseille began to deeply analyze his combat activity, and started to improve his abilities as a fighter pilot with an intense self-training program, both physical and professional, that he developed for himself.

Marseille's self-training program
Vision - Marseille decided to adapt his eyes to the powerful desert sun and the dry desert atmosphere and to adapt his body to the desert's conditions. He stopped wearing sun glasses, deliberately exposed his eyes to the desert sun, and shifted from alcohol to milk. He also noticed that in the intensely lit dry desert atmosphere, aircraft can be detected from greater distances than over Europe and deduced that hiding and surprise are less practical over the desert than in the cloudy sky over Europe.
G-Force - Marseille worked endlessly to strengthen his abdominal and leg muscles in order to enhance his ability to sustain higher G-Force and for longer durations during dogfights better than the average fighter pilot. G-Force is the enormous centrifugal force experienced when a fighter aircraft makes sharp turns during dogfight. The modern G-suit that helps pilots sustain it was not yet invented in World War 2.
Aerobatics - Marseille used every opportunity to perform breathtaking aerobatics. In addition to free entertainment to his friends on the ground, this also gave him an outstanding control and confidence in extremely maneuvering his Messerschmitt 109 aircraft.
Marksmanship - Marseille spent his unused ammunition practicing firing at ground objects and trained a lot not just in plain strafing but also in high deflection shooting while in a sharp turn, which is much harder.
Intelligence - he began to read every possible intelligence information he could find in order to maximize his knowledge and understanding of the enemy.
Tactics - That's where Marseille marked himself as a great innovator of air warfare, and he kept improving. He claimed that in the perfect visual conditions over the desert, large formations are in a visual disadvantage against highly maneuvering single aircraft. He preferred to fight alone, with a single wingman providing warnings from a safe distance. He claimed that when fighting alone in a short range dogfight, he could quickly fire at anything he saw, while the attacked formation's pilots were confused, hesitated, and switched to a defensive position that further increased the lone attacker's chances. He also claimed that fighting alone eliminates the high risk of firing at or colliding with a wingman in such extreme maneuvering. Marseille said that in such conditions, there's a lower chance and too little time for the usual chase attack method, and preferred to use high angle deflection firing from short range while making a sharp turn. In doing so, he never used his gun sight and instead fired a very short burst at the passing target in the split second when its leading edge, its propeller, disappeared from his eyes behind his aircraft's nose. He calculated that when firing a short burst at this position, his gun rounds will hit the target's engine and cockpit, and he trained in this unorthodox aiming method on his friends (without firing) many times and perfected his ability to use it. He deduced that over the desert, a fighter pilot can become "invisible" only by extreme maneuvers at close range, and that the intensity of the maneuvering was more important than the speed of flying.
The Hans Joachim Marseille that emerged from this self-training program was a fighter pilot with superior abilities. He saw enemy aircraft before others did and from greater distances, he could sustain higher G-Force and for longer durations, he made unbelievably sharp turns and generally achieved better performance with the Me-109 than others. He greatly outmaneuvered his enemies, nullifying the significant numerical advantage they had, often becoming "invisible" to the enemy pilots by maneuvering so fast, and using his high-deflection short range firing method he achieved an amazing record of lethality, shooting down enemy aircraft with just 15 gun rounds on average.
The Star Of Africa
He first demonstrated his new abilities on Sept. 24, 1941. During a fighter sweep, he suddenly broke formation and hurried to a direction where no one saw anything. When the formation caught up with him, he already shot down a bomber. Later the same day, his formation of six Me-109s met a formation of 16 Hurricanes. Marseille and his wingman were ordered to provide cover to the other four Me-109s which attacked the Hurricanes, but after three Hurricanes were shot down, Marseille told his wingman to cover him and attacked a formation of four Hurricanes. He dived at them, leveled at their altitude, and shot down two Hurricanes in a single burst while in a sharp turn. He then dived below the Hurricanes to gather some speed again, and then climbed back to them and shot down a third Hurricane. At that stage, the two formations disengaged each other, but Marseille climbed alone to a higher altitude and later dived at the retreating Hurricanes and shot down a 4th Hurricane, his 5th victory that day, and only then flew alone back to base. "I believe now I got it" he said to a friend.
This was the beginning of his amazing series of dogfight victories, which lasted a year until his death in an accident. His most "classic" combat, by some analysts, was on June 6, 1942 at noon. While in a bomber escort mission, he saw a formation of 16 P-40 Tomahawk fighter and ground attack aircraft, but initially remained with his formation, escorting the German bombers. After ten minutes, he left his formation with the escorted bombers and flew alone to attack the 16 Tomahawks, but his faithful wingman followed him. Marseille climbed above a tight formation of four, then dived at them. From a range of just 200ft he selected his first victim and turned at him. From a very short range of just 150ft he fired and shot it down. He then pulled up, turned, and dived at his 2nd victim, shooting it down from a range of 150ft. The others began to dive, but Marseille dived at them, turned at his 3rd victim and shot it down at altitude of about 3500ft (1km). He passed thru the smoke from his 3rd victim and leveled at low altitude, and then climbed again. He then dived again, at his 4th victim. He fired from just 100ft, but his guns didn't fire, so he fired his machine guns from very short range and passed thru the debris from his 4th victim. At the moment he hit his 4th victim, his 3rd victim hit the ground after falling 3500ft, approximately 15 seconds between victories, an indication of Marseille's speed. The remaining Tomahawks were now all at very low altitude. He leveled at them and quickly closed distance. He found himself beside one of the Tomahawks, he turned at him and fired, hitting his 5th victim in the engine and the cockpit. He climbed again, watched the remaining Tomahawks, selected a target, dived, levelled, and fired, and passed just above his 6th victim. He then climbed to his wingman which observed the battle from 7500ft above, and then, short of fuel and ammunition, flew back to base.

In 11 minutes of combat, fighting practically alone against a large enemy formation, he shot down six victims, five of them in the first six minutes. He was the only attacker in the battle, and not a single round was fired at him. The surviving Tomahawk pilots said in their debriefing that they were attacked "by a numerically superior German formation which made one formation attack at them, shot down six of their friends, and disengaged". In a post-war analysis of this dogfight these pilots testified the same.

The fatal accident
The 22 years old Hans Joachim Marseille became a star, and he kept improving with experience. On Sept. 1, 1942, a month before his death, he shot down 17 enemies in one day, including 8 victories in 10 minutes, in his 2nd sortie that day. During this month he shot down 54 enemy aircraft. Already the youngest Captain in the German Air Force, he was promoted to Major. He taught his methods to his friends, but none of them was able to match his level of achievements in using these methods.
On Sept. 26, he shot down his last victims, making a total of 158 confirmed air victories. He received a new Me-109 aircraft but refused to replace his faithful aircraft. His status was such that only an order by Fieldmarshal Kesselring, the supreme commander of the German forces in the southern front, convinced him three days later to use the new aircraft.

The next morning, Sept. 30, 1942, he flew his 382nd combat mission, a fighter sweep over British territory. They met no enemies, and turned back towards the German lines. Marseille then had a technical problem. His new aircraft's engine cooling system failed, the engine caught fire, and his cockpit was full of smoke. Encouraged by his fellows, Marseille flew his burning new Me-109 three more minutes until he was again over German held territory. He then turned his aircraft upside down, jettisoned the canopy, and then released himself and fell outside of the burning fighter. Bailing out is not always safe, and Marseille was hit in the chest by the rudder of his Me-109 and lost consciousness, so he did not open his parachute, and fell down to the ground and died.

Already highly decorated, he was posthumously awarded the highest German medal, the Knights Cross with Oak leaves, Swords, and Diamonds. Only 9 other German aces were awarded this medal. On his grave, his comrades wrote his name and rank, and added just one word: undefeated.

bobbysocks

09-12-2010, 05:49 PM

Last moments of hero World War II pilot's life revealed in letter from German witness to his fiancée By David Wilkes

They were arch enemies, fighting each other for their very survival. But five years after bomber pilot William Ross was shot down and killed in the Second World War, it was a German soldier who showed compassion to the fiancee left behind.
Gernot Knop had witnessed the 28-year-old RAF sergeant’s death in anti-aircraft fire as he attacked a Nazi fuel ship.
And writing in English to Dorothy Bird, he told her of Sergeant Ross’s heroic last mission and returned to her the few possessions he had with him when he died at a seaport in eastern Libya in 1941.

Killed in action: William Ross with fiancee Dorothy Bird before the war
Showing the respect troops on opposing sides had for each other, the letter told how he was buried by his enemies with ‘military honours’ and was saluted for his bravery by Field Marshal Erwin Rommel, leader of the German forces in the North Africa campaign.
The letter began: ‘This war being finished, I feel myself obliged to send you these things, which I found by the Sgt W A Ross...’
Herr Knop’s letter was sent from Hamburg on June 3, 1946. And although Miss Bird had already been officially informed of Sergeant Ross’s death, relatives said it was a comfort to her to know all she could about her ‘darling Bill’s’ death.
Herr Knop, an engineer, said of the pilot’s final seconds: ‘He flew over the rock and rushed towards the ship, but the bombs plunged into the water, and then he came in about 10m’s hight(sic) over us trying to escape.
‘I saw how one of his motors got hit and stopped. The pilot pointed at our anti-aircraft cannon to show it to his shooter.
‘In that moment the fate of the Bristol Blenheim was made sure.

Series of projectiles smashed into the bomber, the pilot was killed and the bomber was smashed against a house where several of our soldiers were killed too.’
He enclosed a photograph marked with an ‘X’ showing where the plane crashed at Porto Bardia. We laid Sergeant Ross and his comrades into coffins and buried them all military honours.’
Sergeant Ross, an accountant, played rugby for Scotland beforethe war. The possessions sent to Miss Bird included a photograph of him in the team that faced England in 1937, banknotes and stamps.
All will be sold with the letter at auction in Devon on Saturday, for an estimate of £100.
Miss Bird lived in Renfrewshire, Scotland, during the war, but the letter was addressed to her on the Isle of Bute.
It is believed she and Sergeant Ross had holidayed there and that was the address he had with him.
She went on to marry Alan Cooper, a solicitor who had been an anti-aircraft gunner. They had two children. She died in 2001 at 86.
Her daughter, Sheena Cooper, an artist from Exeter,said: ‘Mum and Bill had grown up together. She was devastated to have lost him. She treasured the letters the German sent her.’

bobbysocks

09-20-2010, 07:12 PM

Death reveals secret of war heroine
Wartime heroine: SOE secret agent Eileen Nearne (dickiebo.wordpress.com)A reclusive old lady who died alone in her flat in south-west England and had no-one to pay for her funeral has posthumously shot to fame after it emerged she was an intrepid World War II secret agent.
Eileen Nearne died at the age of 89 at her home in the town of Torquay on September 2.
In the absence of any known relatives to make funeral arrangements, authorities entered the flat to take charge several days later, a local council spokeswoman said.
A search for documents that might help locate relatives instead yielded a treasure trove of medals and papers that revealed the life of a woman once known as "Agent Rose", who defied the Nazis as a wireless operator in occupied France.
British media compared her death to that of the fictional Eleanor Rigby, who died alone in a Beatles song.
"She was to be buried, like Eleanor Rigby, along with her name," said the Times newspaper, which published a large black-and-white photo of a young Ms Nearne in a beret on its front page.
"That may now change. It ought to, given Eileen Nearne's service to her country," the Times editorial said.
"Her courage was capped only by her humility. Her life deserves to be sung about every bit as much as Eleanor Rigby's."
A member of the secretive Special Operations Executive (SOE), the 23-year-old Ms Nearne took a night flight into France in March 1944 to work as an undercover agent helping coordinate a network of resistance fighters and spies.
She was arrested by the Gestapo four months later but was able to hide her true identity thanks to her fluent French, acquired during childhood when her family lived in France.
However, Ms Nearne was arrested again weeks later and was imprisoned at Ravensbrueck concentration camp before being transferred to a forced labour camp in Silesia.
She escaped in April 1945 but was re-arrested, before escaping one last time.
After the war, Ms Nearne was awarded an MBE, or Member of the Order of the British Empire, in recognition of her services. She lived for most of the rest of her life with her sister Jacqueline, who had also served in the SOE.
Since her sister's death in 1982, Ms Nearne had lived alone and never spoke about her wartime exploits.
"Isn't it ironic that this lady, with her Special Operations Executive training, carried this through for the rest of the life and remained under cover, so much so that we're talking about her with such surprise just after her death," said John Pentreath, of the Royal British Legion, in a BBC interview.
The Legion, an organisation dedicated to the welfare and memory of members and veterans of the British armed forces, has taken over preparations for Nearne's funeral, which will take place next week.
"We began to realise that a large bit of our history has just left us and it is hugely important to us that even now, after she's died, we do something about it, which is what we're going to do at her funeral," Mr Pentreath said.
"We will pay her the honour and respect that she deserves."
- Reuters

bobbysocks

09-26-2010, 11:02 PM

Not My Day to Die
By Jim Kirkendall

Recently I flew from Algiers to Cairo, Egypt, in one of our big military jet transports. The flight at high altitude was extremely routine by today's standards. As the coast line of Tunisia slid into view far below, vivid memories came to my mind of another day and of another flight in this area that was very far from serene — in fact, by all odds it should have been my last one. Why it was not and why fate allowed me to survive that day when others under much less violent circumstances did not survive has always been
a mystery.

It was July 1944. 1 was an Army Air Force Captain and pilot in the 324th Fighter Group, flying P-40 Warhawks from an airfield on the tip of Cape Bon, the northernmost point in Tunisia, North Africa. The allied air forces, of which our fighter group was a part, were engaged in softening up the enemy
on the island of Sicily in preparation for the landing of the ground forces which was to take place on July 16.

On the afternoon of July 7th, I was assigned to lead a flight of P-40s which were to escort A-20 light bombers scheduled to attack Sciacca Airdrome on Silicy's south coast. It was my 23 combat mission in the war. The A-20 bombers were base on a neighboring airfield some miles south of our location. Operational procedures called for us to be ready in the cockpits of our fighters and to wait on the ground for the arrival of the bombers. The A-20s were to fly to our field in formation and there circle at low altitude. This would allow us to start our engines, take off and get in escort position above the bombers before proceeding across the Mediterranean Sea to the target in Sicily.

The first indication that things might not go well that day came when the bombers flashed into view but, instead of circling, passed directly over our field and continued out over the Mediterranean toward Sicily. This forced us into an expedited take-off and accelerated chase. The temperatures in North Africa in July are very high. The extreme heat and the aircraft performance required to catch up with the bombers proved too much for eight of the twelve P40s. The fell so far behind the bombers that they finally had to give up and returned to base. Only my lead flight of four fighters were able to continue the mission. But as we neared the coast of Sicily, we had maneuvered into good escort position, high above and to the left of the bombers. Then the bombers reach the Sicilian coast, turned right and settled down for their bomb run on Sciacca.

Suddenly, my wing man's voice crackled in my earphones, "Bogies at nine o'clock level." I quickly turned my head to the left and saw over a dozen German Messerschmitt fighters closing rapidly on our flight. Over the radio I called, "Break left," and we turned directly toward the enemy. I fired at an oncoming Messerschmitt, simultaneously swerving to avoid hitting him headon. I could see tracer bullets lace the sky all around me and knew that the other three members of my flight were firing also. Our action broke up the enemy formation, and a turning, twisting melee ensued.

As the dogfights continued, I heard in my earphones the bomber leader announce, "Bombs Away!". Then he advised that he was turning his flight back over the Mediterranean and heading for home base in Tunisia with all aircraft intact. I happened to be in a tight turn when, suddenly, I found myself in a nearly ideal kill position behind an enemy fighter. All I needed to do was to pull the nose of my aircraft in a little tighter so as to get the Messerschmitt fully in my gun sight. In a few more seconds I would press the trigger, and there would be one less enemy aircraft in the fight. So I held the turn despite the fact that, because of than numerical superiority of the Messerschmitts, I should have been checking for enemy fighters behind me as well as ahead.

This oversight proved my undoing for, suddenly, my plane shuddered violently as machine-gun and cannon bullets from an enemy Messerschmitt that had maneuvered behind me hammered into the tail, fuselage and wings of my aircraft. Then there was a deafening explosion and a blinding flash of light as an explosive 20 millimeter cannon shell detonated in the plexiglass canopy inches fiom my head. Hot fragments of metal and plexiglass pierced my left arm and leg; my left hand was paralyzed and pinned to the throttle as a large shell fragment struck the back of the hand.

Miraculously my face and eyes were spared. Smoke from the shell burst filled the cockpit; there was the acrid smell of explosive and the sickening odor of burning flesh. I thought for sure that my time had come. Intuitively I applied full left rudder and stick; my aircraft snap-rolled and went into a violent spin. I was going straight down, and the ground was coming up rapidly. But, somehow, I managed to recover just above the trees, heading in the direction of the Sicilian coast which I could see a few miles away:

I quickly took stock and noted that, in addition to the cannon shell in the canopy, other cannon shells had exploded as they struck the fuselage behind the cockpit and ahead in the engine area. There were machine-gun bullet holes in the horizontal tail surfaces and the wings. Half the canopy was gone. The aircraft controls were still functioning, but the engine was running rough and trailing an ominous stream of black smoke. But I had survived what must have seemed to the enemy pilot a sure kill for him. Moreover, I had miraculously recovered from a spin at low altitude, and I was still flying. With rising hopes I continued toward the coast, hoping to limp back across the 150 miles of the Mediterranean Sea to home base on Cape Bon.

Then, as I crossed the coast line and went out over the sea, my hopes sank again as three Messerschmitts came into view about a mile to my right and slightly behind me, flying on a heading that would intercept my aircraft in a few miles. They had seen me and, with the condition of my plane and myself, I did not stand a chance when they attacked. As one of the enemy fighters began to move directly behind me, I made a hard turn to the right.

Thereupon all three enemy aircraft turned right also, then broke off and headed back toward Sicily -- for what reason I'll never know. So, for a third time that day, I had escaped what had seemed certain death.

I turned left again and proceeded at low altitude over the bright blue waters of the Mediterranean toward Cape Bon until I was about 40 miles off the coast of Tunisia. Suddenly, there was a loud explosion in the engine and black smoke poured out of the left side; there could be no doubt that my P-40 was destined for the 'bottom of the sea. I slammed back what was left of the canopy, unfastened my seat belt and attempted to bail out the right side.

This first attempt was unsuccessful as the rush of air forced me back into the cockpit. I was dangerously close to the water, so I quickly tilted the aircraft to the left and tried the left side. Again the rush of air hit me but this time pulled me violently out of the cockpit, with my legs striking the steel frame of the windshield.

My body slid along the side of the aircraft, and an instant later, I experienced what all pilots dread as I smashed directly into the tail of the aircraft, The horizontal section of the tail struck me in the right side. Ribs snapped, and I blacked out. But for a fourth time that day fate seemed to say, "Not yet!" Instinct and training made me pull the rip cord of my parachute although I later had no recollection of doing so. The parachute lowered me into the sea, and I regained my senses, deep in the waters of the Mediterranean.

As I bobbed to the surface, I was gasping for the breath that had been knocked out of me when I smashed into the tail of the aircraft. With each gasp, however, I was getting more sea water than air. I inflated my life vest which helped lift my head out of the sea, but I still was inhaling too much water as I struggled to breathe and the white caps broke over me. I was growing weaker rapidly; I knew that I had to inflate my one-man life raft and get in it somehow if I were to survive.

The package containing the raft was trailing down in the water, fastened to my life vest by a length of webbing. I pulled the package up, opened it and inflated the raft. Getting into the raft took every ounce of energy and all the nerve I had, for I was made painfully aware of broken fibs and, for the first time, of a broken leg, apparently suffered when striking the steel windshield frame on bailout. But I did manage to struggle into the raft, somehow. Then I lay back, looked at the blue sky and wondered for a fifth
time why I was still alive.

The rest was anti-climax. My yellow life raft and sea marker dye were spotted by pilots returning from another mission over Sicily, and my position was relayed to Air Sea Rescue. A few hours later, as dusk was beginning to settle and a cold chill replaced the heat of the late afternoon, a high-speed British Royal Air Force air sea rescue boat approached, slowed, circled, then stopped and put a net over the side. I was motioned to climb up. But as I held up my hands in a gesture of futility, two British crewmen lowered themselves over the side, put a sling under me and hoisted me aboard. I was placed on a table in the cabin, my wet clothes were cut off, morphine was adn-finistered and hot blankets were wrapped around me as the boat sped toward Pantelleria Island and the American hospital there.

The next day I received the good news that the other three P-40s in my flight and all of the bombers had returned safely to base. Two months later I was flying again and, before the war had ended, completed 127 more combat missions — all exciting but hardly as much as Number 23.

I'll always remember the words of one of the British air sea rescue crewmen who picked me up out of the Mediterranean. He stared at me incredulously as I lay on the table in the cabin and said, "Sir, you don't look as good as a couple of dead blokes we picked up yesterday, but I guess this bloody well wasn't your day to die!"

bobbysocks

09-27-2010, 05:19 PM

Captured
By Paul M. Bull

June 9, 1944 - 315th base at Pignataro, Italy. I didn't feel as sharp as I had been, so I talked to Doc Laughlin, the squadron flight surgeon. He looked me over, took my blood pressure, and said I should rest for awhile. In fact, he told me I should be sent back to the States. I told him I was helping Art Marks in Flight Operations. Doc said, 'Okay, we will start the paperwork.' I reported to Flight Operations and the request for air strikes began to come in. We only had two Flight Leaders and one was already on a mission. One of the Flight leaders returned and he said, 'P.M., I've got the runs and I can't fly. I don't feel too sharp.'

A call came in for an air strike at the north end of lake Bolzano. There was a Battalion of Germans dug in where the roads on each side of the lake turned north. The call said that our tanks were only about one-half mile south on the west road. They asked for the strike as soon as possible and since Art was not available, I said, "I'll take it" and threw my wallet on the desk. All the pilots "on call" were summoned, and the flight-line crew loaded twelve planes with 1,000-lb bombs. I took off with my Flight Group and when we arrived, I could see the German Cross painted on the tops of some vehicles, so I said to the other 11 planes, 'Okay, this is our target. We will drop our bombs and strafe. Tally Ho!"

We received very little visible firepower. We strafed the area good. There were quite a few fires. When I felt the area had been covered, I said, "Okay, let's go home." As I began to pull up, I saw a bunch of big trucks that were parked under some trees. I asked my wingman if he had any ammo left and he said he did. I said, "Red Leader, go on. We'll catch you over the lake" We swung around and destroyed a bunch of big trucks. I said to my wingman, "let's go home." We still had not received any visible gunfire, but when we were about 300 feet above the ground, all of a sudden the air turned white with tracers.

I pushed the stick forward to get on the deck, but there was a big explosion and my control stick just flopped around. So I unsnapped my seat and shoulder straps. Fire entered the cockpit from the engine area in a stream about 6 inches in diameter, and I tried to jettison my canopy, but it wouldn't budge. All of a sudden I was out in the air and as I turned over, I saw my plane hit the ground. The tail was gone, so I knew a tracer must have hit the 60-gallon gas tank right behind my seat. Thank heavens for the armor between my seat and the gas tank!

I landed off to the side of the area we had just bombed and strafed. It was 11:45 a.m., June 9, 1944. I couldn't see anybody, so I started gathering my- chute to bury or hide it. I said to myself, "Paul, what are you doing? They know you're here" I don't remember pulling the ripcord, but I had the 'D' ring in my hand. Then I started to unzip my chute back and again I thought to myself, "Paul, get out of here.". I looked around and to my right and about a hundred yards away I saw fires, horses down and men yelling. So I looked to my left and approximately 150 feet away was a rock fence.

As I was about to move, a rifle fired and the bullet went right by my head. I turned and there stood a soldier, I would guess between 15 and 17 years old, wearing a helmet, shorts and a pair of shoes. I spoke to him in Italian, but he just ran over to me and said something in German. He pointed to the slit trench and still in an excited voice, pointed to the sky and pulled me to go with him back to the slit trench. I tried to assure him the planes were gone, but he was too scared to listen.

A German Corporal ran up and demanded my pistol. I told him I didn't have a pistol. He reached over and took my pen and pencil. I grabbed them back because I was mad at myself for the position I was in. As I placed the pen and pencil back in my shirt pocket, I felt a slip of paper that had names and plane numbers written on it, that I had neglected to leave in Operations. I reached in my back pocket and pulled out the black escape packet and tore it open. Italian money spilled all over the ground. Immediately both soldiers were on the ground - one for you, two for me. While they were busy picking up money, I put the piece of paper in my mouth and eventually swallowed it.

A German officer showed up and the young soldier split. The officer jabbed me in the ribs with his pistol and said, "H'rous". I assumed that meant to walk in the direction he was pointing. I took one step and fell flat on my face. I looked down at my left leg and the pant leg from my knee down to my GI shoe was blown up as big as a balloon. All the shoelaces were burned out and my GI shoe was well scorched.

The officer told the Corporal something and the Corporal left. The officer was talking the whole time and from the tone of his voice, I gathered he didn't like me much. After a while, the Corporal came back with one of the 99th Fighter Group pilots. I could see he had been mistreated, as his shirt and pant pockets had been ripped off and his face looked bruised. The officer motioned for Lt. Smith (I learned his name later) to carry me and pointed toward some buildings I had seen from the air.

Smith helped me up and put his arm around me, and I put my right arm around his shoulders, grabbed the lapel of his shirt and away we went. The German officer mumbled all the way. The buildings were inside of a rock wall about 6 to 7 feet tall. Inside the wall were a house, barn and several other smaller buildings. The officer said something to the Corporal and we stopped. Then the officer and Corporal left. Soon another German Corporal came over and spoke to us in perfect Eastern U.S. speech.

He began to question me. After each question, I would say, "Lt. Paul M. Bull, 0736977." The Corporal said that he knew I was aware of what we had done to their transportation. He continued, ' We are going out tonight. Tell us what we want to know and we will take you with us. Otherwise . . . ." and he just put his finger to his head and said, "Bang." He left, and we stood in the fairly hot Italian June sun all day.

The Corporal finally came about sunset and handed each of us a plate of beans and said, "Enjoy. This is your last supper." Soon, some soldiers took us around the back of a building. There were two freshly dug graves.

Lt. Smith and I were stood up against the stone wall with the graves right in front of us. I thought, "Hey, things are getting out of control" After awhile, out marched seven soldiers, similar to our Military Police, with big brass plates on chains around their necks. I remembered seeing pictures in my preflight schooling.

They lined up in front of us with their rifles at their sides. Then the Colonel and Corporal came out. The Corporal asked us the same questions he previously asked that morning and I gave him the same answer - name, rank and serial number. I wondered what Smith would say, but he said the same thing I did.

The Colonel stepped up and looked at us, shook his head and barked a command. The seven M.P.'s jumped to attention. The Colonel said in German, I assume - Ready, Aim and we were looking down seven rifle barrels. I thought, "I wonder what it feels like to die?"

There was a long silence and the Colonel barked another command, and the seven M.P.'s dropped their rifles, put them on their shoulders and marched away. The Colonel crooked his finger and said, "kommen sie hier." We followed him, with Smith helping me, to a building inside of which was large trailer. We entered and there was a bed, table with maps and cupboards. He opened one and took out three small glasses and a bottle of wine. He poured three and handed one to each of us. He raised his glass and said, "I salute you. You brave men."

Later we were taken to a jeep and the Colonel got his unit out of there that night! I expected the U.S. tanks to open up at anytime.

Paul Bull spent eleven months in German prisoner-of-war camps, including several winter months near the Polish border. After enduring a winter forced march to a camp in the interior of Germany, he was liberated by General George Patton's lst Army troops at Moosberg.

bobbysocks

09-27-2010, 09:58 PM

Regarding the various comments about throttling back or up a P-38 engine to increase maneuverability I can only repeat that this was not practiced as far as I know. When I was overseas in 44 and 45, flying the J winter thru summer, the policy was to drop tanks and push up MP to 45 inches when German fighters were spotted in a position where an engagement was likely. When you actually went for them, throttle up to WEP, 60 inches or so, rpm all the way up too, up past 3000 rpm. And there it would stay until the engagement was over and you remembered to throttle back. You could easily be at WEP for 20 minutes or more.

Full power all the time was wanted because maneuvering bled off so much speed and altitude. What you wanted was more power and more power. All the prop fighters were underpowered and the only way to keep them turning was to keep them descending. The more power you had available, the slower the descent and the easier the recovery. The 38 seemed to have plenty of power for a prop job and certainly below 15,000 ft. no German fighter could get away from it.

That may sound pretty low, but if you initiated an engagement at 27,000 ft. going into a shallow dive and making a few parring turns, you could easily lose 10,000 ft. Certainly in a 38 without dive flaps you would not want to drop the nose too sharply above 20,000 ft. As krauts got to know the 38 they would tend to dive sharply away from it, convinced it would not follow. But that was just fine, because the 38's job was to protect the bombers. If a gaggle of 109s approached the bombers, escorting P-38s turned to engage them and the 109s bugged out for the deck, the 38's job was done. Those 109s wouldn't have enough gas to climb back up to altitude, chase the bombers and position for an attack. And if they did, the 38s would turn in to them and the process would repeat.

The krauts figured this out pretty soon and knew they had to hit the 38s. They would climb very high (109s, the 190s weren't seen at very high altitudes)and bounce the 38s, who would be cruising at around 220 or so if they hadn't spotted the krauts. Most losses were the result of surprise bounces, the krauts keeping on moving so there was no chance for retaliation. The 38 formation would be broken up, with guys turning looking for the enemy, leaving a way open for other German fighters to hit the bombers.

The only solution to the surprise bounce was to open up the escort fighter formation, have high cover several thousand feet above the bombers and close escort, and keep your head on a swivel. Of course, simply having MORE escorts also helped. (I would wager that was a big problem for the two early 38 groups. They just didn't have enough people to play both the infield and the outfield.) The trick was to spot the Germans as they maneuvered into position for a bounce. That's where having outstanding eyesight mattered, mattered a LOT more than dive flaps or a few more horsepower. One man in a squadron with exceptional eyesight was a real lifesaver. If a high group of krauts was spotted, some of the escort would be tapped to go after them. They didn't have to shoot them down to succeed. All they needed to do was break up their party and force them to dive away.

The 51 could operate at altitudes higher than we usually encountered krauts so had less trouble with being bounced, although, of course, you had to fly at the altitude dictated by the bombers. It had a trickier stall than the 38 so that it was not at all unusual to snap out a tight turn curving in after a kraut.

The first time I lost a 51 in a high speed stall I lost 13,000 ft. before I was able to recover and thought I was going to have to bail out. Man, at that point I HATED that airplane. But by about the third or fourth time that happened, I could recover losing less than 500 ft. and wasn't afraid to push

the plane till it snapped. I'd just get it right back under control and keep going. I got so I could catch it just as it departed and it would only wiggle a bit before getting back down to business. I knew what the airplane was going to do before the airplane did and was ready for it. I didn't even have to consciously think about it. What I had thought was a very big deal was, after a while, no problem at all. The airplane was OK. The pilot just had to learn how to handle it. Stick time does make a difference. To those who have said the 38 was a more complicated airplane than the 51 and so pilots needed more time to master it, I would answer that the 51 could be a contrary beast and a pilot needed time to learn to master IT.

If I was to differentiate between the 38 and the 51, I would say the 38's qualities shone best when it was low and slow. Even a pilot with limited hours in the cockpit could have absolute confidence in it and so push it right into the stall with no fear, even at treetop height. The 51's qualities shone best when it was high and fast. In the upper air at well over 300 per, the German fighters were sitting ducks for a 51. They couldn't outmaneuver it and they couldn't out run it and they couldn't out dive it. That's why you hear these stories about a German pilot simply bailing out as soon as a 51 locked on to him. He knew he had no chance so why hang around for the bullets to hit.

Once the 51 was available in numbers it made sense to shift the 38s to the 9th air force and ground attack. It could easily outfight any Luftwaffe opposition at mid and low altitudes, could carry plenty of bombs and survive ground fire that would have killed the 51 very quickly. The only time I wished I was in a 38 when flying the 51 was attacking ground targets. It wouldn't take much to bring a 51 down, and unlike in an air to air encounter, whether you went down or got home was just a matter of your luck that day. Pilot skill was largely irrelevent, as long as you were good enough to keep the airplane at grass cutting height and didn't fly it into the ground because your reactions were too slow. A 38 on the deck was very stable at speed, and hard to bring down by triple A.

My personal situation was such that I had to lean forward slightly to reach all the controls on the 38 and get a good grip on the control wheel. Because of my body's position, I would tend toward gray out and tunnel vision fairly quicky in hard turns. With the 51, I was able to reach all the controls and have a good grip on the stick while leaning back slightly, so gray out and tunnel vision didn't hit me as quickly. That was one big reason I preferred the 51. Other reasons were that I preferred the high sky for my war, and if I had wanted to follow the 38 thru its war career (assuming I had a choice in the matter) I would have had to have spent it in the 9th shooting up airfields.

No thank you.

George

bobbysocks

09-29-2010, 01:12 AM

this story doesnt take place in europe. but it has several interesting aspects that people may not know. like the 4 beam code system for finding your way back.....that was used in europe as well to some degree. a lot of boys never made the long boat trip over as their flying days ended here and too soon.

A Flight in the Dark
By Les Krause

In the early part of 1942, 1 was with the 59th Squadron of the 33rd U.S. Army Air Corps Pursuit Group stationed at Logan Field near Baltimore, Maryland flying P-40s. Training under Major Joe Mason was very intensive. There was flying going on almost every morning, afternoon and night. One week we went to Langley Field, Norfolk, Virginia for gunnery, bombing and night flying, because there was less air traffic in this area.

On the night of April 4, 1942, 1 was one of four scheduled for night flying. It was very hazy and the squadron stationed there canceled night flying because of the conditions. They were smart, as it turned out. However, we went ahead. The first leg of our mission was to fly west-northwest on a dead reckoning heading with no navigational aids and intersect the SW on-course beam to the local range station. These stations at the time broadcast four low-frequency directional beams, using A (dah dit) and N (dit dah) Morse code signals. As you approached the station location where the beams intersected the signals got louder.

If you were on one of the four beams, which got narrower as you near the station, you got a steady tone, and if you were to the left or right you got an A or an N. When you passed over the station, the location of which you knew by the chart, the signal would fade out in an inverted cone of silence. On intersecting the SW beam, we were to fly that beam to the station, the fly out from the station on the SSE beam to intersect the WNW leg of the Norfolk station, cross the narrow A signal quadrant, pick up the WSW leg, let down and land back at Langley.

Four of us took off, but one pilot aborted after takeoff, and landed because of poor visibility. Three of us continued on. I intersected the first leg as planned and flew to the station. We were supposed to be flying under visual flight rules, but in fact the visibility was so bad that I was actually flying instruments. We had only one navigational radio of the "coffee grinder" type, which required turning a crank to change frequency in order to pick up another station.

After I tuned my navigation radio to Norfolk I was still getting a strong N signal so I tuned back to the other station to verify I was still on course. In a couple of minutes, I cranked the radio to tune back to Norfolk and was still getting a strong N. I had hoped that I would be starting to receive an alternating faint A in the background, which would indicate that I was approaching the WSW beam, No A was audible, so I tuned back to the first station again.

I was ten minues past my ETA to intercept the beam when I tuned to the Norfolk station and was still getting an N signal. For five more minutes I flew the same heading, then I became aware that the N signal was fading. Panic! While tuning I must have flown through the WW beam, the A quadrant, the WSW beam and was now in the south N quadrant. But where?

I reversed course and flew for several minutes. Under such conditions your mind and eyes play tricks. To the left I thought I saw through the haze a red arc. (Later, I realized that I had been looking at my left red wingtip running light reflected in the haze). I must be approaching the coast and seeing the lights on a roller coaster in an amusement park. I went into a aleft descending turn to identify the park.

Suddenly all my flight instruments went crazy. I had lost control of the aircraft! We didn't have full 360-degree gyro horizons in those days. After you exceeded its limits, the gyro tumbled and was useless. I had to resort to the primary instruments, ball and needle, airspeed, rate of climb and altimeter. I got control of the needle and ball but my airspeed was bleeding off much too quickly, and the altimeter was winding up like a broken clock. I pushed forward on the stick and dust rose up off the cockpit floor.

My rate of climb, altimeter and airspeed indicator gave readings I did not want to see. I stalled out and went into a spin. Again, I went to the basics, needle and ball, airspeed, etc. and hope I had enough altitude to recover. This time I was successful. I still hadn't solved where I was but figured that since most of my movements had been vertical I hadn't covered much horizontal territory. I headed north again, climbing to a higher altitude to conserve fuel, which was becoming a problem.

Before long I heard the faint voice of Langley Tower calling me on the command radio (a VBT push-button channel type). They asked my position. I said I didn't know but believed I was in the south N quadrant of the Norfolk station, and I would do an orientation pattern to determine my location. I asked them to advise the Norfolk Air Defense Command of my predicament and ask them not to turn their search lights on me. Search lights could be blinding and would have made it impossible to read my instruments. Also, I was worried they might start shooting at me, since this was a time when the public was in a high state of anxiety about the possibility of enemy aircraft reaching the U.S. coast.

Finally, I hit a leg of the Norfolk navigation station and determined that I had intersected the ESE beam. I advised Langley tower and followed the leg to the station. I advised Norfolk of my position and began my descent from 10, 000 feet following the WSW beam for a straight-in approach. Manifold pressure read properly for my descent, as did all the other indicators except for the zero reading on the fuel gauge.

Finally the field was in sight. I advised the tower and lowered gear, flaps and opened the canopy which we did for all takeoffs and landings. I saw my approach was going to be a little short and advanced the throttle slightly. Nothing happened. I had a slight cold and my ears were plugged up so I wasn't really sensitive to engine noise. I opened it further.

Nothing happened! I then realized that the engine had stopped and the manifold pressure gauge was only reading atmospheric pressure. I advised the tower that I was out of fuel and was ditching in the bay. I didn't have time or the hydraulic pressure to raise the gear, so I ditched with the wheels and flaps down. I knew the plane would decelerate rapidly when it hit the water, so I covered the stick with both hand just before the plane went in. My head slammed forward and hit my hands covered the stick. I knew I was lucky to have my hands there. If the plane floated it was only for a couple of seconds.

There was no time to release the safety harness and get out. Suddenly, I was under water and still strapped in the cockpit! I groped around and found the safety harness release and kicked myself free of the cockpit. It was pitch black, and I still didn't know which way was up. I pulled the cord to puncture one of the C02 tubes on my Mae West.

I popped to the surface and gulped for air. But the buoyancy of my seat pack parachute brought my butt up to the surface pushing my head under water. I had to release the buckles of my parachute. I dog paddled with my hands to get my head out of water to take a deep breath. When I stopped paddling my head would again go under, but then I could use both hands. The buckles were the type you had to push the two parts together and then rotate each part 90 degrees to separate them. I was unable to do this. The leather gloves I wore were wet and I didn't have much feel, and the harnesses were very tight, as they should be.

After several unsuccessful attempts and running out of breath I realized I had to get my gloves off so I could feel the buckles better. Shedding tight fitting wet leather gloves is not an easy task. Finally, I succeeded in unbuckling the chute. If I had inflated both air bladders on the Mae West, I wouldn't have been able to keep my head out of the water for very long, and I believe it also would have put more tension on the harness, and I don't think I would have had the strength to release it I decided to keep the chute as a flotation device while I swam to shore.

The worst of my problems weren't over with yet -- I was scared to death I might trip a floating mine while swimming. The shore seemed a great distance away, but I doubt if it was more than half a mile. Every stroke was filled with fear. Finally, I could see shore details, and suddenly my hand hit something. A mine? Nope. It was the bottom. I stood up and staggered towards the shore with my chute, which was a scarce commodity at that time.

My troubles were still not over. I was now in marsh land crossed by large drainage ditches. I fell or slid down each ditch and climbed back up the slippery side of until I reached the perimeter road around the airfield. I started walking on the road towards Base Operations. Suddenly, a truck full of guards appeared. They jumped out of the vehicle with machine guns and surrounded me.

I must have been quite a sight, wet and muddy, my hair and face draped with seaweed. I identified myself and explained what had happened, but they still didn't believe me. I was a spy landed by submarine! They took me to the brig still under guard and called Base Operations to confirm my identity. Now I was an American again. They noticed blood on the front of both pant legs. I pulled up my pants and there were three bloodied marks on my legs.

At the hospital, medics cleaned and dress my wounds, looked at the knot on my head and kept me for the night. I probably cut my shins on the metal edge of the windshielf when I kicked free of the cockpit, The only material loss was the Movado gold wristwatch my parents had given me upon graduation from college. The next morning I went out on the salvage tug and sat in the bow, motioning directions to the skipper, Finally, I pointed down with my finger. He stopped. Lo and behold, there were droplets of oil coming to the surface!.

Later that day they recovered the P-40. The other two pilots who continued on that night fared badly. One crash landed on a beach in North Carolina, but was not seriously injured. The other crashed into Dismal Swamp in North Carolina and was killed. I don't believe they ever recovered that aircraft or the body.

bobbysocks

09-29-2010, 08:52 PM

ok, i wont post after being out all night....:oops: my apologies to everyone.

this is a real long story about being shot down and escaping and evading the germans...

Downed but Not Out: A 316th Pilot's Escape Through German Lines
by James P. Dealy

My forty-third mission took place in the late morning of Saturday the 13th of May, 1944 ( I've been wary of May the 13th ever since! ) and just two days after the powerful offensive thrust against the Axis forces in northern Italy. Intelligence called for an air strike against a train loaded with enemy troops en route to relieve their garrison at Monte Cassino.

The German train had left Rome and was on its way to Frasinone. Most of the pilots in all three squadrons of the 324th were already on sorties or were otherwise out of the camp area at Pignataro (we had recently moved there from Cercola to be closer to the front). I was resting in my tent after flying twenty-nine missions in the preceding twenty eight days, when they dug me out of my sack for that ill fated-scramble -- four pilots from out of the 315th and four of us from the 316th. Major Sanders led the eight ship sortie and his element leader was Lt. Ken Scheiwe. One wing man was Lt. Kusch. Lt. King led our flight and I was his element leader. Lt. Matthew O'Brien (his second or third sortie) was on King's wing and another new recruit flew on my wing.

It may have been a bad omen that my own P40, number 79, "The Lovely Lois", was out for a routine maintenance check; so I was assigned Lt. Sven Jernstrom's number 93 Warhawk. Each pilot left his parachute in the bucket seat all the time. Since "Jerky" was about six inches taller and fifty pounds heavier than I was, you can imagine how his chute fit me!

We searched all the way up the Liri Valley railroad tracks to the suburbs of Rome and then Major Sanders led us back for another look. At some point over the high mountains approximately 45 miles northeast of Anzio, we were jumped by about twenty of the crack "Ace of Spades" ME 109 Luftwaffe fighter pilots. They probably scored several hundreds of conquests over Allied planes (they counted four kills for a single four-engine bomber), and they would add more victories to their score before this engagement was over! There were also two or three dozen FW 190s armed with bombs under the MEs, but I do not recall seeing any of those planes in the dog fight.

Sanders pulled into a Lufberry left and ordered "Bombs away!" Before the circle was completed, Lt. Kusch was hit and (I was informed later) went in with plane and bomb. After the second turn and upon resuming the Lufberry from shooting nearly head on at the 109s (I noted they attacked in pairs), I saw Lt. O'Brien just ahead of me level off to the right and leap out of his plane. I honestly believe that "Obey" made a speed record for hitting the silk, because we were flying about 250 mph!

On the third orbit of the Lufberry, I saw "Obey" floating down in his white 'chute just below us and a striped parachute about 2,000 feet above our level, possibly one less Kraut pilot who nailed him?. No time to keep count, though I knew King was right in front of me now.
I don't know how many orbits we made, perhaps five or six, that's about how many times I leveled off to spray some 50 cal. rounds at them. On that last one, I had leveled off to get a good burst at a yo yo ing Jerry pilot (and I thought I was being successful) just as our leader called "Tally ho!" and made a split S down toward a distant bank of clouds between mountain ridges.

I was too intent on getting a second victory, so I wound up being "Tail end Charlie" and quite a distance rearward. Although I could yet see the others in single file, with several pursuing MEs, I could not count them and assumed my wingman was behind me. I nearly red lined the throttle in a steep dive to try and catch up. Soon, barely above the huge rock boulders in that valley, I was gaining very well on the others.

Shortly before the leader reached the cloud cover, the second or third American pilot behind him suddenly pulled left and up the mountain slope and so fiercely fired at a 109 that he must have seriously damaged it. Then, another ME flew in on our pilot's tail immediately in front of me. I whipped my plane left and blasted up into that enemy's tail. With my "catch up" speed I was firing almost point blank. I was still firing when old number 93 was very well clobbered. In these last four sentences we're talking fractions of seconds in elapsed time. Despite being stunned, my reflexes saved further damage by pulling right and up into that welcoming thin cloud cover.

One has to experience such an instantaneous and accurate hit to know "just how the world turns upside down". Smoke and/or dust in the cockpit, radio and transmission gone as I had no sound from my "May day" call, outside air blasting in noisily, burned metal odors and a sickly feel of both controls and engine.

I was heading southward and worrying about collision with another plane or the mountaintops while flying in the clouds yet fearful of going out (up or down) and catching some more 20mm. "golf balls".

Now, I saw the engine heat indicator at the red line, so I quickly and reluctantly concluded that there would be no emergency landing at Anzio on this mission. Finally, I was losing air speed.

After a few moments of flying blind, two vital things happened. First, I broke out of the cloud cover, and-next, my engine began to freeze up. Looking around, I could see we were heading for a small village on the mountain slope and a paved road beyond the village, Scattered farm houses dotted the landscape, but there was no field flat or large enough for number 93 to belly in. I tried to lose air speed by lifting the plane's nose, but it wanted to drop that right wing at about 180 airspeed. I didn't even try the flaps, as I wasn't all that sure they were still on the wings.

So, off with the shoulder straps, mike and head phone lines, open canopy and jump for the right wing. By now, at around 3,000 feet (or less) number 93 went into its spin and I was thrown first into the antenna behind the cockpit, then pushed off and into the tail section, hard! Praise the Lord! I hit the tail backwards on a line from my left knee on through the parachute pack. I hung thus for another fraction of a second (or more) until spun off and away. No time to count before I pulled the rip cord, and there had already been too much trauma for me to think of saving that handle for good luck. Praise the Lord again! "Jerky's" parachute opened, but with quite a jolt to my crotch area!

I almost enjoyed the quiet float towards a large, white, two story stone farm house south of the highway. Drifting past the village (Roccasccca, Maenza) there appeared two unpleasant sights -- number 93 burning fiercely between the road and the village and a car and two motorcycles coming up the road about three or four miles southeastward. Had to be Germans. With my goggles still on, I didn't see my legs, but my left leg hurt so much that I thought of Lt. John Leggett of the 315th, who had been killed a month earlier when he was struck by his plane while bailing out near Anzio.

I reached down gingerly and felt below the knee. Praise the Lord for the third time in two or three minutes! The leg was still intact. The ground's approaching too swiftly, I thought, and then I landed on my right leg only and ricocheted into the ground on my nose, breaking it for the second time in a P-40 accident (the first time several months earlier while in training in the U.S.)

The Italian farming family at the white house (less than 100 feet away) seemed to lose no time in reaching me, although it's possible I may have lain unconscious for a short time. A young man said, "Americano pilotta?" I answered "Yes. Oui. Si." Then he pulled off my chute, goggles and helmet and hid them in a nearby haystack. An older man took off his shabby, frayed gray suit coat and helped me into it.

Suddenly, there were the sounds of motorcycles and a Volkswagen coming up the wagon trail from the highway. The two or three men and several women scattered westward toward nearby rocky hills. Only one three- or four-year-old girl and one badly battered, frustrated ex fighter pilot remained. As difficult as it may be to believe, the child took my hand and calmly led me into the house, up a rickety flight of stairs and into a room. Silently, she pointed to a covered space under a bed. Following her directions, I rolled under the bed like a child myself! In an instant, the girl had disappeared.

From this awkward and somewhat demeaning hiding place, I soon heard guttural shouts and then several short bursts from a 9mm. Schmeisser machine pistol (it didn't make as loud a noise as one would expect). Silence followed for about ten or fifteen minutes, until the young man arrived to escort me to the rear of the house and into a waist high field of wheat. We made an odd pair as he half ran and I hobbled along in a stooped position for a distance of about 500 yards. The pain in the knee was intense.

There were more boosts of gunfire, this time from MP40s — the "burp" gun; and that's what it sounded like when fired. The projectiles fell all around us, and the Italian lad took off like a wounded pheasant. I rolled and crawled about 200 feet to the right and found a dense growth of wheat with a small wash between stalks. Here I lay face down for thirty minutes to an hour. The Germans probably thought their bullets hit at least one of us, as they searched for a long time. They continued their hunt in ever widening circles, and I could actually hear their boots shuffling as they passed.

An hour or so after I first heard them walking about, I rose slightly to see my Italian savior just as he spotted me. He crawled over for a whispered, but fruitless conversation. I tried to penetrate the language barrier by using Latin. My grades in that subject at Coffee High School in Florence, Alabama had always been in the "A" category. But it was all in vain, as he had no grasp of that venerable tongue or of English. In desperation, I showed him my dog tags, the escape map and the escape money. The latter was the internationally understood communication! He fingered it affectionately and whistled softly. As I remember it, our pilots were furnished with 50,000 lira after every sortie briefing.

Realizing the extreme danger of my situation, I gave him most of the money in the hope that he would help me to escape. This was probably the most money he had ever seen in one pile, although on our side of the battle line inflation was so high that one U.S. dollar was equal to 1,000 lira. Anyway, he took the notes and in sign language instructed me to lie still until he returned for me that night.

While waiting, I reflected on my two months of combat flying, the dogfight and my aches and pains. Actually, excluding the two weeks off for the sprained ankle, there had been forty five days during which I flew my forty three missions; but I had flown two missions on the same day twelve times in the last part of March, April and the first half of May. During that period (and, indeed, until I left for the United States on the 8th of June) I knew of no other pilot in any of the three squadrons of our group who had run into Luftwaffe fighter pilots twice except for Bill King, and he had been on the same two missions.

My brothers, Jack and Bob, during their combined 86 missions had not seen an enemy plane while flying for the 314th Squadron. Of course, the P-40 was strictly a dive bombing and strafing weapon by this time, and it was not considered the equal of the FW and ME planes of the enemy in air-to-air fighting. Then too, by this time the Germans were running low on pilots, aircraft and fuel.

Now, the bad knee was growing quite stiff and increasingly painful; the broken nose (actually, this was a "break", if you will excuse the pun, as it bent my nose back towards the way it was before my first mishap, a badly bruised and uncomfortable right buttock from the impact that injured my left knee (this part of the collision with the tail section had gone through about eight inches of parachute and dinghy padding!); skinned shoulder, elbows and facial areas, and various cuts and punctures up and down my back. probably from 20mm. fragments. One thing was certain my present and future escape plans would be severely handicapped by that bad leg. If I were captured (perish the thought!) I would at least have a chance of decent medical attention.

The younger Italian man returned at dusk with his father. I learned later their names were, respectively, Luigi and Rocco di Angelis. The father knew a smattering of English, having worked in a railroad gang in Pennsylvania just after World War I (small world!). They assisted me to Luigi's home nearby.

The house was a low, poorly made structure of three rooms and built of a conglomeration of wood and tin probably gleaned from the debris of German and Italian bivouac areas. Here they removed my gabardine flight suit and washed all my cuts and bruises with wine soaked, dirty rags. They had no soap, salt, oil products or medical supplies all of which were practically none existent in the German occupied areas in Italy. Next they removed a dime sized metal fragment from the rear of my left thigh; the scar remains. A concoction of fried whole wheat, on another filthy rag, was used as a poultice to ease the pain and swelling of the knee. I'm not sure it did much good.

The family hid my flight suit and GI brogans and replaced them with an ancient pair of trousers, a ragged cloth shirt and a pair of buffalo-skin sandals that laced around the ankles with heavy strings. I think the heavy, dark green wool pantaloons were from a World War I Italian uniform, or a relic from Mussolini's Ethiopian campaign. Anyway, they tapered below the knees and tied at the calves with string. The sandals' flat leather soles had been broken in by Luigi's mother and fitted all right, but they were so thick and hard that I collected blisters on my heels and toes henceforth. They would stay on my feet during the next twelve days.

I also retained Rocco's shabby gray coat. They told me that the "Tedeschis" (Germans) were still hunting for me and that the search party had barely missed some of the family members with the "burp" gun I had heard firing while I was under the bed. Knowing they risked their lives if I were found there, the family equipped me with a wooden staff and then half carried me a mile away to a relative's (the Domonicis) homestead.

Feeling a bit sickly, I declined an offer of unappetizing appearing food. I was shown to a straw bed inside a low, six by ten feet straw thatched barn. The resident donkey was turned out to pasture. Rough day and rough night! Here I lay for the first five days and six nights.

Perhaps because I was delirious, I do not remember much of the first four days. They may have given me a raw egg and some wine, but I don't recall it. Nor do I remember seeing the Italians during those first few days, although they probably looked in on me daily to see if things were all right. On the fifth morning they brought two eggs. As I sucked out the nourishing insides, I reflected just how precious those eggs must have been to that poor family. Also provided were a bottle of wine (complete with maggots), a generous hunk of black, hard, homemade bread, and a piece of cheese which I ate with great relish, rind and all.

Not a smart move, one was not expected to consume the rind, as that part was exposed to the animal manure that the cheese was cured in. Perhaps this was the cause of the amoebic dysentery that plagued me during the next eighteen months or so. Or again, it could have been some of the food that I ate in the next six days. The cheese was made of the buffalo milk. There were no goats or cattle since the Germans had pilfered all of those animals in the valley.
I recall several other incidents while the jackass barn was my "R&R".

One day I hobbled out for relief and noticed a scrawny dog eating a four-foot-long snake. This was new to me, having been around dogs all my life; but it was probably the beast's only meat in a long time. I studied the terrain around the hideaway and beyond. Thank goodness, I did not belly in old number 93 hereabouts! There were huge rock boulders everywhere and numerous rocky hills.

On the fifth afternoon, the father, son and a brother-in-law returned for a long visit over wine and terrible hand rolled cigarettes. They were happy that I was feeling better and Rocco remarked that the Germans had quit searching for me that day. He also said there was another American pilot hiding nearby. I wondered if he had been on my final sortie.

Everyone, said Rocco, enjoyed the candy found in my dinghy, but after trying the powdered "sucre" their mouths had turned green. Those poor, starved people had tried to eat the fluorescent dye that assisted a downed pilot at sea to signal for rescue!

Finally, in this very quiet part of Italy on nights four, five and six, there were huge movements of enemy men, horses and equipment heading toward Anzio or Rome on the nearby highway. There were thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of troops. They traveled so quietly that I could barely hear the squealing of caissons, the whining of mechanized equipment or the clopping of the horses hooves. I never heard voices, nor did I see any lights whatsoever on these dusk to daylight retreats of these once mighty forces that had fought on the Cassino and Volturno fronts.

And in the day time? Absolutely no sign of these masses. But this exodus was a sign to all of us that the Allies' big push was a great success indeed! Still, where would they make their next stand? Some thought they would retaliate with a concentrated attack on poor Anzio, about twenty miles due west.

On the sixth afternoon we had two visitors; a young, unfriendly (or suspicious) Italian, who was active in the underground, and Lt. Douglas Plowden of Sumter, South Carolina, a U.S. Air Force pilot who had been shot down by ground fire on his 51st mission six months previously, while dive bombing and strafing in one of the new A-36s. Doug was in decrepit "Eytie" garb, but with his tall frame and blond hair he looked more German than Italian. How he had managed to hide out that long, I couldn't imagine.

First, he asked about my escape money and nearly cried when I told him that most of it was gone. "There goes our tobacco and vino supplies," he grumbled. Then he asked about chances for rescue, and I showed him the silk map and described the point 100 plus miles northwest from us where we were to rendezvous with an Allied navy ship, Finally, I was questioned concerning the recent status of the war southward, and I answered to the best of my ability. Both were very happy about the big offensive going on, as they had not known about it.

We ate supper with Luigi and his brother-in-law Dominici and their wives and children. There was no table. On the earthen floor was placed a large communal wooden bowl, with about ten wooden spoons circling its rim. Around the bowl were several three legged stools. The fare was homemade noodles, snails and cheese simmered in milk. The only spice on hand was garlic.

After the meal, we retired to my grass shack for talk and plans. Doug told me that he had heard of our dogfight the week before from the partisans. They had told him that by their count three Jerries and three Americans had been shot down not including me. Who was the fourth U.S. pilot? I still do not know, and then again perhaps their count was wrong. My guests departed at sundown, saying that Doug would be at my hut early next morning to escort me up the mountain where it was safer to hide, and that the partisans would get medical help for me before meeting us en route to the top.

Luigi had been advised of the plans and would lend us the jenny to transport one crippled pilot. That same night he returned with a sheet of Italian ledger paper (another scarce item) and a stub of indelible pencil for me with which to write a note to Lois saying that I was safe and would return as soon as possible. With the note completed, I folded the sheet into an envelope, addressed it and gave it to Luigi to hide until he could hand it over to an American once the Allies arrived.

This was a security risk, because after it was turned over, there would be no telling how many intelligence people scrutinized it between Rome and Washington before it was delivered to my father in July. But I set caution aside to inform the family that the war could stall again thus delaying our liberation by some months. In retrospect, I certainly must have trusted Luigi .

As planned, Doug arrived on the seventh morning, and we set out with him walking five or ten yards ahead of me astride the jenny. She was so short from her shoeless footpads to unsaddled swayback that my right foot occasionally scraped the ground.

Close to the highway in a small wheatfield we passed a large camouflaged anti-aircraft weapon. Its gunner was bent over nearby while performing his morning "ritual". The German eyed us with mixed suspicion and contempt, but his awkward position prevented him from questioning us. We arrived at the first of Doug!as's hiding spots after six hours of toiling up the mountain's slope.

Here was another poverty stricken family who fed us as best they could with bread, cheese and wine. The host provided us with tobacco which we rolled into lumpy cigarettes, using Allied propaganda leaflets for cigarette paper. These leaflets were all around the hills and valleys of that area, and following is a typical passage from their text:

"Der Sommer 1942 brachte den Deutschen Vormarsch nach Stalingrad und nach Aegyptcn Der Sommer 1943 brachte den Deutschcn Ruckzug zurn Dnjepr und nach Italien Der Sommer 1944 ? WAS WIRD DER SOMMER 1944 BRINGEN?

The leaflets made good cigarette paper and I enjoyed my fourth and fifth cigarettes in seven days especially since I had made these myself. The others had been made by the Italians in the valley, and I thought they used too much saliva to glue the paper! That night we slept in the weeds of their olive grove.

Early on the eighth morning, we continued up to a ledge more than halfway up the mountain, Doug's second hideaway. This was a large straw thatched circular barn behind and downslope of his benefactor's house. Squatting on the barn's straw strewn floor was a strange foursome playing contract bridge with a well worn and handmade deck of cards. In the group was one young Englishman (about my age) and three white South Africans. The latter had walked out of an Italian prison after the country had capitulated in 1943 and their guards had fled to parts unknown. The three had been captured during their first desert battle with elements of Rommel's forces.

The "Limey" (I saw only one tooth in his mouth) had a stranger story to tell. He had been part of the crew aboard a Sunderland, a Royal Navy patrol plane, in 1939 when they were shot down off Gibraltar by a German sub! Held a captive for four years, he had been in the same prison as the South Africans, Along with them, he had been trying for the past eight or nine months to make his way to southern Italy.

Together, we were a motley remnant of the Allied might! I took the Englishman's place in the card game .... but suddenly it was interrupted by our host rushing by and hissing "Tedeschi! Tcdcschi! " This signaled that two armed Germans were close by. Were they searching for us or for food?

In great haste, we gathered up the cards and rushed downslope in six different directions to hide. Although hindered by my game leg, I soon found a good boulder amid lots of brush. Here I hunkered down until the Italian gave us the "all clear" about an hour later. In a fury, he told us the Germans had stolen his last few cheeses, some bread and wine before continuing westward to Roccasecca.

Regrouping, we went on with our bridge playing. The others exchanged favorite stories on escapees and evaders. One concerned a German deserter in Roccasecca, who earned his subsistence by giving shaves and haircuts. He had said that he left his army near Cassino because the Allies made things too rough to suit him, The other tale,, as I remember it, was about four escaped Russian infantrymen, all of whom were armed to the teeth with a burp gun and two canisters of 9mm. shells hidden under their greatcoats. No one, Italians or escapees, would have anything to do with them because of the obvious consequences if captured in their midst.

I noticed that among us other Allied escapists, there was no weapon, not even a pen knife. The only metallic things I had were my dog tags, and they were sewn into the hem of my undershorts. It was wise not to have gone down with the .45 revolver we were issued back in the U.S.

True to his word, the Italian partisan arrived about 3 p.m. With him was a short, baldish, trussed up, blindfolded well dressed physician. Doug told me the man was a Fascist Party member and, as all professionals and other Italians employed by the doomed Mussolini regime, he dressed and lived as a wealthy man. He was untied and given his doctor's satchel. After examining me, he applied what I thought was amica to the cuts and bruises and bandaged my swollen knee. All the while he kept up a running conversation with Doug with me as the obvious subject. By now, my left knee was nearly double the size of my right knee and looked bad -- black, blue, red, yellow and even greenish for three or four inches up and down and around the leg.

Doug said that the doctor advised cutting off the leg just above the knee. I asked Doug to tell him in Italian just where he could shove that prognosis. He didn't seem to appreciate that. Before they trussed him up for the return trip he gave me a blank prescription slip and a pencil. Then he demanded that I write a note and sign it, stating that he had given me medical aid. I told him where he could shove that too, and everyone in our group seemed to agree. Even his fellow countrymen were contemptuous of him.

As they led him away, he complained loudly and bitterly about the injustice of his treatment at the hands of the partisans. Obviously, they had kidnapped that man somewhere within a two days' walk but I had the feeling that the partisan leader was armed with a small pistol; probably a 7mm. Italian Beretta. No doubt it had helped in persuading the doctor to make his "house call".

I don't recall that we had anything to eat that day, but we left early the next morning to assure that we reached the mountaintop before dark. I was still astride the miniature donkey. As we neared the summit, we met a large group of partisans, and Doug sent the little jackass back to Luigi in the custody of one of them. The others assisted me up the final bluff, and we held a joyful party when we broke out into the spacious and level crest.

Thirty or forty of the group unpacked homemade sausages that were moldy and, I guessed, were made of goat meat. The others brought forth their bottles of vino. The celebration was caused by the news that the Germans and Allies were skirmishing in the mountains south of us.

The group was in a feisty mood, brandishing their knives and one old pistol. I gathered that their intention was to aid our side against their former allies. I still believe this was but a show of mock heroics, and that they would quickly return to their hiding places until assured there were no more Krauts around. Anyway, the wine and sausages were nourishing, if not too appetizing. Could that be where my dysentery started?

Doug helped me to his third hiding place (one of how many in his six months of wandering about here?). It was a small building with the first wooden floor I had yet seen and modestly furnished by our hosts, a very nice elderly couple. After Doug had talked to them for a while, we retired to my first real bed in nine nights. Although tired from the climb, I still didn't sleep well thanks to the freezing cold! The temperature must have hovered around 35'. Of course, there was no heat in the house and no blankets. But we were close to 4,000 feel above the Mediterranean (which we saw at a distance) and that's the reason it was so cold here in the latter part of May in "sunny Italy".

While giving us a breakfast of some kind of porridge, our hostess realized I was cold, so she replaced my ragged cotton shirt with a home spun woolen pullover and gave me a pair of hand knitted, patched, knee length stockings. Now, at last, I was warm!
Things were very quiet on that tenth morning in this hideaway hamlet of about thirty scattered homes; no roads here, just a well-worn path running southeast to northwest. In the afternoon there was a sudden clamoring and screeching outside, and we saw the women folk waving large white cloths all along the path. Doug said that there must be an Allied patrol advancing in our direction because we had heard no gunfire.

He rushed down the path to intercept them while I hobbled to a stone fence to await our liberating party. In about fifteen minutes they came slowly into view, walking in single file. Unbelievably, they were American doughboys! When they arrived at my spot and halted, the first one I saw was a strapping, huge master sergeant. Then a corporal, and following him was Brigadier General Ernest N. Harmon of the Fifth Army! At the time our paths crossed, Harmon was commander of the First Armored Division. I later learned from Life Magazine that he was considered the "most colorful and kinetic general officer in the E.T.O." and at war's end as a Lt. General he was "in charge of 33,000 specially trained troopers of the U.S. Constabulary policing all of Germany during the occupation period."

He was, I believe, shorter than me (5' 7") and quite stout. At his side was one of a dozen or two Missouri mules carrying radio and telephone equipment, etc. He said tersely, "I understand you are a wounded fighter pilot shot down here recently. The medics section is at the rear." That was all, and he motioned the patrol forward. He had been given that information by Doug, who was back in the line stuffing himself on C rations and chain smoking American cigarettes. I sat down (to be truthful, tearfully) to watch this magnificent group march by advancing twenty or thirty yards, then stopping awhile and repeating the process until assured by the scouts that all was clear ahead.

As they filed by, they paid scarcely any attention to me, a bedraggled, disheveled unshaven figure sitting by the wayside. They marched in route step, disciplined, fearless and beautiful! I thought this was the most rugged, toughest and heroic group that I would ever again see anywhere. Most of them were from Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma and Texas, I believe. Surely, no army past, present or future could be a match for these seasoned doughboys! In contrast to me, the Italians and General Harmon, they all seemed to be six feet tail and 200 pounds in weight!

After the first two hundred or so passed by, I noticed a tall, heavy set Indian. I called out to him, "What part of Oklahoma are you from?" He grunted, "No capiche" and walked on a few steps. Suddenly, he broke out of file,, ran back to me and said, "What the hell did you say?" I repeated my question, identified myself and told him that I had been working in Oklahoma before volunteering for the Air Force. He told me he was a Pawnee from Muskogee, and I replied that Bob Pappan, one of my helpers in the government lab at Tulsa, was a Pawnee and had been drafted before Pearl Harbor. He gave me a chunk of chocolate and a pack of Camels, then rushed back to his place in the patrol. Oh! how good the candy and tobacco tasted! I waited about a half hour for Doug and the medics while the patrol bivouacked ahead at the end of the mountain ridge. It would be dark soon.

Early that night, a sergeant, lieutenant and a captain (the latter a Rogers or Roberts from Knoxville, Tennessee) visited us at our new hideaway to ask questions about the area and the people. They had food rations, cigarettes and soap, which we shared with our hosts, who were very grateful as they had not seen these luxuries in years. This visit was probably ordered by General Harmon. We (mostly Doug) answered their queries and told them about the sudden appearance of the two Jcrries while we had been playing cards and of the German deserter at Roccasecca. This and other bits of information we had was passed along to the three men. Captain R. was especially interested in the three Germans at Roccasecca, and he stated that he would "visit" them later that night.

The captain told us that earlier this brigade had fought through the faltering enemy front in a night attack up the mountain. Afterwards, they marched for three or four days undetected by the enemy in this so called "fluid front" until they reached our hiding area. He added that the troops had literally worn out their boots, and that provisions were getting low. Hence, the general would send a two mule pack team back to fetch the needed supplies. In addition, he had ordered a corporal and a private to lead us back with them. I would ride one mule (on a wooden saddle), while Doug and the two partisans would alternate riding the other. We were to start at first light on my eleventh day in enemy territory.

The next day, after an hour of picking our way along the mountain ridge, we were met by a burst of machine gun fire. Fortunately, it missed men and mules. This was another rough test on my crippled leg, but I left that mule in record time to hide behind the massive rocks downslope (please don't hit that wonderful mule, was my fervent wish!). Minutes later our pack train resumed its course along a path lower down the westward slope away from the guns, and we were apparently not visible to them anymore.

Another hour or two of difficult travel elapsed before we heard the sounds of heavy artillery. This time we were not the target, as our corporal observed through his binoculars. A large group of Germans on a mountain top to our left were firing their 20 mm and larger guns at a small American patrol armed with 50 caliber machine guns on a mountain top to our right. We continued between them and under the heavy crossfire until the racket sank to sporadic bursts.

We finally moved out of the fire zone, and the corporal sadly told me that the patrol under fire was from his division, and he thought it had been wiped out. By mid afternoon we approached the important pass leading down to Fondi from the high mountains, and for the first time in my recent travels I saw, not a forest, but medium sized trees. Here there was more fighting. But this time the "good guys" were winning! We went right through the battle area and saw our side shooting at snipers some of whom were up in tree branches no more than forty or fifty yards from us. I guess we weren't an important target for the snipers, as they paid no attention to us.

On our way through we saw many "immobile" of the enemy lying about and some prisoners. We halted once, when the firing was especially brisk, and were some ten to fifteen feet from a frightened prisoner sitting on a rock with his hands on the top of his blond hair. Immaculate in his green gabardine uniform, he did not look more than eighteen years old. I asked the corporal to cut out his infantry badge ( a brown eagle with the swastika in its claws and inverted wings) on his right chest. The prisoner was even more scared as the corporal obliged, also confiscating the prisoner's bayonet for me.

Along with other mementos, I still have those souvenirs. We descended the pass towards the Fifth Army's temporary headquarters at the foot of these high mountains. During these final three or four hours of our journey we experienced the most awesome noises I had ever heard. Allied big guns were lobbing projectiles over us (it seemed within 100 feet) at targets around the pass. The roar of the firing from the 90s, 105s and larger artillery pieces was bad enough; but the hissing and screaming of rockets overhead was almost unbelievable.

At dusk, we finally arrived in safe Allied territory. Getting out of that wooden saddle for the last time, I first kissed the ground in the traditional manner, and then untraditionally kissed the rear end of that beautiful, faithful, strong and sure footed Missouri mule! It would be weeks before my already bruised rear was healed. American intelligence officers arranged for our bedding down in sleeping bags on their office floor, after giving us a supper of C rations, real bacon and warm beer. How delicious! But the war wasn't over for us. We still heard the big guns and sniper fire.

About midnight all hell broke loose again! German J 88 night bombers scared us the rest of the night with their bombs and flares, some landing pretty close at times. Our anti-aircraft guns also helped keep us awake. I think intelligence called my Hell's Belles fighter squadron to verify my identity that night or early next morning. I was still (as Captain Robert J. Wynne put it) "in debilitory native attire", and up to this point no one had offered to equip us with U.S. uniforms.

The earlier part of that last morning was taken up by answering Intelligence questions. There were others among us returning from enemy territory including the partisans and a young, frightened French private in uniform and still armed with his rifle. During the interrogation of this young soldier (a member of the Free French attached to our forces in Italy) he was knocked to the floor by a French officer on the intelligence team. It turned out the soldier had fled his unit under fire.

Strange discipline, I thought, but didn't we have a similar incident between an alleged "goldbrick" and a certain high ranking general at a U.S. hospital in Sicily? After the questioning, we left the war-torn, ex Axis building for a photo session by our Army and news media. To my complete surprise, a jeep pulled up with four officers, all with holstered .45s, since they were this close to action. They were Captain J. T. Johnson and Lt. J. T. Arena of the 316th Fighter Squadron along with my brother Bob and Lt Duca of the 314th Fighter Squadron. Bob, true to our Irish tradition, had in his leather flight jacket a bottle of "Old Overshoes " (Overholt) rye whiskey! Later, I learned that this was my own mission booze (an ounce per sortie).

More pictures were taken. I have a complete set along with eight or ten photos taken by Luigi di Angelis and mailed to me in 1945. These were pictures of the shacks, the jenny, the area where I had landed and hid and some of the Italians who had helped me. En route, along the war ravaged road back to our air strip near Capua, we and, especially, I polished off that quart and I arrived almost bombed out. The final picture showed me wearing J. T.'s " 100 mission hat" and greeting our squadron commander, C. 0., Major O'Pizzi in a rather unofficial manner.

Steaks (where from?) and more strong beverages moved the night along. Very late that night our medical officer, Captain Dorger, sent me and my terrific hangover to the 32nd Field Hospital nearby for about a ten day period of X rays, treatment and rest.

I returned to the United States as a Courier Officer around the 9th of June after just three months in the combat zone, but a longer time in many ways. Being entrusted with the delivery of secret documents allowed me to pass through the various customs stations without baggage inspection. Therefore, I was able to carry back my stripped down MP40 "burp" gun and clip of shells, a 7mm Italian Berretta bought from Lt. Bill Beckler, my "depilatory" clothing, the Jerry prisoner's infantry badge and bayonet, the Allied propaganda leaflet, the silk escape map, a few escape lira, miscellaneous photos and other souvenirs. I would not fly for another eight months except as a co pilot or dual because of the knee injury.

In the Spring of 1945 1 was shot down again, this time over American soil by an American captain while I was towing a target from a P51 for aerial gunnery practice. He flew too close and was over eager to try for a good score! But therein lies another tale.

bobbysocks

09-29-2010, 10:02 PM

lastly for the week...

Interview with Captain Eric 'Winkle' Brown

WW2 aviator, one of the world’s greatest test pilots and holder of the record for number of different aircraft types flown. the link has couple of cool pics and video of the interview.

http://www.aerosocietychannel.com/2010/09/captain-eric-brown-interview/

bobbysocks

10-03-2010, 06:06 PM

The secret battle: Little-known Battle of Graveney Marsh conflict - the last on British soil - finally commemorated

The little-known Battle of Graveney Marsh in the Second World War has finally been commemorated as the last military conflict to be fought on British soil. The skirmish in the Kent countryside was between the men of the London Irish Rifles and the four-man crew of a downed German bomber.
The British servicemen, billeted in a pub at Seasalter, near Whitstable, sprung into action when the Junkers 88 landed on the nearby marshland.

The Germans opened fire with a machine gun and after a 20 minute fire-fight they finally surrendered. The battle was hushed up at the time as the British didn't want word getting out that the new model Junkers plane had been captured intact for engineers to examine. Most history books have Bonnie Prince Charlie's defeat at Culloden in 1746 as the last pitched battle fought on British soil but in fact it was at Graveney Marsh 194 years later.

Yesterday - on the 70th anniversary of the event - the battle was at last commemorated during a special ceremony held on the marsh. More than 120 members of the London Irish Rifles Regimental Association marched the few hundred yards from the scene of the battle to The Sportsman - the pub where the men were billeted. They also staged a drumhead service before a plaque was presented to the owner of the pub and unveiled. Two of those present were sisters Sheila Gilham and Brenda Hitches, aged 80 and 78.
Their late father Charles Walden helped remove part of the Junkers 88 plane and store it in his garage until it was collected by the RAF. Nigel Wilkinson, vice-chairman of the association, said: 'Hardly anybody knows about what happened at Graveney Marsh, it was really only the men of the regiment and local residents.
'The Junkers 88 was a new marque and was only two weeks old. 'The matter was hushed up at the time because the Air Ministry didn't want it known that the British had recovered the plane and knew the German secrets behind it.

'Yet technically it was the last battle to take place on the British mainland involving an invading enemy.

'It remained forgotten about over the last 70 years but when we realised the 70th anniversary was coming up we decided to do something about it.

'This is the first time the battle has been officially recognised and commemorated.

'Because the men were billeted at The Sportsman, and the pub is still standing today, we thought a plaque that will serve as a permanent reminder was appropriate.'

Phil Harris, the owner of The Sportsman, said: 'I have been aware of the battle for some time.

'The plane's propeller actually stood outside the pub for many years but it was stolen and melted down some time ago.

'There wasn't any extraordinary heroism involved in the battle but what happened and why it happened makes it important to remember it.

'We are very proud to now have the plaque commemorating it up on the wall.'

The battle took place on September 27, 1940, after the Junkers 88 was shot down by two Spitfires following a raid over London Pilot Unteroffizer Fritz Ruhlandt landed the plane on Graveney Marsh, which was seen by the men of A Company of the 1st Battalion London Irish Rifles, A group went out to capture the bomber but came under fire from two machine guns. They returned fire while a smaller group crawled along a dyke to get within 50 yards of the plane before they too started shooting. There was a heavy exchange of fire before the Germans surrendered, with one of them being shot in the foot. Nobody was killed. In a dramatic twist, commanding officer Captain John Cantopher overheard one of the captured crew mention in German that the plane should 'go up' at any moment. With that, he dashed back to the aircraft, located an explosive charge under one of the wings and threw it into a dyke, saving the prized aircraft for British engineers to paw over. Incredibly, the British had a pint of beer with the German airmen back at the pub before the PoWs were picked up.

House MD 221B

10-03-2010, 06:15 PM

that's a fantastic story :) a gentleman's war.

bobbysocks

10-03-2010, 06:19 PM

Wolfgang Falck - Colin Heaton interview

Wolfgang Falck on the the early days of the Luftwaffe, Zerstörer sorties over Poland and the setting up of the Nachtjagd.

==========
Q-Wolf, when and where were you born?
A- I was born 19 August 1910 in Berlin.
Q- Tell us about your youth, and about your family.

A- My family came from West Prussia in Danzig, which is now Gdansk, Poland. My mother was from Bremen and she married my father who was from Prussia, and he was a pastor. My sister Ilsa was born there on 7 February 1898. My sister Irmgard was born on 19 July 1904. They both married officers and had children, but they have both been deceased for many years.
Q- How about your education Wolfgang; what was it like?
A- From 1917 to 1931 I was educated in the Realgymnasium at Berlin-Teptow and I passed the Abitur. I became a member of a flying group; some of us students who, under the watchful eye and control of a teacher built and flew models of gliders. Since we were living in Berlin I visited all of the air shows in the area, including airports where I admired and studied the different types of aircraft.
Q- How did you become a pilot?
A- That is quite a long story. On 1 April 1931 to March 1932 I was at the German Commercial Flight School in Schleisseim, near Munich where I finished training. I then went on to Infantry School at the training regiment in Dresden for two courses. This was due to the fact that the Versailles Treaty limited Germany to a 100,000 man army, the Navy allowed only 15,000 men and the air force was totally banned. This was called the Reichswehr, and each year the army took about 225 volunteers as cadets to be educated as officers.
Q- How difficult was it to get accepted?
A- Thousands applied each year and it was considered great luck if you were accepted. My unit, the 2nd Rifle Battalion, 7th Infantry Regiment ‘Hirschberg-Silesia’ decided to take me as one of the five men accepted each year. Since the German government decided to establish its own air force, the Ministry of Defence selected thirty young men each year, previously enlisted by the regiments to receive the education that was necessary to become pilots. This would go on in secret for one year, and the camouflage was excellent. I was so lucky to be one of the thirty who was selected, which then sent me to Schleissheim at the Deutsche Verkehrsfliegerschule (previously mentioned). We were ‘civilian’ students of the school where we were officially trained as the pilots of the airliners. After the one-year training period twenty were sent back to their regiments, while ten were selected to spend about half a year in Lipetzk, Russia. The trip took twenty-four hours by train with our destination being just south of Moscow, where we were to be trained as fighter pilots.
Q- How was this organised?
A- At that time there existed a Top Secret arrangement between the Reichswehr and the Red Army, and Germany was allowed to operate this school away from the eyes of the western governments. There was also a camp farther to the north for making and training with chemical weapons, with another training camp close to the Ural Mountains for tanks. At this time Germany was not even allowed tanks or U-boats! This was how I spent the summer of 1932, from April to September in Russia. It was a wonderful time for me and for the ‘Black Air Force’. On 1 October 1932 I rejoined my regiment, yet no one but the regimental commanding officer knew that I was a qualified fighter pilot. Now to be a recruit was a hard time for me, then I graduated and we received the regular education as all the other
aspirants in the regiment and throughout the Infantry School. This was the academy for future officers in Dresden until September 1934, with one exception. During this time when the normal cadets trained at a camp proving ground, I was sent with the other pilots for refresher training at Schleissheim. On 1 October 1934 I was promoted to lieutenant and simultaneously eliminated, or ‘retired’ from the army. I then joined the Deutsche Luftfahrtverbände officially, and in this organisation I earned the title of Kettenführer, or ‘section leader’. This organisation was the camouflage for the future Luftwaffe, and I later became the chief instructor. In 1935 Hitler terminated all the restrictions placed on Germany and we were officially designated the Fighter Pilots School, and it was then that we were again officially re-admitted into the German armed forces, in this case the Luftwaffe. I was again reinstated as a lieutenant.
Q- Where did you go after that, Wolfgang?
A- In April 1936 I was assigned to JG-2 ‘Richthofen’ and I was assigned to the fifth Staffel, or 5./JG-2 located at Juterborg-Damm. My primary job while there was to train the young new pilots who came to us from the fighter school. In 1937 I was promoted to first lieutenant. Since the squadron leader was given a command at the academy I became the commanding officer of that squadron at the age of twenty-seven. Later that year I became the adjutant to the group commander and was stationed at Doeberitz, not far from Berlin. In 1938 the third Gruppe of JG-2 was stationed at Fuerstenwalde to the east, and it was there that I became a Staffelkapitän, holding the position but not the rank. Later in 1938 we were given a new name and refitted as 2. Staffel ZG-76, a heavy fighter Geschwader. We received our new aircraft and from this point on we no longer operated in single engine fighters; now we had a rear gunner, two engines and greater range. It was with this unit that I my first missions of World War II.
Q- What was your first combat?
A- On 1 September 1939 we invaded Poland and I flew early morning operations to Krakau in the south. On this mission we escorted a bomber group which flew a raid on an enemy airfield, and we encountered no opposition. No Polish aircraft were to be seen. During the next few days I scored my first three victories, obsolete Polish aircraft. After the Polish campaign was finished we were transferred to the Western Front to protect Germany against possible French air raids, but we never had any. On 17 December 1939 we flew to Northern Germany to our new base at Jever, close to the North Sea west of Wilhelmshaven. I was involved in the 18 December battle, now referred to as ‘The Battle of the German Bight’, or ‘Bay’ where the Royal Air Force tried to bomb German ships in the harbour at Wilhelmshaven with twenty-four Wellington bombers. We managed to shoot down twelve of them. In January 1940 I was promoted to Hauptmann a and made CO of I./ZG 76. While with this wing I participated in the campaigns against Denmark and Norway, which were launched on 9 April 1940. My later operations started on 10 May with the invasions of Holland, Belgium and France, and also operations on the English Channel coast against the RAF.
Q- How did you become the ‘Father of the Night Fighters?’
A- I first began thinking about the night fighter idea after we relocated to Aalborg in Northern Denmark. Every evening the RAF bombers flew over us on their way to bomb Germany, and us as well on their return trip. They would bomb our airfield or machine gun our aircraft during low level attacks, and here we were, the fighter pilots sitting in a trench! This was a very demoralising situation for us. I thought; ‘If the RAF can fly at night, so could we’, and I checked out three other crews as well as myself about the possibility of flying at night, and the results were positive. It was possible, but there would be necessary modifications implemented, as well as making the necessary arrangements with the local anti-aircraft battery commander concerning search lights and later the only radar station which was located not far from us. One night, or rather very early in the morning the RAF returned from a raid into Germany, and as usual dropped a few bombs on our airfield. I ordered the flight to take off with four aircraft where we hoped to meet them. Three of us saw an enemy bomber and we went in to attack, but it disappeared into the fog just over the sea. However, from this we learned that it was possible with a certain amount of organisation, modified aircraft and special ammunition to use at night which would not blind us, we knew that we could fight the bombers. My group commander asked me to write a report about the experiences, including all of my proposals for such missions. I completed the report and I believe that this particular report was more or less the only one read by the higher authorities, including Göring and Hitler.
Q- What was the result of this review?
A- Well, the birthday of the Nachtjagdfliegerdienst was 26 June 1940, when I was made Kommodore of the new outfit. This was after I received a call from General Ernst Udet, asking me to come to Berlin. I ordered two Ju-88 medium bombers to Berlin-Schoenefeld to take part in some tests, but I did not know what this was about at first. Udet informed me that our industry had developed some instruments, which could locate targets with distance and altitude, and this was why my crews were sent there. I met the civilian engineers, and they showed me to the station, called Wuerzburg-Geraete.
Q- How did that work?
A- There was a desk for me and another where another man sat, and he had a map, which was painted on a glass disk showing the present position of one of the Ju-88s, which was playing the ‘enemy.’ This was picked up by ‘Wuerzburg-Geraete’ (WG). The same controller guided the other Ju-88 to the target in order to come up from behind him. I watched this procedure three times. I saw the problem; these engineers were not pilots and they gave the night fighter the present position to the target, which made the fighter fly a ‘hundekurve’ and had problems arriving in the right position. I asked the people if I could take over the directional guidance by radio, and I had no problem finding the heading of the
target, and I gave the night fighter the correct orders to locate the bird, and it worked. The engineers were quite surprised that I guided the fighter to the target so quickly. I was deeply impressed and convinced that this was the way of the future for night fighting. I called Udet and gave him the full report, complete with my assignment and opinions. Udet reacted immediately and positively, and he asked me to arrange for two Fiesler ‘Storch’ aircraft, and to mark off a night fighting manoeuvre area. He believed that if it worked at high speed and high altitude, it should work at lower speeds and altitudes. Udet came in and he took off in a Storch with radio, and I flew the other without any radio communications.
I was the target and Udet was the fighter. If he located me and came in from behind he would fire a signal rocket. I would then disappear and he would do it again. So we flew at night without any position lights and he ‘killed’ me twice. After landing everyone one was happy and this assured continued development. Afterward I reported to (General Josef) Kammhuber, and he then authorised the next step, the Wuerzburg-Reise and on board radar. I then returned to my unit. That was when I was ordered
by Göring to form Nachtjagdgeschwader 1. I was with my wing stationed in France on the North Channel coast, just west of Le Havre, and it was just before the beginning of the Battle of Britain. All of a sudden I received special orders to Duesseldorf in order to fly against the British bombers at night. The RAF was attacking the Ruhrgebiet, Cologne, etc. I was very angry about the order because we had no experience; the crews did not possess the necessary knowledge to accomplish this task, and we did not have all the necessary equipment, all of which I had expressly requested in my report. Two days later I was summoned to Wassenaar in Holland to meet with Field Marshal Hermann Göring, and during this meeting he ordered m to establish the first night fighter group, which I did with the help of Johannes Steinhoff, and it became NJG 1, and Göring made me Kommodore. On 19 July 1940 I was promoted to Major and I was the first Geschwaderkommodore of the new generation, and the youngest. Not long after this I received another wing which became NJG 2. I very soon had crews fresh from Destroyer School as well as a flood of volunteers ad complete groups which we converted to night fighting. Since I was the ‘Old Man’ and the inventor of this idea, the men named me the ‘Father of the Night Fighters’, which has followed me ever since. As you know several books have been written about that over the years.
Q- How long did you remain Kommodore of these groups?
A- About three years, and in 1943 I transferred to the General Staff where I became 1A, which is Chief of Operations in the Staff of Air Fleet Reich at Wansee, west of Berlin. We were responsible for the defence of Germany both night and day, and it was a job full of problems I can tell you. In August I asked my friend and superior, Adolf Galland, who was General of Fighters to give me a command somewhere at the front; I could not take Hitler and Göring anymore. Galland understood. In September 1944 I became Fighter Pilot Leader-Balkans which included Greece, Romania, Bulgaria and Yugoslavia. The radar systems in Greece to the Peloponnesus were within my ‘empire’ as well. I was situated at Pancevo, near Belgrade, and this meant that I was responsible for the defence of these countries night and day against hostile air raids. This job was important but it did not last long. In October 1944 we corrected our positions because all for the fighter units were withdrawn to the Home Defence of Germany proper, and all during this short period we had constant trouble with partisans and the Russians. As the war closed in on us we retreated towards Vienna, and thus ended my command of the Balkans.
Q- When were you awarded your Knight’s Cross?
A- Göring awarded me the Ritterkreuz on 1 October 1940.
Q- How were the night fighters chosen?
A- In the beginning I visited the Destroyer School. There I created a report for the standards for the foundation of the night fighters, and several pilots came forward. We gave volunteer notifications later. Also from the bomber units and later even from the fighter units came the best men, including Hajo Herrmann and the Wild Boars to take their shot. Returning to the previous question, our night fighter force was impressive, working through intelligence, radar and flak commands; we had our intercept monitors and search reporting service with radar for all of them. That was never at any time any mention of the high frequency war, it was all too knew. That was when I was transferred to the Luftwaffenbefehlshaber Mitte in Berlin.
Q- You knew men such as Prince Heinrich zu Sayn-Wittgenstein, Helmut Lent, Hans-Joachim jabs and Heinz-Wolfgang Schnauffer. What was your opinion of them?
A- Well, you mentioned the best pilots in the world when it came to night fighting. Prince Wittgenstein was a nobleman, not a National Socialist. He fought for Germany as had his family for five hundred years, and he was quite successful and a true gentleman, as were all of them. He was killed in the war, as was Helmut Lent, who won the Diamonds and had over a hundred victories. Hans Jabs is still a good friend of mine
who finished the war with the Oak Leaves and fifty victories, and the best was Schnauffer with 128 kills, all at night. Schnauffer died in France after the war in an automobile accident, a tragic way to go. He also held the Diamonds. These were extraordinarily brave men. All of these men were under my command and all were outstanding persons; full of idealism and first rate hunters and great pilots. They were very distinguishable people, strong willed and very ambitious, but in a good sense. They were highly intelligent with immediate responses to crises, untiring and happiest when they were on flight operations. Each in is own way was a unique character, but very reliable and I was proud to have known them.
Q- Describe the average night fighter mission; what were the hazards a man faced while fighting at night?
A- Many dangers faced the night fighter, which the day fighter was fortunate not to have to experience. We did not have to with escort fighters until later in the war as did the day fighter force, but we had the worry of our own flak, collision with our own aircraft as well as the enemy bombers, the flares dropped by the British planes to blind us, which would also illuminate your plane allowing the enemy gunners to shoot you
down, the possibility of your on board radar not working, leaving you blind, and flying across the sky locating black painted aircraft, it goes on. The fighting at night I think worked on the nerves more than
fighting during the day; all of these unknowns would mentally wear you down.
Q- How did the war effect the people as you saw it, and how did their attitude change as the war dragged on?
A- After the First World War time were very hard; inflation was outrageous, no work, it was terrible. When the Nazis came to power suddenly there were jobs, industry increased, building of homes and cities
were undertaken, and the armaments industry created millions of jobs, and of course the resurgence of the military improved life as well. What we know today about the concentration camps and such were unknown to most of us, even those in high military positions. That does not excuse what happened, but it should be mentioned that it was not a well known, collective operation. These terrible events were undertaken by men who abused their power in the name of the German people, and this led to our
destruction, and had nothing to do with the true soldiers, the professionals.
Q- What were some of your most interesting combat missions, Wolf?
A- My most interesting and dangerous missions were of course against the RAF. Later on I was given the order by my boss that I was not to fly combat any longer because I was needed for the planning and development of the defence organisation.
Q- How many victories did you have during the war?
A- I had seven confirmed victories, with a few more unconfirmed.
Q- How many combat missions did you fly, including day and night?
A- Altogether I flew ninety combat missions.
Q- How did the war end for you, Wolfgang?
A- To begin with, bad! No one dared ire a war criminal, as all of us were labeled. Later I tried to become a night guard in a factory to make enough money to survive, but I did not get that job. They did not dare employ men, even with all of my certificates, qualifications and curriculum vitae, etc., I tried here and
there to find work to earn money, but the British Army of the Rhine must have certain information about
me. They hired me as a ‘Civil Officer’ in 1946 for a series of forty-seven stores not far from Bielefeld. I asked the major, ‘Do you know who I am?’ and he answered ‘yes’, that he knew I had been a colonel in the Air Force and had the Knight’s Cross. He said that they were looking for people they could trust and were reliable. So I became the boss of 145 German labour employees and my boss was a Captain ‘R.E.’, and after some time we became good friends. In the evenings I attended a school for tradesmen
and after some time I passed the examination. In 1948 I joined a German company which was a branch of the medical and pharmaceutical industry, and after some further education I became a businessman.
After that I changed over to a large printing press company, which had started to produce playing cards. I started out as a lowly office employee, being promoted year after year until I finally became the
manager of that company. In 1961 a high level employer with North American Aircraft Company in Los Angeles asked me during an international fighter pilots’ meeting to join his company as a consultant in Germany. That was my chance to return to my old world, and I did this for six years until McDonnell Douglas asked me to join them in the same capacity. So I was very busy in Bonn for the next twenty years working for MDC. I worked for them until I was seventy-five years old! It was a wonderful and most interesting time, and MDC in its policies towards its employees is to say the very least unique. Since my retirement in 1986 I have been living here in Tyrol and I enjoy life in this beautiful countryside. This is the most beautiful part of Austria.
Q- What do you think of the new technology of today’s night fighting aircraft?
A- Today there is no difference between night and day fighter aircraft anymore. They see each other via radar and thermal imagery; they can engage each other without a pilot seeing his target. Because of the
new technologies you cannot compare the aerial warfare of today with the primitive methods we used in the Second World War.
Q- From my first marriage I have a son named Klaus, born in 1937 and today he manages a firm and forests of his mother’s lands in southern Bavaria. He has a daughter himself who is a manager of a large
storehouse in Cologne. My daughter Irmgard was born in 1940; she’s married and lives in Munich and has two sons who are students at the University of Munich. My second wife died in 1982 and she had two sons, both of whom I educated and prepared their careers. One is a banker and married with a son
and a daughter; the other was in the Merchant Marine and then served twenty years with Lufthansa as an instructor in their emergency division, and he also has a son and daughter. My third wife Gisela also has three sons; the eldest is a doctor in Hamburg. Her second son lives in Finland and is an artist, while the youngest owns his own company where he develops and constructs buildings, installations and such all over the world for all kinds of fairs concerning German industry. None of them are married! My wife Gisela is the widow of Hans ‘Assi’ Hahn, a well known fighter pilot who served with JG2 during the Battle of Britain, and during the war he achieved 108 victories, but was shot down and captured over the Soviet Union in 1943 after making a forced landing. He spent over seven years in Russian labour camps until he was released. He wrote his autobiography title "I Tell the Truth". I first met him in 1937 when I joined JG 2 and we, including our wives became good friends. Assi died five weeks after my second wife in 1982, and late 1983 Gisela moved from Southern France where she and Assi had their home, to St. Ulrich in Tyrol, Austria.
Q- Wolf, what advice would you give the young people of today, given the world situation?
A- Be grateful that we are living in relative peace; that you have a home and do not suffer from hunger.
Take over the responsibility for your family and your country, be tolerant of everyone, stay honest and busy, and look forward to what you intend do with your life. Always have a target and make sure that what you are fighting for is worth while. Life is short!

bobbysocks

10-04-2010, 06:57 PM

Living History Project Interview:
P-38 Pilot John Taylor

a 4 part video interview with a former p-38 pilot.

http://flightlinefabrications.com/blog/category/living-history-project/p-38-pilot-series/

bobbysocks

10-04-2010, 07:05 PM

an interview with tuskegee airman charles mcgee

Eugene Jacques Bullard, a former infantryman of the French Foreign Legion, set a precedent when he obtained his flying certificate on May 5, 1917, for it qualified him as the first black airman in American history. Significantly, however, the volunteer from Columbus, Georgia, had earned his flying status from the French Air Service, which he served as a fighter pilot in Escadrilles N.93 and Spa.85 from August 27 to November 11, 1917. Bullard's native United States would not allow black airmen to fight for their country until 1943, when the first of a contingent trained at Tuskegee, Alabama, were formed as the 99th Fighter Squadron and shipped out to North Africa. That unit and the 332nd Fighter Group that followed would prove their worth in the last two years of World War II.

Besides establishing an outstanding record for not losing a single bomber they escorted to enemy fighters, several of the Tuskegee Airmen went on to distinguished postwar careers in the U.S. Air Force. One of them was Colonel Charles Edward McGee, who shared highlights of his long career with Aviation History senior editor Jon Guttman.

Aviation History: Could you tell us something of your childhood and education?

McGee: I was born in Cleveland, Ohio, on December 7, 1919. My mother passed away at my sister's birth, when I was little over a year old. We spent time in Cleveland and with grandparents who were in Morgantown and Charleston, West Virginia. When I was in third grade, my father was teaching at Edward Waters College in Jacksonville, Florida. We spent a year there, then back to Cleveland until 1929, when he moved to Chicago, Illinois, where he was doing social work.

AH: Your father seems to have been a fairly prominent citizen.

McGee: Yes. In addition, he was an African Methodist Episcopal Church minister. We never had a lot, but I never remember being hungry or not being clean. I don't have any recollections of specific actions of bigotry, except that schools were segregated, and when we were in Florida, we lived in a small house that was out on the edge of town. Also, because of the level of schooling for blacks in the South, when we returned to Cleveland, I had to repeat third grade. I became a Boy Scout in Illinois, and when my father's ministry took him to Keokuk, Iowa, in the mid-1930s, I spent my second through senior years of high school there. In the fall of my senior year, he returned to south Chicago and I graduated from Du Sable High School in 1938. My family didn't have the money to send me to college then, so I worked for a year with the Civilian Conservation Corps in northern Illinois, where I learned engineering and contour farming. I was then able to attend the University of Illinois in 1940. I took engineering and was also in the Reserve Officer Training Corps (ROTC) program and a member of the Pershing Rifles.

AH: What were your feelings when the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor–on your birthday–brought the United States into the war?

McGee: My father was preaching in a church in Gary, Indiana, in 1941, and I had taken a summer job in the steel mill there. I was also in the Coleridge Taylor Glee Club. We were driving to sing at a church in south Chicago at 4 that Sunday afternoon when we heard the news of the attack on Pearl Harbor. We went on with the show, but I knew that one way or another we were going to be involved in the war.

AH: When did you first become interested in flying?

McGee: I don't recall even seeing an airplane when I was young. It was about the time I was in college that the Army was beginning to recruit nonflying personnel–communications, engineering, armament and mechanics–for a one-squadron black experiment at Chanute Field. Word of that was spreading through the black community. Well, I already had a draft card, so I filled in that pilot's application. I was sent over to a couple of places in Indiana to take the examination, and when I passed that, in April 1942, I had to take a physical. I'd also been going with a girl from Champaign, Illinois, Frances E. Nelson, and that summer we became engaged. In my expectation of the call to arms, I did not go back to school in September–I continued working. Frances and I were married on Saturday, October 17, and Monday morning's mail had that letter I knew was going to come. On October 27, I was sworn into the enlisted reserve, and a few weeks later, I got the call to go to Tuskegee.

AH: What were some of your first impressions of Alabama?

McGee: The trip down was my first real experience of the South. As the train left southern Illinois, you had to change your location in the car. We knew there were certain barber shops or restaurants to go to in Chicago, but you could feel the change in atmosphere and approach as you entered the Deep South–you knew that whatever happened, the law was not going to uphold whatever your position was. When you were a black man from the North, you especially had to be careful what you said and did. You learned to be extra careful when stopping to fill up your car, and even avoid some filling stations. To a degree, the southern blacks were concerned about how a northern Negro was going to act, and a lot of conversations dealt with what you needed to know and where to go to keep out of trouble. One of my classmates happened to be from a well-to-do family who owned a drug store in Montgomery, Alabama, and he helped steer me into the black community, because you didn't go into the downtown area very much.

AH: Why did the Army choose that location?

McGee: In those days, there was a great fear around the country that when you get large groups of blacks together, there's got to be trouble. There were places in the North, like Colorado, California and Illinois, that were turned down for the location. On the other hand, the Tuskegee Institute had already had a successful civilian pilot training program, so when the Army began its 99th Squadron experiment, Tuskegee, with flight instructors who began flying in the 1930s, got the contract.

AH: What was the Tuskegee training facility like?

McGee: By the time I got to Tuskegee in the fall of 1942, the airfield had been completed, although they had been training on it even while it was under construction. The 99th had completed its 33-pilot cadre by the time I got there. At that time, too, Colonel Noel F. Parrish was the white commander. The previous commander, Colonel Frederick Von Kimble, was not very supportive of the program, but he was relieved and replaced by Parrish, who had been directing operations. He believed in the program and the people.

AH: How did your training go?

McGee: I entered preflight training as part of Class 43-G, but I was one of several who skipped upper preflight, perhaps because of my college studies, and ended up graduating in Class 43-F. Primary training was at Moton Field, a grass strip just outside the city of Tuskegee, in the Stearman PT-17. We then went on the Army airfield, which was where our white instructors were. We did basic training in the Vultee BT-13A and advanced training in the North American AT-6. My wife came down and worked as a secretary for a Dr. Kenny in the Tuskegee Institute hospital while I was going through training, but I usually only saw her on Sunday afternoons.

AH: How did you do in training?

McGee: I remember having a queasy stomach in the first few flights and talking to the flight surgeon, who just said, 'Quit eating fried foods for breakfast.' I did, and I never had another problem. My first check was on February 11, 1943, and the lieutenant said it was unsatisfactory. I had two more flights with an instructor, then tried again on February 14 and passed the check. We used Eglin Army Air Field in Florida for gunnery training. I finished my last flying in the AT-6 on June 25, graduated on June 30, and on July 6 I had my first Curtiss P-40 ride. I also took blind flying in the AT-6, to improve my instrument proficiency. I qualified as expert in gunnery but not nearly as well with handguns.

AH: Where did you go from Tuskegee?

McGee: I left Tuskegee in August for squadron and group formation flying and aerobatics at Selfridge Field, Michigan, where the 100th, 301st and 302nd squadrons of the 332nd Fighter Group were being formed. We were fully combat ready in the P-40L and P-40N by October–and that's when the decision was made that the group was going to fly the Bell P-39Q. It had the engine in the back and had less horsepower than the P-40, but we young pilots just used to say, 'If the crew chief can start it, then I can fly it.' We trained on P-39s through November, and in early December we left Selfridge Field by train under classified orders, arriving at Newport News, Virginia. We left Newport News on a big convoy that zigzagged across the Atlantic and into the Mediterranean. My ship, with the 302nd Squadron, went to Taranto, Italy, then we trucked over to the Naples area, where we began flying from Montecorvino.

AH: When did you begin combat flying?

McGee: We began operations on February 14, 1944, patrolling Naples Harbor to the Isle of Capri, and we also did coastal patrol. My first patrol was on February 28. We moved up to Capodichino on March 4, and did the rest of our tactical patrolling from there. The P-39Q was too slow and essentially a low-altitude aircraft–we flew at 10,000 to 15,000 feet, and by the time we reached even that altitude to intercept intruders, they were usually back in Germany. It was frustrating. Meanwhile, the men of the 99th were flying their P-40s with the 79th Fighter Group and shot down several aircraft over Anzio, earning the right to be called fighter pilots.

AH: When did that situation change for you?

McGee: In May they decided we were going to go to the Fifteenth Air Force. As the Allies advanced north, the bombers came up from Africa to bases in Italy, but they were getting their tails shot off over targets like Ploesti, so four single-engine fighter groups were picked for the escort. There were the candy-striped 31st, the yellow-tailed 52nd, the 'checker-tail clan' of the 325th and the red-tailed 332nd.

AH: How exactly did the 332nd choose red?

McGee: As I understand it, red paint was what was readily available. I think on the first couple of planes they just painted the rudder, but one of the pilots in the 332nd said, 'That's not enough.' As it turned out, the gunners on the Boeing B-17s and Consolidated B-24s loved it because they could easily tell who was friendly at high altitude over the target area.

AH: I notice that May 5 in your flight log has a star beside it.

McGee: That was the day I first flew the Republic P-47D Thunderbolt. An even bigger day was May 23, when the group moved to Ramatelli on the Adriatic side and we began long-range escort flights. They took a farmer's field, set up headquarters in the farmhouse, laid down pierced-steel planking, set up a couple of squadrons on one side of the field with their tents, and one on the other. P-47D No. 280 was assigned me for most of my flights at that time. It was just after that time that the 99th was assigned to the 332nd Fighter Group, so all four of the black squadrons were together.

AH: I understand that the 99th was not happy with that?

McGee: Well, you see, they had been in combat about a year, and we had only been there five months. They also felt that they had achieved a certain degree of integration by flying with the 33rd and 79th groups. Even though the 33rd's commander, Colonel William Momyer, didn't like them and his reports were all mediocre, the 79th's Colonel Earl E. Bates saw them as more pilots for his group and let them operate alongside the rest of his squadrons. The 332nd Group's commander, Colonel Benjamin O. Davis, Jr., had commanded the 99th, and they were pleased to be serving under him again, but there was a little resentment among their more experienced pilots over the fact that the other squadron commanders and group staff had already been picked. But B.O. [Davis] was very strong, sincere and severe–he laid down the law and things moved along.

AH: When did you fly your first escort mission into Germany?

McGee: That was a mission to Munich on June 13, and my feeling was, 'We're finally doing the job we came to do.' We were still flying the P-47, and for such long-range penetration missions, we'd usually have a group carry the bombers out and another group would take them back. The P-47 was fine with B-24s, but not so good with the B-17, which could fly higher in an attempt to avoid anti-aircraft fire. We always liked to be a couple thousand feet above the bomber stream to do our S-turning, but even when its supercharger cut in at 19,000 feet, the P-47 would become sluggish trying to get above the highest B-17s. All that changed on July 1, when I took my first flight in the North American P-51C-10. I flew my first long-range mission in the Mustang on July 4, escorting bombers to Romania. We could take a P-51 up to 35,000 feet and it would still be maneuverable.

AH: Were you assigned a particular plane?

McGee: My usual P-51C was 42-103072, which as I recall bore the 'buzz number' 78. I christened it Kitten, which was my wife's nickname, and my crew chief, Nathaniel Wilson, kept it purring, too.

AH: What was the squadron's makeup?

McGee: Usually, each squadron would have 18 aircraft take off–16 and two spares. If everything went well as we climbed and formed up, the group leader would tell the spares to go on back to base. But if anyone was having engine trouble, then the spares would go wherever needed. The commander of the 302nd was Captain Edward C. Gleed. After he became group operations officer, the squadron was led by 1st Lt. Melvin T. 'Red' Jackson, then V.V. Haywood. In September 1944, I was promoted to first lieutenant and became a flight leader.

AH: Who led the missions?

McGee: Sometimes the squadron commander or operations officer led the formations, sometimes the group operations officer, and when the leader had a problem, someone next in line would be designated to assume the lead.

AH: Do any particular missions stick out in your memory?

McGee: They were all long flights, usually five hours and at least one I recall that was six hours. On those flights, you find that the cockpit really gets small and you can sweat through a leather flight jacket sitting up there under the sun. We were glad when we got off the target and we could be less rigid in keeping formation with one another. Fighter sweeps were great fun.

AH: When did you initially encounter aerial opposition?

McGee: I first saw Messerschmitt Me-109s over Markersdorf, Austria, on July 26, 1944. In his briefings, B.O. was very explicit about the way we operated. If enemy planes appeared to attack, the flight commander would designate who would go after them. The rest of us stayed with the bombers, doing S-maneuvers, and we were glad that we weren't bomber pilots, who had to hold a tight formation as they made their final runs over the target, through enemy flak and fighters. On this occasion, the Germans didn't attack the formation. In another sighting, 2nd Lt. Roger Romine was told to get them and got a kill.

AH: What about your aerial victory?

McGee: That was during the bombing mission to the Czechoslovakian oil refinery at Pardubice, north of Vienna. Their tactic on that occasion was to try to fly through the bomber stream and keep on going. We were pretty much over the target area when we spotted a Focke Wulf Fw-190 and I got the word, 'Go get him.' I fell in behind him, and he took all kinds of evasive action, diving for the ground. We were down over the local airfield–I remember seeing a hangar on fire out of the corner of my eye–when I got in behind him and got in a burst that must have hit something in the controls. He took a couple more hard evasive turns and then went right into the ground. I stayed low getting out, to stay out of the sights of enemy groundfire. During that time, I saw a train pulling into a little station, so I dropped my nose and made a firing pass at the engine. Then, when I thought I'd pulled away from where I thought all the ack-ack was, I began climbing back up. Romine was my wingman on that occasion, and somewhere in all that jinking he had lost me and had gone up to rejoin the formation. He saw the Fw-190 crash, though, and confirmed the victory for me. [McGee's opponent was from Jagdgeschwader 300, three of whose Pardubice-based Fw-190As attacked the 5th Bomb Division and damaged two bombers before being driven off.] The 302nd's 1st Lt. William H. Thomas got another Fw-190 and 1st Lt. John F. Briggs of the 100th Squadron downed an Me-109 on that mission. Unfortunately, Romine got killed after his 97th mission–in an on-the-ground accident in his airplane–in November 1944.

AH: Your flight log also credited you with an enemy plane on the ground at Ilandza, Yugoslavia, on September 8.

McGee: Yes, on some days, we were assigned a fighter sweep over an enemy airfield to go in and catch anything we could there. I was only credited with destroying one, but we damaged a great number of enemy aircraft on the ground.

AH: How many missions did you fly?

McGee: I flew a total of 136, of which 82 were tactical and 54 were long-range, high-altitude missions. I flew my last mission over Brux, Germany, on November 17, 1944, and it was a long one–about five hours, 45 minutes. Then, on November 23, I was shipped back to Tuskegee to replace a white twin-engine instructor. Training was now taking place for the 477th Bomb Group. I learned a number of years later that in 1945 the 302nd was disbanded; the 332nd went back to being a three-squadron group and its aircraft were assigned to the other squadrons. My Kitten went to the 301st Squadron, was renumbered 51 and flown by Lieutenant Leon Speers, who was shot down on April 24, 1945, and taken prisoner.

AH: What was it like teaching bomber pilots back at Tuskegee?

McGee: I think the first twin-engine instruction had already begun in the summer of 1943. Twin-engine pilot training started in the Beech AT-10 Wichita–what a clunker–then we switched to the North American TB-25J, a stripped-down B-25J. That was a marvelous plane, with great big radial engines, a lot more power–a wonderful training platform.

AH: What did you do later?

McGee: After Germany surrendered on May 8, 1945, the 332nd Fighter Group was disbanded and the 477th was preparing for the Pacific. At that time, the group was under a white commander, who told the black pilots that as trainees they could not use the officers club and he was designating a separate club for them. He ended up having 101 of the officers arrested for refusing to sign the paper stating that they had read and understood his directive on the use of clubs. The investigation that followed led to the commander's being relieved, and Colonel Davis was brought in. Under B.O.'s leadership, the 477th was made into a composite group, with two squadrons of B-25Js and two squadrons from the 332nd Group, the 99th and 100th, flying P-47Ns. Shortly after Davis took over the group, it was moved to Lockbourne Air Base in Ohio, but the war in the Pacific ended on September 1, 1945, before the group was deployed. As the U.S. Army Air Forces started to close the Tuskegee facility, I joined the 477th Group at Lockbourne as assistant base operations and training officer in 1946. About the time that the U.S. Army Air Forces became the U.S. Air Force in 1947, they deactivated the composite group and reactivated the 332nd Fighter Group.

AH: What were your duties after World War II?

McGee: I had gone to Atlanta, Georgia, to take the examination to become a regular officer. I never heard a thing from it, but I was enjoying the flying, so I stayed in the Air Force as a reserve officer. They told us that we couldn't fly all the time, so I picked the maintenance officer school at Chanute Air Force Base [AFB]. When I graduated, I got orders to go to my first integrated assignment–Smoky Hill AFB, at Salina, Kansas, as officer in charge of the base maintenance shops for the Boeing B-29 equipped 301st Bomb Wing of SAC [Strategic Air Command]. All the officers and technicians were white, but I got along perfectly fine with them. You wore your ribbons on your uniform in those days, and they knew I was a combat veteran.

AH: What were you doing when the Korean War broke out?

McGee: In May 1950, I got orders to go to the Philippines. I was grounded in a pilot reduction, but I had taken the flight officer's program exam and had a 'hip pocket warrant' in operations, so I ended up as a base operations officer at Clark Field. Then, on June 25, the North Koreans invaded South Korea, and anyone who had experience on the P-51–or F-51, as it had been redesignated–was put on flight status. I was assigned to the 67th Fighter Bomber Squadron [FBS] of the 18th Group, which, with the group's 12th FBS, was sent to Johnson AFB, Japan, to pick up F-51Ds without transition–because the F-51s given the Philippine air force were in such condition that it would take $1,500 each to put them in safe shape. On July 29, 1950, I took my first flight in a Mustang since November 1944. We flew to Ashiya, across Tsushima Strait from Korea, and began flying bombing and strafing missions while the Corps of Engineers built a strip for us outside Pusan. I flew to the K-9 strip to check on construction progress and spent the night under the wing of my plane.

AH: What were your combat activities once K-9 was established?

McGee: We'd be bouncing all over the place, flying interdiction missions against bridges, trains and trucks. I expended lots of bullets, napalm and rockets against supplies, troop movements, etc. The North Koreans fired as much at us as we fired at them, the heaviest fire coming from emplacements overlooking the valleys. I was the 67th's maintenance officer. Then, on August 5, 1950, our CO, Major [Louis J.] Sebille, was fatally hit by anti-aircraft fire near Hamhung and crashed his Mustang into a concentration of enemy ground troops, for which he was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor. After that, [Major Arnold] 'Moon' Mullins became CO and I became the operations officer and continued flying missions. During an attack on the Kigye Valley on September 16, I was hit in the wing. I got back to Pusan with a 1-inch hole and damage to the left wing spar–it needed major repairs.

AH: Where did you go after the United Nations counteroffensive broke out of Pusan in September 1950?

McGee: We flew out of a forward strip in Pyongyang–until the Army got to the Yalu River and the Chinese intervened in late November. We then operated out of our main strip at K-10 in Suwon, where we were joined by No. 2 Squadron, South African Air Force, also flying the Mustang. I helped give them their first theater indoctrination, then they flew their own missions. I also spent 30 days serving as air liaison for the 19th Infantry Regiment of the 24th Division.

AH: Did you have any problems with the South Africans, given their policy of apartheid?

McGee: No, I actually made some good friendships among them. We built a comradeship from the commonality of flying and fighting side by side.

AH: Did you have trouble with Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-15s?

McGee: No, we didn't think about enemy planes–most jets were flying at high altitude.

AH: How long were you in Korea?

McGee: On February 20, 1951, I flew my 100th mission, then went back to the Philippines for assignment to the 44th FBS as operations officer. There, I checked out in Lockheed F-80s. I loved jets from the first roll–I'd just read the tech order and was ready to go flying after 13 landings. After a couple months of flying, I became the CO and my wife was on her way. During that time, too, we had a West Pointer from the Thirteenth Air Force assigned to my squadron, 2nd Lt. Frank Borman. A nasal problem had grounded him, and the flight surgeon was reluctant to release him. I bootlegged some time for him and got the flight surgeon to put him back on flight status. Borman worked out all right and later became one of the early astronauts.

AH: Did you still fly missions?

McGee: We flew air defense missions for Formosa in our F-80s in 1951 and 1952. They used to love us to fly up and down over the rooftops of the capital city of Taipei–it showed our presence. They had an airstrip where we'd land to refuel. We'd stay three days, then fly back to the Philippines. The 44th did a lot of transition and theater training for recalled pilots on their way to Korea. I came home in May 1953, went to staff school and served in the United States, flying Northrop F-89 interceptors and Lockheed T-33s. In 1959, the exams I took back in 1945 finally caught up with me, when I got a letter saying, 'Would you like to accept a Regular commission?' I was then a colonel in the reserve, but I so enjoyed flying that I accepted the Regular USAF rank of lieutenant colonel and went to Italy to assist in Jupiter missile deployment. After two years commanding the 7230th Support Squadron at Gioia del Colle Airbase near Taranto, I came home again, to Minot, North Dakota. A significant sign that times were changing was the assignments I received. They were based on background experience. In 1964, I was assigned to Tenth Air Force headquarters at Richards-Gebauer AFB near Kansas City, Missouri, and my wife and I received on-base housing more openly than the first time. Then, in 1967, I got an assignment to the Pentagon, but those orders were changed to Vietnam. It involved training for two complete squadrons in the McDonnell RF-4C. I ended up commanding the 16th Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron [TRS] at Tan Son Nhut AFB, near Saigon. The other, the 12th TRS, went to Udorn, Thailand.

AH: How long did you fly recon missions over Vietnam?

McGee: One year and 173 missions, predominantly over the northern part of South Vietnam. Some were over Laos and North Vietnam, but we didn't get to MiG Alley–the folks from Thailand got that run.

AH: What were the greatest dangers for an unarmed reconnaissance plane?

McGee: The worst place was Mu Gia Pass when it was raining and foggy, and you relied strictly on your radar operator in those mountains. In the RF-4C, speed was our only protection when the Viet Cong or North Vietnamese threw groundfire at us. During night flights we'd see the tracers coming up behind us. Often, too, we'd get to the target area at high altitude, then we'd go down and fly at 360 knots at low altitude, in patterns to photograph the area. We'd raise that speed to 420 or 460 knots over a highly defended area.

AH: Were you ever hit?

McGee: Late in 1967, I was flying a day recon mission over one of the roads in Laos. It was a suspected infiltration route, but I'd received no intelligence of heavy defenses. As I was letting down, however, I took a high-caliber hit in my left wing, which left a big hole. I was losing fluids, though I couldn't tell which ones. I had to divert to the nearest base on the coast, Da Nang, and it was the only time I had to make a front-end engagement landing, using my tail hook to make sure we wouldn't run off the runway. It turned out we needed major repairs. I took the film out of the plane and hitched a ride with a general who happened to be going to Saigon in a twin-engine North American Rockwell T-39. When I got back, I turned in the film and resumed flying the next day.

AH: Were you concerned about your plane going down?

McGee: Well, the shooting got your adrenaline up–you'd put on more speed, which was about all you could do. Was I scared? Our military training set us up with the idea that you're trained to do a job. You were too busy to dwell on the danger while you performed. Hopefully, you would get home in one piece.

AH: Were you at Tan Son Nhut when the Communist Tet Offensive broke out on January 31, 1968?

McGee: When the Tet Offensive broke out, most of the squadron pilots were at our walled compound off base. There were only six of us on base, and for three days we flew all of the squadron's missions, since there was no movement allowed off base. We didn't lose a mission. Soon hutches were built for us to live in on the base. At one point, the VC started mortaring the place. We had foxholes, but I'd just put my helmet over my head and stay in bed. Who knew where a round would land? Six or seven of the 16th's planes were hit in revetments–some burned, some sustained shrapnel damage.

AH: When did you leave Vietnam?

McGee: My tour was up in May 1968, and after being given the choice, I went on a wonderful year's tour in Heidelberg, Germany, as air liaison officer to Seventh Army Headquarters. I was promoted to colonel and became chief of maintenance for the 50th Tactical Fighter Wing. I got to fly F-4C Wild Weasels, F-4E air defense fighters and the F-4D, which I flew at Mach 2. Eventually, back in the States, Maj. Gen. Paul Stoney, commander of Air Force Communications Service, asked me if I'd like to take command of Richards-Gebauer AFB. I'd always wanted this administrative task, so on June 24, 1972, I got my opportunity, and with it came getting a 'key to the city of Belton.' It ended too soon, though. Due to a mandatory retirement policy based on 30 years unless you were made a general officer, I retired on January 31, 1973.

AH: What did you do as a civilian?

McGee: I spent 8 1/2 years in business and became vice president of real estate for the Interstate Securities Company, where my administrative training in the military fit in perfectly. After the corporation was sold, I got a degree in business administration; then I became director of Kansas City Downtown Airport. After a second retirement, I was selected as a member of the Aviation Advisory Commission. After my wife passed away in 1994, I moved east to live with my daughter, who is a television editor, here in Maryland.

AH: I presume you've kept in touch with fellow Tuskegee Airmen?

McGee: I was national president of the association from 1983 to 1985, and was a charter board member when Tuskegee Airmen, Inc., was established in Washington, D.C., in 1972. I've attended all but two annual conventions since then. I also do church work and participate in the Air Force association. My approach to life was, and still is, 'Do while you can.'

bobbysocks

10-04-2010, 07:09 PM

and lastly a video interview with another tuskegee pilot herbert e. carter

http://www.knowitall.org/tuskegeeairmen/story/hcarter.html

bobbysocks

10-05-2010, 10:45 PM

an extremely "colorful" recounting story of ju 87 pilot Hans-Ulrich Rudel.

http://www.badassoftheweek.com/rudel.html

actually their are a ton of these on the main site....if you like the guy's writing style..lol

http://www.badassoftheweek.com/list.html

bobbysocks

10-06-2010, 10:12 PM

now this is pretty cool!! a site called EyeWitnessToHistory. gives first hand..."in their own words" accounts of all kinds of events in history from the ancient world to the middle ages to the us civil war...ww1 and 2.

http://www.eyewitnesstohistory.com/index.html

bobbysocks

10-11-2010, 04:15 PM

Hermann Graf: World War II Luftwaffe Ace Pilot

German Luftwaffe members Erich Hartmann, Adolf Galland and Johannes Steinhoff achieved a measure of immortality for their flying and fighting prowess during World War II. A name missing from many histories of that conflict, however, is Hermann Graf — with 212 confirmed victories, one of the most decorated aces in the Luftwaffe.

Born on October 12, 1912, in Engen im Hegau, Germany, Hermann was the youngest of three sons. Aviation fascinated him from his youth; he was only 12 when he made his first glider flight. While still in school, Graf earned his 'A,' 'B' and 'C' glider certificates. According to Christer Bergström, author of Graf & Grislawski: A Pair of Aces, young Graf first worked as a locksmith apprentice, then later as a public assistance clerk apprentice. Many accounts incorrectly report he apprenticed as a blacksmith, emulating his father.

By 1936, Hermann Graf had applied for and was accepted as a reservist in the Wehrmacht. His dream was to qualify for the new Luftwaffe, which Adolf Hitler defiantly resurrected despite the strict military restrictions that the Treaty of Versailles imposed on Germany at the end of World War I. In 1939 Graf took the Luftwaffe NCO course, thus becoming a reserve officer candidate. He joined the Aibling Fighter Wing one month before the outbreak of World War II.

As a member of the Aibling Wing, Graf saw little action. He flew 21 missions over France without a single shot being fired, then was transferred to the 9th Staffel (Squadron) of Jagdgeschwader 52, or 9/JG.52, on October 6, 1940. His combat debut came in 1941 on the Eastern Front. On August 4, he shot down a Russian Polikarpov I-16 fighter for his first confirmed victory.

Graf went on to be the first fighter pilot to score 200 official victories — a feat he accomplished within the span of just 13 months. To put that into perspective, William Nagle, curator of the Commemorative Air Force in Mesa, Ariz., explained: 'Most American pilots would have fewer than 30 kills in their careers. The German pilots would fly morning, noon and night for five years accumulating numbers in the hundreds. These pilots were absolutely courageous. With that many kills, I'd brand [Hermann Graf] top drawer.'

By January 24, 1942, Graf had scored his 41st victory and earned the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross. Four months later, on May 17, the Oak Leaves to the Knight's Cross were bestowed on him when he achieved his 104th victory. The Swords to his Cross came two days later.

That fall, Graf dominated the air over Stalingrad in his Messerschmitt Me-109. In 30 days, he shot down 62 Soviet aircraft. After his tally reached 172, Graf was awarded the Diamonds to the Knight's Cross on September 16, 1942. One of only nine pilots to receive this enviable decoration, Graf was reportedly proud that every one of his kills, in the course of more than 830 missions, was in air-to-air combat.

As standard procedure, Luftwaffe commander Hermann Göring banned Graf from flying combat missions after the pilot had received the Knight's Cross with Diamonds. Early in 1943, Graf was assigned to France to head the Ergänzungs-Jagdgruppe Ost (Fighter Replacement Group East), an advanced training unit for novice pilots as well as a refresher school for veterans grounded due to injuries.

In July 1943, Göring asked Graf to set up a special high-altitude fighter unit to contend with British de Havilland Mosquito light bombers. Geschwaderkommodore Graf was granted the authority to select any member he wished for the new Jagdgruppe 50, which would operate out of Wiesbaden-Erbenheim Airdrome. Graf chose close friend and wingman Alfred Grislawski, as well as Ernst Sss and Heinrich Fullgrabe, to form the 'Karaya Quartet.'

In addition to his love of flying, Graf harbored a passion for playing soccer. He was reportedly the best goalie in the Luftwaffe but could not be recruited into the German National Soccer Team because of a broken thumb. Thanks to his connections, Graf was able to arrange for the transfer of several drafted GNST players to JGr.50. From this group, he formed his own soccer team, the Red Fighters, to raise morale. Later on, when he became a Soviet POW, Graf's soccer prowess may even have been a factor in saving his life.

JGr.50 started out with eight Messerschmitt Me-109Gs that were rumored to be equipped with specially boosted engines. In actuality, the aircraft were Me-109G-5s and Me-109G-6s modified for maximum speed and equipped with fuel tanks capable of using GM1 mixture (nitrous oxide), thereby increasing horsepower. Graf set a world record in high altitude flight — 46,885 feet — in one of the modified 109Gs.

At the time JGr.50 was deemed ready for combat, the focus was changed from hunting Mosquitoes to intercepting American heavy bombers. On August 12, 1943, 183 Boeing B-17 Flying Fortresses were sent over Germany's Ruhr industrial valley, and Graf's men rallied to meet the threat.

Five days later, JGr.50 was again dispatched on interception missions against American bombers. On September 6, the unit's pilots shot down four Flying Fortresses over Stuttgart, two of them claimed by Graf, who was subsequently shot down and survived a forced landing.

The following month, JGr.50 was disbanded and merged with I Gruppe, JG.301. Graf was appointed commander of JG.11 on November 1. Although he spent less time flying Reich defense than touring Luftwaffe units, he managed to shoot down three bombers and a North American P-51 Mustang by March 8, 1944.

He took to the air again on March 29, and after shooting down a Mustang, he was severely injured after ramming another and having to bail out of his Me-109G-6 at low altitude. Göring then reassigned him to command his former unit, JG.52. He would complete his military tenure in that outfit.

By spring 1945 the war was all but over. When confronted by General George Patton's Third Army, Graf surrendered. The Americans turned the POWs over to Soviet forces. It appeared Graf accepted his fate and because he cooperated with the Russians, he was labeled a traitor by the Germans.

In the early 1960s, Graf shared his POW experience with James Gniewkowski, who had married one of Graf's relatives. Graf explained that he had been captured by American forces on the outskirts of Berlin, where he had landed his Me-109, the third Messerschmitt he had piloted in five years of combat. His fighter had just enough fuel to reach Berlin, and he had been told there would be more fuel and a plane awaiting him there.

Once in Berlin, Graf was supposed to fly Hitler to the Eagle's Nest in the German Alps. Graf admitted he had no idea what the plan was after that, but it never came to fruition, as Hitler was already dead. Once he landed on the autobahn that night near his destination, the war ended for him.

Though he had no proof, Graf told Gniewkowski he believed that he had been traded by the Americans to the Russians in exchange for other imprisoned Germans. The Russians thought he was an engineer with significant aviation expertise.

He was held captive for four years after V-E Day — a period that took a great psychological and physical toll on him. While in captivity, Graf agreed to play soccer for the Russians, who promised he would be fed if he played for them. At that time, many in the Luftwaffe fraternity who heard about this viewed it as betrayal.

Graf was turned over to German authorities on December 25, 1949 — five years before most of his JG.52 comrades in Soviet captivity. Used as a bargaining chip for several Soviet prisoners the Russians wanted, he reentered a postwar Germany radically different from the fatherland he had left. He arrived at his late mother's house only to find it had been ransacked by French liberation forces that had stolen many of his possessions, including his military medals and decorations. The death of his grieving mother shortly before his return left a huge void in his life.

While Germany was trying to bury its past and rebuild its future, Graf reportedly felt adrift, but with the guidance of fellow soldier Sepp Herberger, he managed to focus his considerable energies and enthusiasm on forging a new career for himself in the burgeoning electronics industry. With the help of former JG.11 pilot Berthold Jochim, he also penned an autobiography, 200 Luftsiege in 13 Monaten (200 Victories in 13 Months), which has never been translated to English.

Hermann Graf died on November 4, 1988, of Parkinson's disease. He is buried in Engen, Germany, where his life began. In the postwar years, his brothers in the Fighter Pilot's Association decided to make amends and accepted him back as a full-fledged, loyal countryman

bobbysocks

10-11-2010, 04:30 PM

World War II: Interview with Luftwaffe Ace Walter Krupinski

Lieutenant General Walter Krupinski was one of those men destined to tempt fate. Beginning his flight training on October 15, 1939, he flew fighters with distinction throughout World War II, serving in Germany's most prestigious units and training and flying with some of the world's greatest pilots, such as Adolf Galland, Otto Kittel, Dietrich Hrabak, Erich Rudorffer, Gerhard Barkhorn and Erich Hartmann. Krupinski's leadership style was similar to that of the great Werner Mölders, and both men were held in high esteem by all who knew them. Krupinski's fatherly approach and genuine concern for the welfare of his pilots, as well as his respect for captured enemy pilots, illustrated his humanity in a world where savagery was the order of the day.

By the time Krupinski was awarded the Ritterkrevz (Knight's Cross) on October 29, 1942, he had been credited with shooting down 53 Allied aircraft. His final score of 197 could have been much higher, but he never claimed a probable victory or argued about a kill, always giving the victory to the other man. His chivalrous attitude and Prussian birth earned him the nickname 'Graf (Count) Punski,' a name that still lingers in the reunion halls and among his friends. After the war, Krupinski worked closely with Organization Gehlen (the West German Secret Service), with the United States and Royal air forces in the emerging North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), and later as a coordinator and leader in the new Bundesluftwaffe (West Germany's Federal Air Force).

Walter and his wife live in modest retirement at their home in Neuenkirchen, Germany. Krupinski has often assisted the Cowles History Group in contacting many of Germany's aces for interviews, and he himself agreed to be interviewed by Colin D. Heaton in 1993.

Military History: Where and when were you born, General?

Krupinski: I was born on November 11, 1920, in a little town called Donnau in East Prussia, which is now under the jurisdiction of the Russian government, but I lived in Braunsberg, which is currently under the Polish government. I recently visited Braunsberg, where the family had lived from 1933 to 1945, and found that it has changed little since I was last there.

MH: What was your family background?

Krupinski: When I was born, my father was in military service. He had been in the First World War and at that time was fighting against the Communist groups trying to take control after the war. He served in the army during World War I and after — until 1923 or 1924. He finally left the army and became a government employee. He soon joined the army again before the outbreak of World War II, but he was discharged after the 1939 Polish campaign ended, as a first lieutenant. He became a government employee again, but as the war progressed he was enlisted as a member of the Volksturm [civilians conscripted in defense of Germany in the closing days of the war] as the Soviets entered Germany proper, from January to May 1945. I had two younger brothers, Paul and Günther. Paul and I were born on the same date but two years apart. Paul joined the Kriegsmarine and entered the Unterseeboot [submarine] service, where he met his fate. He was killed when his boat, U-771, was sunk off the Norwegian coast, and only the bodies of Paul and a noncommissioned officer were found on the shore. They were buried at the military cemetery in Narvik, Norway. The youngest brother, Günther, was born in 1932, and he fled Prussia with my mother in January 1945 during the Soviet advance. He died in 1970 of cancer.

MH: What was your educational background?

Krupinski: Oh, the same as most of the others in the Luftwaffe and the military in general: primary school and then Gymnasium — similar to your high school but a little more advanced — studying the basic curriculum. I passed the Arbitur, which is the final exit examination, in 1938 and decided to join the military.

MH: When did you decide that you wanted to be a flier?

Krupinski: I never really had any interest in flying. In fact, I attempted to become a naval officer like my friends Johannes Steinhoff and Dietrich Hrabak, as I always liked the sea. However, when I finally was admitted, they transferred me to the Luftwaffe. I did not apply for it.

MH: What was your training like?

Krupinski: I started flight training in September 1939 at the Officers Cadet School at Berlin-Gatow, later transferring to Vienna-Schwechat, which was the Fighter Weapons School. It started with classroom instruction, aerodynamics — the basics really. Then after a couple of months we were introduced to the [Heinkel] He-51 biplane trainer, in which we learned the basics of takeoffs and landings, or touch-and-goes, as well as proper aerial maneuvers with an instructor. When we were considered competent we soloed, and I just took to it quickly. It was after six months or so that we actually trained on the Messerschmitt 109, which as you know was the primary fighter throughout the war. Then we trained on instrument flying, enemy aircraft identification, emergency procedures, formation flying, gunnery skills such as deflection shooting, and learned about our particular aircraft, including minor maintenance.

MH: What was your first assignment?

Krupinski: I was transferred to the Channel coast and assigned to JG.52 [Jagdgeschwader (fighter wing) 52], where Günther Rall, Hans-Joachim Marseille, Johannes Steinhoff, Gerhard Barkhorn [who transferred to JG.2 'Richthofen'] and others were starting their careers as Experten [aces with 10 or more victories]. By the time I got involved, the Battle of Britain was just about over, which was in November 1940. I served with JG.52 during most of my career in the east, but later served with JG.5, JG.11, JG.26 and Jagdverband 44, flying the [Messerschmitt] Me-262 jet in the west from April 1, 1945, onward — not much combat time in jets. The fighting against the American fighter escorts and bombers was the worst, since they were excellent fliers and had so much top-rated equipment.

MH: What was it like flying against the British pilots?

Krupinski: Well, I flew only 30 missions over the United Kingdom, and I was involved in a lot of dogfights with [Supermarine] Spitfires and [Hawker] Hurricanes but scored no victories. I was a slow starter, and I was suffering from bad shooting, and I was very anxious since I was afraid of being shot down over the English Channel and having to swim home!

MH: When did you transfer to the Russian Front?

Krupinski: I served at the Channel Front until the late spring of 1941, when JG.52 was transferred east. We flew from Ostende in Belgium to Suwalki in East Prussia, and had been staging there 10 days prior to Operation Barbarossa [the invasion of the Soviet Union on June 22, 1941]. The war started for us at Suwalki, where we took off to perform ground-attack missions against the Red Air Force airfields.

MH: Which group were you with at that time?

Krupinski: I was transferred to the replacement group of JG.52, then to 6th Staffel [squadron], attached to II Gruppe [II/JG.52] in southern Russia. Later, I became Staffelkapitän for 7th Staffel of III/JG.52 in Romania, guarding the Ploesti oil fields and refinery, bridges and that sort of thing from the American long-range bombers from North Africa and, later, Italy, until the spring of 1944.

MH: What was that first winter like for you and the unit?

Krupinski: The Russian winter! It's famous, you know, and all of the horror stories are true. We could not fly, and when we could it was hard to know how to get back unless you flew totally on instruments, and landings were more hazardous than combat. Many planes cracked up. I was there with Steinhoff [176 victories], Rall [275], Hrabak [125], Barkhorn [301] and many others who became well-known names. We all had the same experience, but not just during that winter. Every winter in Russia was miserable, but we were better prepared for them after 1941. We were quite a unit, scoring more than 10,000 victories during the war, and all of us were — and still are — good friends. We lose members every few years, so the circle of friends grows smaller.

MH: You also flew with Erich Hartmann, who would become the greatest ace of all time with 352 victories. You had a special association with him, didn't you?

Krupinski: I had just become commanding officer of 7th Staffel of III/JG.52 when in March 1943 I first met Erich Hartmann. He was a child! So young, and that was when I gave him the nickname of 'Bubi,' or boy, and it stuck with him for the rest of his life. He remembered me from about six months earlier when I had a memorable crash landing in a burning Me-109 at Maikop. I was shot all up after a sortie against the Soviets, and I was blinded by smoke and slightly wounded. Well, I came in to land and slammed into a pile of bombs that had been placed at the edge of this field, and I scraped right through all of it. [Raymond] Toliver and [Trevor] Constable wrote about it in Erich's biography, The Blond Knight of Germany.

MH: Didn't you help Hartmann score his first confirmed victory?

Krupinski: I assigned Hartmann to serve as my wingman many times, and along with Gerd Barkhorn, he was given his first opportunity for a victory when we met a single Soviet fighter. Erich had already been reprimanded earlier for breaking formation and chasing a fighter, getting shot up and crashing his plane with nothing to show for it. [Prior to Krupinski's assignment to command 7th Staffel, JG.52, Hartmann had, in fact, taken part in a team effort in downing an Ilyushin Il-2 Shturmovik on November 5, 1942, which was credited to him as his first victory as a means of encouraging the new man in the squadron. As he followed his already burning victim down, the Shturmovik exploded, damaging Hartmann's Me-109G and forcing him to make a belly landing. His first solo victory, scored while flying as Krupinski's wingman, was over a Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-1 on January 27, 1943.]

MH: How would you compare your fighting style with Hartmann's?

Krupinski: Erich was a great shot at long distances, unlike myself. I preferred to get in close and shoot, and many times I brought pieces of the enemy aircraft home with me. Erich later adopted the same tactic, and he was always successful and was never wounded or shot down by an enemy fighter pilot. He did get forced down once from debris after scoring a kill and was captured, but he managed to slip away, almost getting shot by a German sentry. He also got hit by flak a few times, but that was part of the day's work. He was a good student, and I taught him aerial gunnery after I had experience myself.

MH: How many times were you shot down during the war?

Krupinski: I bailed out four times, crashed a few times and was wounded five times in all. I don't recall the exact number of belly landings, since my flight log was taken by an American GI when I became a prisoner at the end of the war. I would guess the number of crashes to be between 10 and 12. I would like you or the readers as a favor to me, please let the world know about that logbook. If it ever turns up, I would like to give it to my grandsons one day. I would say the most spectacular crash I had was the one at Maikop, and another one where I crashed in the middle of a minefield during a battle. That is a good one to tell over a drink, you know, since it was the most fear I had during the war!

MH: Which of your combat victories stands out the most?

Krupinski: Oh, that is too much to remember, as I flew more than 1,100 missions, and once on July 5, 1943, I shot down 11 planes in four missions in a single day [bringing his total up to 90]. One of those was a dogfight with an expert Russian pilot, which lasted for about 15 minutes, which was rare for a Red Army pilot. They usually broke off after engaging and headed home after a couple of minutes if they could not bounce you or get an advantage. Another mission was when I came across 15 to 20 [Polikarpov I-16] Ratas, during which my aircraft was hit by a large air-to-ground rocket of some kind. The Ratas were attacking ground targets, and one Rata turned on me, shot the rocket at me and hit me. That was an unbelievable situation. I would also have to say that my victories in the narrow Caucasus passes were memorable, as was my victory over a [Lavochkin-Gudkov] LaG-5 at Stalingrad, where the Russian lost more than a third of his left wing and was burning like hell. About 10 Luftwaffe pilots saw that, including Johannes Steinhoff, who was my commanding officer at that time. That LaG was still flying at low level and I watched him go in. He crashed but did not explode — just burned.

MH: Did you ever meet Reichsmarschall Hermann Göring?

Krupinski: I never met him face to face, but I saw him once. That was when I became a lieutenant at the ceremony on January 31, 1941, in Berlin along with several hundred other cadets.

MH: How many times did you meet Adolf Hitler?

Krupinski: Only once, when I was awarded the Eichenlaub [Oak Leaves] to the Ritterkreuz [Krupinski's score at that time was 177].

MH: Could you describe that ceremony?

Krupinski: There's not much to tell really, except that Bubi Hartmann and I had partied heavily the night before and were drunk as hell, despite the fact that we were to receive our awards from der Führer. Hartmann knew him from before, because as you know he was decorated three times by Hitler with the Oak Leaves, Swords and Diamonds. I was getting the Oak Leaves along with Hartmann on March 4, 1944. Hartmann was making some funny comments about him, mimicking him, and he tried to stand still without falling over. I was in not much better shape. We only started to sober up as Hitler, after handing us the awards, began describing his plan for 'Panzerfest,' which was a way to immunize the army divisions against enemy tank attacks. He asked us about Lemberg, where we had come from and where our brave soldiers were fighting against those Russian tanks and were dying terribly. He told us about the war in Russia, and you had the feeling that you were listening to a complete madman. I thought he was a raving lunatic, and by the time the meeting was over, Hartmann and I needed another drink, and Hartmann kept saying, 'I told you so.'

MH: When did you transfer to the Western Front?

Krupinsk: That was the spring of 1944, when many Russian Front experts were sent to fight against the American four-engine bombers. I did that for a while with JG.11, then I commanded III/JG.26 between early October 1944 and March 25, 1945. Fighting against the American bombers and fighter escorts was much worse than fighting in Russia. The [Boeing] B-17s were difficult to engage due to their potent .50-caliber defensive fire, and the American fighters made it even harder to get close, since they outnumbered us somewhere around 10-to-1 on the average. I found this all very frustrating and had to change the way I thought about things. We were losing experienced experts all the time — we were just overwhelmed. Allied fighters and bombers attacked our air bases day and night, as well as bombing the cities. Exhaustion was also a factor, since we could never get enough replacement pilots, and the newer pilots just did not have the experience to survive long under such conditions.

MH: How did you get involved with Galland's Jagdverband 44?

Krupinsk: Well, I was trying to finish the war out at our fighter recreation center at Bad Wiesee in Tegernsee when Steinhoff and Galland stepped up to some of us on April 1, 1945. Steinhoff asked me, 'Graf…how would you like to fly the 262?' The very next morning, I jumped into the cockpit of a Messerschmitt 262 and flew my first mission in it after a short familiarization period. I described all of that in a long paper I wrote for our Jägerblatt, or 'The Fighter News,' of February–March 1987. My last sentence was this: 'Es war der Beginn eines neuen Zeitalters der Luftfahrtgeschichte,' or, 'It was the beginning of a new epoch in aviation.'

MH: What was your impression of the personnel of JV.44?

Krupinski: Galland was using Steinhoff as his recruiting officer, and they had collected some of the best in the business. They got Barkhorn and tried to get Hartmann, but Erich still had a soft spot for JG.52. His decision to remain with this unit would prove costly. As you know, he spent over 10 years in Soviet prison camps after the war, after the Americans handed them over to the Red Army.

MH: What were the last months of the war like for you?

Krupinsk: Well, I joined JV.44, Galland's 'Squadron of Experts' at Munich-Reim, then we moved to Salzburg in Austria, then Aibling-Heilbronn. We had some spectacular missions, especially when we received the R4M air-to-air rockets for our jets. The first time I saw them work was on April 5, when Galland, who was leading our flight, fired his salvo at a group of American [Martin] B-26 bombers. In moments, one disintegrated and another was falling — the tail had been blown away, and both parts were fluttering down through the light clouds. We flew off a few hundred yards so as not to hit any debris or get jumped by enemy fighters, then attacked again using our four 30mm cannons. I damaged a couple of bombers but scored no kills that day, though I am pretty sure everyone else did. We had many such missions, but we also ran into American fighters. [North American P-51D] Mustangs were a constant problem, and they would always follow us home, hoping for an easy kill. We had to be very careful when coming in for a landing, as they would be following a few miles and only a couple of minutes behind us. Taking off and landing were the most tense moments for a 262 pilot, as the plane built up speed slowly, and you could stall out easily if you pushed the throttles forward too quickly. This happened several times.

MH: Can you tell us what you saw on the day Steinhoff crashed?

Krupinsk: His flight was commanded by Galland. Gerd Barkhorn, then with 300 victories; 'the Rammer' Eduard Schallmoser [so named for his penchant for ramming his jet into enemy bombers once his ammunition ran out]; Ernst Fhrmann; Klaus Neumann, who scored five kills in the jet and 37 kills in the war; and myself were all either taking off for a bomber-intercept mission or preparing to go on the morning of April 18, 1945. Steinhoff was loaded up with fuel and rockets, and his left wheel dug into a crater that had not been properly repaired after the latest American raid on our base, and his jet bounced against the ground. When it landed, he was trapped inside the burning wreckage, with the burning fuel exploding the rockets and 30mm ammunition around him. I did not see it, but everyone heard it. There was Macky Steinhoff, trapped in this, but we got him to the hospital and he survived somehow. He was the best friend any of us had, and a true patriot and leader. All of us felt that we were only a thread away from a similar fate after that accident, as well as the loss of Günther Lützow [who went missing on April 24], and others too numerous to list.

MH: How did the war end for you?

Krupinsk: I was captured when the unit surrendered after blowing up our jets, when the Americans were practically rolling onto the airfield. An American Intelligence officer found us and took us via Heidelberg to the U.S. Army Air Forces/Royal Air Force interrogation camp in England. After four weeks of answering questions, I was being transported to Cherbourg, I believe, when I was attacked by a French soldier with a rifle. He struck me in the head, knocking me unconscious. I found myself in the hospital in Munich. After all of the interrogations, I ended up with the Americans, but while I was in custody I was robbed of my Ritterkreuz und Eichenlaub and my flight logbook, as mentioned earlier. It was a difficult time, but my contact with the American military and the U.S. Army Air Forces officers prepared me for a new career later in the 1950s, until I retired in the 1970s.

MH: What kind of work did you do after the war? I understand that unemployment rate was high for former officers of the military in Germany.

Krupinsk: Yes, this was true. Finding work after a career as a professional officer was not easy, especially since anyone who owned a business did so with the local Allied military commander's authorization. Professional officers were considered the elite of the National Socialist Party, and any connection to us could have been economically unwise. It was not until much later that this attitude changed, and people began to realize that if anything it was the professional officer corps who remained nonpolitical for the most part. We had no agenda except to defend our country from attack, right or wrong. There is no difference between us and any officer corps in any nation. All would defend their homeland and families, regardless of the political leadership in control of their country.

MH: Tell us about the work you did after the war in the Intelligence services.

Krupinski: I started working for U.S. Intelligence services under the umbrella of Organization Gehlen, the military and foreign intelligence service branch of the Abwehr formed by Captain Reinhard Gehlen during the war. I then worked for Amt Blank, which was the beginning of our Defense Ministry under Theodor Blank, West Germany's first postwar minister of defense during the Konrad Adenauer administration. I cannot discuss my work with these groups, as it is all still highly classified and I took an oath of silence.

MH: Could you tell us who Gehlen was?

Krupinsk: General Reinhard Gehlen was one of the Abwehr's chief intelligence officers, who later replaced Admiral Wilhelm Canaris as head of the organization [after Canaris was dismissed for his suspected role in the July 20 assassination attempt against Hitler and was subsequently put to death at the Flossenburg concentration camp in 1945]. Gehlen's work and the examples he set were responsible for the creation of many postwar intelligence networks, including the GSG-9 [German counterterrorist/intelligence service]. Gehlen died in 1979. His work in collecting intelligence on the Red Army and his ability to collate intelligence on every aspect of Soviet military operations proved invaluable to the NATO allies during the Cold War. Their understanding of the Soviet mind-set, order of battle, political aims, etc. — all of that probably prevented another European if not world conflict. Gehlen believed that knowledge was power, and in this case he was proven correct.

MH: How did you get back into the military, especially the air force, after the war?

Krupinski: I was approached by some officers who mentioned that we were forming the Bundesluftwaffe — which I already knew from my work with Intelligence, but they did not know that. I was easily recruited, as there were many of the former Luftwaffe experts already there. I went for refresher flight training in the United Kingdom as CO [commanding officer] of Jagdbombergeschwader [fighter bomber wing] 33. I was trained on the latest fighter types of the day, including the Lockheed F-104 Starfighter. I was then commanding officer of German training in the United States, and later I was appointed director of flying safety for the armed forces. After that, I was commanding general of the German 3rd Air Division, chief of staff for the Second Allied Tactical Air Force, and then commanding officer of the German Air Force Tactical Command. Those were a lot of different hats, as you would say. I worked closely with many of the important political personalities of the time, such as Robert McNamara, who was secretary of defense under President [John F.] Kennedy.

MH: How's your family today?

Krupinsk: We have only one daughter, who is 52 and married to an air force officer, a lieutenant colonel but not a pilot. I have two grandsons who are students at the University of Munich, aged 27 and 25.

MH: General Krupinski, with your long life experience, what advice do you have for the youth of today?

Krupinsk: Easy, only one sentence: Don't trust dictators or madmen!

bobbysocks

10-17-2010, 05:30 PM

The Air Transport Auxiliary - Spitfire Women Preview - BBC Four

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KwKLL0TklxU

bobbysocks

10-18-2010, 02:53 AM

some quick blurbs from 357th pilots on the arnhem/market garden missions:

Tom Gates' encounter report: "After the last interception, which took us SW of DZ, Tackline advised nothing in view and we could patrol on our own. I dropped the group down to 13,000 and took up a course of 45 degrees back to the DZ. Over the DZ we saw a gaggle of 109s and 190s flying our reciprocal course to our right about 2,000 feet above. I turned the group right to intercept and called "Drop tanks," after clearing gliders underneath. By the time the tanks were off and climb started, the first gaggle of 190s was passing overhead and up into the sun. When it appeared that they would not turn and bounce us from out of the sun, I turned Dollar sqdn back head-on into the second bunch and the fight was on.

"The first bunch turned back but were intercepted by another sqdn. I picked six 109s. They broke left, then sharp right. I got on one but he spun out under me. Another was in the turn so I latched onto him. He was most aggressive, and after much maneuvering he straightened out and I got a short burst which knocked some parts from his ship. The second burst set him on fire and the third burst finished him. He dived in from 500 feet. My wingman was still with me and we climbed back to 10,000 feet. We saw five 109s flying close formation with a flight of P-51s bouncing them. One 109 split-essed out and went to the deck in aileron turns. The others turned into the bounce.

"I took after the one on the deck and let him have a burst from about 1,000 yards but no strikes seen. When he came to an airdrome he made a turn. I closed enough to see American markings on the upper surfaces of both wings and it was a P-51 painted the same as the 109s. There were no group markings on the nose. When I saw it was a P-51, to avoid light flak from the field I widened the turn and the P-51 leveled out and headed SE at full throttle. There is no doubt that it was flown by a German pilot."

Lt. Jerome Jacobs: "We were flying cover for the troop transports and gliders. It was a very impressive sight to see the large armada of aircraft towing one, two, or three gliders and stretching all the way from England to Holland. It was a very pleasant fall day and I was flying Colonel Graham's airplane. (P-51D 44-13388, B6-W, "Bodacious")

"Ground control gave us a course to follow that would intercept a large formation of unknown aircraft. In five or ten minutes we were in the middle of a large formation of Me-109s and FW-190s. I was flying wingman when my element leader caught up with a 109 and fired into it until its landing gear came down. Some flak began coming up and I saw the right wing come off my flight leader's aircraft. He bailed out and I saw his chute open.
"I was attacked by a 190 and we began to try to out-turn each other and after about two turns I was able to get a lead on him and gave him a quick burst. I could see hits on his cockpit and fuselage. He bailed out and I watched the 190 hit the ground. I turned off my gun switch and took some pictures of the wrecked airplane. As I cleared my tail I saw that a 109 was behind me and shooting. Instinctively I turned to the left and was able to get behind the 109 when he quit turning and headed south. I followed him and lined up my sight on his tail. I gave it a quick burst and saw smoke coming out of his engine. He slowed and I quickly overtook him. We were both at ground level and I saw him dodging some wires. I could not stay behind him unless I put my flaps and wheels down, and found myself flying formation with him. He was a young man about my age, and his ME looked brand new. Suddenly he tried to land wheels up in a field, but was going too fast. He bounced off the ground in a nose-high attitude, stalled, flipped over and his the ground. He slid along and plowed into a farmhouse, and everything blew up.
"I circled to get some pictures but the dust still hadn't settled after my second turnaround and I decided to get out of there and go home. On the way I stayed on the deck, worried about how much ammunition and fuel I had. I was heading north over some very attractive countryside, very satisfied with myself over my two victories when I saw two fighter planes headed toward me from the west. At first I couldn't decide whether to turn into them or make a run for it, as I wasn't certain about the ammunition aboard. However, at that moment one of the fighters lifted a wing and I could see a P-51 outline. I wiggled my wings and continued north, hopefully headed for England. Soon I saw the transports stretched across the horizon and followed them back home."

1st Lt. Howard Moebius: In the confusion of the dogfight, Moebius soon lost his leader, managed to outrun a FW-190, and obtain numerous strikes on its cockpit. He recalls:

"My plane had greatly decreased its speed because of the violent climbing and turning. I rolled out on the left wing of the 190 I had just shot. I was in very tight formation with him. I could see his cockpit burning and blood coming out of the pilot's mouth...it was a ghastly sight. Slowly his right wing came up, his ship nosed over and went into the ground. I looked around and could not see any more enemy in the area. I turned off my gun switch and made several passes at the wreckage with my camera on.
"I had just pulled up from my last pass when I looked over my shoulder and saw the big hub of a 190 right on my tail. I threw my throttle wide open and again my engine balked. (Moebius' engine had given trouble on takeoff but he continued rather than risk censure for aborting.) I had to throttle back to about 30 inches of mercury, and knew that I could not climb or maneuver. I had heard that the 190 at slow speeds and tight turns to the right has a tendency to snap under. SO I put my ship into a right turn to the right with my wing not more than 100 feet off the ground and proceeded to go round and round. The 190 hung on my tail with his guns blazing, but could not pull up tight enough for the proper lead. Several farmers and their wives were running around on the ground below us. I don't know if they were frightened or were waving, or whether they realized a lot of lead was being thrown around. At one point I put my hand to my head, as any minute I expected a shell to come into the cockpit. I also did some fast praying! Finally I looked back and he was gone. I leveled off and slowly climbed to 10,000 feet."
Climbing slowly, Moebius reached Brussels at 30,000 and made it home with no further problems. His crew chief worked all night to repair the sick engine in time for the mission on the 19th. For Moebius, it might have been better if he hadn't. Lt Howard Moebius shot down a 190 on the 18th , and two 109s on the 19th before being shot down beginning an adventurous five months with the Dutch underground.

Lt. Harvey Mace: "I was leading Dollar White Flight which was on the extreme left of our squadron, which was on the extreme right of the group. While scanning the sky, I finally spotted one or two bogies high in the fringes of the sun. With full attention I was soon able to see more--a lot more. Although they were too high to identify, they were not flying like friendlies, so I reported them to the group leader. His response was something like, "Well, OK, we'll climb up and take a look," and turned the group to the left and started climbing. This maneuver put me dead last in the climb. Before long, with a change in positions I was able to make out the whole group of bogies. It's too difficult to count under these conditions, but looking at the size of our group of about 50 planes, I estimated about three times that many bogies, or around 150.
"Soon one fighter peeled off and came down on our angle, about 500 or so feet above us. As it got closer I was able to identify it as an Me-109. Whether its intent was to scout and see what we were, or bait in hopes of breaking us up I'll never know. I marveled at the discipline of our group at not breaking up. Only later at home was my pride somewhat deflated when in asking some of the rest of the squadron about it, no one seemed to have seen it!
"At any rate, the 109 made positive identification of the big mass, as enemy fighters to me. The next thing that happened was two fighters came down head-on and firing--sort of at our group as a whole. This made retaliation an absolute necessity and someone near the lead took them on. In quick succession the Germans kept sending down small numbers at a time and those in the lead of our group were being engaged until finally the only ones left still climbing toward the main bunch (now down to about 100) were me and my wingman, Chuck Weaver. My element leader and his wingman were gone.
"At this point I was awestruck to note that the scene was just like the cover depictions of the big WW I air battles on such mags as 'Flying Aces,' etc. It was one big dogfight, fighters circling, twisting, going down in flames--the works. "Soon it was my turn, one lone 109 dropped down in front of me, out of range but weaving enticingly while two shooters dropped down above me. The plan, I'm sure, was for me to nose down after the one while the two shooters would get on our tail and finish us off. But I would not have any part of it,; my mind was still on the main bunch and I continued climbing. With this the bait weaved back and forth ever closer in what I'm sure he thought was a tempting manner. At the same time the two shooters were ever more attentive and somewhere along there I could no longer keep track of the main bunch. I started climbing straight at the two shooters, and from here on I never saw the main bunch again.
"Finally the bait 109 weaved so close that he was a threat. At this point I decided I could have to quickly drop my nose, shoot him down, and quickly resume the climb at the two shooters to keep them in check. I could no longer keep track of Chuck so had no idea what he was up to. The main dogfight had dissipated and they had all disappeared. I confidently dropped my nose when the bait was at a nice 90 degree deflection, fired a burst and quickly resumed the climb before the shots even got to him.
Well, it was a clean miss and all it did was arouse his competitive spirit, and he broke into me in a vicious attack. All planning on my part was out the window. I countered and managed to gain the upper hand in the dogfight that followed. But between the wild maneuvering and the stupid gunsight I couldn't get a clean hit. (Like some other original 357th pilots, Mace did not like the new K-14 computing sight.)
"I was able, through it all, to keep an eye on the two shooters above and where they seemed somewhat confused and tentative at first, they were beginning to act increasingly agitated and with my frustration at not being able to get a clean hit, I felt my situation was getting desperate. I finally decided to close on the guy and chew his tail off with my prop. "On the next pass and firing my guns, I closed to the point where a collision didn't look avoidable even if we both tried. As the impact drew near I ducked low to get behind the engine in case I bit off more than his tail. The moment passed and no collision. I couldn't believe it! When I raised up and cranked around to continue the pursuit, he was in his chute. I did not see any good hits and thought I just scared him out. Chuck Weaver told me later that he had stayed with me until near the end of the fight when he stalled and spun out. Upon his recovery, he pulled up in time to see the German bail out and fired a burst 'sort of in his direction.' I didn't hear that or repeat it, since shooting at parachutes was a no-no.
"I had lost Chuck by this time, and re-established my climb after the two shooters who were still rocking back and forth watching me, but seemed unsure what to do. I kept scanning the sky to make sure I didn't get bounced, and on one scan I spotted two fighters closing fast on my tail--I was climbing hard at only about 170 indicated. I looked up again and the two shooters were gone, but I could not figure how they got so far behind me. Few, if any, airplanes can turn with a P-51 at 400 mph so I dropped my nose and poured on the coal hoping to get near that speed before they got me in range. "Looking at them occasionally from the corner, I had to wait for just the right time to break. Too soon and they cut you off and gotcha. Too late and they fire and gotcha anyway. Finally, after what seemed like hours (I'm sure it was only seconds) the moment arrived and I whipped around into a head-sagging maximum 360 degree turn. About halfway round, someone on the radio said, 'Where'd he go, was he a 109?' I leveled out on the tail of two '51s which turned out to be two of our newer replacements. I answered, 'No, I'm not a 109 and since I'm on your tail you should be glad of that.'

bobbysocks

10-18-2010, 03:14 AM

more of the arnhem missions..

Captain Arval Roberson leading Dollar (362nd) Green Flight:
"We had been maneuvering in the area south of the Zuider Zee for a short time when the R/T became cluttered with transmissions that only occur when an engagement is in process. After a couple of requests by our leader, someone finally parted with the information as to their location. I don't know if they were just too busy or they didn't want to share the treasure. We rolled out, headed south.
"The first sight of the engagement left one of the strongest impressions of my tour, for it was more like the dogfights that are depicted on artists' canvases and in movies of yesteryear. The scenarios for most of the encounters that I had, involved a stream of bombers being threatened by a gaggle of enemy fighters, who in turn were hit by small groups of escort fighters. The subsequent boiling mass of aircraft would soon spread all over the sky. Often a pilot firing on another aircraft, and/or a wingman covering the one who was firing, could not locate another plane of any kind when climbing back up from the deck or wherever contact had been broken. It is hard to visualize that at one moment there would be aircraft numbering in the hundreds ginning around and then minutes later the sky could be completely devoid of other aircraft.
"However, on this day, although the engagement was the same boiling mass of aircraft, I'd estimate between 30 and 40, the weather was a barrier, containing them in one general area. It seemed as if the cloud cover came up from the deck like a wall on the east to about 20,000 feet where it shelved westward, almost solid, to the coastline. It had a purple to lavender coloring that is association with storm scenes and made the whole area sunless and fairly dim.
"It was the dimness that actually helped me get the first glimpse of the action. Whenever caliber .50 ammo made contact with a solid object, a flash would emanate. In this dim light it was like a strobe and the large amount of flickering that was occurring could be seen like a fireworks display many miles away.
"We checked sights and armament switches and prepared to drop our wing tanks. As we neared the scene, I noticed my No. 4, Lt. Chuck Weaver, was having trouble getting rid of one tank so I veered slightly right to give him more time. I was observing the lead flight diving straight into the middle of that mess, getting strikes while I was ready to tell my No. 3 to take No. 4 away from the action when I saw his tank fall free. (No. 3 was Capt. Jim Kirla.) With this freedom I decided not to barge in with the others but to "street fight" on the outside edge and started to look for a target. I spotted an Me-109 under me going from left to right. I made a diving steep bank and led the gunsight ahead of his nose and fired. I don't think the aircraft I was flying had its guns boresighted in the normal box configuration, for they all seemed to come together on the cockpit. A bad of fire developed where the canopy had been, and I observed black smoke trailing the aircraft as it headed straight toward the ground. I did not see the pilot bail out.
"After checking that Goss was still with me, I looked around for another target. In a matter of seconds I found another 109 that was pulling off an engagement and climbing in front of me. I fired a short burst and observed numerous strikes on his tail. I held fire, pulled more lead through his nose and opened up again. I saw hits on his cowling and the signs of what appeared to be a mixture of smoke and coolant. I kept firing and held this angle until he passed out of sight under my nose. At this time it was necessary to take measures to keep from stalling, which I did by a slight turn to the left (away from the direction the 109 was going) and pushed forward to level out. After gaining some airspeed I banked right to resume the chase. Although I did see a disabled aircraft and some chutes, I did not see my target so I regrouped to find another.
"The next aircraft spotted was another 109 to my left at 10 o'clock in a steep turn to my left. As he was more in line for my wingman, I radioed for him to take him. Either there were transmission problems or too much interference, but Goss made no move toward the 109. I called again and when there was no indication I was getting through, I banked hard left and tried to pull through the Messerschmitt's flight path. We had gone almost 360 degrees around when I felt just a tad more and I would have enough lead to fire. I was so busy trying to get more turn out of my bird that I did not pay attention to a movement in my peripheral vision until I observed strikes all over the German aircraft. At this, I took time to observe a P-51 cutting across our circle and doing a good job of raking the 109. Our converging paths and my being on his belly side, forced me to take immediate evasive action by breaking right.
"When we had collected ourselves we started circling while gaining some altitude. I guess this terminated the action, for all I remember seeing during this time was about six big fires and quite a few smoldering ones on the ground--all grouped in an area of maybe a four-mile radius. Seeing nothing else, we climbed out and picked our average course home.
"Arriving back at Leiston, I did a victory roll before peeling off for landing and then debriefed the ground crew, saying I got one destroyed and one probable. I then headed for squadron ops for the formal debriefing and the 'flying hands' scene that always took place. One of the first persons I saw was Goss, and I made some statement of certainly getting that one and started to ask if he had heard me tell him to take the 109 when he interrupted me: 'What do you mean, the one? You got the other, too!' He started something about shooting the tail off and the pilot bailed out. He, being above and behind, had witnessed all this while I was trying to regain flying speed with the 109 being underneath me.
"After debriefing, I biked back to the hardstand and told the crew chief, 'Stud' Lybarger, to hold on, pending confirmation there would be two kill markings to be painted on." One month later, Roberson's wingman, Charles Goss, was shot down by flak but evaded capture and returned to the UK.

Jerome Jacobs: "I was scheduled for a 48-hour leave on September 19th, and I had a date with a beautiful girl in London. At about 6 a.m. I was awakened and asked to volunteer to fly the mission since one of the pilots was ill. Against my better judgment I dressed, being careful to wear my Class A uniform under my flying suit and reported for briefing.
"About 10 minutes into the mission our No. 3 man had to abort. Twenty minutes or so later we were vectored to bandits, and there were about 500 enemy fighters, the most we had seen since I had been in combat. the three of us quickly picked up three Me-109s; we were turning Lufberry circles in opposite directions. This went on for about three circles until the 109s broke off and we followed. My target turned into me and we faced each other head-on. I fired a long burst and his airplane exploded in front of me. I turned to watch the parts floating down and saw about 15 e/a going in the opposite direction. I called the squadron leader to get some help, but he told me to climb above the cloud to regroup before attacking again. The cloud layer was about 3,000 feet above. I checked my tail and saw 15 e/a now turned behind me.
"I felt that I was out of range and could make the clouds, when suddenly my airplane exploded. the cockpit was full of flames and there were no controls. My face was burnt and I was vaguely aware of what was happening. I bailed out as quickly as I could without even disconnecting my oxygen and other cords. As soon as I hit cool air my face felt a little better. Barely conscious, I thought I was in the clouds already and would wait for my emergence to pull the ripcord. I fell this way for some time before I began to regain my senses and decided to pull the cord. When I did, the chute jerked open and I hit the ground immediately.
"I got out of my chute and started to waddle toward hedges when I saw blood all over me and decided to return for my first- aid kit which was attached to my parachute. It was then that I saw a dozen German soldiers pointing guns at me and motioning me to stop. I couldn't hear them because I hadn't cleared my ears after the long drop (I bailed out at about 19,000 feet).
"I was searched and brought to an army hospital in Emmerick, Germany. My face and left wrist were badly burned and I had wounds on the left knee and forehead. I was at the army hospital for five days until they evacuated, and I was taken into the interior of Germany to POW camp." As happened to many other 8 AF aircrew who made dates with English girls, Jerry Jacobs never kept his date with the beautiful Londoner.

The third man in the ill-fated flight, Lt. Howard Moebius, ( story above) experienced much the same frantic dogfight against heavy odds before being shot down:

"On that day I had the misfortune of having our flight become separated from the group, and one of the wingmen had to abort. The three of us were flying at 10,000 when we were attacked by 35 or 40 German fighters. It all happened so fast I don't recall in which direction my flight leader or the other wingman went. I do know that I ended up with 12 to 14 Germans in a very tight circle. I knew that I was going to see more action than the day before. I opened fire as I closed on the tail of one ship and noticed parts of his plane come off. I did not see him bail out, and the airplane nosed over and dove for the ground. I tightened my turn and got behind a second ship and scored several hits. After a few more turns I got in tighter on him and was able to start his plane on fire.
"In the meantime two or three enemy ships stayed out of the circle and were taking pot shots by making dives at me from head on and right angles. All of a sudden my left wing seemed to explode. The doors on the gun bays popped open and the wing was in flames. I had to decide whether I should roll over and dive for the ground with the possibility of putting out the fire, or whether it would get to the wing tank and explode. We were in a tight right turn and our speed had greatly reduced as we were also fighting for altitude. I pulled the handle that popped the canopy, unfastened my seat belt, and climbed out on the inside of the turn. As I jumped I debated how long I should wait to open my chute. I knew that we were between 16,000 and 20,000 feet, and it would take me considerable time to get down if I opened my chute immediately. I had heard that by opening my chute immediately it would give German search parties every opportunity to locate me before I reached the ground. Since there were airborne troops parachuting into the area, I am sure the Germans would not wait until I hit the ground to open fire. I hung on as long as I could. However, I was spinning so fast that I was afraid I would not be able to judge when I was at 1,500 feet.
For a second it flashed into my mind that Chuck Yeager had said something about opening your arms and that would slow your spin. I opened my arms and my rotation slowed down so I was in a very long 14,000 to 16,000-foot swan dive, and the rush of air was terrific. When I thought I was down to about 1,500 feet I pulled the cord. The little chute popped out, followed by the main, and then it seemed like I just sat in midair.
"It wasn't long before two planes were diving directly at me. It was hard for me to tell whether they were '51s or '190s. However, when they opened fire there was little doubt! I had heard how to dump air from the chute so I reached up, grabbed several shroud lines on one side and pulled my weight up on them. This buckled the chute and allowed me to come down faster. It also spoiled the run that the 109s were making, as their shots must have gone over. (I learned later that they did hit my chute two or three times.) Because I was so close to the ground they did not make a second pass.
"When I was about 50 feet off the ground I realized how rapidly I was descending. I tried to turn so I would be facing the direction toward which I was drifting and could see that I was going to land in a plowed field. The newly plowed field cushioned my fall so I was able to get up immediately. I unfastened my chute, gathered it up, and ran for the edge of the field. However, my G-suit, which was very tight fitting, caused cramps in my legs before I had run 40 yards. I buried my chute and then crawled to a small vegetable garden. I lay for a moment below the leaves in a small rhubarb patch. After what seemed like hours but was probably a few minutes, the cramps left my legs. When I got up in a kneeling position and started to look around, I saw a small boy not more than 40 feet away, motioning for me to get down and pointing toward another field. There I saw a German soldier walking with his gun in the ready position, and I immediately lay down again. I crawled slowly to the edge of the garden where I found a very deep, narrow trench. It was not more than 18 inches wide but it was about three feet deep.
The first thing I did was take off my G-suit, which was quite an operation in such tight quarters. I then lit a cigarette and decided I would just sit there until dark. I could hear a considerable amount of small arms firing in the distance, the heavier concussion of artillery, and intermittent machine gun fire.
"After dark I heard the whistling of the code letter V. At first it did not quite register and I debated whether it was a German or someone who could aid me. Finally I risked sticking my head up and I saw a bout about 20 years old. He was softly saying, 'American pilot, I am your friend,' and he would whistle the letter V three times and repeat, "American pilot, I am your friend.' I decided that since I had my .45 pistol in my hand, I would risk going up to him. He was very calm and cheerful, and said that he would help me."
This was the beginning of five months with the Dutch underground for Howard Moebius. They were months of living everywhere from ditches and shacks to fine country homes, numerous close encounters with German soldiers, artillery, and illness. Finally in February 1945 the Dutch and Belgian underground guided Moebius and two B-26 pilots down the Wahl river to link up with Canadian forces and freedom.

Major Edwin Hiro, the mission leader, flying his P-51D named "Horse's Itch" scored a 109 for his fifth victory. His encounter report was filed by his wingman, Flight Officer Johnnie Carter, as Hiro did not return.
"At about 1720 we were flying at about 13,000 in a direction of south about 10 miles west of Arnhem, we saw about 10 enemy planes engaged in a fight with about 15 of our airplanes. We dropped our tanks and went into a diving turn to the left. I was on Major Hiro's wing when we entered the fight, but was forced to break up and slightly out to avoid hitting a ship coming head-on. Major Hiro made a sharp turn to the left and got on the tail of an enemy ship. There were so many planes in the Lufberry that I had to pull out and over to get back in position on Major Hiro's wing.
"About this time the plane that I thought was Major Hiro broke out and headed for the deck on the tail of a 109. I took out after him and tried to catch them. I followed them all the way to the deck and saw the 109 crash in flames. Major Hiro pulled up into a steep chandelle and got in with a bunch of other ships that were still milling around. Due to my being quite a ways behind and in poor visibility when I joined up with one of these ships, I had gotten the wrong ship. I broke off immediately and tried to find my position but there were so many in the area that I was unable to find Major Hiro.
"About this time I heard him call our flight and ask our position, and tried to give his own. There was so much talk on the radio that we could not get each other's position. About this time, recall was given and I thought my best bet was to stay with the ships in the area to come home. I joined one of the flights and returned to base. When I landed I found that Major Hiro had not returned."
Luftwaffe reports attached to Hiro's Missing Aircrew Report tell us that a Mustang crashed at Ahaus (a village 38 miles west of Arnhem), shot down by a fighter. The pilot was dead and was buried in a Catholic cemetery, Vreden, grave No. 11.
Forty-one years later, almost to the day, this writer heard a postscript on the loss of Edwin Hiro and James Blanchard. During a conversation with 362nd Squadron pilot Ted Conlin, he gave me his memories:
"Jim Blanchard was my wingman that day and I think Capt. Williams was leading Dollar Squadron. When we arrived in the area we heard considerable chatter on the R/T, probably Major Hiro and his squadron. Just as we dropped our tanks we were bounced by 109s that came out of the sun and cloud cover. A 109 being chased by a '51 went across my nose, but the '51 had a 109 on his ass so I rolled into attach headed straight down. As I closed on the 109 I took cannon fire on my left side. I had to break off to handle my problem. It was that moment when my wingman, Blanchard, was shot down. I had thought at the time that Major Hiro was the P-51 and I tried to relocate him and Blanchard. After several minutes the enemy broke away and we returned to base. I then gave my account at debriefing and I am certain Major Hiro was the man in the middle of that attack."

During the two days of intense combat on the 18th and 19th, claims for the destruction of 50 Me-109s and FW-190s were turned in, plus a probable and two damaged. Seven Mustangs were lost with three pilots dead, three prisoners, and one evader. The Yoxford Boys' eventful participation in Operation Market-Garden was over.

bobbysocks

10-18-2010, 06:06 PM

Sgt William F. Owens 458 bombardment gp

Things hadn’t been too bad through these first twelve missions. Our plane was hit and damaged on some of the missions but none of the crew was injured. We were beginning to build hope that we might make it through the required twenty-five missions and be eligible to go home. All of this changed on my thirteenth mission. The early morning hours of June 29, 1944, had us preparing for another mission into the heart of Germany. This time our target was a JU-88 airplane factory. At the briefing we were told to expect heavy antiaircraft fire (flak) at and around the target. The large guns on the ground would fire at our planes, and the load was set to explode at a certain altitude. The explosion would create a large ball of black smoke and send out many pieces of sharp metal, which we would have to fly through. It could bring down a plane if it were a direct hit. We would usually fly at 20,000 feet or higher, but they could still reach us. We would have to climb to 20,000 feet over England before we crossed the English Channel and this would take several hours. This was in the days before jet planes. At this stage of the war the Germans were relying more on the antiaircraft guns than on their fighter planes. At times we would see their fighter planes but they would seldom attack us while our planes were flying in tight formation. They would wait for a plane that was damaged and couldn’t keep up with the formation. Their big guns were becoming more concentrated around the major targets. Flak was hitting more and more of our planes. The day before this mission, we made it back with a large hole in our wing. On the same mission our buddy crew was shot down. We went through Phase Training with this crew and became close friends. As their plane went down we could see some of them parachuting out of the plane.

I was flying in the nose turret on this mission (#13) on June 29,1944, and could see everything up ahead of us. As we approached our target the flak became heavier and the black puffs of smoke were everywhere. Our formation had to stay on a straight and level course so the bombardier in the lead plane could keep his bombsight on the target. We had to fly through the flak. The bombardier in the lead plane used his bombsight and the rest of the planes dropped their bombs when they saw his bombs drop. We had a switch in the nose turret that would drop our bombs when our bombardier wasn’t using our bombsight. I hit that switch and dropped our bombs as soon as I saw the bombs drop from our lead plane. Shortly after that we heard a loud explosion from anti-aircraft fire either in or just below our bomb bay section. Our plane immediately dropped about 5,000 feet and was damaged greatly. One of our four engines was knocked out, control cables damaged, oxygen system destroyed, and probably the worst of all, the fuel tanks in the wings were punctured and we were losing a large amount of fuel. Through all of this our Lord was still protecting us. Only one crewmember was injured. Our waist gunner was hit in the head with a piece of sharp metal. His flak helmet saved his life. The metal cut through his helmet and into his head. He was knocked out for awhile but was later revived. After dropping out of formation, our pilot and co-pilot got our plane under control and we headed back toward England. We were able to maintain our altitude at 15,000 feet, but had a long way to go and we continued to lose fuel. Our own fighter planes would usually meet us at a certain point and protect the stragglers from the German fighters. We flew alone for awhile before we saw several fighter planes off in the distance. We first thought they were German planes coming to attack us, but as they came closer we recognized them as our own P-51 fighters. I thanked my Lord once again. It was a welcoming sight, and they stayed close by as we made our way back.

Our luck ran out as we flew over northern Holland. We ran out of fuel. If the fuel could have lasted a little longer we would have made it to the English Channel and ditched in the water. When one of our three remaining engines failed our pilot gave the order to bail out. It was only the navigator and myself in the nose of the plane and we had to exit through the nose wheel well. By the time I got out of the nose turret he had kicked the door open and jumped out. I started to slide out of the opening but my parachute harness caught on the door latch. The wind pushed my legs back against the fuselage under our plane. It was very difficult but I finally pulled myself back into the plane. This time I went out headfirst. We had been taught to wait until we got close to the ground before opening our parachute but I couldn’t wait. I pulled the ripcord shortly after leaving our plane. The chute opened and I gave thanks to my Lord once again. After I calmed down I looked at my watch and it was about 11:15 in the morning and it was very quiet. There was no sound at all until one of our P-51 fighter planes appeared and circled me several times. As I floated toward the ground my mind was filled with many thoughts. I was dropping into a strange country not knowing a word of their language. Things seemed bad but they could have been worse. I could have been seriously injured or even gone down with our plane. I thanked my Lord once again for protecting me and I regained some of His wonderful peace, which helped me to face what was yet to come.

It seemed like I was in the air a long time before getting close to the ground, but when I did it came up to meet me. I landed in a wheat field. It was a hard landing on my left side causing rather bad bruises on my left elbow and left knee. I later learned that the area in which I landed had been reclaimed from the sea and was below sea level. The wheat field had large drainage ditches, with smaller ditches draining into them. I disconnected my parachute and started down one of the large ditches, not knowing where I was going. Before long I heard voices and saw two men coming down the ditch carrying my parachute and life vest. One of them could speak English and he told me they were part of the Dutch Underground. We played hide and seek in the wheat field, keeping away from the Germans until we reached the place where he wanted me to hide in the wheat. He told me to stay there and they would come back later. I thanked my Lord once again for sending help. I waited a long time and no one showed up, but I didn’t know of anything better to do so I continued to wait. By this time I was getting rather hungry, thirsty and sleepy, so I went to sleep. I don’t know how long I slept, but it was dark when I felt someone shaking me. It was the two men. They brought me two meatballs and two bottles of green pop. After eating I followed them to the home of a policeman where I spent the night. The next morning they gave me civilian clothes (rubber boots, shirt and pants) and took me into Meppel to stay with another family and wait for my phony passport and working papers. My passport listed me as a dentist born on June 6, 1919, and my name was Hendrick Bloomhoff. After receiving my passport and working papers, I went with a guide to the train station to ride the train down to Amsterdam.

I was in for quite a surprise when I reached the station. I was walking around on the platform and noticed other young men walking around. They were all wearing civilian clothes and one of them looked familiar. On closer look I recognized him as Billy Joe Davis, the waist gunner on our plane. I started looking closer at the other men as I walked and noticed that Edward S. Allen, tail gunner; Frank Peichoto, ball gunner; and Carry Rawls, top turret gunner; were also there. [Davis and Rawls were actually captured upon landing.] All five of us had made it to the ground safely and were picked up by the underground. We couldn’t stop and greet each other but it was a wonderful feeling to be together again and we would smile as we walked past one another. I gave thanks to my Lord once again.

All five of us got on a first-class train along with three guides and headed for Amsterdam. The underground didn’t want more than two of us traveling together with a guide, so when we got to Amsterdam we were divided into pairs of two. My partner was Frank Peichoto. Frank and I went through gunnery school together and became close friends. Then we were fortunate enough to be placed on the same crew. Now we were together again in the Dutch underground. We traveled together for the rest of the time we were in Holland. The two of us, along with our guide, were standing in front of the train station in Amsterdam waiting for a streetcar. Frank was smoking a cigarette and we noticed a German sailor coming toward him. The sailor was holding an unlit cigarette between his fingers and was bringing it up to his mouth as he said something to Frank in German. Frank, not knowing what the sailor said but anticipating his need, reached out his cigarette without saying a word. The sailor lit his cigarette from Frank’s and said, “Danke schoen” (thank you) as he went on his way. This was the first close encounter with the Germans and there would be more.

We stayed in Amsterdam with a man named Davis and his family for several days. He had been the Chief of Police before the war, but now was the head of the underground in that area. People came to him for advice and brought parts of guns or anything that could be used by the underground. We traveled by train only one other time. On that trip, along with several others, quislings (Dutch police in sympathy with the Germans) checked our passports. Our guides did the talking and we always got through. Most of our travel from this point was by bicycle, motorcycle, automobile and walking. At one time I rode on a motorcycle with a Catholic priest. Another time I rode in a 1932 Chevy with a wood burner attached to the back of it to create the fuel to run the engine. The engine kept running as long as there was fire in the burner. I can’t explain the mechanics of this contraption but it was a fascinating means of transportation and was greatly needed since gasoline was so scarce. Bicycles were a great means of transportation in Holland then, as it is now. When we were using bicycles or walking, our guides would tell us to stay some distance behind them in case they were stopped. If they were caught helping us they would have been put to death. On one bicycle trip we were following our guide on a road that was on top of a dike next to a canal. The water in the canal was higher than the land on either side of it. We were several hundred yards behind our guide when two German soldiers stopped him. We couldn’t stop when we got to him because we would have given him away. We kept riding along slowly until we got out of their sight and decided we had better stop and wait. We went over in the woods at the base of the dike and waited several hours but our guide never came. Finally another man stopped close to us and motioned for us to follow him. We followed him back the same way we had come until we came to a side road crossing the canal. We followed him on that road for several miles and found our guide waiting for us. He explained that the German soldiers were suspicious and he couldn’t follow us since the road crossing the canal was our turning off place.

We traveled almost the full length of Holland in the twenty-one days we were there and stayed in seven or eight different homes. One of the homes was on a farm out in the country. The house and the barn were all one building. The house was on one end and the barn with the animals on the other, but they both were very clean. Their pigpen was as clean as their kitchen. The men still wore wooden shoes or rubber boots while working in the fields due to the damp soil. I remember helping the ladies shell green peas for several hours while I was at this home. We stayed in another home that was an apartment, and there were German soldiers housed in the adjoining apartment. The people we were staying with told us not to talk out loud that night in our bedroom because the soldiers would be able to hear us. Their bed was right beside ours. Only the wall separated the two beds. While staying at another home I wrote a letter to my parents explaining all that had happened. I told them I was not injured and was with the underground in Holland. It was a rather long letter in which I told them other things like how much I loved them; what wonderful parents they were; how anxious I was to see them again; etc. A young man at this home said he would keep the letter until after the war was over and mail it for me in case I didn’t make it back home. He did mail the letter and Mom and Dad received it before I got back to the States. By that time my parents knew I was O.K. They had received letters from me while I was a prisoner.

The last home we stayed in before crossing the border into Belgium was in the small town of Erp. Two schoolteachers and their brother lived there and this was the first home where we could spend some time outside of the house because it was a small town and a secluded back yard. It was one of the few places where I didn’t feel the stress of being hunted by the Germans. We stayed there about four days waiting to cross the border into Belgium. They made pictures, which they later sent me along with some souvenirs (small wooden shoes and a spoon made of Dutch coins). Copies of these pictures can be found in the back section of this notebook.

Korsakov829

10-18-2010, 07:49 PM

bobbysocks

10-18-2010, 08:16 PM

Alot of these guys seem to have made it to Colonel late in life. I'm a Major, and only in my early 50s, so either my life is late or they just toss promotions out yearly these days. Hey, if I write a war diary about how we lifted sewer drain grates and ate snails in Grozny, do you think it will be a best seller?

well most of them got the promotions due to an unexpected vacancy...ie the former co was shot down and KIA or POW. kinda puts you on the fast track IF you live so long. a lot of the guys my dad flew with ended up generals or high ranking....but they also started at 18 to 20 years old and had flown in several major conflicts and a few minor ones. as for the catching eating snails from the drains....there is a huge market in the US for "survival cookbooks"...so write away....might make you a top selling author.

Korsakov829

10-18-2010, 08:21 PM

In my family history, going back about 6000 years there have only been a few colonels. The whole eating snail things didn't really work out so we just traded with the rebels which, kind of stalled a promotion.

bobbysocks

10-20-2010, 09:13 PM

the captured P-38 used by an Italian pilot to shot down crippled USAAF bombers,

Or so the story goes;

A YB-40 was involved in an interesting encounter. It bagged an Italian ace, Guido Rossi. In 1943 a P-38 ran out of fuel and ditched outside Sardinia. The pilot was overwhelmed by locals before he could use his pistol to ignite the tanks and burn the craft. Rossi had the clever idea of using the captured P-38 to kill wounded B-17's returning from bombing missions as stragglers. He bagged several bombers this way. One B-17 Pilot, Lt. Harold Fisher survived an attack, and had trouble convincing others that he was shot down by a 'friendly'.

Fisher was persistent and obtained command of a prototype YB-40 gunship, and flew several missions lagging behind the rest of the bombers trying to lure out the 'Phantom' P-38. As intelligence was gathered in Italy, they discovered Rossi and his captured '38 did indeed exist and had a wife in Constantine. Allies occupied this city, so when the nose art was applied to the YB-40, the artist used a photo of Rossi's wife, and named the gunship after her, 'Gina'.

Fisher flew a mission on August 31st that year, and was actually damaged in the bombing raid, so with two engines out, the YB-40 was even slower, and flew back completely solo. Sure enough, a P-38 approached, one engine feathered, and asked to join up for the trip back in very good english. Fisher almost fell for the same trap again. With the extra firepower of the friendly P-38 along, everything was being unloaded, guns, ammo, armor plate, anything to keep the YB-40 in the air. At this point Rossi came over the radio with an innocent question. "Gina, nice name. Your girl?" Fisher froze and ordered his men to keep their guns, and started baiting Rossi with details of his 'relationship' with Gina of Constantine.

Rossi became enraged, fired up the 'dead' engine, and circled around, intending to fire right through the nose, cockpit and the entire length of the YB-40. The '40 had an innovation that was later added to all B-17's, a chin turret. As Rossi came in, he faced down a total of 8 forward firing .50's. As the P-38 came apart Rossi even tried to ram the YB-40, but could not maintain flight. He ditched and was picked up by Allied pilot rescue and remained a prisoner for the remainder of the war.

Lt. Harold Fisher received the Distinguished Flying Cross for the encounter, and Major Fisher was killed during a crash in the Berlin Airlift. Former Lt. Guido Rossi attended his funeral out of respect.

bobbysocks

10-21-2010, 12:48 AM

an il2 cga type film about the account of robert johnsons run in with lw ace egon mayer. its an amazing story as told by johnson.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rnIVCxuc-fg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LpNlsD6rmHw&NR=1

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=209nbNM5qmA&NR=1

bobbysocks

10-24-2010, 08:50 PM

finally coming home

FULLERTON – In his last letter home, Claude "Bud" Ray wrote of his eagerness to return to Kansas for a white Christmas.

A tail gunner aboard a B-24D Liberator, Ray had spent most of 1943 flying missions out of Papua New Guinea, and he longed for home after a year in the jungle.

Shortly after writing the letter, Ray's plane disappeared during a storm, and for nearly 67 years his family was left wondering exactly what happened.

On Monday, more than six decades after his bomber was lost, Ray's remains are being flown to California for burial. The event is an answer to a nearly life-long prayer by his niece, Fullerton resident Karen Gideon.

"There was always the hope we would learn something," Gideon said.

Her family's most painful question was answered by an unexpected discovery in the jungle, modern science, and a unit of the military dedicated to identifying fallen service members and bringing them home.

One last flight

Gideon, 74, was only 6 when "Uncle Bud" signed up for the U.S. Army Air Forces, but her memories of him are vivid.

Ray was close to his family, a good uncle, the kind of guy who wrote individual letters to his little niece and nephew back home in Kansas. He planned to buy a farm and live near his parents when he returned from war.

He was deployed with the "Jolly Rogers" 5th Air Force, 90th Bomb Group, flying on a number of combat missions and earning a Distinguished Flying Cross, Air Medal, Oak Leaf Clusters and a Purple Heart.

Ray's crew had completed its combat mission and was preparing to return to the United States in October 1943, when Ray volunteered for one last flight.

During his time in the Pacific, Ray had suffered a bout of malaria, making him about three hours short of his crew's 300-hour service mission, Gideon said.

So when the tail gunner for his replacement crew became ill, Ray volunteered to go for the man who was to take his place. Fellow crewmembers begged him not to go; he had done his job, it was time to go home. Ray went anyway.

On Oct. 27, 1943, Ray flew out of Port Moresby, New Guinea on a reconnaissance mission with the new crew. The plane ran into foul weather, and radio contact was lost shortly after the plane was instructed to return to base. Ray was 25 years old.

Search crews were sent out, but no trace of the plane or its 12 crew members was found.

Coming home

For a while there was some small hope that perhaps Ray had survived – the military even received reports that he might be in a Japanese POW camp.

When that was disproven, there was nothing but a lingering sadness.

"There was never any burial, so it was just something that hung in the air," Gideon said.

Ray's mother would get up and leave the room when "White Christmas" came on.

Ray's parents passed away. So did his siblings. Most of the family moved from Kansas to California.

Gideon and her brother, Burt Risser, are perhaps the last immediate surviving family members who knew Ray personally.

According to the Department of Defense, there are currently 83,918 servicemen and women listed as Missing in Action from past conflicts. Of those, 74,064 are from WWII.

In an effort to bring as many of those service members home, the military branches have combined efforts to create the Joint POW/MIA Accounting Command.

Last year JPAC – which has a staff of about 400 and what it claims is the largest forensic anthropology laboratory in the world – identified the remains of 98 service members, including 53 from WWII.

In 2004, JPAC contacted Gideon and told her the search for her uncle's remains was ongoing, and they would like a DNA sample from the family on file – just in case.

What Gideon didn't know at the time was that in 2003, a local villager had discovered the remains of Ray's plane in a remote and dense jungle area of Papua New Guinea.

"I don't think they wanted to give us false hope," said, Gideon, who heard nothing after giving the DNA sample.

In 2007, a JPAC crew spent three months at the crash site, digging and sifting for remains.

Then, two months ago, the military called to set up an appointment with Gideon and Risser: They had identified Ray's remains and those of the other crewmen, and would be flying him home.

On Wednesday, the 67th anniversary of Ray's disappearance, Gideon and Risser will escort their uncle's remains to Riverside National Cemetery. Ray will be buried with full military honors, not far from the burial site of a sister he never got to say goodbye to.

In the spring, the siblings will fly to Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia, where the military is erecting a memorial to the crew. All unidentifiable remains from the crash site will be buried together in a shared casket at the memorial.

"It's a relief to know his remains are coming back to his country, so we can honor him," Risser said.

bobbysocks

10-25-2010, 05:57 PM

some short quips from 3 squadron raaf

GROUP CAPTAIN Peter JEFFREY DSO DFC MiD(2)

Twenty-two year old Peter Jeffrey joined the RAAF in 1935, well before the outbreak of war. He was posted, as a Flight Lieutenant to the desert in 1941 with 3 Squadron RAAF as a Flight Commander. In February 1941, as a Squadron Leader, he became Commanding Officer of 3 Squadron.

On 15 April 1941, he shot down one of four JU52's that were landing and then destroyed three more on the ground.

At this time, he was flying Hurricane QS-J. For energetic and capable leadership, he received the DFC in 1941. In June 1941 he shot down a JU88 bearing Italian markings, and two days later a Martin 167 bomber of the Vichy Air Force.

He was later promoted to a Wing Leader uniting 112 Squadron RAF and 3 Squadron into a Wing; he handed over 3 Squadron to Squadron Leader Alan Rawlinson on 10 November 1941. On 22 November 1941, he was shot down but managed to return to base. On the 25 November he shot down a Bf 110 with three other pilots. On the 30 November, he landed his Tomahawk in the desert, discarded his parachute to make more space for Sergeant Tiny Cameron, a downed 3 Squadron pilot and the largest man in the Squadron, and flew safely back to base sitting on Cameron's lap. This happened just a few days before he was awarded the DSO.

WING COMMANDER Andrew (Nicky) BARR OBE MC DFC and Bar

Nicky BARR, a star International Rugby player, was in England when World War II broke out. He returned to Australia, joined the RAAF and graduated as a Pilot Officer in September 1940. In October 1941, he was posted to 3 Squadron in the Middle East and soon displayed his skill in the Tomahawk and Kittyhawk fighters. In his first 35 operational hours, Barr flew 22 missions, engaged in 16 combats and destroyed 8 enemy aircraft.

On 11 January 1942, during an attempt to rescue a fellow pilot he was shot down, which resulted in a 25 mile walk back to base. On 26 June 1942, he was again shot down but this time, captured; and as a consequence, spent a long period in P.O.W. camps as well as enemy hospitals. Whilst enroute to Germany by train, he escaped and joined an allied Special Airborne Services unit in which he operated for eight months.

FLIGHT LIEUTENANT Arthur DAWKINS

Arthur Dawkins served with 3 Squadron for a period of 5 years and flew operations in the desert and Northern Italy. On the 10 March 1943, with other pilots, he strafed an enemy motor column. As Arthur passed over a motor transport that he hit, it exploded with such force that the canvas tarp from the vehicle flew up and wrapped around his wing; he flew back with the tarp draped over his wing tip. On landing the mechanics found that the air intake of his Kittyhawk CV-B No. FL-288 was full of packets of razor blades.

SQUADRON LEADER Reginald N. B. STEVENS DFC and Bar

Bobby Gibbes once described Reg Stevens as a very skilful pilot with bags of guts. Even as a Flight Sergeant, he befriended all the sprog pilots and earned his reputation for operational reliability by his outstanding eyesight. His rapid rise through the ranks from Warrant Officer to Squadron Leader in just two weeks, to take command of the Squadron was unparalleled in the Squadron.

On 3 August 1943, Sergeant Johnny Howell-Price was shot down into the sea off the Sicilian coast near Catania. Reg saw his plight and pin-point dropped his dingy to him, and whilst circling above him, alerted Air Sea Rescue. He stayed above until the Walrus arrived but during the pick-up rescue, a shore battery began shelling the Walrus. Reg went straight in and put the battery out of action but suffered serious aircraft damage in doing so. He crashed landed but stepped out unhurt and rejoined the Squadron that same day. For this action, he was awarded an immediate DFC.

FLIGHT LIEUTENANT John Rowley PERRIN DFC MiD

The second pilot in 3 Squadron to be decorated was Flight Lieutenant John (Jock) Rowley Perrin. Perrin was the leader of a formation of three fighters on patrol near Mersa el Berga when he noticed bombs bursting on the ground, and saw nine Stukas dive-bombing and strafing our troops. He called up the others in his formation, but was apparently misunderstood. At all events, after a careful look round for possible escorting fighters, Perrin dived on the Stukas, accompanied by only one of his companions.

As the pair dived, they were attacked by 15 Messerschmitts which Perrin had not seen, and Perrin's companion was shot down. Perrin bagged one of the Stukas and a Messerschmitt before a cannon-burst in his petrol tank set his aircraft on fire and slightly wounded Perrin.

In spite of fire and wound, Perrin continued to attack the enemy until he had exhausted his ammunition. He then crash-landed in the desert. As he staggered from his burning aircraft, half blinded with oil and blood, he was machine-gunned by the pilots of the Messerschmitts which continually dived at him as he made a desperate dash for the shelter of a tree.

"It was the fastest 100 yards I have ever run," he said jokingly later, "and when I barged into that tree in my haste, I saw stars by the thousand."

The citation to the immediate award of the D.F.C. granted Perrin for this incident stated that his determined leadership and bravery in the face of vastly superior enemy forces, and his bearing after the combat had had a very beneficial effect on the morale of the remainder of the squadron.

Perrin was picked up by a patrol car and taken to Benina aerodrome and a hospital. A little later, during the withdrawal of the British forces across Cyrenaica he was again in action.

FLIGHT LIEUTENANT Cecil (Tiny) CAMERON DFM and Bar

Posted to 3 Squadron R.A.A.F. in May 1941, Sergeant "Tiny" (Cec) Cameron's natural popularity was quickly enhanced by his beloved mascot, a cute monkey called "Buzz" who often flew as an unofficial co-pilot with Tiny.

Shortly after he joined the Squadron, the Syrian campaign developed. Tiny along with other members of the squadron took an active part. In fact, Tiny and his close mate, Derek Scott (Scotty) - another pilot with whom he shared eventual incarceration in Lamsdorf - on the signing of the Armistice in Syria, were sent in to occupy Bierut Aerodrome on behalf of the Squadron.

After completion of hostilities in Syria, the Squadron was transferred to the Libyan Campaign and took an active part in opposing the Luftwaffe, and it was not long before Tiny accounted for his first victim. Shortly after, he became a victim himself and was shot down, but became part of Air Force history when he was picked up by Squadron Leader Peter Jeffrey, who landed beside the crash site, squeezed Tiny into his cockpit and brought him back to the Squadron. This was quite an achievement as Tiny was 6ft 4in (193cm) and it was a single seater aircraft.

About a month later, after scoring 2 more victories, Tiny was again shot down and according to all reports, had crashed with his aircraft and had not survived. Five days later, he returned with an Army unit to his squadron much to everyone's surprise and delight. Tiny went on to claim 4 more victories before he was again shot down on 10 January 1942. He became a prisoner of war. Coincidentally, on this date, he was awarded the D.F.M. for outstanding devotion to duty and for his score of 5 enemy aircraft shot down. He was subsequently transported to Italy where he remained in a P.0.W. camp until the Italians surrendered in 1943 when he was transported to Germany.

He and others were force-marched across Germany and half way back again before being released at Halle on 8 May 1945 when he was told of his retrospective commission as a Flight Lieutenant.

FLIGHT LIEUTENANT Wilfred S. (Woof) ARTHUR DSO DFC MiD

Flight Lieutenant Wilfred Stanley Arthur started 1942 well for 3 Squadron by adding his D.F.C. to its mounting tally. A Queenslander, Arthur was 22 when he gained the award. He joined the Permanent Air Force a day after war was declared, and was posted to the squadron in March 1940 as a Pilot Officer, becoming Flying Officer in the following September, and Flight Lieutenant in October 1941.

His D.F.C. was awarded for great gallantry in operations. On one occasion under difficult weather conditions, he was leading a flight over Bir el Gobi when a large formation of enemy aircraft was encountered. Arthur immediately shot down two Stukas, and was then attacked by enemy fighters. His own engine was hit, but before this had happened, he had shot down one of the enemy fighters. Turning away his damaged aircraft from the fight Arthur shot down an Italian Macchi 200, making his day's total four. He went on to finish the war with 10 victories, 6 + he scored in the Squadron.

SQUADRON LEADER Frank FISCHER DFC.

In June 1941 Frank was shot down near the French air base of Hama. Crash landing his aircraft, he was faced with a 140 mile walk back to base. During this trek he was befriended by a tribe of nomadic Arabs who took him under their protection. Dressed in Arab clothing they guided him back to his base.

In November 1941 Flying Officer FISCHER was returning alone from a patrol, a defect having arisen in the aircraft which caused the windscreen of his aircraft to be completely covered with oil, when he saw a force of 9 Messerschmitt 109 about to machine gun aircraft on one of our forward landing grounds.

Despite the handicap imposed by his lack of vision Flying Officer Fischer engaged and destroyed one of the hostile aircraft and attacked three of the others before he was compelled to abandon his own aircraft.

By his skill and initiative Flying Officer Fischer completely broke up the enemy attack thereby saving the aircraft based on the landing ground.

SQUADRON LEADER Murray Percival NASH, DSO DFC and Bar

"Gasher" Nash was Commanding Officer of the Squadron at three different times during the Italian Campaign. His first hand-over to Rex Bayley was because his tour of duty had expired. Yet he still came back for another tour.

His flying ability was exceptional. On 8 January 1945, his "tree-pruning" during a very low level attack on enemy transport vehicles, resulted in the tip of one of his Mustang's wings being torn off by the tree and, as well, the mainframe was badly dented. Only his superb flying skills kept the aircraft under control and he limped home on a wing and a prayer.

bobbysocks

10-25-2010, 06:00 PM

Saburo Sakai was one of Japan’s living legends during WW2 during which he was credited with 64 aircraft destroyed. He survived the entire war, remaining an active front-line pilot to the end in spite of the crippling injuries he sustained when his Zero was almost demolished during a dog-fight over Guadalcanal in August 1942. Paralyzed in both his left leg and arm and permanently blinded in his right eye (and temporarily blinded in his right eye), he nevertheless returned to his Rabaul base and was still able to land his damaged Zero. Many of his air-battles were fought against P40s which many of our ex-3 Squadroners flew after their postings to the New Guinea theatre of war.

The following is an extract from his descriptive autobiography "SAMURAI" (Ballantine Books, New York, copyrighted to Martin Caidin, 1957 with writing assistance by Fred Saito).

Apparently I was never to cease being surprised at what awaited me in each new naval training program. Hardly had I arrived at the new school than I discovered that my prior experiences with naval discipline were minor ones. I was amazed to realize that the disciplinary customs of the Sasebo Naval Base were pleasant interludes in comparison with those of Tsuchiura. Even the Navy Gunners School was hardly more than a kindergarten alongside the Fliers School.

"A fighter pilot must be aggressive and tenacious. Always." This was our initial greeting from the athletic instructor who called together our first wrestling class. "Here at Tsuchiura we are going to instil those characteristics into you, or else you will never become a Navy pilot." He lost no time in showing us his ideas of how we were to become indoctrinated with constant aggressiveness! The instructor at random selected two students from the group and ordered them to wrestle. The victor of this clash was then allowed to leave the wrestling mat

His opponent who had lost the important match had no such luck. He remained on the mat, prepared to take on another pilot trainee. So long as he continued to lose, he remained on that mat, tiring with every bout, slammed about heavily and often sustaining injuries. If necessary, he was forced to wrestle every one of the other sixty-nine students in his class. If, at the end of sixty-nine consecutive wrestling bouts, he was still able to resume standing, he was considered fit-but for only one more day. The following day he again took on the first wrestling opponent and continued until he either emerged a victor or was expelled from the school.

With every pilot trainee determined not to be expelled from the fliers course, the wrestling matches were scenes of fierce competition. Often students were knocked unconscious. This, however, did not excuse them from what was considered an absolute training necessity. They were revived with buckets of water or other means and sent back to the mat.

Following a month's basic ground training, we began our primary flying lessons. Flight lessons were held in the morning, classroom and other courses in the afternoon. Following dinner, we had two hours in which to study our subjects until the lights were turned out.

As the months wore on, our numbers diminished steadily. The training course demanded perfection from the students, and a trainee could be dismissed for even the slightest infraction of rules. Since the naval pilots were considered the elite of the entire Navy, of all the armed forces, there was no room for error. Before our ten-month course was completed, forty-five out of the original seventy students had been expelled from the school. The instructors did not follow the violent physical-discipline system of my former training installations, but their authority to dismiss from the school any student, for any reason, was feared far more than any mere savage beating.

The rigidity of this weeding-out process was forcibly brought home to us on the very eve of our graduation; on that same day, one of the remaining students was expelled. A shore patrol discovered him entering an off-limits bar in the town of Tsuchiura to celebrate his "graduation." He was pre-mature in more respects than one. Upon his return to the billet he was ordered to report at once to his faculty board. By way of apology the student knelt on the floor before his officers, but to no avail.

The faculty board found him guilty of two unpardonable sins. The first, every pilot knew. That was that a combat pilot; shall never, for any reason, drink alcoholic beverages the evening before he flies. As part of the graduation exercises, we were to pass over the field in formation flight the next day. The second of the two crimes was more commonplace, but equally serious. No member of the Navy was ever to disgrace his service by entering any establishment marked "off limits."'

The physical training courses at Tsuchiura were among the severest in Japan. One of the more unpleasant of the obstacle courses was a high iron pole which we were required to climb. At the top of the pole, we were to suspend ourselves by one hand only. Any cadet who failed to support his weight, for less than ten minutes received a swift kick in the rear and was sent scurrying up the pole again. At the end of the course, those students who had avoided expulsion were able to hang by one arm for as long as fifteen to twenty minutes.

Every enlisted man in the Imperial Navy was required to be able to swim. There were a good number of students who came from the mountain regions and had never done any swimming at all. The training solution was simple. The cadets were trussed up with rope around their waists and tossed into the ocean, where they swam or sank. Today, thirty-nine' years old and with pieces of shrapnel still in my body, I can swim fifty meters (162 feet) in thirty-four seconds. At the Fliers School, swimming that distance in less than thirty seconds was commonplace.

Every student was required to swim underwater for at least fifty meters, and to remain below the surface for at least ninety seconds. The average man can, with effort, hold his breath for forty or fifty seconds, but this is considered inadequate for a Japanese pilot. My own record is two minutes and thirty seconds below the surface.

We went through hundreds of diving lessons to improve our sense of balance, and to aid us later when we would be putting fighter planes through all sorts of aerobatic gyrations. There was special reason to pay strict attention to the diving lessons, for once the instructors felt we had received enough assistance from the boards, we were ordered to dive from a high tower to the hard ground! During the drop we somersaulted two or three times in the air, and landed on our feet. Naturally, there were errors-with disastrous results.

Acrobatics formed an important part of our athletic instruction, and every requirement laid down by the instructors was fulfilled or the student was expelled. Walking on our hands was considered merely a primer. We also had to balance ourselves on our heads, at first for five minutes, then ten, until finally many of the students could maintain position for fifteen minutes or more. Eventually I was able to balance on my head for more than twenty minutes, during which time my fellow trainees would light cigarettes for me and place them between my lips.

Naturally, such circus antics were not the only physical requirements of our training. But they did permit us to develop an amazing sense of balance and muscular coordination, traits which were to have lifesaving value in later years.

Every student at Tsuchiura was gifted with extraordinary eyesight; this was, of course, a minimum entry requirement. Every passing moment we spent in developing our peripheral vision, in learning how to recognize distant objects with snap glances-in short, in developing the techniques which would give us advantages over opposing fighter pilots.

One of our favourite tricks was to try to discover the brighter stars during daylight hours. This is no mean feat, and without above-average eyes it is virtually impossible to accomplish. However, our instructors constantly impressed us with the fact that a fighter plane seen from a distance of several thousand yards often is no easier to identify than a star in daylight. And the pilot who first discovers his enemy and manoeuvres into the most advantageous attack position can gain an invincible superiority. Gradually, and with much more practice, we became quite adept at our star-hunting. Then we went further. When we had sighted and fixed the position of a particular star, we jerked our eyes away ninety degrees, and snapped back again to see if we could locate the star immediately. Of such things are fighter pilots made.

I personally cannot too highly commend this particular activity, inane as it may seem to those unfamiliar with the split-second, life-or-death movements of aerial warfare. I know that during my 200 air engagements with enemy planes, except for two minor errors I was never caught in a surprise attack by enemy fighters, nor did I ever lose any of my wingmen to hostile pilots.

In all our spare moments during our training at Tsuchiura we sought constantly to find methods by which we could shorten our reaction time and improve our certainty of movement. A favourite trick of ours was to snatch a fly on the wing within our fists. We must have looked silly, pawing at the air with our hands, but after several months a fly which flew before our faces was almost certain to end up in our hands. The ability to make sudden and exact movements is indispensable within the cramped confines of a fighter-plane cockpit.

These improvements in reaction time came to our aid in a totally unexpected way. Four of us were racing in a car at sixty miles an hour along a narrow road when the driver lost control of the car and hurtled over the edge of an embankment. The four of us, to a man, snapped open the car doors and literally flew from the vehicle. There were some scrapes and bruises, but not a single major injury among us, although the car was thoroughly demolished.

bobbysocks

10-27-2010, 06:24 PM

Heroic young pilot killed in dogfight
story from this is kent website

A FEW weeks ago I paid a tribute to the Polish pilots who escaped from their occupied homeland in 1939, made their way to France and, when that country fell, came to England to join the RAF.

Those brave men, some in their early 20s and younger, used all kinds of tricks and the most elaborate methods for escaping.

Many dressed in second-hand civilian clothing and, equipped with fake passports, slipped out like eels between guards and gendarmes.

One of those pilots was Stefan Wojtowicz.

At the age of 20 he escaped from Poland to Romania, then to France where General Sikorski was reconstituting the Polish Air Force, and finally to England where he joined 303 Squadron at Northolt.

On September 11, 1940, Stefan was involved with his squadron in a dogfight over Westerham.

Having shot down at least one Messerschmitt, possibly more, he found himself cornered by six German fighters.

Witnesses in Westerham and nearby villages saw the battle fought at low altitude.

Stefan's Hurricane was hit and hurtled to the ground, burning.

It embedded into a field at the top of Hogtrough Hill, Brasted, and he was killed immediately.

A few weeks ago, on the 70th anniversary of that crash, a group of friends unveiled a plaque on the site.

Among them was Peter Finch, of Quebec Square, Westerham, who watched the air battle and many years later corresponded with Nina Britton Boyle, a Polish squadron researcher, who wanted to know more about the circumstances leading to the tragedy.

Peter was able to tell her that he was 14 at the time and, like many schoolboys, a great souvenir hunter. His garden shed contained parts from crashed planes, their equipment, bomb shards and ammo. According to Peter the battle on September 11 lasted about 15 minutes.

He and his friends saw the Hurricane crash and rushed to the site in time to see the body of Stefan Wojtowicz removed to the morgue. There, Peter looked through a window and saw the blackened body not yet covered.

"The pilot had very small hands," he said. "It was the first time I had seen a body and the image is still in my mind today."

A few days after the crash, a 303 Squadron intelligence officer came to this part of Kent to find out more about Sergeant Wojtowicz's death and discovered he had been hit in the head by a shard from a cannon missile.

He also found out that two enemy planes were destroyed, possibly more, by the young Pole. Already, in an earlier mission, he had shot down two Dornier bombers and lost part of his engine, but still managed to land safely in a field near Tenterden.

His commanding officer, Col Johnny Kent, acting CO, recommended the highest British military decoration, the Victoria Cross, for exceptional courage on the battlefield.

He was reminded that it could not be given to a foreigner.

Sgt Wojtowicz was posthumously decorated with the Silver Cross of Virtuti Militari.

The research by Nina Britton Boyle was thorough.

Using a metal detector she found pieces of the plane scattered over a wide area.

She also discovered more about Stefan, his village in Poland, how he enrolled on an advanced pilot course after leaving school and about his adventures when the country fell in 1939.

She wrote comprehensively about his family in Poland, the small plaque in the village commemorating those killed during the Second World War and how she met Stefan's sister, who said she had seen him for the last time on September 17, 1939.

"His mother cried and begged him to stay, but he had to go. He was full of the will to fight. On his leave he said to his mother: 'You will yet read about me'."

He was not wrong.

Nina Britton Boyle and Peter Finch were among those in the commemoration party on Hog- trough Hill, meeting each other for the first time.

She told him that on that day, 70 years earlier, 12 pilots of 303 Kosciuszko Squadron had raised their Hurricanes and destroyed 16 enemy aircraft, one of the greatest successes of the Battle of Britain.

The price of victory was the death of Sgt Stefan Wojtowicz and Lt Arsen Cebrzynski, who was also shot down and severely wounded. He crashed at Pembury and died in hospital several days later.

Korsakov829

10-27-2010, 07:41 PM

The Polish airforce have some good pilots, although I can't say much for planes. They flew Spitfires in England but in the begining, they all were like the Soviet I-16 and I-153 in a way, only worse.

bobbysocks

11-01-2010, 07:41 PM

veteran's day is coming up so...

Mark Stepelton
Normandy Invasion

I was a young Fighter Pilot flying with the famed 357th Fighter Group stationed at Leiston, England. Our main mission was to escort the 8th Air Force Bomber Force on missions deep into Germany. We flew the greatest fighter plane of World War II, the P-51, Mustang. Our performance was outstanding.

We had flown many combat missions prior to June 6, 1944, during which time we had saved thousands of lives of Bomber Crews on long combat missions over enemy territory. Our fighter crew losses were serious and we all wondered when the Invasion would take place. Upon returning from a combat mission on June 4, 1944, we were told that our P-51s would be in a grounded condition temporarily. Little did we realize the magnitude of coming events.

Our ground crews began painting white stripes on the wings of our Mustangs and even then we didn't realize those stripes would soon be recognized as "D" Day stripes. The purpose was for our ground troops to easily recognize our aircraft as friendly planes.

When not flying, our favorite meeting place was the Officers Club, so it was there, at about 9:00 P.M. or 2100 hours military time on June 5th 1944, that an announcement was made that all combat flight officers would report to the Group Briefing Room immediately. Of course, the excitement was tremendous. No previous combat briefing had created this much attention, even our first mission over Berlin, Germany.

Identification was required at the Group Briefing Room and one could feel that something tremendously vital to us was about to take place. We were seasoned combat pilots by now and had seen many fine friends lost in combat. We felt confident in our abilities as fighter pilots to succeed in any mission assigned to us.

We were called to "attention" as our Fighter Group Leader entered the briefing room. He immediately requested the Intelligence Officer to first brief us about the "Top Secret" aspects about the mission we were about to hear.

We were sworn to secrecy. We were not to tell our ground crews or talk to anyone. Phone calls were "off limits." Our Group Commander then made a very terse announcement that we had been assigned to fly cover for the greatest of all combat missions, the "Invasion of Europe" by our combat ground force enroute by sea. This mission would be called "D" Day and to begin during the early hours of June 6, 1944.

I well remember a feeling of supreme excitement, similar to the feeling I'm now experiencing as my mind races back to those indescribable events. We were all young men who, a few years before had never dreamed of being given such a vast responsibility. Our assigned mission was to protect the Normandy Beachhead from attack by German Fighters. The ground combat troops would be asked to invade France against seasoned German Troops. Only a few of our ground troops had combat experience and needed to be assured that the only aircraft above them would be friendly.

The Group Commander ended the briefing by stating that we should retire soon as possible because a specific mission briefing would be held at our Squadron briefing room about 2:00 AM. How could we possibly sleep with such a tremendous mission soon to be our responsibility? I couldn't sleep. I laid down on my cot, fully dressed in my flight suit and sought the help of our Lord Jesus Christ. I prayed for the safety of the thousands of young men in ships, waiting for the signal to board their landing crafts. I had no thoughts or concerns for my safety, I already had 38 combat missions.

I didn't look at my watch when an officer entered our room and quietly told us to report to the Squadron Briefing Room immediately. Now the excitement was beyond description. Only combat pilots were allowed at this briefing. The Squadron Commander (The worlds best) Lt. Col. John Storch of Long Beach, California, gave us individual assignments in specific areas along the Normandy Invasion Areas. We noted that a light rain was falling and the sky was very black, however, all of England was on a "blackout." Due to weather conditions, we would fly to our assigned areas in pairs. My great buddy, Captain Leroy Ruder from Nekoosa, Wisconsin, would be my partner. Of course, you realize that a P-51 Mustang holds only one person, so we would take off in pairs and be on our own from the moment of takeoff.

After synchronization of watches, we received our assigned "start engine" time. We raced to our revetments where our planes were parked and sporting a new set of white stripes on the wings. I carefully checked my plane which I had named "Lady Julie." She was no lady. My Crew Chief and Armorer knew that something extremely important was about to happen because we had never taken off at this time of the night. No questions were asked and the only comment made to me by my Crew Chief, as I sat strapped in my Mustang, patting me on my back he said, "take care of yourself."

Waiting for "start engine" time always allowed time for reflection of your lost buddies, and fond memories of times back home. I was never afraid of being shot down. Previous "dog" fights had given me self confidence. The sound of Rolls Royce Merlin engines of our P-51s barking as they were energized, jolted me back to realization of the job ahead. Captain Ruder began taxiing to the takeoff runway ahead of me. The nose of the P-51 is so long that it was necessary to "s" turn the aircraft in order to observe the aircraft ahead of you.

We finally reached the area of the takeoff runway, turned the aircraft so as to avoid damage to the plane following you and went thru the "takeoff" check. My engine roared to a high pitch, sweet sound found only in the Merlin engine.

Rain now was rather severe. No turning back due to bad weather on this mission. Captain Ruder taxied to takeoff position and I joined him on his right side. He motioned to me with a forward motion of his hand and with full throttle we raced down the runway and up into the black night. Captain Ruder turned out over the North Sea and headed southwest toward the greatest event of our history, the "D" Day Normandy Invasion.

Captain Ruder was an "Ace" and a very fine fighter pilot. He was one of those pilots who was extremely confident of his capabilities and was not afraid of anything. We timed our approach to arrive over Normandy before dawn. We dropped down from our flight altitude to a very low altitude as we began our patrol. NO GERMAN FIGHTER PILOT WOULD APPROACH THE LANDING INVASION AREA OF OUR RESPONSIBILITY.

As dawn slowly arrived, we could see the vast armada of ships heading toward Normandy. A sight that is etched in my memory for all the days of my life. I prayed hard for the safety of our invading troops. I cannot begin to describe the picture before my eyes, so vast and powerful looking. Large Battleships firing toward shore.

After about four hours of patrolling, Captain Ruder called me over the radio to state he had been hit by ground fire and was going down. We were not in close formation. He crash landed and died soon thereafter. The loss of my friend, Captain Leroy Ruder was so shocking because it happened so fast and it was beyond his ability to avoid. I now patrolled alone with a very heavy heart.

Captain Leroy Ruder, a very brave and experienced pilot, always extremely aggressive against German Fighter pilots, now lost his life during the early phase of "D" Day. He was the only Fighter Pilot in our Fighter Group and the entire 8th Fighter Command to lose his life on "D" Day.

Finally, as my fuel became dangerously low, I returned to our base at Leiston, England. I had logged the longest combat flying time of our pilots on the first mission and could barely climb out of my cockpit.

The cockpit of a P-51 Mustang is very confining and not a place for anyone who is claustrophobic. I was the last fighter pilot of our Group to arrive back at our home base from that momentous first mission.

After debriefing, I went directly to my barracks and slept for two hours. I was awakened by an announcement that we should assemble at the Squadron Briefing room in 45 minutes. I had not undressed and was still in my flight suit. Even though I was extremely tired, the excitement of this great day dept us young pilots living on adrenaline. At the Squadron Briefing, we learned that we would patrol back of the German lines behind the "beachhead" and to destroy anything moving toward the front. About an hour later, we were back in our P-51's for an "Area Support" mission on this great day.

We located a train moving toward the invasion area. We circled the train at a very low altitude, knowing that anything moving was the enemy. The engineer had pulled the engine into a tunnel, leaving the passenger cars exposed. While making a circle, our engine noises alerted the German troops who flooded out of the cars into the area next to the cares. We knew what we had to do, so these German combat troops never reached the invasion area.

After several hours of patrolling at low altitudes, we returned to our base at Leiston, England. I was totally exhausted as my Crew Chief helped me climb out of my cockpit. Now it was dark and raining. After debriefing, all I could think about was sleep. I had logged this combat mission at 5:25 hours, some what less than my first mission. The combat troops in the invasion area had no place to sleep.

This is the first time, I have attempted to write about the most important day of my life which is so deeply etched in my mind. While our job was exciting and dangerous, EVERY AMERICAN OWES GREAT HONOR AND THANKS TO THE VERY BRAVE COMBAT TROOPS WHO HAD THE TREMENDOUS RESPONSIBILITY OF ACTUALLY INVADING INVINCIBLE EUROPE CONTROLLED BY GERMANY UNDER THE MAD MAN, HITLER. WE AMERICANS CANNOT BEGIN TO THANK THOSE TROOPS ENOUGH. JUST VISIT THE AREA ABOVE OMAHA BEACH, WHERE THOUSAND OF AMERICAN SOLDIERS ARE RESTING AND IT WILL TEAR YOUR HEART OUT.

bobbysocks

11-01-2010, 07:48 PM

June 29, 1944 Rescue

Captain Mark Stepelton, 364th Fighter Squadron

This date, June 29, 1944, is one of the most memorable of my combat tour against the Germans. Our mission was called RAMROD, which meant we would provide fighter protection for B-17 heavy bombers who will attack targets in Leipsig, Germany. The target was heavily protected with flak and German fighters.

Arriving in the target area, German fighters attacked our bombers in force, trying to score victories. Our fighters followed the Germans leaving the main bomber force unprotected. After talking to crews of our bombers, pleading with us for fighter protection, a few of us climbed to the area where we could see activity. The few of us had split up. I destroyed a FW 190 and decided to escort bombers until my fuel became quite low, at which time I headed toward England.

Upon reaching our base at Leiston, England, I was immediately picked up and taken to operations where our Squadron Commanding Officer, Lt. Col. John Storch, announced that he had just received an urgent message that a B-17 bomber is down in the North Sea off Holland, where some German fighters are firing at the crew of ten men.

Col. Storch asked if I would refuel and immediately takeoff and receive flight instructions from our base locator section. I took off alone and was contacted by the English Air-Sea-Rescue unit for further directions.

As I approached the area where the aircraft was just slightly in view, I saw men in their dinghy's (small life rafts). As soon as the German fighters became aware of my approach they evidently thought that more than one of our fighters was enroute, because they immediately ceased firing at our crew and headed east toward Holland.

I remained with the men until I observed the Air-Sea-Rescue team approaching. I returned to my base at Leiston feeling that we saved the lives of ten bomber crewmembers. Between the Leipsig mission of 4:35 and the Air-Sea-Rescue mission of 3:10 hours, my total flight time for that date was 7:45 hours.

On July 14, 1944, near Lyon, France, I participated in a very important " Top Secret" mission protecting 8th Air Force Bombers while dropping supplies to the underground forces called the "Maquis". French underground forces caused serious problems for Germany by destroying many ammunition dumps and troop trains taking men and supplies to the German front. Some of our troops assisted the "Maquis." We dropped our troops (special) by parachutes at designated locations

Our Squadron (364th FS) was selected to protect at all costs the 359 8th Air Force Bombers who were dropping supplies via parachute from a very low level flight, about 500 feet. We were told that we must destroy any German Fighters who might report the "Maquis" activities.

My wingman, Lt Reed and I were attacked by 20 FW 190 German Fighters. A dogfight resulted at tree top level. As I got on the tail of two Fighters, they split up and I chased a long nose FW190 west and finally got close enough to fire a burst from my machine guns. My shells started hitting his aircraft at the tail and up to his cockpit. His aircraft hit the ground and exploded. I claimed that victory.

Our mission finished, we resumed our escort of the bomber force back to England. We were never given credit for that mission.

My flight time for that very important mission was six hours.

5. Disastrous Combat Mission, March 5, 1944

After a very long mission escorting Bombers to and from Berlin, Germany yesterday, we logged 5.5 hours and lost Mederious, a Flight Leader. And now Flight Headquarters selected our 357th Fighter Group for another long mission. This March 5, 1944 mission was given the orders to attack targets in Bordeaux, France area, mainly the German Bombers that are devastating our shipping in the Atlantic Ocean. We encountered a vast amount of resistance from enemy ground fire and there was much fighter activity and at one point a pilot (ours) said, "Hi Fellas, I just got hit, and have to bail out." This pilot was Chuck Yeager. A new type long nose FW190 had got on Yeager's tail and shot him up. We searched the area to make sure that Germans had not picked up Yeager.

After some additional damage was done our commander, Col. Spicer said, "Lads, let's go home." I was flying Lt. Col. Hayes wing as we headed toward England. Col. Hayes was our Squadron Commander. It appeared that Col. Spicer had damaged his plane on the strafing runs and now announced he was having considerable trouble keeping his plane in the air and would have to bail out quite soon. The Colonel was over water, as we were, and we told him that we would request the English Air Sea Rescue to pick up the Colonel. He had gotten into his dinghy and was paddling out to sea. He was not going to give up. Lt. Col. Hayes ordered a flight to go to our base at Leiston, refuel and rearm and return to the area where Col. Spicer was down, so to give him cover while we waited for the Air Sea Rescue boats.

We were getting low on fuel so we had to return to Leiston. Upon arrival we expected to refuel and return to help cover Col. Spicer. Our Group Executive Officer had advised our Fighter Wing HQ, who refused to allow any of us to return to the area where Col. Spicer was down.

An International Red Cross message was issued for the Germans to pickup Col. Spicer. The Colonel became CO of a POW Camp in Germany. The Air Corp's lost the finest of all Fighter Pilots for the duration of the war.

Colonel Russell Spicer was so mistreated by the Germans that he passed away a few years after WWII. Our loss was great!

bobbysocks

11-01-2010, 08:21 PM

Perhaps humorous, definitely not heroic, my experiences are very likely typical of a great many of us who were fortunate enough to be there at time, ready and eager to perform the mission. You have probably scanned the book to see where and if I am mentioned. I am not.

I arrived in England in September of 1944 and returned a year later in September of 1945.

As far as Air Combat is concerned, I think the best way to express it is that basically when they were up, I was not! Or if they were up, I was escorting someone home, as on the date of December 24, 1944. I was Dollar Blue Two, flying Kirla's wing and was assigned to escort Chuck Weaver who had a rough engine, back to base 30 minutes or so before the group got into a big fight. Or I was screwing up as on the biggest day of them all January 14, 1945, when the 357th Fighter Group got a record 56.5 air victories.

On that January 14th mission, I flew someone else's airplane, which had a record of aborting on its tow previous missions because of excessive fuel usage. I had a thing about never aborting and never did. I had not seen any enemy aircraft on so many previous missions, I thought we would not see any on January 14, so I very stupidly kept my fuselage tank full so I would have plenty of fuel and not have to abort when the squadron dropped it's external tanks.

On that day, as on most days, I flew with my Flight Commander John Kirla on his wing. He had me convinced that we were going to become another Godfrey and Gentille team. George Behling was Element Leader with Jim Gassere on his wing flying number four position. Behling became a POW that day. Kirla got four victories and Gasser got two. On his first turn into the enemy aircraft Kirla lost me, his hot-shot wingman, who had snapped uncontrollably out of the action. You really can't fly the P-51 with full fuselage and make high G turns at altitude without snapping. The amount of fuel in the fuselage tank affected the center of gravity. After my snap and dive there seemed to be no one in sight except the enemy 109 working its way into firing range on my tail. This of course, with my attitude, gave me a sure victory. I felt I had him all to myself. Two snaps later, I was on the tree tops with full mixture, full throttle to burn that fuselage tank down. My 109 apparently had some positive feelings about me because he was still in the relative position. A flight of four P-51s dropped in on his tail in front of me and shot my victory from the skies.

There is more of interest to that day. I next proceeded to fly up to the bomber stream to see what I might do. Incidentally, there was smoke and debris all over the place on the ground from the many aircrafts that had gone in. On reaching the bomber stream and other wise being alone, my vision telescoped. Something was wrong. My oxygen supply somehow was decreased because of all the violent snaps or perhaps more likely I was suffering from hyperventilation. I don't know, but the next thing I do know, I was again at tree top level. I had passed out at 28000 feet and recovered in level flight at ground level. Lucky Boy!

At this point I picked up my average course for home and proceeded to fly out across the channel very much disgusted with myself. In route, I did a couple of rolls at a few hundred feet over the channel feeling that if the aircraft went in - so be it. I emptied my guns at various wave tops. Returning to Leiston-Saxmunden, our home base, where victory rolls were being performed, it seemed, by everyone else. ON the ground pictures were being taken of all those who had experienced victories. Jack Dunn did not participate.

Ten days or so later the group gathered in the Post Theater to see film form the great mission. In about the middle of the showing and after John Kirla's film showing him gloriously getting four positive victories and Jim Gasser two, here comes film heading "J Dunn, First Lt" I would have left if I could. Someone said "Hey it looks like he must be getting one in the clouds!" Next it was obvious that I was firing into the waves. So you see, all was not heroic, in fact at times very frustrating.

John W. (Jack) Dunn

Joy Ride

The department head's meeting was over, and Major Broadhead, our CO, said the only fair way was to choose numbers. I guessed number one; it turned out to be the lucky one. I had won a ride in a piggyback Mustang!

I suppose there have been piggyback P-51's converted before, but some ingenious mechanic in our top-scoring 357th Fighter Group had dreamed this one up by himself. The radio was taken out, the guns were taken out, and an extra seat complete with air speed indicator and altimeter was directly behind the pilot. As a "paddlefoot" usually on friendly relations with pilots, I had gotten quite a few rides, but never in an operational, single-seater fighter aircraft. I've always wanted to ride in one - but I was a little bit scared, too. Major Broadhead, on his second tour and with eight ME 109s to his credit, didn't make me any more at ease by explaining how difficult it would be to bail out. The make-shift canopy may stick, and things happen awfully fast.

It seemed that at least half the GI's in the squadron were watching me climb into the ship - secretly hoping I'd get the hell scared out of me. Which - I did.

Bob taxied to 06 (the long runway), and before I knew it we were airborne. It was a beautiful day, with a layer of white baby wool clouds at 5,000 feet. Bob climbed up slowly through a hole, although to me the altimeter seemed to be spinning like the second hand of a watch. Then before I knew what was happening, the nose of the ship dropped and the plane seemed to be falling right out of the sky. The aie speed rose..200..250..300..350...and the nose came up again. All the weight of my body seemed to be directly against the seat. Ice water was flowing through my legs instead of blood. My jaw had involuntarily dropped, and I could feel my cheeks and eyes sag like an old man's. I tried to lift my arms; they seemed glued to my lap. This, then, was G strain. Approximately four G's, Bob said later.

Now the nose was going straight up. If the altimeter had looked like a second hand before, it looked like a Ferris Wheel now. Before I knew it, we had looped. Not being satisfied with a gentle pullout, Broadhead dropped her on one wing, and did a barrel roll.

After a few minutes of straight and level flying (while I got my breath back), Bob decided to hedgehop some clouds. A beautiful layer of white fleece stretched, endless as earth, as far as the eye could see. Toward it we dived, 300 miles per hour. For five minutes Bob indulged in his favorite relaxation of clipping the tops off clouds and turning on one wing. Occasionally the earth would wink at us, or clouds would engulf us from every direction.

"Now what would you like to do?" Bob seemed to signal from his cockpit. Ther was nothing I would rather do at the moment than get out and walk home - but that seemed a little impractical. Bob seemed to be making all sorts of "hangar flying" motions with his hand. In my brief experience, that hinted of violent maneuvers to come. Happily, I pointed to a lone fortress at seven o'clock. I thought we might fly alongside and wave at the pilot. Instead, we peeled off and made a pass at him.

There turned out to be two forts, and two mustangs were already giving them a bad time. It wasn't long until a flight of four more arrived from nowhere and joined in the fun. It was about that thime that everything from nowhere I had ever heard about "ratraces" was completely forgotten; I was learning from scratch. For a while I kept my eyes on two 51's directly overhead. I looked straight down, and there was the sun. We were up, down and around the bombers - right on the tail of a 51 - on our side, upside down, in a dive, in a pullout, I lost all trace of horizon, airspeed, ground...my head was spinning...the prop was spinning... I was conscious only of the throb of the engine and the occasional flash of an airplane overhead.

After a king-size eternity, the ratrace was over, and although I could not see Bob's face, I knew he was grinning from ear to ear. We had been up about thirty minutes. Seeing nothing else of interest, Bob headed "Eager Beaver" for 373. we flew straight and level, on a compass heading, all the way home. I saw a town of around 90,000 from the air, but I couldn't get very interested in it. I felt dead tired, as if I had worked a week without resting and had suddenly stopped. I had the thought that I was dead weight as much as a sack of flour. I wanted to collapse.

By the time we arrived at the station I felt much better. The field looked like three toothpicks touching, with the ends overlapping. The altimeter read 8,500 feet.

"Fifteen minutes more, and we'll be landing," I thought. bob grinned back at me. More maneuvers with his left had. I nodded agreement, and wondered what would come next.

One wing suddenly slipped out from under us, and we were upside down. Little pieces of mud an debris went past my eyes and hit the canopy, I remember thinking they were falling upside down. Then the nose dropped, and we split-essed out, going straight for the ground. The airspeed increased; the earth grew larger. The huge prop was spinning like a man gone mad. I watched the airspeed: 350...400...425. The altimeter was spinning backward like a watch going the wrong way...6,000...5,000...4,000. The earth had never looked so hard. At 2,000 we leveled out, with the airspeed indication 450.

After that, the peeloff and landing seemed dull. We had traveled a vertical mile in a matter of seconds, and had reached approximately 550 miles pre hour ground speed. The landing was rough. I tried to swallow, and couldn't. My throat was dry. My hair was tousled, my legs were cold, my face was white, and I was glad to be on the ground.

Thanks to Major Broadhead, that was forty-five minutes of my life I'll never forget. And each time I remember it, the more I enjoy it!

By Paul Henslee, 362nd FS Adjutant and Executive Officer

Gilly

11-01-2010, 10:45 PM

The Polish airforce have some good pilots, although I can't say much for planes. They flew Spitfires in England but in the begining, they all were like the Soviet I-16 and I-153 in a way, only worse.

They actually flew hurricanes when they arrived. Which was about the same time as Russia was dividing up their country and shooting most of their military. And in what way were spits like I-16's and 153's, only worse?
And do me a favour, look up Frantisek, see how badly he did in his short time in the seat of a hurricane.

Apologies Bobby for marring your thread but this sort of xenophobic rubbish anoys me especially within a thread that is dedicated to preserving the memory of these few true heroes.

Korsakov829

11-01-2010, 11:15 PM

I meant the Polish planes, you know? Those things made of tinfoil, wood, and strings. The Polish had good pilots, but their own planes were bad. The PZL P7 is similar to a I-153, only its a monoplane.

bobbysocks

11-01-2010, 11:49 PM

not my thread just started the ball rolling...anyone can contribute. the russians used hurris and p 39s at the onset like 40 and 41. they dug one out of a bog years ago along with pilot. not sure where all the battles were at that time but theoretically it is possible for a hurri with a red start to have been over stalingrad. now whether one did or not i wont even venture a guess.

Gilly

11-02-2010, 09:15 AM

A brief history- sadly not Frantiseks own words but you will see why
http://i941.photobucket.com/albums/ad256/paulcgill/frantis2.jpg
Written by Dariusz Tyminski
Josef Frantisek was born a carpenter's son in Otaslavice near Prostejov on 7 October 1913. After his initial training as a locksmith, Josef volunteered for the air force, and went through the VLU Flying School in Prostejov in 1934-1936. He was then assigned to the 2nd "Dr. Edvard Benes" regiment in Olomouc. He was with the 5th observation flight flying the Aero A-11, and Letov S-328 biplanes.
It was during this time Josef's individualistic attitude first showed. He never had a sense of discipline on the ground. Demoted from the rank of Lance Corporal to Private for late returns to his unit, pub fights and other incidents, Frantisek faced the prospect of being released from service. As an exceptionally talented pilot he was chosen for a fighter course with the 4th regiment, and he stayed with this regiment after completing training. In June, 1938 he was assigned to the 40th Fighter Flight in Praha-Kbely. He was under the command of Staff Captain Korcak, and the pre-war Czechoslovak "king of the air" - Lieutenant Frantisek Novak. Frantisek perfected his flying and shooting skills here, flying Avia B-534 and Bk-534 fighters. During the dramatic events of 1938, the 40th flight was dispatched to several airports around Prague to defend the capital. After the Munich agreement, the flight had to return to Kbely, where it stayed until 15 March 1939, when Czechoslovakia was taken by Germany without a fight. Josef Frantisek wasted no time escaping to neighbouring Poland.
On 29 July 1939, preparing to travel to France, Frantisek received a offer to join the Polish Air Force. He arrived at Deblin airbase, and after retraining with Polish equipment, became an instructor with the Observation Training Squadron under the Air Force Officers Training Centre Nr 1. He flew PotezXXV, Breguet XIX, PWS 26, RWD 8, RWD 14 Czapla, Lublin R XIII and other aircraft. On 2 September 1939, Deblin was the target of a huge Luftwaffe air raid. Frantisek had no time to take off with his Potez XXV among the falling bombs. He saw 88 Heinkel He 111s from KG 4 "General Wever" turning the largest Polish airbase into a heap of rubble.
Frantisek then left for Gora Pulawska airfield, where, under the command of Captain Jan Hryniewicz, he helped fly the remaining airplanes away from the advancing Wehrmacht. On 7 September 1939, Frantisek and some other Czech pilots were assigned to an observation training squadron at the Sosnowice Wielkie airfield near Parczewo. The unit, commanded by Lieutenant Zbigniew Osuchowski, had fifteen RWD 8 and PWS 25 trainers. On 16 September 1939, after further retreat, the unit was assigned to General of Brigade Skuratowicz to defend the city of Luck. On 18-22 September 1939, they flew reconnaissance and communication flights.
For all their bravery and determination, Polish resistance was coming to an end. On 22 September 1939, the remaining six planes flew from Kamionka Strumilowa airfield to Romania. Three of these machines were flown by Czechs. Frantisek flew General Strzeminski in his machine. They landed at the Ispas airfield, and went on through Cernovici and Jassa to Pipera. They were interned, but escaped on 26 September. They got to Bucharest, obtained documents and on 3 October 1939, boarded the steamer "Dacia" leaving Constanta for Beirut. They continued to Marseilles on board the "Theophile Gautier", entering France on 20 October 1940.
Frantisek stayed with the Polish Air Force in France, which was part of L'Armee de l'Air. He was retrained at Lyon-Bronand Clermont-Ferrand, where he reportedly test-flew aircraft after repairs. There are conflicting reports regarding his combat activities. Some witnesses claimed Frantisek shot down 10 or 11 enemy aircraft flying with the French. These published reports have never been disproved; yet official French and Polish documents have neither confirmed the claims. Some witnesses recall that Frantisek changed his name temporarily in April, 1940 to protect his family in Otaslavice from persecution by the Gestapo. His cover name is unknown. As long as this question remains unanswered, Frantisek's French period cannot be closed.
On 18 June 1940, after the fall of France, Frantisek took a Polish ship from Bordeaux to England. He arrived at Falmouth on 21 June. Frantisek was sent to a Polish aviation depot in Blackpool, and on 2 August 1940 left for Northolt airfield, where the 303rd Polish Fighter Squadron was being formed. The squadron was equipped with "Hurricane" Mk. I fighters and coded with the letters "RF". In one of first training flights on 8 August Frantisek belly landed - he forgot to open the gear in his Hurricane before landing... Luckily the pilot was untouched and his fighter (RF-M V7245) got only light damage.
Frantisek scored his first kill under British skies on 2 September 1940. This was very busy day for the 303rd - flying three sorties. In the last one, at 16:35, the Squadron took off with orders to encounter a formation of 'bandits' at 20,000 feet over Dover. In the combat, Frantisek and Sgt. Rogowski scored one confirmed Bf 109 each. The next day, the Squadron took off (at 14:45) and was vectored to Dover, where Frantisek again shot down an enemy fighter for his second kill in the "Battle of Britain". On 6 September 1940, in heavy combat, the 303rd downed 5 Bf 109s, but Polish losses this day were serious: both Squadron leaders (Polish - Mjr. Krasnodebski, British - S/Ldr Kellet) and 2 other pilots were shot down, Frantisek luckily returning in his damaged fighter to Northolt. Three days later, Frantisek was forced to land with a badly damaged "Hurricane". The plane was totally destroyed, but Frantisek got out of it, unscathed. 15th September 1940, was a great day for the 303rd, when its pilots tallied 16 victories against the Luftwaffe, and Frantisek downed one Bf 110 in that action.
In only four weeks, from September 2nd through the 30th, Frantisek achieved 17 certain kills and 1 probable . This was a unique achievement in the RAF for this period - bettered only by F/Lt. A.A. McKellar and W/O E.S. Lock. Each of them both had 20 victories, yet both were killed in the "Battle of Britain".
It is often mentioned that Frantisek's excellent results were due to his lack of discipline in the air. He often left the formation and hunted for the enemy on his own. He also waited over the Channel for returning German planes, who were often flying without ammo, with limited fuel, sometimes damaged, and with tired crews. This was a usual tactic for Allied pilots, but only after completing all mission objectives. After Polish pilot mission briefings, Frantisek often disappeared from 303rd formations just after take-off. Despite higher command warnings, for Frantisek lone-wolf missions were like drugs - and his number of kills grew quickly. As the squadron leader, Witold Urbanowicz was facing an almost insoluble dilemma: either discipline Frantisek (which he attempted several times without success), or have him transferred at the expense of losing squadron pride.
Urbanowicz dealt with this cunningly: unofficially declaring Frantisek a squadron guest, which was acceptable due to his Czech origin. The Poles called his tactics "metoda Frantiszka" (method of Frantisek) while the British spoke of the lone wolf tactics. It is by no means true that Frantisek gained all his victories in individual actions - many kills were scored in group missions.
The 303rd squadron had 126 confirmed kills in the Battle of Britain - the most successful record for a RAF squadron in this period. Frantisek, with his 17 kills was not only the best pilot of the squadron, but also among the elite of the RAF.
Frantisek's sudden death in an 8 October 1940 accident remains incomprehensible, as is the case with some other excellent pilots. Squadron 303 was flying a routine patrol that morning. Frantisek's machine disappeared from the view of his fellow pilots, and he was never again seen alive. At 9:40 a.m. his "Hurricane" Mk.I R4175 (RF-R) crashed on Cuddington Way in Ewell, Surrey. Frantisek was thrown from the cockpit and his body was found in a hedge nearby. At first glance he had only scratches on his face, and his uniform was slightly charred. But Frantisek's neck had been broken in the impact and he died immediately. There has been no definitive cause in the crash of his plane. Some sources say he failed an acrobatic exhibition in front of his girlfriend's house, other witnesses mention his absolute exhaustion from previous fighting. A combination of these two factors is a possibility.
His Polish friends buried Frantisek at the Polish Air Force Cemetery in Northolt on October 10, 1940, where he is still resting. He stayed with the Poles forever.

bobbysocks

11-02-2010, 05:06 PM

what impresses me about these guys inparticular is they had many chances to escape to no combat areas. they could have take their chances in communist russia...or gone to finland or even neutral sweden. most had trades and could have lived comforatable lives and contributied to their new societies. but they stood and fought for their countries freedom as exiles. and in a lot of cases were thrown in prison after the war by occupying communist regimes who feared their initivite and daring. truely patriots they were.

bobbysocks

11-02-2010, 07:35 PM

Quentin Aanenson

I guess in one sense you can say we are an endangered species. But unlike the spotted owl or the whooping crane, there is no legislation that can be enacted to save us. We are rapidly disappearing off the radar screen, and soon all that will be left is what we have written, what we have recorded, and some old, fading photographs. Our voices will be forever silent, and the untold "first-hand accounts" of our experiences will remain untold.
We are the boys of World War II. We are dying off at the rate of 1,500 a day -- that's 45,000 a month. That number will steadily increase until the unyielding laws of mathematics give us an increasing rate of deaths, but a decreasing number of deaths -- the remaining pool will have become too small.

Taps is just one sunset away.

But in our lifetimes, we made a difference. We had the good fortune to live during a time when honor, patriotism, and character were important. We stepped up to defend freedom, and put our lives on the line for the "cause." It was a moment in history that may never occur again.

It was 1944. I was 22 years old. And I was a combat fighter pilot in World War II. Along with thousands of other young Americans, I had been trained to be an efficient killer, and the deadly skies over Europe were my battlefields. The events of those violent and bloody days are difficult to comprehend, or even imagine. The story you are about to see is the result of the urgings of my children. They have wanted to know -- in specific terms -- what my life was really like during those critical years....those were the years I left college and joined the Air Corps, and met the girl I later married. Those were the years this airplane, the P-47 Thunderbolt, was to be my main weapon of destruction. It has been a traumatic experience for me to go back through all this. But perhaps, in other ways, it has helped purge some of the devastating memories that have haunted me for almost 50 years. So this is my story. It is being told so the children and grandchildren of those who were involved in this mortal storm, can have a better understanding of what our world of war was really like.

A Sad Happenstance of War--
Two Stories Become One

pt1

On November 17, 1944, the 391st Fighter Squadron of the 366th Fighter Group flew what was perhaps our worst mission of the war. A major ground offensive had begun the day before along the Western Front from the northwest edge of the Hurtgen Forest up through Eschweiler, Germany. The weather was terrible with low hanging clouds and light rain, but we were able to take off with each plane loaded with two 500 pound bombs and a 150 gallon belly tank. Sixteen planes from the 391st were involved in the mission.
When we reached the target area, we had to come in under the overcast at 4,500 feet. Everything was dark and eerie – we could see flashes of the big guns on the ground and the flak explosions in the air. Light from the exploding shells was reflecting off the clouds -- it was as if we were looking into a segment of hell.

Dive bombing starting from such a low altitude is a challenge in itself, but each of us in turn did our best to hit our target. I was hit in the canopy right behind my head just as I rolled over to start my dive and was hit again as I pulled out of my dive. It was apparent I was in deep trouble as I fought to keep my plane in the air. In the meantime, the other 391st pilots were fighting for their lives. Lt. Rufus Barkley dived to strafe a German vehicle, and flew into the ground and exploded. Two of my tent mates, Lt. Richard "Red" Alderman and Lt. Gus Girlinghouse attacked a column of tanks and trucks along a road near a castle on the edge of the Hurtgen Forest, and both were shot down within seconds of each other.

My radio was out of commission, my controls were damaged, and the engine was barely generating enough power to keep me in the air. When I had crossed the front lines, I kept my eyes open looking for some clear space where I could belly in, if the engine gave out. By pure luck I came upon an American landing strip that was under construction, and was able to get my damaged bird down on the partially built runway. When I got back to my base several hours later, I was listed on the pilots' board as "Missing In Action."

The loss of my two tent mates was devastating. "Red" Alderman and I had gone through all our training together, and were very close friends. He had given me the farewell letters he had written to his wife and his mother – I was to mail them if he were killed. Lt. Gus Girlinghouse had just moved into our tent, so I was just getting to know him. The night of November 17, 1944, was the worst night of the war for me.

pt2

On December 16, 1944, heavily reinforced and upgraded German Armies attacked the American lines from the Ardennes, and the biggest battle of the war on the Western Front began, "The Battle of The Bulge." The weather was so bad that most of our planes were grounded for about a week, and the Germans were able to advance about 40 miles into Belgium. On December 24th we were briefed for a mission and sitting in our planes waiting for the weather to improve, when our Operations Officer pulled up to my plane in a jeep. He told me orders had just come in for me to report to the Headquarters of the VII Corps, and that a staff car was coming to pick me up. Within a few hours I was on my way to this new assignment.

My new job was to coordinate all fighter-bomber attacks in front of the Divisions of the VII Corps. This was a major change for me; instead of doing my fighting from the air, I was now on the ground, and very near the front lines. Ground fire, such as artillery barrages, mortar fire, rifle and machine gun fire were now part of my life, instead of flak and the normal high risk of flying a fighter plane. As our armies advanced, pushing the Germans back, we moved our headquarters frequently to stay close to the front.

Around February 18, 1945, we moved into Merode Castle, about three or four miles from the town of Duren on the Roer River. The castle had been built in the Middle Ages. It was surrounded by a moat, and had several staircases leading up the circular towers to the ramparts, where archers in centuries past had defended the castle. Nothing about the area seemed particularly familiar to me, except that I knew I had flown several missions to attack German targets in this vicinity, especially during November. We were there now making preparations for a major attack to cross the Roer River, capture the town of Duren, and reach the open plains leading up to the Rhine River. The photograph below shows me in front of the main entrance to the heavily damaged castle about two days before the battle was to began. When this photograph was taken, I had made no specific connection with the events of our combat mission flown by the 391st Fighter Squadron on November 17, 1944.

Then in 1995, Robert V. Brulle, who was also a member of the 366th Fighter Group, wrote a story describing the terrible mission we flew on November 17, 1944. It was published in "World War II" magazine, and included vital new information that Bob had secured from German sources, some of it from a German officer who had been involved in the battle that day, and actually commanded the flak guns that shot down Lt. Alderman and Lt. Girlinghouse. He had seen their planes crash, and was able to mark the exact location of impact. Before he moved his men and their flak guns out of the area, he ordered other German soldiers who were at the site of the crashes to bury the American pilots.
It is difficult to conceive that the machinations of war had placed me at Merode Castle three months after that terrible mission, and that my good friend, Lt. "Red" Alderman, was buried about 100 yards in front of where I am standing in the photograph above! It is equally unbelievable that one of the German guns that shot him down was firing from the drawbridge of the castle shown behind me in the photograph. Had I known at the time that he was buried there, and that my other tent mate, Lt. Girlinghouse, was buried about 800 yards farther out in the fields, it would have torn me apart. And to think that this information was not known by me until 50 years after these events took place.

************************************************** **************
EPILOGUE
Even though the German soldiers had buried Lt. Alderman at the site of his crashed plane, his body was never recovered. About ten days after he was buried a tank battle took place on the same ground, and all markings of a grave site were destroyed. His name is listed on the "Wall of The Missing" at the Netherlands American Cemetery near Maastricht, Holland. I visited this cemetery a few years ago, and touched the place on the wall where his name is engraved.

Several times over the years since the war ended, I had tried to locate "Red" Alderman's children, but without success. When he was killed, his daughter, Lynn, was 15 months old. Then three weeks after his death, his second daughter was born, Cecilia Ann. I thought they would like to know something about their father -- what a fine man he was, and what an excellent fighter pilot he was. I had no luck in my search until the film I wrote and produced, "A Fighter Pilot's Story," was shown in the area where they live near Seattle. Since then I have communicated with them, and have met and had an extensive personal visit with Cecilia Ann. I have been able to fill in some of the blank spaces, and help the Alderman girls know more about their father.

The Endless Trauma of A Deadly Combat Mission

It was late August 1944, and Patton’s Armored Divisions were in a mad dash to the Seine River, trying to catch the rapidly retreating Germans before they could escape. I was flying in a flight of four Thunderbolts patrolling the Seine to do everything we could to prevent their crossing.

Up to this time most of the Germans had been crossing at night to escape our attacks, but on this particular day – with Patton’s tanks rapidly approaching them – the Germans were forced into trying to cross during the daytime. It was late afternoon near the town of les Andelys when we suddenly spotted them. What happened during the next 10 minutes will stay fixed in my memory as long as I live.

The German troops were crowded on barges, in small boats, just anything that would float. We caught the barges in midstream, and the killing began. I was the third plane in the attack, and when I pulled in on the target a terrible sight met my eyes. Men were desperately trying to get off the barges into the water, where large numbers of men were already fighting to make it to shore. My eight .50 caliber machine guns fired a hundred rounds a second into this hell. As the last P-47 pulled off the target, the first plane was making its second strafing pass, and the deadly process continued. In about three passes we had used up our ammunition, so we pulled up and circled this cauldron of death.

I don’t know how many men we killed that day, but the numbers had to be very high. All of the pilots were quiet as we flew back to our base in Normandy – there was no radio chatter. We each shared the agony of what we had just done. We were traumatized, but there had been no other option. If we had let them go, we knew that they would be killing American boys in a couple of days.

In my nightmares I still vividly picture that scene. After more than 50 years, it still haunts me. I deal with it, but think for a moment what it must be like to have to deal with it.

There is no glamour in war. You kill people – and you see your friends die. The only honor involved is what you yourself bring to the process. You try to do the job you know you must do – and you try desperately to keep your sanity. But you are forever changed. You are no longer young; in a matter of months you have aged years. Though you have physically survived, you have lost more than life itself; you have lost part of your soul.

bobbysocks

11-02-2010, 07:52 PM

A DEFINING MOMENT – DECEMBER 15, 1944

by John Rutherford
"On December 15, 1944 I was scheduled for the afternoon mission. The morning mission was to attack a German artillery outfit that was situated in the small town of Jackerath, a few miles west of Dusseldorf. The afternoon mission was to hit the same battery and try to wipe out the headquarters as well. Some spies had approximately located the farm house being used as the headquarters and it was described to us. The day before the mission I received a letter from Bobby Grant saying his 78th Infantry Division was forward of our base and was temporarily off the front lines. He asked me to come and see him. I hadn't seen Bobby since he was drafted into the Army in June, 1942. Bobby was a second cousin who lived with us for a few years before he was drafted. His mother died young and his father had no place for Bobby, so he lived with us. I arranged for a driver and a jeep to take me up to the 78th on December 15, but the motor pool said it could only be in the afternoon. The pilots in my squadron were not allowed to drive any kind of vehicle because we had gotten into too many accidents when we first arrived in France. I often thought about the irony that driving was too dangerous but every time we flew we put our lives in great jeopardy.
"I asked Captain Sam Marshall, the Operations Officer, to take my name off the afternoon mission and to schedule me for the morning flight. He agreed and put me in the Tail End Charlie position; that is, the last plane in the squadron of twelve P-47s. This was the least desirable spot to be in because on a dive bombing run there was no airplane behind you. When we made a bomb run we dove toward the target at about 300 miles per hour and fired our eight .50 caliber wing-mounted machine guns. The strafing did a lot of damage to the German vehicles and the artillery itself, but it also kept the flak gunners in their fox-holes so they could not shoot at us on the way in. As we pulled up after dropping the two 500 pound bombs we were vulnerable because the gunners came out of their holes to shoot at the departing plane. If there was another P-47 right behind you, he would keep the gunners in their holes as you flew out of range. But Tail End Charlie has no protection after his bombs were dropped.

"At about 11:00 am the squadron attacked the artillery that we could see in the center of the small town of Jackerath. When I, as last man, made my run there was considerable smoke and fire in the town and I aimed for the edge of the area where I saw wagons and trucks parked. As I pulled off the target at an altitude of about 3,500 feet I made a steep climbing turn to the left so I could see where my bombs struck. The best way to confuse the German flak gunners was to change speed, direction and altitude. Suddenly, there was a terrific explosion as my plane was hit by 88 mm. flak. The Germans had fired four guns simultaneously at me and cut the fuses for my estimated altitude. Their guess was good because my plane was bracketed by the four explosions. The cockpit was immediately filled with thick black smoke so I could barely see the instrument panel. We always wore oxygen masks so I immediately switched to pure oxygen to get away from the smoke, but the oxygen tube to my mask must have been cut by the shrapnel flying through the cockpit because I was still choking. The only instrument I could see was the altimeter and it was steady at 5,000 feet. I could feel that the plane had slowed down and would spin in if I didn't pick up airspeed. If it started to spin I would not be able to get out. I called the Squadron leader, Captain Richard Gibian, and said I had been hit. He replied, ‘Roger, Yellow Four I see you. You are trailing a lot of black smoke. Stay on the same course for friendly territory. Bail out after you cross the Roer River.'

"Just then my best friend, Jack Reynolds, who was on the mission with us screamed over the radio, ‘Johnny, bail out, bail out!' I immediately jettisoned the canopy, unhooked my seat belt and shoulder harness, and crawled over the side of the cockpit. I didn't delay to disconnect the oxygen tube or the cables to my earphones and microphone. They were simply torn loose when I left. I dived down toward the wing so as to avoid hitting the tail of the plane. As soon as I was clear of the plane I pulled the ripcord and the parachute opened. I looked around to see the airplane; it was fluttering down in four or five large pieces; two wings, the tail, and the engine with the cockpit still attached. Before I popped my parachute the P-47 exploded. I was in the middle of the conflagration. After the war I met Jack Reynolds and several pilots who were on that mission. They said they had never seen a P-47 blow up like mine did; and I came flying out of the ball of fire. My parachute did not fit well and when the chute opened the chest buckle rode up and struck me in the mouth, badly splitting my lower lip.

"I had never expected to use my parachute; I always thought that if I got hit by enemy fire I could manage to crash land the P-47 and walk away from the wreckage. At age 20 and a ‘hot shot' fighter pilot I believed that I would survive combat. I had already flown 45 missions without getting hit, even through I was fired at on most of the missions. This bravado also was in the face of the squadron losing about five or six pilots in combat each month. We maintained a roster of only 28 pilots in the squadron so we had a casualty loss of about 100 percent every six months or so.

"As I descended in the parachute, the Germans were firing 20 and 30 mm cannon shells at me in the parachute. I didn't think they could hit such a small target, especially since I was swinging back and forth. The pilots on the mission said it looked like the rounds were going right through the canopy of the chute and they thought I was dead because they couldn't see me moving. The P-47s couldn't linger in the area to see me land because the flak being fired at them was too intense. The silence of my descent surprised me. After the noise of getting hit, all the smoke and the explosion, the silence was stunning. In a matter of minutes after hitting the ground, I was captured.

"About six or seven German soldiers stood around me and the first thing they took was my escape kit. This held some emergency food, money, maps, pep pills, a compass, and pictures of me in civilian clothes in case the Underground tried to rescue me. Next they took my pistol and holster. No one said much, they just stared at me. In those days I smoked, so I took out my cigarette case and passed it around. I took the first one and they each had one. Surprisingly, they gave me back the case with a few cigarettes left. As we smoked one of the Germans asked how old I was. When I said, ‘Twenty' they didn't believe me, saying I was only about 16 years old. They asked my rank and I said "Oberleutnant", that is German for First Lieutenant. Again they found that hard to believe. They probably thought the United States was in bad shape if they were sending 16-year olds into combat.

"As I look back on the experience I am always surprised to realize how calm I was. Probably the adrenalin and endomorphs were flowing so strongly that nothing could have bothered me. I didn't realize my lower lip was split open and bleeding until I put that cigarette between my lips and saw the blood on it. The Germans offered no first aid. I was fortunate that they didn't kill me. A few P-47 pilots shot down in the front lines were executed by German soldiers who had suffered many casualties at the hands of the Thunderbolt pilots. But generally, the soldiers obeyed the Geneva Convention regarding the treatment of captured pilots. When we reached the town of Jackerath, my captors took me around the outfit showing off their trophy. They were new troops brought in for the Battle of The Bulge that started the next day on December 16 and I was the first American soldier they had seen.

"When the war ended and my POW camp was liberated and I returned home I was sent to Randolph Field, Texas for discharge. By coincidence I found Jack Reynolds there also. He told me that he believed I was killed during my descent in the parachute and had noted the area where I had been shot down. When that part of Germany had been captured he went there to look for my temporary grave. For the rest of the war he wrote regularly to my mother encouraging her that I had survived.

"On December 17, 1944 my parents received a telegram reporting that I was missing in action. On December 20 they received another telegram stating that Bobby Grant, my cousin who lived with us, had been killed in action in the Battle of The Bulge on December 17. Late in March, 1945, the War Department notified my folks that I was a prisoner of war somewhere in Germany. All the time I was in the POW camp I kept wondering if Bobby had seen my P-47 go down on December 15. We would have had a lot to talk about, but it was not to be.

"About 25 years after the war I received a phone call from Richard Gibian. I had not been in touch with him since our last conversation on the radio that day. He asked if I was the John Rutherford that flew P-47s during WWII. After I said yes he told me his name and asked if I remembered him. Immediately I responded, "You are the S.O.B that nearly got me killed!" We both chuckled at the recollection. Jack Reynolds, Richard Gibian and I get together every May at the annual reunion of the P-47 pilots and they still kid Richard about me disobeying his orders. Gibian claims he was flying above me and couldn't see the extent of the damage to my plane, but Jack was under me and saw flames coming out of the turbo supercharger. He remembered a training film that said if you see flames coming out of the turbo the P-47 will explode within 30 seconds. The film was right."

bobbysocks

11-02-2010, 08:44 PM

"the first thing they took was my escape kit. This held some emergency food, money, maps, pep pills, a compass, and pictures of me in civilian clothes in case the Underground tried to rescue me." from the story above.

a interesting side note. i remember my dad talking about this escape kit. it had a regular compass, a couple hits of speed...bug out pills as they were known...a very drab b&w pic you could use if you were lucky enough to get a forged passport...and a fair amount of foreign currency you could pay to the locals for food and etc. pilots also carried another compass which they hid because as you see above the escape kit was usually compensated. this other compass was a very small with a string attached. the imagination doesnt have to wander far as to where this was hid. years after the war my dad had a chance to talk to one of his squad mates that had been taken prisoner and the topic of that compass came up. the story as i remember the pilot after being shot down was taken to a nearby prisoner staging area. he was searched and stripped for de-lousing. as he stood there naked a nazi officer looked him over and noticed the string. the officer demanded to know what the string was about. the pilot bends over and looks between his own legs and remarks "i dont know what you are talking about. i dont see any string." the officer insisted one was there. after a few words back and forth the pilot told the officer, "well if you see a damn string, PULL it!!" the officer hesitated and abruptly ordered the pilot on to the next stage of processing ( with out pulling the string ). the pilot was never able to use the compass to escape but the war was soon over. and of all the trinkets my dad brought home...that is one he left over there.

bobbysocks

11-07-2010, 09:07 PM

MY LAST COMBAT MISSION
Lt. Ruben G. "Chip" Bork
To say those were exciting and deadly times is an understatement. Within a few days after the invasion of Normandy on June 6, 1944, we were flying off Advanced Landing Strip A-3, which had been hurriedly built by the Engineers just a short distance from Omaha Beach. All of our missions were to provide close ground support for our infantry and tanks, and to destroy any German equipment we saw trying to move up to the front.

When the breakout of Normandy began with a massive air attack on July 25 near St Lo, our Group was assigned to support General Patton's Third Army. On July 27 we got an urgent request for fighter bomber support from Third Army. During the briefing we were informed that our targets were going to be German Tiger Tanks, stray gun emplacements, and we were to strafe anything that was moving on this particular road, and to search out the hedge-rows for hidden vehicles, and any other enemy armor we might see. As I recall, we took off with eight planes around mid afternoon with Col. Haesler as our leader.

We soon got to the target area and spotted a group of tanks, trucks and other vehicles, most were moving down the road, while others appeared to be scrambling for cover. We started our bomb run. I was probably at 1,000 feet altitude when I released my bombs aiming at a tank right in the middle of the road. I did not get a direct hit on the tank, but as I pulled out of my dive and was climbing for altitude, I looked back and could see that my bombs had hit directly in front of the tank, and had left a huge crater in the road. The tank did not appear to be moving. I pulled up and circled around to come back in to strafe the tanks with my eight .50 caliber machine guns.

By this time I was probably at 2,500 to 3,000 feet altitude, when all hell broke loose! I was hit by either a 40 millimeter or 88 millimeter shell. Whatever it was, it came up through the gas tank, blew my left arm off just below the elbow, completely severing it -- I looked down and saw it lying on the floor of the cockpit. The cockpit was full of fire, and the control stick was limp in my hand. I had no control of the plane, so I knew it was time to try to bail out. I used to think about bailing out while in pilot training as a cadet, and on previous combat missions. I wondered if I would be scared or would have the courage to bail out. Well, being afraid or lacking courage never crossed my mind when I got hit. I knew I had to get out of that plane, and quite obviously I did.

The only thing about it was that apparently I was unconscious or in a sub-conscious state, and don't remember doing all of the things necessary to get out of the cockpit and away from the plane. I do remember reaching up to unlatch the canopy, and pulling it back. I do not remember unfastening the safety belt, leaving the plane or pulling the rip-cord to open my chute. I do remember one hell of a roar from the plane's engine (I can still hear that roar), as if it were in a steep power dive. I vividly recall saying to myself "Well, Bork, this is it," meaning that I would be dead in a moment or two from the crash. At the moment I thought that I was still in the plane. Then at about the same time, or so it seemed, I heard a loud pop. I was regaining consciousness, and looking up I saw that the chute was open, and I was as free as a bird floating down in the breeze -- with a tight grip on my upper left arm like a tourniquet to keep from bleeding to death.

I do not know if I had gotten out of the plane while still climbing, or just what the attitude of the plane was. It was reported by someone on the mission who had witnessed me being hit that the plane was upside down, I had fallen out and the chute opened, so from that they assumed that I was alright, not realizing that my left arm was shot off. (I sure hated losing that Government Issue navigation wrist watch!) I tend to believe that report, because it does relate to exiting the cockpit in an emergency. I was taught while in pilot training that if it ever became necessary to bail out to first open the canopy, roll the plane upside down, unfasten the safety belt, and on exiting, push the stick forward in order to clear the tail section. If I did all of those things, I did so unconsciously or sub-consciously. I have no recollection of it whatsoever. The engine roar, which I distinctly remember, must have occurred after I bailed out and my chute was open, and the plane passed me in a steep power-dive.

Quentin, perhaps you and I and many others of us during our cadet training found many things to bitch about. I know that I would quarrel about doing certain things over and over, things that I felt I already knew how to do, but my instructor insisted that I do them again just to make sure that I understood and got it right. I have often though back to the day when I was shot down over St. Lo, and the sub-conscious actions I took to save my life in that emergency situation. I must give credit to heroes of mine, those very foresighted Pilot Training Instructors, for the grueling and repetitive training they put me through. I shall never forget them.

There is one other element which I feel certainly had something to do with saving my life on that last combat mission. Just before I left to go overseas, my father gave me a pocket size Lutheran Catechism and Prayer Book, which I carried with me in combat. It was lost on that mission, but I shall always believe that I would not be here today if I hadn't had it.

Now back to my story, when my chute opened, and I was floating down to earth. The weather was good and I could see clearly. There was a large field to the left of my direction, sloping downward to a large forested and swampy area on my right. I tried to maneuver the parachute in order to get closer to the trees, but my right hand was so badly burned that I could not grip the shroud lines to change my directions. My fingernails had melted off to little lumps on the ends of my fingers, and all the veins on the inside of my wrist were exposed.

I was now beginning to feel some pain. Also, I had a burned band around each leg just above my shoe tops. I had severe burns around my eyes because my goggles were up on my helmet, leaving my eyes exposed to the fire. Luckily, my oxygen mask was down over my nose and mouth, so I was not burned over that portion of my face. To this day, I still have numerous pieces of shrapnel in my left leg, the stump of my left arm, and one BB size pellet in my right thigh. They don't bother me so, that being the case, the doctors said to leave them alone, that they were sterilized from the heat when they entered my body.

Since I could not manoeuver the parachute, I just had to let nature take its course and land wherever the wind took me. As it turned out, I landed right where the field started to slope off into that swampy forested area. It was amazing to me that when I finally hit the ground, it felt as though I had landed on a feather-bed. It really was a soft landing, or so it seemed. It may have been that I was in some shock, and my body somewhat numbed, so I did not feel the real impact of hitting the ground.

After landing I had more problems. In attempting to get out of my parachute harness, I had to grab that big galvanized buckle on the front, and when I did, the rest of the skin on my hand stuck to it, not unlike grabbing a cold outdoor waterpump handle in the wintertime when the temperature is 50 degrees below zero in Northern Wisconsin.

I finally got out of the harness, but then I had another problem. I was now having quite a bit more pain, so I thought of opening that first aid packet which was attached to the chute harness. I knew that this packet contained morphine, so I intended to give myself a shot. Well, let me tell you, that first aid packet was sewed, glued, had a zipper on it, and on top of all that, it was waterproofed with some sort of heavy shellac (All necessary of course). After clawing at it, chewing at it with my teeth, and rubbing it on the ground with my feet, I never did get it open.

I felt myself getting weaker, so I had to do something. I got to my feet and managed to walk up the slight incline to higher ground. From there I noticed a house/building on the other side of the field, and three soldiers who were coming toward me with their rifles aimed right at me. When I saw them coming, I just sat down and waited. When they got close to me, and saw the condition I was in, they put their rifles down on the ground. They cut the straps off my Mae-West and made a tourniquet for my arm. As they were doing this, I asked if they were English, in the German language, because to me they looked British, even though I knew that this was German occupied France. I didn't see any sort of insignia, and their uniforms appeared to be British. They replied "No" in the German language. At that time I was fairly fluent in the German language, having learned it from my parents. My grandparents came from Germany, so that is my heritage. In addition to learning the language from my parents and grandparents, our Lutheran Church held one Sunday service of each month in the German language. So now I proceeded to talk to the soldiers in German. I told them I needed a doctor and needed one quickly. Well, to my surprise these soldiers got me to my feet and took me all the way across that field and into that empty old house. They put me to rest on a cot or bed, cut up some pillow cases or sheets, and made bandages for my arm. After making me somewhat more comfortable, they gave me a somewhat sympathetic but friendly look, and then went to the door, picked up their rifles and were leaving.

I knew that if I were left alone without medical help, I would probably die within an hour or so. I called out for them to come back, and said again in German that I needed a doctor and needed one quickly. One of them came back in and asked in German if I was afraid or scared of all the gunfire and bombing that was going on all around us, and I quickly replied in English, "Hell No Let's Go!" They got me out of that bed and into the open canvas top cab of a truck. I was on the right hand passenger side with my right arm resting on the door and my head resting on my arm. One soldier was driving and the other two were up on top of the truck bed holding a spread out white sheet. In a little while we were on the highway heading somewhere to a hospital.

As we were going down this highway, I would raise my head up every once in awhile to see where we were and what was going on. I'm telling you, Quentin, I never saw so much destruction in my whole life – burning tanks, cars, trucks, and the smell of all that burning fuel oil and rubber – and then there was the spell of my own burned flesh. This scene will be with me forever.

As we were going down this highway, I suddenly heard the sound of a P-47 coming up from behind us. The first thought that came to my mind was that we were told during the briefing for this mission that anything found moving on this particular highway was an enemy target. Well, now I was really scared. The truck came to an abrupt stop, the three soldiers jumped out and headed for the ditches. I was left alone in the cab. I had many thoughts at that moment. I didn't get killed when I got shot down, but now I was about to be killed by a P-47 pilot from my own outfit! I could feel the hair on the back of my head standing straight up. Well, that P-47 roared over the top of me sitting in that truck and never fired a shot. The only thing that I can come up with is that he knew that one of us was shot down, and the white sheet on top of that truck kept him from pulling the trigger. I guess it just wasn't my time to leave this world.

After the P-47 flew by, the three soldiers got back into the truck and we drove on. Over the next several hours we stopped at a couple of German field medical units, where I received additional treatment. Late in the afternoon of 28 July 1944, we arrived at a big hospital in Paris – I believe it was named the Hospital DeLaPitie. I was placed on a gurney when I arrived, and was met at the door by three doctors or medics in white uniforms. They all seemed to be so eager and in a hurry. I was wheeled into a small room where they were preparing to work on the stump of my left arm, and the burns on my face. They gave me an anesthetic and I don't remember a thing from that time on, until about 10:00 o'clock that night, when I came out from under the anesthesia. The first thing I noticed was that my left stump was bandaged and taped to a long board, and the board was strapped to my left leg. Then I heard accordion music and laughter. I thought for a moment or two that I was back home in Wisconsin, because my dad played a concertina for many ears, so I was hearing familiar music that had me a bit confused. I listened for awhile, and then I noticed a door ajar to another room. I struggled a bit, and finally raised up on my right elbow. Then I saw people dancing, and could see there was a party going on in that room. My mind was now starting to clear up, and I realized where I was.

There is much more to the story, and the aftermath of these events, but that remains for another time. On August 26, 1944 the American and Allied scouting teams found us. The German hospital personnel and the less wounded prisoners had been evacuated from Paris shortly before we were liberated.

As I look back on those sudden, violent moments on 27 July 1944, when that German flak shell tore through my plane, severing my left arm and setting the cockpit on fire, and my bailing out successfully under impossible circumstances, I consider it a miracle that I survived. I can still visualize seeing my left arm on the floor of the cockpit, and remember the thought flashing through my mind that I wanted to take it with me when I bailed out. These were moments in my life that I will never forget – they will be a part of me for as long as I live.

"This picture was taken in Normandy around mid-July 1944. I was shot down about two weeks later. This is the last photo ever taken of my left arm."

Korsakov829

11-08-2010, 06:20 PM

A shame what happened to his arm.

I was in a Yak9T the other day and shot a FW190 D-9 in the cockpit. One hit from the 37mm was a kill, and I'm sure that pilot must have gone through alot if it was real.

bobbysocks

11-08-2010, 08:01 PM

"Lil' Herbie" Stachler.
The First Fighter Pilot To Land In France After The Invasion?

Like so many of us, Herb Stachler's path to becoming a fighter pilot was filled with obstacles. In 1940 the draft had been implemented, which required young men to serve one year in military service, after which they would return to civilian life. In early 1941, Herb was advised by his draft board that he would be called to active duty in about six months. Rather than start his career as a toolmaker and then have it interrupted in a few months, Herb decided to enlist, and get his year of military service out of the way. Then along came the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, and all men on active duty were frozen in place "for the duration."
Around mid July 1942, the Army Air Corps started accepting applications for pilot training from men currently on active duty. Herb immediately applied, and was accepted pending his passing the Air Corps physical. The problem he faced was that he was 5' 3½" tall, and the Air Corps would not accept anyone who was less than 5' 4" tall! So Herb embarked on a process of "stretching" himself. He would hang from a horizontal bar every day in an effort to let gravity help him stretch his body, and help him "grow" that additional half inch. Standing as tall as he could when he took his Air Corps physical, Herb passed, and was accepted into the cadet program.

The process had now begun. He successfully completed pre-flight training, then primary, basic and advanced flight training. He received his pilot wings and was commissioned a 2nd Lieutenant at Marianna, Florida, on July 28, 1943. The long and challenging goal of becoming a fighter pilot had now been realized, as 2nd Lieutenant Herbert Stachler was now assigned to an air base at Richmond, Virginia, to be introduced to the mighty P-47 Thunderbolt! All 5 feet 4 inches of him!!

At the end of fighter transition training, Herb was assigned to the 366th Fighter Group at Wilmington, North Carolina, and he shipped overseas with them in January 1944. The Group was sent to Thuxton Air Force Base near Andover in southern England, and after additional training, they started flying combat missions over western Europe in March 1944.

Herb had been assigned his own P-47, so he had to decide what to name it. Back then, there was a comic strip called "Lil' Herbie" about a little boy and his many adventures. One guy in the 366th was quite an artist, so he painted the comic strip character on the nose of the plane, holding Hitler's head and a bloody axe, with the title "Lil' Herbie" above it. That, coupled with the fact that Herb was one of the smallest fighter pilots, made "Lil' Herbie" the perfect name for the plane.

During the next 12 months, Herb Stachler was involved in brutal, intense war, and before it was over, he had flown 102 combat missions. He participated in every major campaign on the Western Front, including the invasion of France on June 6, 1944, the breakout from Normandy, the Ardennes, and the Battle of The Bulge. During the time he was with the 366th Fighter Group, 90 of his fellow pilots were lost to enemy action. But during this period, he had made a substantial contribution to the outstanding results achieved by the 366th in the European Theater of Operations. He had flown missions with them from England, then landing strip A-1 in Normandy, then near Dreux, France, A-70 near Laon, France, and Y-29 near Maastricht, Holland. By the time he was sent back to the States in March 1945, he had seen it all and had done most of it.

On the night of June 5/6, 1944, along with other personnel of the 366th Fighter Group, he had watched and listened to the massive armada of C-47s carrying paratroopers, or towing gliders loaded with paratroopers, as they went over the airfield on their way to Normandy for the invasion. Then as dawn came, he was part of the first mission flown by the 366th over the invasion area. He knew he was seeing history in the making, and he was glad he was able to be so heavily involved.

At the opening of this story I have written ". . . The First Fighter Pilot To Land In France After The Invasion?" Let's look at the circumstances that lead me to considering this possibility, as described in Herb's own words:

"On June 11, 1944, five days after D-Day, we were flying top cover along Normandy Beach at about 4,000 feet, when there was a loud crack and pieces of shrapnel flew back into my cockpit. One piece went through my pant's leg. I looked out and saw damage to the wing. Just then my element leader shouted on the radio, ‘Herbie, there's a German on your tail!' At the moment I was flying ‘tail-end Charlie' and enjoying the scenery, when this FW-190 sneaked up behind me and tried to pick me off. If that guy is alive today, he is probably wondering why I didn't go down – he had a perfect shot at me. There was no evasive action on my part, since I did not know that I was being attacked. In an instant he had disappeared, and then I noticed that my oil pressure was dropping and that I was losing hydraulic pressure as well. Next, I noticed there was fluid on the floor. My first thought was gasoline, since my main 300 gallon tank was right below me. It proved to be hydraulic fluid though, but I knew I couldn't make it back to England.
There was an allied air base under construction atop the cliffs, inland from the beach. I told my element leader that without oil and hydraulics I would have to land now, so I set down on this runway. This got pretty tricky, because without hydraulic fluid I had no brakes and no flaps. Fortunately – even without hydraulic pressure – the landing gear fell down and locked into place, but without flaps I had to land at 180 mph. It took a little ‘bump' of the plane to make sure the gear locked, but this was standard procedure. The base was a ‘chicken-wire' airstrip, our pet name for wire landing mesh that looked like large hardware cloth. After I landed and parked, I got out of my plane and looked it over carefully. When I saw all the damage, I started to shake, and I shook uncontrollably. I had been that close to ‘buying the farm.'

The engine is attached to the fuselage with four tubular frame motor mounts, one of which was shot through. The ground crew at the landing strip was unable to repair it, but they did fix the oil lines and the hydraulic lines. They also patched up the fuselage where the 20mm explosive projectile came through. The holes in the wings could wait until I got back to England. When I was finally able to return to our base at Thuxton a few days later, I found that the outfit was in the process of moving to Normandy, Landing Strip A-1, the runway where I had made my forced landing!"

Was Herb Stachler the first fighter pilot to land in France after the invasion? And get back to England with his plane? I have researched all this, and I do not find anything that would indicate otherwise. There were planes that bellied in and the pilot survived, but I find no record of anyone who landed a fighter plane in Normandy prior to June 11, 1944, and then after his plane was given temporary repairs, flew it back to England.

Herb Stachler arrived in England as a 2nd Lieutenant, and when he returned to the States on the Queen Mary in March 1945, he was a Captain. I flew with him on several combat missions and can attest to his skill as a fighter pilot. He was one of the smallest fighter pilots in the Air Corps, but he had one of the biggest hearts. He flew with courage, and he never backed off on a mission.

Lt. Glenn Horwege
Luke Field – Class of 44-A
I first got to know Glenn when we were both assigned to Luke Field, Arizona, for Advanced Flight Training. While he was down the alphabet some distance from me and, therefore, we were housed in different barracks, we became good friends during the time we were there. Our flight training started in At-6s, then moved up to P-40s -- our first actual combat fighter plane. On January 7, 1944 we marched up the same platform to receive our pilot wings, and to be commissioned as 2nd Lieutenants. We then were assigned to Harding Field at Baton Rouge to transition into P-47 Thunderbolts. In early May 1944 we shipped out for England on the U.S.S. Brazil, heading for the war in Europe.

I was assigned to the 366th Fighter Group, and Glenn went to the 362nd Fighter Group, 377th Fighter Squadron. We both ended up flying from landing strips in France shortly after the invasion of Normandy. The following notes were made while I was talking to Glenn by telephone in 1996:

"From the time I first went into combat, I could see that the odds were great that I would ultimately be shot down. Each night while lying on my cot, I would review the procedure for bailing out. I wanted to have everything clearly fixed in my mind, so the process would be as close to automatic as possible.
"On August 8, 1944, I was flying at 13,000 feet on a mission near Paris, when I was hit by 88mm flak. Oil covered my canopy, and it was apparent I was going down. Doing things exactly as I had planned, I trimmed the plane to roll left, then dived head first out the right side. The next thing I knew, I was trapped in a vacuum under the belly of the plane – which was apparently created by the prop wash and air coming over the top of the wing. Oil was all over me and the plane, and I had to get my hands and knees against the belly of the plane and push myself off. I landed on a small haystack, and within a short period of time I was picked up by the Germans. Unfortunately, they were members of the SS, and instead of being sent to a POW camp, I was sent to the concentration camp at Buchenwald.

"Eighty-one other American airmen were held there. On two occasions I was told that I would be shot the next morning; they would go through the whole process of preparing for the execution, then change their minds. At the end of three months I was nothing but skin and bones, and felt I was approaching death. Then the Luftwaffe interceded, and all of the Americans at Buchenwald were transferred to Stalag Luft 3. With the approach of Russian and American forces in late April 1945, we were all able to walk away to safety. But I am still haunted by those events in 1944 and 1945."

I last saw Glenn on July 10, 1996, when I went to Sacramento, CA to have dinner with him and his family. We had a wonderful evening, reviewing those days so long ago. For those few hours we were once again young fighter pilots, remembering the buddies we had lost and the amazing events of our wartime lives. The photograph below was taken by Glenn's wife, Sandy, on that evening of July 10, 1996 at their home.

Glenn had been fighting cancer, and a few months later it again struck him. He died about six months later. But I will always remember him as he was, when we went through flight training and shipped overseas together. His incredible stories about bailing out of his P-47, and his time in Buchenwald are truly unique. Such was the world in which we lived.

bobbysocks

11-09-2010, 07:01 PM

galland interview trailer..

this place i think has a bunch of ww2 shows and interviews you can watch for a price. there is a triler for their galland program.

http://aerocinema.com/component/content/article/91-adolf-galland-1.html

bobbysocks

11-09-2010, 08:03 PM

Captain 'Alfie' Sutton

Captain 'Alfie' Sutton was a Fleet Air Arm observer who was the last survivor of the raid against the Italian Navy at Taranto.

Sutton , who has died aged 96, was the last survivor of the 42 young naval airmen whose attack in 1940 on the Italian fleet at Taranto, southern Italy, altered the balance of power in the Mediterranean and changed the nature of naval warfare.

As an observer (the Fleet Air Arm equivalent of an RAF navigator), Sutton and his pilot, "Tiffy" Torrens-Spence, flew to Malta from the carrier Illustrious, then picked up reconnaissance photographs of the port, where the entire Italian battle fleet lay.

The first striking force of 12 Swordfish took off at 20:40 on November 11, six carrying torpedoes, four carrying bombs and two illuminating flares. An hour later Sutton and Torrens-Spence set out in Swordfish L5K with the second strike of nine aircraft; each Swordfish carried an overload tank of petrol in the observer's cockpit, displacing the observer to the air gunner's rear seat. The extra petrol enabled the aircraft to remain airborne for five hours, but Sutton was uneasily conscious that his head and back were resting on the tank as the aircraft dropped down to attack.

He recalled that the enemy was well alerted by the previous attack, so that battery after battery of anti-aircraft fire opened up as they followed the coast; from 60 miles away he saw a greenish coloured cone of anti-aircraft fire and searchlights over the port. To deliver a successful torpedo attack the Swordfish had to fly level at a height of less than 150 ft to within 1,000 yards of the target. As the Swordfish went into its screaming, whistling dive he saw the aircraft in front spin away out of control, almost hitting the water, and then felt a terrific jolt when Torrens-Spence pulled out of the dive. With tracer and incendiaries streaming up at them, Torrens-Spence called out, "The one to port is too close. What's that ahead?"

"Dead ahead is Littorio," Sutton replied.

"Right! I'll take that b******."

The battleship started to fire, wreathing the aircraft in smoke and making it stink of cordite. When Torrens-Spence let the torpedo go at 700 yards the battleship seemed to fill the horizon, and Sutton thought he could see down the muzzles of the close-range guns. Immediately after the release L5K turned steeply, hit the water, bounced, and staggered between the tethering buoys of two barrage balloons into the air.

Suddenly the aircraft was out of the cauldron of fire, and everything seemed quiet. Taranto was in chaos: the battleship Conte di Cavour was sunk, and the battleships Littorio and Caio Duilio heavily damaged. British losses were two Swordfish, one crew killed and one captured. In one night, the Royal Navy had inflicted more damage on the Italian fleet than it had on the German High Sea Fleet in the daylight action at Jutland in 1916; it also gave the Japanese a model for Pearl Harbor. With others, Sutton and Torrens-Spence were awarded the DSC.

Alan William Frank Sutton, known in the Fleet Air Arm as "Alfie", was born on May 21 1912. His father was killed on the Somme, and Sutton was educated at Christ's Hospital, Sussex, before joining the Navy as a special entry cadet in 1930. He trained for one year in the monitor Erebus at Devonport and then served in the battlecruisers Renown and Repulse and the destroyer Basilisk before specialising as a naval observer in 1937. Before the war he flew in Swordfish in 823 and 825 naval air squadrons in Glorious and Illustrious.

On September 4 1940 Sutton and Torrens-Spence led a dive-bombing raid on Calato airfield in the island of Rhodes, having taken over leadership of the strike after their commanding officer's aircraft suffered an accident on deck. Two months later Sutton was flying with Lieutenant-Commande r "Ginger" Hale, who led a torpedo strike against an enemy convoy off Sicily, sinking two merchant ships. Early next day the Swordfish crews took off on a bombing raid over Tripoli. Sutton was twice mentioned in dispatches for these operations.

When Illustrious was bombed by the Germans on January 10 1941 and had to be repaired in Alexandria, the remnants of the squadron operated for several weeks with the Army on the desert front. Next Sutton became naval liaison officer to the RAF in Greece, planning nightly operations by 815 naval air squadron, which flew against Italian shipping in the Adriatic from a hidden airfield in the mountains of Albania.

When their location was betrayed by the unexpected arrival in a Junkers of King Peter of Yugoslavia, who was being hunted by the Germans, Sutton withdrew first to Maleme, Crete, and then, after German paratroopers landed, organised a platoon of sailors and RAF groundcrew to fight alongside the New Zealanders in trying to retake the airfield. Three surviving Swordfish out of 22 flew on to Egypt, while Sutton tramped over the White Mountains to the island's south coast.

At Sphakia, where the defeated Allied forces were being evacuated by the Navy, he appointed himself beachmaster and, after several thousand men had been taken off, got away himself in one of the last boats. He was awarded a Bar to his DSC for his outstanding gallantry, fortitude and resolution. After a few days in hospital for repairs to his feet which, having worn out his shoes, were like "horse's hooves", he quickly returned to duty.

Admiral "ABC" Cunningham was accused of parsimony in his praise for Taranto, but he described Sutton's efforts in Greece and Crete – where he had lived for several weeks on a diet of gin and bully beef, developing the early symptoms of scurvy – as "an example of grand personal courage under the worst possible conditions which stands out brightly in the gloom".

As staff officer (air) to the admiral commanding the eastern task force during Operation Torch, Sutton helped plan the taking of Algeria and Morocco from the Vichy French in 1942. The following January he was air staff officer of 846 squadron, flying Avengers from the escort carrier Ravager in the Battle of the Atlantic. Promoted acting commander a year later, he became operations officer of the fleet carrier Implacable, and prepared the operation when the Fireflys of 1771 squadron located and photographed Tirpitz at Tromsø, in Norway, and made the Fleet Air Arm's last airborne torpedo strike of the war on October 28 1944.

In March 1945 Sutton sailed for the Pacific, where he planned attacks on targets in the Tokyo plain before the war ended.

Immediately afterwards he became second-in-command of HMS Nabcatcher (Kai Tak), the air station at the edge of Hong Kong harbour. After staff appointments he commanded the frigate Bigbury Bay from 1951 to 1953, which included a spell in the Antarctic and as guard ship in the Falkland Islands. He was chief staff officer of the carrier Squadron during Operation Musketeer, the Suez invasion, and finished his naval career as Director of the Royal Naval Staff College, Greenwich, from 1962 to 1965.

Sutton was aide-de-camp to the Queen in 1964. On retiring, he was a graduate of the Naval Staff College, the Joint Services Staff College and the Imperial Defence College; he was also appointed CBE. In addition he held a unique record in having won the Admiralty's Naval History Prize essay competion in 1939, 1947, 1949 and 1956.

After the Navy Sutton worked for the chemical division of the Distillers Company and then for BP until 1977, when he retired to devote himself to the gardens and woods at his home, Northanger, in Surrey.

Alfie Sutton, who died on November 6, married, in 1940, Peggy Cazeuax de Grange. She survives him with two sons and two daughters; another daughter predeceased him.

bobbysocks

11-09-2010, 09:31 PM

First 8th AF Piggy Back Rescue

Colonel Royce Priest USAF (retired)in a letter to Bill Marshall dated December 2002

I ran away from school before I graduated, and lied about my age to enlist in the Army Air Corps. I wanted to fly more than anything else in the world but pilots weren’t being accepted into the Air Corps unless they had at least a couple of years in college. I couldn’t afford college and my current employer (United States Army) didn’t see anything extraordinary in a wet behind the ears enlisted man to cause them to break the rules and send me to flight school. But I had a dream. My first Sergeant and my CO took a liking to me and let me know that United States Military Academy took one or two qualified enlisted men from the ranks based on passing the Entrance Exam – and informed me they would help me prep for it.

Two years and two failures later, I took the exam one more time and volunteered for Glider School, thinking it would bring me one step closer to my dream. At the time I was a Non Commissioned Officer. I graduated from Glider School at the top of my class, and learned at the same time that the Army had enough and probably would not form another squadron or fill replacements any time soon. My Colonel at the school asked “Would you be interested in going to Flight School as a Pilot Candidate?”. What a question!

I had just graduated, been commissioned as a Second Lieutenant in the Class of 43-J at Craig Field, Alabama, when another piece of good news came my way. I had just been accepted to West Point as a cadet! I looked at the Gold Wings, looked at the appointment and realized that the Gold Wings outweighed the Point.! Maybe, someday..

I went to advanced Fighter Training and then on to Steeple Morden, England and the Mighty Eighth. I was assigned to the 355th Fighter Group, 354FS, on June 2nd or 3rd a day before your father, Captain Bert Marshall, Jr.

Bert was my personal hero from his days as a star quarterback with the Greenville Lions, and the only quarterback in Texas to ever make All State three years in a row (I suspect you know this). I even followed his career when he went to Vanderbilt. That record holds to this day. Now here I was with this kind, gentle warrior as my leader!

Anyway, it was obvious that Bert Marshall brought a lot of talent and charisma to the 354th.He also brought a lot of experience, having logged over 2200 single engine time while stuck in Training Command.

As a new fighter pilot he shot his first German down on his second total mission, on D-Day, then shot down two more two weeks later, saving two of our own pilots from being shot down. He became Squadron Ops officer before the end of the month, bypassing many seasoned combat veterans in the squadron. Nobody was displeased – it was the nature of the man he was, that enlisted men and officers alike had a deep affection and respect for him.

By the time August 18th rolled around, Captain Bert Marshall had become Major Bert Marshall, and 354 Fighter Squadron Commander and an ace fighter pilot. He was already getting a well deserved reputation for not matching wheels down landings with take-offs. He had already bellied two Mustangs in with severe damage, the last one just a couple of days before.

As a side foot note, he would bend two more (with German help) before I rotated home. I was flying his wing on one of the times just before the end of his first tour…and I heard he had another during his second tour. Getting shot up so badly you have to crash land the airplane worries most people when it happens ONCE!

The mission on The Day was a low level Fighter Sweep to attack German rail and marshalling yard targets northeast of Paris in the Soissons area. Our job was to disrupt the flow of men and supplies to the front and raise as much hell as we could.

I was in Red Flight of the 354th Squadron with Bert as the Squadron Commander and overall mission commander for the 355th . I was flying number three with Woolard was my wingman and Wood was Bert’s wingman as number two.

It was about three o’clock in the afternoon when we arrived at our primary target, a large marshalling yard at Soissons, loaded with targets. It was loaded, but quite a few of the rail cars had red crosses on the roof so Bert took us further east to see what we could find, just following the tracks.

Pretty shortly we came upon another rather large concentration. I can’t recall for sure but I think it was near St. Etienne, maybe 20 miles further east. Standard operating procedure for us in a situation like this was for the leader to dispatch a flight for a closer look – but not Bert, he designated himself and told the rest of the group to orbit out of range while we checked it (flak defenses) out.

As we made our first pass on the rail traffic my particular target car and locomotive dropped side doors and we were staring at very ugly 20mm and 40mm snouts. I saw a flash to one side and looked over towards Bert’s ship.

Bert took one hit under the exhaust stack and a big hit behind the radiator scoop, apparently just missing the fuselage fuel tank, because he didn’t blow up… but he was burning and smoking heavily and I knew for sure that P-51 wouldn’t come home.

I called the damage in to him and heard him edly tell us to wave off while he looked for a place to belly it in. I got back on the radio and suggested that he head for a field about a mile away and I would land nearby to pick him up. He told me in very clear and concise language that I was to take the squadron and get the hell out of there.

While I observed Bert’s Mustang limping away, still badly smoking I could see his prop rpm slow even further and knew it was just a matter of minutes or most before he went in. As he flared out over a plowed field by a tree lined road, I told Woolard that I was going to land in a wheat field next to Bert. Bert heard the R/T traffic and immediately and profanely told me ‘to NOT land nearby – and that is a Direct Order!”. There were a few more adjectives that I can’t remember, but I did understand what he said..

Using some observational skills that I learned as a glider pilot trainee (see, I told you it was important) I could see the plowed field was too soft but the wheat field about 600-800 yards away was big enough. I made one pass length wise to size the field up for a possible landing.

It was a large wheat field about half a mile away from Bert's crash., which was occupied and being worked by a number of people, along with a team and wagon and some pieces of heavy equipment. Much of the field was still uncut, waist high wheat, and most of the remainder consisted of shocked wheat bundles sitting in geometrically precise rows, but in one corner there was a small cleared area where men with pitch forks were loading shocks onto the wagon. I reasoned if I could full stall the airplane into that small clearing and then keep it aimed between two rows of shocks, along with fair braking action, the combined effect would not only get me down safely, it would also clear a runway for takeoff

As I passed overhead I could see Bert had gotten out and was tossing a thermite grenade into his Mustang to finish it off.

I waggled my wings in the direction of the field and proceeded to set up for the tight landing, noticing that he was shedding equipment and then started to run in my direction when he saw what I was doing. The farmers scattered as I made my final approach.

Just before I brought it down I thought I could see Bert about a quarter mile away coming my way.

The landing worked out fine. With full flaps, minimum airspeed, nose high, and power on, the airplane was sort of hanging on its propeller as it came over the field boundary. As I eased power all the way back, while holding the nose up, the Mustang gently whomped down and went clattering off between the neatly stacked rows of wheat shocks. In fact, natures arresting gear was so effective that I decided to lengthen my "runway" a little before turning back to look for Bert. I could now see that a haystack I had all but ignored in the air was somewhat larger than I had perceived it to be and, indeed, could in fact become a factor on takeoff. (In fact, it did become a factor during the takeoff roll, when cockpit overcrowding had limited my ability to move my legs far enough to apply adequate rudder correction to overcome the full effect of torque buildup during engine acceleration on the initial segment of the takeoff roll.) . Then I swung it around facing back down the ‘runway’ with the haystacks behind me

I stood up in the cockpit to see if I could spot Bert and was shocked to see a truckload of German infantry coming my way about a half mile away to the north west. I got Woolard and Wood on the horn and told ‘em to “kill the truck” They replied that they were already swinging in bound to shoot them up

Simultaneously Woolard and Wood flew low over my head to hit the tree lined dirt road., shooting at the truck and let me know there were more about a mile further north on the main road. All I could see where the truck once was, was a hunk of burning metal and a cloud of dust where the .50’s were chewing up the dirt road. Vaguely, I was speculating that they (survivors, if any) were going to be in an ugly mood if I was still around.

In the meantime, I still had not spotted Bert, but the farm laborers were moving toward me with farm implements in hand, my coolant temperature was in the red and I knew I couldn’t just shoot at the farmers with my sidearm, I couldn’t wait much longer, and I couldn’t leave unless I knew Bert was incapacitated for sure, and last but not least I would have to leave if the larger main road force remained unscathed.

While these thoughts were passing through my head, I pushed throttle forward to get some high speed airflow going to try to cool off and kicked the rudder so that the prop wash blew rocks and dirt at the farmers. That did the trick as they backed away quickly

I had gunned the engine fairly hard to get the airplane rolling fast toward Bert's crash site in the adjoining muddy plowed field, in the direction from where I thought Bert should show up. Deliberately taxiing the airplane at high speed on the surface of the wheat almost turned out to be disastrous! As I approached the wheat field's northwestertern boundary, rolling at a fairly high rate, I barely discerned a wide, deep ditch. It was almost totally concealed by a heavy growth of brush and vegetation, and rapidly coming up directly ahead of me. Heavy braking only seemed to make me go faster on the ice-slick wheat stubble. Instinctively, I slammed full rudder and stood on the brake, which broke the tail wheel out of its centering detent and sent the airplane into a wide skidding turn. It came to lurching stop just feet short of putting a wheel over the edge of the ditch, which would have put an end to the affair.

Just about this time, I spotted Bert, he disappeared in the deep ditch I had just avoided, then re-appeared running for me. I taxied over to meet him. He was red faced, streaming sweat, livid that I had disobeyed his direct order, and repeated the order “Go home now, before you get us both killed or captured”, then refused to climb on. Many vituperative words were sliced out of the recollected tirade!

I didn’t know what to do or say, so I got out on the wing with parking brake locked, pulled off my parachute and dingy pack and just stood there, then I pulled the ripcord spilling the chute. Bert then just shook his head and climbed up on the wing. He insisted I fly, I insisted he had more experience and he should fly, so he ended the argument and sat in the seat, forcing me to do most of the flying!

It was incredibly cramped, my head was just above the gun sight and pressed forward to allow the canopy to close and very awkward to manage the throttles and rudders. I could just press far enough back to enable me to get enough stick control to lift us out of here. I couldn’t see the instrument panel and probably for the best – as I really didn’t want to know that my coolant was dead, if it was, at this late stage of the game.

My recollection of my orientation for take off places me on a southerly heading, at the northern boundary of the wheat field, at about 500 feet or so to the east of the field's western boundary. The enemy vehicle had been attacked by the wingmen as it was proceeding south along the road/ditch at the wheat field's western boundary. (For your information, five members of my family have visited the Wheatfield during recent times, and have been royally greeted by the local citizenry, some of whom witnessed the entire event back in 1944. One of them, currently a local senior citizen, was then a 14 year old boy who was hiding in the mentioned haystack during the happening, wrote and asked me whether I had been aware of a number of German soldiers who were hiding in the road. I was, after they started shooting at us!)

Just after starting the take off , the canopy flew back and clonked me on the forehead.

When the canopy slid back, I had just started applying takeoff power and we were just barely into the roll. As the canopy struck my head, I immediately retarded power and started braking to a stop, at which time Bert said, "I got it, Coach", then reached around me and closed/locked the canopy, after which I resumed the takeoff roll. As I recall, at this point in the adventure, there were a few farmers now standing some 25-50 yards off at about my 8:30-9 o'clock. The Germans were some several hundred feet behind me at about my 4-5 o'clock, at the start of takeoff

While I clearly recall the loud noise of hitting wheat shocks on the landing roll (a real clatter!) I don't recall hitting wheat on takeoff -- just the sheer damned panic of trying to get enough rudder/aileron travel in to avoid hitting the haystack. Cockpit crowding limited my ability to extend my leg enough to suffficiently override takeoff torque was a problem. My lower leg was hitting the bottom edge of the forward panel until increasing speed required less rudder offset for directional control. Bless the Mustang's sweet heart!

Just after we got off the ground I had just enough control to dip my left wing and miss the haystack – just barely.

In the meanwhile, while we were blissfully worrying about getting the Mustang off the ground, several German soldiers from the shot up truck were firing at us from behind me as we climbed out. Red Flight had thoroughly chewed up the second convoy. I made a full power climb out to get some distance from any more flak that might be in the area.

With no oxygen equipment, we flew back to Steeple Morden at 12-14,000 feet, Bert managing the trim and then the landing gear controls when we got back to the base. I radioed in an emergency landing. The tower responded by asking the nature of the emergency and I responded “We have two on board and it’s a little cramped for a safe landing”. They responded “Say AGAIN?” to which I repeated the situation.

When we landed I pulled off the runway short of the assigned parking revetment for WR-E Eaglebeak, to give both Bert and me a moment to collect our thoughts. As we got out to stretch, he shook my hand and quietly but sincerely expressed his thanks, as well as his feeling for me.

I took that opportunity to tell him what a great inspiration he had been for me, personally, and what an inspiration he was for the Squadron, as a leader and a man. I told him he was too important to the Group to not take a chance on getting him back.

I must admit that I was very concerned regarding my own fate, having disobeyed a direct order, in combat – twice. I wondered if I would be transferred out, taken off combat operation, etc. I did not expect to be decorated.

I found out later that I was recommended for the Medal of Honor, but when news of the DSC came, I was simply delighted with the Distinguished Service Cross. When General Doolittle presented me with the medal he looked me in the eye and told me he struggled with his decision but downgraded the award to a DSC, simply because he didn’t want to set a precedent that would risk more pilots and aircraft.

He went on to say that he “had never thought about issuing a regulation to ‘Not land behind enemy lines to attempt a rescue’… “Who would be that stupid,” he grinned., “because what you just did was just crazy to even think about!”

But, shortly afterwards Lieutenant General James Doolittle issued a sternly worded order prohibiting any more such attempts.

scottyvt4

11-16-2010, 09:21 PM

Bobby - i take my hat off to you fella for taking the time to search and post these accounts its breath taking reading some. I dont have the time to post some more!!!

many thanks

Scotty :)

bobbysocks

11-28-2010, 07:12 PM

THE REICH'S EX-LEADERS EXPLAIN WHY THEY WERE BEATEN

http://www.au.af.mil/au/awc/awcgate/ww2/nazis/nazidbrf.htm

bobbysocks

11-29-2010, 05:37 PM

This essay is written as a homework assignment at the Memoir Writing Workshop for Senior Citizens (Tenafly, New Jersey). The workshop is conducted by Lucile Lichtblau. I am the author of a FREE on-line book, entitled:

“Diary of a Former Communist: Thoughts, Feelings, Reality,” at

http://csam.montclair.edu/~kowalski/life/intro.html <<<a pretty good site and worth looking at.

It is an autobiography illustrating my evolution from one extreme to another--from a devoted Stalinist to an active anti-communist. This testimony is based on a diary I kept between 1946 and 2004 (in the USSR, Poland, France and the USA). The assignment consists of describing a single fragment of my life in a short self-standing essay. I decided to to focus on the the first year of the World War II.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Remembering the First Year of the War

Ludwik Kowalski (September 2010)

In 1941, my mother and I were living in Dedenievo, a small settlement (30 miles north of Moscow) on the bank of the famous Moscow-Volga canal. The major railroad connecting Moscow with Leningrad, and a paved highway, passed through that settlement. The place was surrounded by numerous collective farm villages; I still remember their names, such as Medviedki, Tselkovo, etc. The settlement had a school, a sanatorium (where my mother worked as a nurse), a hospital, two stores, a nursing home and a post office. It also had a large, partially ruined church. The tower of that church, dominating the area, could be seen from miles away. The northern wall of the church was destroyed and a person passing by could see a huge icon of Christ, painted on the inner wall. I was always fascinated by the fact that his eyes followed me as I was passing by.

I was ten years old when the war started, on June 22. That morning, in a store, I heard that our country was invaded by Germans. I immediately ran to the sanatorium, about half a mile away, to tell people what I heard. They turned the speakers on while Molotov was still speaking. Another thing I remember was the official order, distributed next day. Every tunable radio receiver--and we had one--must to be brought to the post office. The local authorities said that parts were needed by the army. Was this the main reason? Probably not; they wanted to protect us from German propaganda. After that day we had to rely on speakers connected to the central station by wires.

Eleven days later I heard Stalin’s first WWII speech. “Comrades! Citizens! Brothers and sisters! Men of our army and navy! I am addressing you, my friends! . . .” After telling us that Hitler’s finest divisions had already “met their doom on the field of the battle,” he reported that the enemy continued to push forward. I was very surprised to discover that our dear leader had a very strong Georgian accent. Posters “all for the front, all for victory,” and “motherhood calls you” were to be seen everywhere. But each day we heard depressing radio announcements, such as “today, as planned, our units units left Minsk,” or Kiev, etc. People had no idea what was really happening. The Soviet Union was totally unprepared for the war and losses were enormous, as we now know. The school was still functioning but about one half of our time was devoted to military matters. We learned how to deal with small incendiary bombs, how to use rifles (without live ammunition), and how to throw disarmed grenades.

One day a trainload of miserable looking and poorly dressed people was brought to Dedenievo. They were said to be a labor-front division. All of them were Uzbeks; non-Russian speaking. Each morning, escorted by armed soldiers, they were led to dig trenches and build fortifications. At night they slept on the floors of a tall building, next to the one in which we had a little room. Only much later did I realize that this division was a mobile gulag camp unit.

Herds of cows, sheep and horses, taken from surrounding collective farms, were led along the highway in the direction of Moscow. The policy was not to leave anything for Germans. During that time my mother and a neighbor bought a pig from a peasant in a near-by village. It was killed with a long knife and then divided into two parts, one for us and another for the neighbor. I will never forget the fear I experienced watching the killing and hearing the powerful squeals of the dying animal.

Several weeks later I experienced similar fear under very different circumstances. A Red Army soldier approached me and asked about the best way to go to the other side of the canal. He was probably wounded; his bandaged arm was in a rope sling. I knew that the canal was already frozen and that it could be crossed nearly anywhere. But I also knew that it was forbidden to give any information to strangers--anyone could be a German spy, we were told. So instead of answering I said, “I know who to ask; come with me.” And we walked toward the building guarded by two armed soldiers. I said that this man asked me a question that you might be able to answer. Then I left them and started going toward our home. A minute later I heard the familiar sound of a gun click. I turned my head back and saw that the guard’s gun was aimed at the wounded soldier.

Thinking that he was going to be killed I ran home, jumped on the bed, and covered my head with a large pillow. The fear experienced during the killing of the pig was the same as the fear I felt during this episode. The man was not killed, the guard told me later. They took him away because he was a deserter. Several days later, looking for wood in an abandoned shed, I discovered bodies of two Soviet soldiers. Were they also deserters? Perhaps they were hiding in this place and froze to death while sleeping. This kind of death, I was told later, is painless.

Two weeks later, Germans were only several miles away from our settlement. One evening, probably at the end of October, the railroad bridge over the canal was blown up by Soviet sappers. Then the Red Army retreated from Dedenievo and we were between two armies, for about a week. The settlement was heavily bombed by German airplanes. The building next to the school was destroyed by a large bomb, leaving a crater about 50 feet wide and 30 feet deep. That bomb was probably designed for the church tower, suspected to be an observation point.

Most of the nursing home residents died from cold after windows were shattered by numerous explosions. My mother carried some patients to the nearby hospital, on her back. Then she worked in that hospital, just across the street from the shelter where I was hiding, the basement of the church. About 100 people sat there, on tons of carrots and potatoes; the place had been used to store vegetables delivered to the government from surrounding collective farms. It is here that I heard, for the first time, about special Germans military units killing Jews and communists. I dreamed of joining partisans.

At a quiet time between bombings my mother came to the church basement and said I would be better off in the hospital with her. As we prepared to leave, bombs started falling again. One hit the wooden hospital building, burying about one hundred people. We heard calls for help but nothing could be done. Then the fire started; those who survived the bomb were burned alive. The first Soviet WWII victory, pushing Germans away from Moscow, took place where we lived. A week later I walked to Jachroma, the nearest settlement from which Germans were pushed away. Here I saw two abandoned German tanks. I climbed on one of them, opened the hatch, and went inside--not a wise thing to do. Only later did I learn there might have been a mine in the tank.

The constant roar of cannons became weaker and weaker. That was the beginning of a very difficult two or three years for us, due to the limited food supply. Like most people, we started growing our own potatoes, anywhere we could. We lived in a barrack, each family in a single room. Half of our space was used to store those potatoes, which we rationed to last until the next summer. In springtime we depended on eggs from birds' nests, and on fresh nettle. A little later in the season we ate birds, schav, and berries. Fortunately, I was able to help by bringing home mushrooms and fish. We were hungry most of the time. Winters were very cold. My ability to gather wood, sometimes stealing rejects from a local sawmill, was essential.

Meat from the pig we bought in the fall was an important part of our diet. By spring, only a large bone remained, hanging on the wall of our room. My mother decided to preserve it for as long as possible. It was eventually used to make a very tasty soup. I was so excited to see fat circles floating on the surface of this aromatic liquid. A year later I was even more excited by the aroma escaping from an open can of American SPAM. The label on that can was “swinaja tushonka.” The taste of my first American meat was the most memorable sensation in my entire life.

bobbysocks

11-29-2010, 05:53 PM

Attack on Schweinfurt...

by Wally Hoffman, 8th Air Force...

As we walked into the ready room I was suddenly hit with this deep depression and a feeling of dread as I thought, “This is not the glamorized Wild Blue Yonder we had all heard so many times.” We will be fighting 5 miles above the earth. There are no foxholes to hide in up there. Most of the time there isn’t even the opportunity of fighting back, you just sit there and take it. We live by the laws of chance as we drive through the flak, which seems thick enough to walk on. There is always that chance to be where the projectile shot at us by random from the ground would intersect the plane and ourselves?
We are continually facing the life and death struggle of the plane with all of us inside. Maybe some dead, perhaps some wounded, and some not even scratched. At that moment all of our lives would reach a crisis in the heaving and smoking plane from the freezing hostile sky. It wasn’t the anxiety of maybe being killed before the day ended, but a deeper far-off feeling as if I weren’t operating within my own body.
As I dressed, in preparation for the long mission, I looked at the rest of the crew with a detached and lonely sadness wondering will we still be together tonight? No way did I want to expose my feelings to the crew for fear they would feel I was not equal to doing my part, all of our lives depended on each other.

In kind of a dream I proceeded to our plane, and went through the motions of the checklist for pre-flight. I was there, physically doing all things which were necessary, but seemed detached and totally out of my body I had the feeling I was in another dimension watching what I was doing. I was there, but wasn’t there. Knowing we were in for a rough mission and catch hell from the fighters we loaded many additional boxes of caliber 50 ammunition. We rechecked our flak suits and helmets then all of us made one last trip to the bushes to relieve ourselves.

All too soon we were starting the engines, taxiing into position, moving down the runway and again skimming those damn trees. We formed up at 28,000 feet then heading for Europe for what we didn’t know and into Germany. I was there, but as if I was doing everything necessary only by the numbers.

Suddenly I heard on the intercom from the top turret “Bandits 9:00 O’clock High” instantaneously followed by the tail and the nose of fighters coming in from all directions. Immediately you could feel those 20 millimeters going through the plane. The sound of a cannon shell hitting a fortress depends on where you are. If you aren’t too close it is like a metallic woof and you feel a jar that shakes the whole plane, which reaches you and leaves you instantly. If the shell explodes close to you there is nothing gentle and it certainly isn’t a momentary tremor. It is like a giant slapping his hand on the water. There are two sounds one from the impact and the second of it exploding. It’s like firing a shotgun into a bucket which all comes back exploding in your face.
For a moment you aren’t scared because your senses are dulled. Your bowels seem weak, (you tighten your pucker string), your stomach shrivels up until you can figure out how much you are hurt. It was as if a huge electrical shock had hit me and from then on to this day I have never felt fear. It was as if my mind had gone into a corner to hide and had then come charging out to do battle.. In talking to others later, I found we all have gone through some factors of this type of withdrawal. Some retreated from themselves and would no longer be able perform.

I immediately found myself in a world alien to everything I had ever experienced. There were ME-109s and FW-190s leaping into existence from everywhere without warning. When they opened fire you saw sudden flashes of light winking at you from the distance. All at once there existed a canopy of cannon shells and bombs, aerial mines and rockets exploding everywhere. Each one was intent on hitting us and our pregnant bomb load.
We are no longer in a stately march in tight formation through the upper heavens. We try desperately to return to the crisp efficiency of our tight formation, but it is impossible to achieve in this raging space of time. We find ourselves slogging our way through a thickening mass of exploding flame and smoke, with the equal determination of every member of the crew. We are driving ahead through a solid whirlwind of steel splinters, flame, and jagged chunks of red hot metal. The steel is everywhere, it crashes into wings, engines, bulkhead and airplane bodies; and into the bodies of men-spewing blood, tissues, intestines, and brains.

The plane seemingly is alive with lights as all the guns are firing and the noise is deafening. There is the continued on the intercom shout of “incoming bandits” from all around the clock (fighters). The fourteen caliber 50 machine guns of our plane can be heard and felt above all the roar of the plane. Our world seems to plunge into insanity as the sounds of air battle are all around us seemingly merging into an inhuman shriek. Our ship doesn’t seem to be occupied by men, we are transformed into beings from another world, with the strange breathing systems dangling beneath our faces.

As quickly as it started the fighters are gone and we are alone with only the extremely bright sun. Our enemy now is the temperature which is minus fifty degrees and never seems to relax its vigil against us for any exposure to sensitive flesh and frostbite.

Central Germany is now below us and in the distance we can see the first black specks of flak over the target. We now begin to assess what battle damage we had taken. Was everyone OK? Soon, everyone was checking in: Tail OK, except almost out of ammo and was reloading the belts; Waist OK, lost my flak helmet somewhere; Ball, one of the side windows was hit, can’t see anything except straight ahead; Radio, OK; Top Turret, “think I was hit in the leg and my ammunition boxes are gone”. It turns out that a 20 mm came through the turret knocking out the ammo boxes on each side and tearing off his flight suit at the thigh. He had a slight red mark on one leg. Ammo boxes were moved in and connected to both guns with the hope they wouldn’t jam.

In the cockpit the gauges were still working but the glass on the dials looks as if someone had taken a hammer to them. The radio compass is shattered and the other radios are hanging by their connecting cords. All seem to be working, at least the intercom is OK. The right portion of the windshield in front of the co-pilot has two vicious looking cracks in it. The co-pilot’s flak helmet was knocked off and has a huge hole in it. He doesn’t have a mark although I think he is turning gray. In the nose one of the cheek guns is out, the navigator’s table is shattered as well as his instruments. For all the holes our plane is still flying. It’s a miracle nobody has been seriously wounded.

When we have turned on IP the bombardier is already looking for his aiming point as the plane controls are hooked to the bombsight. Again the fighters are coming in all directions, but this time it is the squadron ahead of us. Soon the sky around us filled with flak burst, paving a solid black-steel asphalt roadway to Schweinfurt. The explosions sound as if someone is throwing rocks at you when they burst close. Those flak gunners on the ground are good. Normally the fighters will usually leave when you get into the flak from the target, this time they are flying through their own flak. Apparently, they have been ordered to defend the target at all costs. These fighters may be the enemy but I have never seen braver men. All the German efforts to keep us from the target have so far failed, but we have paid a tremendous price in men and planes. The stakes were high but the “Devil” was the winner. The target below is now fast deteriorating into smoke and debris as our strings of bombs walk through the city. The dead will outnumber our losses by a great number. Finally we feel the plane lighten in little jerks as the bombs pass out the bomb bay on their way to Germany. We are now at the halfway point of the mission as we begin a wide turn to the right. There is little need to get into formation as everyone is staying close. As we make our turn one can see the other formations behind us. They look ragged and are still under attack from the fighters. The fighters are leaving the “cripples” alone, going for those planes still carrying bombs. As we turn you can see the target below and the sticks of bombs on their five mile flight to the earth. The target is covered with smoke and gray dust is rising from the impact of the bombs.

As we look out there are no fighters roaring in against us with their guns winking at us. It seems so quiet and good to only hear the noise of the engines and the air rushing by as our faithful girl hurtles us towards our base in England. We are soon over France and a few fighters appear in the distance but do not press any attack against us. We wonder are they as low on ammunition and as tired as we are? We also now look for our little friends and assume they must be busy somewhere else. The cloud cover comes up to 20,000 feet and we are told to let down over the channel. Each group will proceed to their base individually. We soon see the angry water of the channel, then are flying up the “Wash” (a large estuary on the east coast of England). When the smokestacks of Peterborough are in sight we turn southwest and there is Polebrook below us. What a wonderful sight, and how many times in the past twelve hours have we all wondered if we’d ever see the base again?

As we cross the field preparing to break into the landing pattern we can see the men on the handstands, the meat wagons with the large red cross on the top, and the fire trucks parked all along the runway. They are all watching us and counting the bombers and trying to read the symbols as we fly over. All at once, there are many red flares indicating wounded on board, and they will proceed into the pattern and land first. Soon we are lined up with the runway on our final approach, crossing the boundary of the field, begin the flare and soon the wheels are finally touching the runway. We are again down on mother earth. As the tail settles to the runway, there is a terrific bang as if the plane had been ripped apart, followed with a loud screeching of metal! Not only had the tail wheel blown, but the whole tail assembly seems to be dragging behind the plane. The tower tells us we look like a giant sparkler and as soon as we have completed our roll to pull off the runway and get out of the plane. We find later that during the fighter attacks the total frame just forward of the horizontal stabilizer had been totally torn apart by the 20mm shells. Only the skin and the control cables held it together. We complete our roll and moving off the runway into the grass and mud. The faithful engines’ roar dies out and the silence is followed by a mad dash of everyone from the plane. As we are leaving the plane a fire truck and ambulance are johnny-on-the-spot.

Our plane, “Morning Delight” just seemed to set there panting. That gallant lady gave us all she had and more for that total effort during the past 10 hours. She never flew again as she was so heavily damaged and became another “Queen Bee’s”--(used for parts). You don’t live and fly a fortress for months without coming to know the plane in the most intimate way. You know the sturdy construction she represents and how forgiving she is to fly. She is there in our hearts, for all of us for the days to come if by chance we survive this war.

bobbysocks

11-30-2010, 07:48 PM

not aviation related but this guy has real hutzpah!! you ought to hear clanging when he walks...

The hero in a kilt who tackled a Panzer division on his own! (and then accepted the surrender of 23,000 German soldiers)

The undercover British officer crept silently through the bushes, his tartan kilt a bizarre form of dress for a man who did not want to be conspicuous.

Then he stopped to take in the awesome might of the enemy. Through the gloom, he could make out the 15,000 battle-scarred men and 200 machines of the cruellest and most feared of all the SS forces in war-torn France in the summer of 1944.

Parked up for the night, their tanks, half-tracks and heavy guns stretched as far as his eyes could see. How could he and the tiny band of amateurish French Resistance fighters he commanded *possibly take on these professional killers

The notorious Das Reich panzer division was on its way from southern France to Normandy to help repel the Allied armies that had landed there on D-Day.

If they made the 450-mile journey in time, they could well be the difference between victory and defeat — which is why scores of Resistance units like this had been mobilised to slow their progress by whatever means they could . . . and at whatever cost.

That cost was already terrible. In towns and *villages of the Lot and Limousin regions, the *bodies of partisans swung from lampposts and telegraph poles as the SS soldiers — veterans of barbaric battles on the Russian front — ruthlessly took revenge on anyone who got in their way.

And now they had reached the patch of 23-year-old Major Tommy Macpherson — a fresh-faced former Fettes schoolboy, athlete and aesthete and, before the war intervened, a man destined for the dreaming spires of Oxford rather than this bleak French backwater where there was every chance of his being killed.

Macpherson was an exceptional warrior-hero, acknowledged by experts as one of the bravest, most determined and resourceful British soldiers of World War II. Today, at 90, he is Britain’s most decorated former soldier.

His story — told in his forthcoming autobiography — is one of remarkable daring and danger, outstanding even in the annals of that unique generation, as he fought his very special war, almost entirely behind enemy lines.

He did indeed go up to Oxford after the war, gaining a first-class degree. Today, he remains president of the Oxford and Cambridge athletics club, having retired from his career as a successful businessman: he was variously a director of the National Coal Board and High Sheriff of Greater London.

But inevitably nothing in his later life had quite the drama of the extraordinary exploits he undertook in his one-man war against the Nazis.

Recruited into the Army straight from the sixth form, he was picked to be in the newly-formed elite band of Commandos, and earmarked for specialist training to carry out *clandestine raids on enemy territory.

And so began an extraordinary series of escapades in which he relied solely on his own cunning, bravery and initiative to stay alive.

In North Africa in 1941, he slipped ashore from a submarine on a reconnaissance mission.
But his sortie went disastrously wrong when the sub that was supposed to collect him did not arrive, and he was forced to trek for days on foot across the desert towards his own lines, sabotaging enemy installations as he went, only to be captured by Italian troops.

Held in a prisoner-of-war camp in Italy, he made several attempts to escape but was caught each time. He was handed over to the Germans and interrogated by the Gestapo before ending up in a remote camp on the far eastern borders of *Germany.

He slipped away from there wearing a French uniform, made it to the Baltic coast and stowed away on a ship to neutral Sweden.

On his return home in November 1943, he could have been forgiven for seeking a quiet life after two years at the sharp end. Dodging bullets and Nazi forces, he had already endured and survived more danger and hardship than almost any other soldier.

But his unrivalled experience of clandestine operations was vital to the war effort. He was needed for the Special Operations Executive, to parachute into France and gee-up the reluctant foot soldiers of the French Resistance in the aftermath of D-Day.

At Churchill’s behest, he was to arm them, train them and lead them in a guerrilla war against the occupying Germans.

In the dead of night and accompanied by a French army officer and an English radio operator, he dropped into south-central France on June 8, 1944 — two days after the Allies stormed the Normandy beaches.

He was in his Highlander’s battledress, kilt and all — and deliberately so. He was meant to be visible, his undisguised presence a symbol for any wavering Frenchmen that *liberation was at hand if only they took the battle to the Boche.

His attire caused consternation. He heard an excited young Resistance fighter babbling to another that a French officer had landed ‘and he’s brought his wife!’ The lad had never seen a man in a kilt before.

The unit Macpherson joined was a joke, despite all the assurances he had been given back in England that the maquis was a dedicated fighting force.

Here in the forests and *mountains of the Massif Central it had just eight members, four of them mere boys, a few guns and a single, clapped-out lorry for transport. In four years, they had never mounted any sort of operation to trouble the occupying Germans.

He brought them a machine gun, grenades and plastic explosives, but did they have the savvy and the guts to use them? He found out soon enough when, just days later, the Das Reich SS column hove into his sights.

It was do-or-die moment — and dying seemed the more likely outcome. He decided that engaging them directly would be suicidal and pointless. But ingenious, cleverly-planted booby traps might do the trick of slowing them down.

Through the night, he and his men felled trees to block the road ahead of the convoy and laid their only anti-tank mine, strapping plastic explosives to it for extra oomph. Grenades dangled from overhanging branches — primed to fall and explode.

Primitive though these measures were, they was surprisingly effective. In the morning, the Germans had to bring up heavy equipment to move the tree trunks. Minutes ticked away. Then a tank hit the mine and slewed across the road.

More delay. Finally, Macpherson and his men sprayed troop carriers with their Sten guns and then dashed away into the trees — classic hit-and-run tactics. Hiding at a distance, they heard shouts and screams as the grenades did their job.

Eventually and inevitably, the SS column moved on, but precious hours had been won. With similar small *victories the length of France, it took Das Reich more than a fortnight to complete what should have been a three-day journey, by which time the Allied hold on Normandy was secure.

So, too, was Macpherson’s hold on his new friends. With this success under his belt, his status was assured and streams of newly-emboldened volunteers arrived to join him. Now they began to fight back in earnest.

German supply lorries were hijacked for food, railway lines and road bridges blown up, steam engines wrecked, enemy petrol dumps drained (though not blown up for fear of civilian casualties). The major encouraged children to scatter nails in the street to puncture the tyres of German trucks.

One of his favourite targets was electricity pylons, and he took enormous schoolboy pleasure from blowing up two together. As they crashed, massive sparks flew out, like a giant firework display. To celebrate Bastille Day, he knocked out eight in one exhausting night.

In his Cameron Highlanders’ *tartan, with a Sten gun in his hand, explosives in his pockets and a skean dhu — the traditional Scottish *dagger — tucked into his sock, his flamboyance made him a legend in this rugged area of rural France.

Furious and frustrated, the Germans offered a 300,000-franc reward for the capture of this ‘bandit masquerading as a Scottish officer’, as Wanted *posters described him, but he seemed as elusive as the Scarlet Pimpernel and as bulletproof as a tank.

Driving round the countryside to muster and train his growing fighting force, he narrowly missed *German patrols on the road, or *skidded away from road blocks just in time.

Pursued by an enemy patrol one night, his car’s fuel tank was hit by bullets, but even then his luck held. They had just enough petrol left to turn into dense woods, dump the car and seek refuge with the nuns in a nearby convent.

He was at times able to turn the tables. Returning from a night raid on a railway, he was warned that the road he was on was used *regularly by the Germans. Indeed, the local commandant’s staff car was expected shortly.

‘We were at an unmanned level crossing with a heavy wooden pole that lowered itself across the road when a train was coming. It was a perfect opportunity. I fixed some plastic explosive to the wire holding up the pole and rigged it with a fuse.’

When the open staff car sped into view, he blew the fuse, the pole came down and the car hit it at 50mph, decapitating the commandant and his driver. Then Macpherson’s men mowed down the cavalcade’s motorcycle escort with Sten guns. All in all, he recalls phlegmatically, ‘a satisfactory morning’.

By now, the war was swinging decisively in the Allies’ favour and it was time for Macpherson to become ever more brazen in his defiance of the Germans. To impress the locals, he began to fly a Union Jack and the Cross of *Lorraine flag of the Free French from his black Citroën.

Then he sat in full uniform at a café in a town square, nonchalantly and openly drinking wine with the mayor, just to show that he could. It was almost an act of bravado too far.

Suddenly a German armoured car swung into the square. In the nick of time, Macpherson and his driver leapt into the Citroen and raced away into the hills, chased by the Germans.

With the advantage of the higher ground, they stopped and lobbed a makeshift grenade into the pursuing armoured car, destroying it. Then they laid charges around a bridge over a river and blew that, too. ‘It was,’ he recalls, ‘just another day at the office’.

But his most extraordinary achievements were yet to come.

With Allied forces now advancing into the heart of France from both north and south, the Germans were on the retreat. But would they depart without causing a bloodbath? Subtlety and subterfuge were called for.

With just three companions, Macpherson bluffed one German garrison of 100 soldiers with a mock show of force.

He and his men wrapped wet handkerchiefs inside the metal hand grips of their light Sten guns, so that when fired they made the deafening noise of heavy machine-guns. The garrison, fooled into thinking themselves outgunned, surrendered.

Then he went one better when a German column numbering 23,000 men and 1,000 vehicles was heading back to the German border through the last remaining gap between the two advancing Allied armies.

In the Loire valley, a small band of Resistance fighters held a vital river bridge, and a fight to the death — which they had no hope of winning — seemed inevitable. Unless the German general could somehow be persuaded to give up without a fight . . .

At a parlay with the Germans, Macpherson once more bluffed. ‘My job was to convince the general that I had a brigade, tanks and artillery waiting on the other side of the river and they could not get through.

‘The clincher was when I told him that I was in contact with London by radio and could at any time call up the RAF to blow his people out of sight. In truth, the only thing I could whistle up was Dixie, but he had no way of knowing that.’

The German general bowed to what he was persuaded was the inevitable and surrendered, bringing the liberation of France a large step closer but with no loss of life.

Amazingly, Macpherson’s war did not end even then. With France freed from the Nazis, he was whisked off to Italy to organise the partisans in their last struggles to evict the Germans.

There he found himself up against a new enemy — communist forces loyal to the Yugoslavian leader, Tito, and intent on annexing parts of Italy.

Macpherson’s determined *opposition succeeded in thwarting these plans, with the result that Tito pronounced a death sentence on the ‘interfering major’.

To have had a price put on his head by Nazis and Communists was a rare distinction, and as highly prized as the Military Cross and two bars, the Legion d’Honneur and the Croix de Guerre this most buccaneering of British soldiers was awarded for his extraordinary exploits.

bobbysocks

11-30-2010, 07:55 PM

nice site and interesting read.

Diary of a Corsair Pilot in the Solomons

http://www.scuttlebuttsmallchow.com/winnia.html

bobbysocks

11-30-2010, 07:59 PM

The Legacy of Gordon Piland

It was the end of winter and despair; it was the beginning of spring and hope. It was TWELVE O’CLOCK HIGH, not the movie; it was 1944 over war torn Europe. Anti-aircraft fire (flak) and swarms of Luftwaffe fighters brought the stark reality of war to the aircrew of “ DogBreath” of the 452nd Bombardment Group. German fighter pilots attacked Eighth Army Air Force bomber formations, the fighting building to a crescendo in the blue skies. The mission: attack a Messerschhmitt factory in Posen, Poland. German defenses threw up a heavy barrage of eighty-eight millimeter flak and German fighters! S/Sgt. Gordon A. Piland; flying in a B-17G bomber, better known as the “Flying Fortress” was in the middle of this air war with the crew members of “DogBreath.” Bomber crews flying through a “zone of death” and wall of steel, were now confronted by a hornet’s nest of cannon firing Focke Wulf 190s and Bf 109s forming up to attack their bomber boxes.
Just as the formation was nearing its objective, about 125 to 150 enemy aircraft hit the formation blazing away with their machineguns and 20-mm cannon fire. A German fighter plane came so close to “DogBreath” that Sergeant Piland could see the facial features of the Messerschmitt Bf 109 pilot. The enemy was less than 100 yards distant! Gordon manned “DogBreath’s” top turret with its twin fifty-caliber machineguns, sighted on the German fighter, and clobbered the “bandit.” Gordon kept on firing, until pieces of metal started flying off the wing of the enemy fighter and smoke poured from the engine. The “peppered” enemy plane, was raked nose to tail, forcing the pilot to bail out as the ship went into a tailspin (at the post-mission interrogation, S/Sgt. Piland was elated to have intelligence determine he shot down the group leader).
German forces were determined to stop the Eighth Army at all costs. German fighter planes attacked the formation, throwing everything at them, including the kitchen sink. They really wanted to defeat this attack on their industrial base at all costs. Sergeant Piland’s B-17G was “tooling-up” a position, and just as the German made his 'pass' and Gordon chalked-up his victory, another fighter fell out of the sky towards them. This Bf 109 attacked like a raven on prey and swooped down on “DogBreath.” The German fighter was flying only ten feet over Piland’s top gunner position; the port machineguns shredded the plane. Flying pieces of metal from the enemy aircraft came close to acting as a fallen guillotine, almost taking the sergeant’s head off on that eventful day in the sky.
On the return flight in the B-17 Flying Fortress, at high altitudes and freezing temperatures, German defensive fire threw up a heavy barrage of jagged metal. One large piece pierced the glass dome underneath the B-17 and cut the wiring connections of S/Sgt. Ronald B. Clark’s electrically heated suit, rendering it inoperative and life threatening.
The pilot ordered the sergeant to come up from his gun position to repair the damage but return if enemy fighters were sighted. S/Sgt Clark followed his orders, removed his heated suit and shoes and started to make his maintenance checks. During the course of the operation, his right foot started to feel numb. “Fighters attacking from the nose,” yelled the pilot over the interphone system. S/Sgt Clark in his stocking feet, climbed back into the ball turret, forgetting about the numb foot.

An hour later, when the attack ended S/Sgt. Clark pulled himself out of the gunner position, with extreme pain in his frostbitten foot. S/Sgt. Piland knew just what to do. He removed all of his outer clothing from the waist up, had Sgt. Clark lie down on the floor and placed the gunner’s swollen foot under his armpit. Flying at reduced altitude for three hours until the pilot landed at home base; they were stretched out on the floor of the radio compartment. This was one of the most important moments of the mission; however, the flight physician said that S/Sgt Piland’s quick thinking and decisive action saved Clark’s frostbitten foot from certain amputation. The two men remained friends for life.

For his heroic efforts, Gordon was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross and Air Medal and combat service medals with four Oak Leaf Clusters for participation in bomber combat operations over enemy territory in Europe. Gordon was mobilized during the Korean War and qualified for the National Defense Medal. Finally, Gordon was awarded his eighth medal in 1981.

TWELVE O’CLOCK HIGH was not just a film and a heroic tale about a war; this was a chapter in Gordon’s life. It took thirty years to pull the whole story out of him.

His generation did not like to talk about the war. He stood like a sentry over his war experiences; only a privileged few heard of his brushes with death. Gordon did not love war and just did his duty.

After the wedding of Gordon’s daughter during a brief reception a rugged middle-aged man with gray side burns pulled the groom aside and stated, “You don’t know me from Adam, but I drove here from Michigan to be here for your wedding. I am here because Gordon and I served together during World War II and he saved my life! I owe my life to Gordon. No man should be that indebted to another; I could never pay him back. My name is Roland B. Clark. Gordon and I have been friends for many years.” The new son-in-law responded, “I have known him for a year and had no idea that he served in the military.”
After ten years of marriage to his daughter, Gordon began to provide brief insights into his experiences and feelings about the war. Upon returning from an active duty tour, his son-in-law walked into his living room, wearing an Army Reserve uniform. Gordon paused for moment, as if in a different place and time. A silence fell over him; Gordon looked through the window at the blue sky, and started talking about a great captain he knew during the war. Gordon said, “The Captain was killed by enemy anti-aircraft fire during a pre-invasion blow against Cherbourg, France. We feared the eighty-eight steel shrapnel more than the fighter planes.”
The conversation continued, “ We were bombing the German war machine from above and my brother was part of the ground invasion on the beaches of Normandy. My brother, Haslette, is still serving as a Captain in the National Guard… Gordon said softly, we were both lucky to come back alive; many were not so fortunate.”

Gordon then jumped to his feet and went to the back bedroom. He pulled a clothing garment bag from a small closet. He modestly retrieved an aviator leather jacket. His name “Piland” and the name of the plane, “DogBreath” was painted on the jacket. The liberty bell, eagle and the American flag on one side, on the other side an Iron Cross indicating the fighter plane he shot down, and twenty-five bombing missions. On the back of the jacket was a hand painted beautiful young woman with long red hair. This was a special moment for Gordon and his son-in-law; this was a very private part of his life.

Years went by and once again, he would take his son-in-law for a journey into his past. In a small box, he kept seven military ribbons and medals from the war. The box also held an old whistle that he wore on his fight jacket. Sergeant Piland’s whistle would be necessary in case his B-17 “flying coffin” crashed and he survived. He could signal others where he could be located.

Moving cautiously through the tattered photographs of Gordon and his crewmembers, the son-in-law scrutinized all of the old photographs. These were not middle-aged men, but boys in their prime. The torn orders revealed that Gordon had volunteered for additional bombing missions. The casualty rate was extremely high for twenty-five missions, but few survived thirty; he was one of the few to make it home. “DogBreath’s” battle damage was extremely high, according to Eighth Army records. At the end of his tour of duty in 1944, Eighth Air Force issued him a Lucky Bastard Club Certificate.
Gordon was a fighter all of his life. He kept his spirits high and always had a smile on his face in the midst of adversity. Living through the Great Depression and World War II prepared him for the tough times. Gordon would face adversity many times in his life. He suffered a major heart attack in his early fifties, faced three open-heart surgeries, three minor procedures and a heart pace maker implantation over the next twenty-five years. Gordon’s church and community service continued to play a significant role in his life in spite of repeated hospitalizations.

At the age of seventy-six after all he had endured, Gordon completed a community college program with honors. He volunteered to help others in the Academic Support Center and was one of the most popular students on campus. Gordon finally made graduation; it was a happy day for Gordon and family. He beamed and smiled all day; his lifetime goal realized.
The next year would take its toll on the determined veteran; repeated hospitalizations would reduce some of his activities. The family knew this was going to require the fight of a lifetime. Gordon fought the war and contributed to the peace, but his damaged heart could not make this last battle. Gordon died on the operating table; his loved ones at his side.
The legacy continues through the contributions he made to his family, church, community and nation. There are many veterans like Gordon across the United States of America, each veteran with his or her own story and unique legacy. They defended the Nation and after the war, sustained the legacy. There must be a special place of honor in heaven for those who served so well.

Hello bobbysocks ... Thank you for posting a story about my Father, Gordon A. Piland. My husband wrote the document in memory of my Dad. It represents an accurate oral history for the Piland Family.

Please include my husband's name as the author. His name is Thomas E. Baker, LTC MP USAR. I sincerely appreciate your time and kind consideration.

I simply want to be sure my husband is recognized for his efforts and authorship. It was indeed a labor of love. Best wishes, Jane Piland

bobbysocks

12-01-2010, 01:09 AM

i love this picture!

“Clash over the Rooftops of Paris”
Capt. Leonard ‘Kit Carson & 1st Lt. Ted Conlin over the Seine River in Paris
Victory Followed by a Daring Escape

Late in July, 1944, a group of Mustangs began a sweep in the vicinity of Paris and encountered a group of 25 Me 109 and FW190 attacking a group of P-38 Lightnings. Kit Carson describes his encounter:

“I Chased a 190 clear across the city of Paris and finally nailed him after a weird rat race past the Eiffel Tower. You could identify the major boulevards in my combat film. It wasn’t until the shooting was over that I fully realized where I was and then clearly recall asking myself, ‘How the hell am I going to get out of this place?’ I shoved everything forward – throttle, mixture, RPM and stick. It was one of the few times that I asked Rolls Royce to deliver everything advertised. The Merlin was laying down black smoke out of both rows of exhaust stacks. I almost never ran an engine at full power in combat. I was at house top level, flat out at 72 inches of HG and 3,000 RPM. Half the flak in Paris was coming up.”

Ted Conlin clearly remembers his experience:

“The game was on and I was on a wild ride earthbound trying to stay in position on Carson. At the time it seemed we were diving almost vertical and the 190 pilot was doing big barrel rolls, and we were right with him.

As Carson closed range, he started getting strikes on the 190. This and the ground coming up caused the German to flare and level off. We were now at about 300 feet and every soldier with a weapon was firing at me. I even saw one officer whip out a pistol and shoot at us! The Germans had AA weapons on the roofs and in parks – they were all concentrating on me! I saw the Seine River off to my right and swung over and down onto it, hugging the north bank which got to be about 50’ high. The guns could not repress enough to reach me that way.

Carson had taken the same route and I confirmed his victory. I had a new appreciation for the daring and flying skills of the man who would ultimately become the leading ace of the 357th, Leonard K. Carson.”

bobbysocks

12-01-2010, 05:53 PM

Ivan Nikitovich Kozhedub... Allied Leading Ace... 62 Kills..

Russian Ace of WW11, Ivan Kozhedub was the leading Soviet and Allied Ace of WWII. Flying mainly the Lavochkin La-7 fighter aircraft, he carried out 330 sorries, was involved in 120 aerial combats and was credited with 62 confirmed victories. Earning the nickname "Ivan the Terrible", he was the only Soviet pilot to shoot down a Messerschmitt Me-262 jet fighter. Ivan was one of only two Soviet fighter pilots to be awarded the Gold Star(Hero of the Soviet Union) three times during World War II. Soviet Air Forces suffered very high losses during World War II. US historians David M. Glantz and Jonathan House("When Titans Clashed", 1995) give the figure 88,300 Soviet combat aircraft lost. The Germans claimed the destruction of 77,000 Soviet aircraft(including 45,000 in aerial combat) during the entire war.

Born in Ukraine in 1920, Ivan Kozhedub began his rather distinguished career in the VVS in 1940 and was graduated as a pilot at Chuguyey military flying school a year later. Ironically prevented from fighting because his skill as a pilot made him more useful as an instructor, Kozhedub did not fly his first combat mission until March 26, 1943. He was posted as a Starshij Serzhant in the 240 IAP on Voronezh Front flying La-5s in 1943. He did not make his mark against the Luftwaffe until several months later when the regiment became greatly involved in the Battle of Kursk. Kozhedub, who had by now become a Miadshij Lejtenant, was off on July 6 with three fellow pilots providing ground force cover in the Pokrovka area where they stormed into a formation of 22 Ju 87s with Kozhedub destroying one of them. He claimed another of these the following day and on the 9th Kozhedub and his flight were assigned to a front-line patrol and became involved in a melee with nine Ju 87s, four Bf 109s and two Fw 190s. During this combat he bagged a Bf 109 on his first pass and with his fourth kill met the conditions for the award of his first Order of the Red Banner.

A short time later he took over as leader of a fighter squadron which was to be credited with downing 12 Bf 109s, 11 Ju 87s and a Fw 190 during 165 combat sorties between August 21 and October, 1943. Kozhedub became a devotee of the surprise attack closing right in before firing. He now began to pile up victories at a remarkable pace. On August 9 another Bf 109 fell to his guns while leading four fighters on a Pe-2 escort to Kharkov. Six Luftwaffe fighters rose to oppose them but broke away as the La-5s turned into their attack. Six days later he made a claim for two Bf 109s when enemy aircraft tried to bounce a Pe-2 reconnaissance plane and on August 22 was leading an escort for 14 Pe-2 bombers to Merefa(SW Kharkov). In the target area they came under attack of Fw 190s , one of them being shot down in flames by Kozhedub himself. He had by now become a Kapitan and on September 30 splashed a Ju 87 for a change while leading six of his squadron to bounce 18 Stukas in the Borodayevka area.

He continued his streak into October, when the regiment became involved in the ferocious battles above the Dnyepr River. In 10 days of combat he ran up a string of 11 kills while runners-up were Vasilij Mukhin and Pavel Bryzgalov with five apiece. On October 1 he was leading six La-5s against two large gaggles of Ju 87s west of Pogrebnaya and blasted two of them as his squadron got two more. The following day he shot down another of these together with a Bf 109 when eight of his squadron took on 27 enemy planes destroying four dive-bombers along with three Messerschmitts for no losses. He was in action three days later claiming a Bf 109 shot down in flames when 14 La-5s tackled with 15 fighters near Borodayevka.

Later that afternoon he added another 109 when combat occurred with 12 Ju 87s escorted by six fighters. The total claims for this affray were three Ju 87s and a Bf109. He was wounded in a fighter battle on the 12th but was able to stagger back to his own airfield being back on duty a few days later. On October 29 Kozhedub and five of his comrades were off on a sweep and once over the front made contact with a formation of He 111s, Kozhedub claiming one of them destroyed. Shortly after this they met Luftwaffe dive-bombers engaged in bombing ground targets with Kozhedub blasting one out of the sky. With 20 personal kills he now was well qualified for his first award of the coveted title Hero of the Soviet Union and had already established a reputation for aggressiveness, skill and tenacity.

It is particularly noteworthy that he required only 27 encounters to pile up his kills during the course of 146 sorties, 90 of which were escorts, 39 ground force cover, 9 armed reconnaissance and 8 scrambles. After a short rest from operations Kozhedub was again in the thick of fighting and on January 1, 1944 was providing ground force cover with five La-5s between Kapitanovka-Lebedin(NW Kirovograd), where they engaged nine Ju 87s, four of these being shot down. Kozhedub personally accounted for one as a Bf 109 fell to his guns a short time later. He participated in periods of intense activity that flared up along the Yuzhnyj Bug River and subsequently took part in the brutal battles over Rumania. In the same time frame he was in a highly competitive scoring race with another great fighter ace, Kirill Yevstigneyey.

Kozhedub claimed another Ju 87 shot down in flames on March 14, 1944 while leading five La-5s assigned to patrol the air space over the Yuzhoyj Bug and five days later forced down an He 111 when four fighters under his leadership took on 18 bombers escorted by six Messerschmitts in the vicinity of Vulturul. On the 29th six La- 5s with Kozhedub in the lead were sweeping over the Yassy area where they engaged a formation of 10 Hs 129s and four Bf 109s. Kozhedub went after the assault aircraft, pulled in to point-blank range and after several bursts one of them blew up and crashed. In an outstanding effort Kozhedub's squadron had been credited with 65 enemy planes in the air since August, 1943 consisting of 23 Bf 109s, 30 Ju 87s, 5 He 111s, 2 Hs 129s, one Fw 190, three Fw 189s and one PZL-24 during 710 sorties(318 ground force cover, 357 escorts, 35 armed reconnaissance). Kozhedub's score now had risen to 34 and he was recommended for his second Gold Star award.

Lavochkin La-7
Triumph followed triumph. At Yassy, victories continued to come thick and fast. He chalked up four more kills between June 1 and June 3 to run his tally to 43 but Yevstigneyev in the same time frame had increased his score to 44 by claiming five aerial victories. A short time later he was posted as deputy commanding officer of the 176 GIAP flying La-7s. On September 22 he took off with Lejtenant Sharapov on a patrol and engaged two gaggles of Fw 190 fighter-bombers comprising of 4-8 aircraft each and shot down two of them in quick succession opening fire at 150 meters. He added another of these on January 16, 1945 while victory number 50 came on February 10.

On this day Kozhedub was carrying out a free hunt with Major Titarenko as his number two in the vicinity of the Oder River, two German fighters being seen, and Kozhedub shot down one of these. The enemy pilot made a forced landing in his crippled aircraft in a pasture and became a prisoner. It was discovered that he was an ace with eight victories but his identity has unfortunately not been established. Two days later he was off on another free hunt with Lejtenant Gromakovskij flying wing to him and while sweeping over the Konitz area they spotted 18 Fw 190s fighter bombers flying at 400 meters. They immediately swept down and Kozhedub opened fire on "tail end Charlie," seeing hits exploding all over him and pieces flying off in all directions whereupon he spun into the ground in a solid sheet of flame. He then destroyed two more in quick succession which crashed 10-12 km southwest of Konitz. Gromakovskij shot another off Kozhedub's tail for his second kill of the day.

Kozhedub is believed to have shot down one of the first Messerschmitt Me-262 jets to be encountered on Eastern Front during February but the date for this remains dubious. The date given by Kozhedub himself is the 19th while others are suggesting the 15th or 24th of February. It seems most likely that this claim has never been officially accepted as it cannot be traced in his "nagradnoj lisf'- the recommendation submitted by Polkovnik Chupikov, the commander of the 176 GIAP, for the award of his third title of Hero of the Soviet Union on March 31, 1945. On March 18 he claimed a Fw 190 that crashed 5-6 kilometers northwest of Kiistrin and five days later four La-7s with Kozhedub and Major Kumanichkin in the lead tackled with some 30 Fw 190s in the Seelow area. Kozhedub and Major Titarenko attacked from the sun claiming single 190s each on their first pass before breaking away in a high speed climb. In continuing action Kozhedub bagged a second while in taking on another gaggle Kumanichkin and his wingman, Gromakovskij, both knocked down singles with the latter's victim taking to his parachute. By March 31, 1945 Kozhedub had reached 60 confirmed kills becoming the top Allied fighter pilot of the war.

During the Korean conflict he displayed exceptional leadership, his unit claiming 207 U.N. aircraft destroyed for the loss of 27 MiG-15s in combat and 9 pilots. He later was assigned as an inspector of VVS flight training between 1956 and 1963 and in January, 1964 became deputy commander of the Moscow PVO forces. In 1967 Kozhedub was appointed president of the Aviation Sports Federation and vice president of the International Federation of Aviation(FAI). He later rose to Marshal Aviatsii and was assigned as an inspector of the Soviet Ministry of Defense.

Perhaps the last words should be left to Kozhedub himself, who provides the following revealing recollections: "I destroyed my first enemy aircraft in the air during the Battle of Kursk. Historians have been setting forth my total score as 62 victories. As a matter of fact this figure requires revision. There were many victories that either remained unconfirmed or were credited to fellow pilots. I reckon that my personal score actually is in excess of 100 victories while I never counted enemy aircraft destroyed jointly with my comrades."

Air Marshal Ivan Nikitovich Kozhedub passed away in August, 1991.

Quotes by Ivan.........

"I requested a transfer to the front more than once. But the front required well-trained fliers. While training them for future battles, I was also training myself. At the same time, it felt good to hear of their exploits at the front. In late 1942, I was sent to learn to fly a new plane, the Lavochkin LaG-5. After March 1943, I was finally in active service.

My first appointment was to the 240th Fighter Air Regiment (Istrebitelsky Aviatsy Polk, or IAP), which began combat operations on the first day of the war, on the Leningrad front. Since many graduates of the Chuguyev school served there, I did not feel out of place, not even at the beginning. Our pilot personnel included people of many nationalities. There were Belorussians, Tartars, Georgians, Russians and Ukrainians. We were all like one big family.

I got LaG-5 No. 75. Like other aircraft of our regiment, it had the words "Named after Valery Chkalov" inscribed on its fuselage. Those planes were built on donations from Soviet people. But my plane was different. Other fliers had aircraft with three fuel tanks, which were lighter and more maneuverable, whereas my fivetank aircraft was heavier. But for a start its potential was quite enough for me, a budding flier. Later on, I had many occasions to admire the strength and staying power of this plane. It had excellent structural mounting points and an ingenious fire-fighting system, which diverted the exhaust gases into the fuel tanks, and once saved me from what seemed certain death.

In my first combat, I did not get a single scratch, but my plane was badly damaged. My commander said, with good reason, "Make haste only when catching fleas." I did not heed his advice. It seemed to me I could down at least two or three enemy planes at one go. Carried away by the attack, I did not notice an umbrella of Messerschmitt Bf-110s approaching me from behind. Of course, that was a bitter experience and a serious lesson for me. Despite general failures, our morale was quite high."

"We were ordered to attack a group of Junkers Ju-87 dive bombers. I chose a "victim" and came in quite close to it. The main thing was to fire in time. Everything happened in a twinkling. It was only on the ground, among my friends, that I recalled the details of this battle. Caution is all-important and you have to turn your head 360 degrees all the time. The victory belonged to those who knew their planes and weapons inside out and had the initiative. On July 7, I downed a second plane and, on July 8, I destroyed another two Bf-109 fighters."

"I was upset by my new appointment but only until I found out that I could fly with aces who went on lone-wolf operations. Day in and day out, we would fly in the morning and analyze our sorties back at the squadrons at noon. At 9 p.m., we used to gather in the canteen, where the commander gave an account of the results of the day. In this regiment, I also began to team up with Dmitry Titarenko.

The 176th Guards Fighter Regiment carried out 9,450 combat missions, of which 4,016 were lone-wolf operations; it conducted 750 air battles, in which 389 enemy aircraft were shot down."

"On February 19, 1945, 1 was on a lone-wolf operation together with Dmitry Titorenko to the north of Frankfurt. I noticed a plane at an altitude of 350 meters (2,170 feet). It was flying along the Oder at a speed that was marginal for my plane. I made a quick about-face and started pursuing it at full throttle, coming down so as to approach it from under the "belly." My wingman opened fire, and the Me-262 (which was a jet, as I had already realized) began turning left, over to my side, losing speed in the process. That was the end of it. I would never have overtaken it if it had flown in a straight line. The main thing was to attack enemy planes during turns, ascents or descents, and not to lose precious seconds."

"On the evening of April 17, we went on a lone-wolf operation over the suburbs of Berlin. All of a sudden we saw a group of 40 Fw-190s with bomb loads, flying at an altitude of 3,500 meters in our direction. We climbed to the left and flew behind them under the cover of clouds. The odds were obviously not in our favor, but we still decided to attack since the enemy aircraft were heading for our troops. At maximum speed, we approached the tail of the formation, out of the sun. I opened fire almost point-blank at the wingman of the last pair of aircraft. The first Fw-190 fell into the suburbs of the city. Several planes turned to the west, while others continued their flight.

We decided to drive a wedge into the combat formation and break it up. Making a steep dive, we swept past enemy planes. As often happened in such cases, the Nazis thought that there were a lot of us. Confused, they started jettisoning bombs. Then they formed a defensive circle--each fighter covering the tail of the one in front of him--and began to attack us. Titorenko skillfully downed the plane that followed me. At that point, we saw our fighters and we turned for home. But suddenly, we saw yet another Fw-190 with a bomb. Apparently, the pilot had received a warning, for he made a quick dive and jettisoned his bomb over the suburbs of Berlin. But I still reached him on the recovery from his dive. The plane literally burst in the air. We made a good landing but our fuel tanks were completely empty. After that battle, I brought my personal score of downed Nazi planes to a total of 62."

bobbysocks

12-01-2010, 06:00 PM

Hubert Stassl

Hubert Strassl enjoyed great success in the air battles over Kursk in July 1943. In just four days he gained 30 victories and demonstrated the superiority of the FW 190 over opposing Russian fighters. However, Strassl would not live long enough to savour his victories; he was dead before the Germans had been defeated at Kursk. He had a total of 67 Kills....

Early Life and Career
Hubert Strassl was born in Austria in 1918. After joining the Luftwaffe and undertaking fighter training, he went to the Eastern Front with 9./J.G. 51 towards the end of 1941. His first victory did not come until 6 July 1942, when he claimed at Pe-2 in the morning. In August 1942 he shot down ten Soviet aircraft, including seven more Pe-2s (four on 19 August alone), two LaGG-3s, and an Il-2. His rate of scoring then slowed dramatically. He got an Il-2 on 3 September, and no victories in October. In November 1942, III./J.G. 51 went to Jesau to convert to the FW 190, and the Gruppe received six FW 190 A-2s and seven FW 190 A-3s in that month.[1] On 26 November Uffz. Strassl shot down an Il-2, his thirteenth career victory.

Strassl was posted to the Ergänzung-Jagdgruppe Ost in March 1943. After a few months as an instructor, Strassl returned to III./J.G. 51 in May 1943. His score quickly began to mount. On 30 May he downed a Pe-2, and on the first day of June bagged a pair of MiG-3s. This was the first of as series of days when Strassl (promoted to Feldwebel between in mid-June) downed multiple enemy aircraft: three on the 2nd, two on the 6th, six on the 8th, and three on the 11th. Between 14 and 30 June 1943, Fw. Strassl shot down six MiG-3s, taking his tally to 36 victories. On the afternoon of 3 July he downed an Il-2 for victory number 37. Two days later the Germans launched their offensive at Kursk.

The Battle of Kursk
On 5 July 1943 Hubert Strassl's unit, III./J.G. 51, was based at Orel with Luftflotte 6, flying alongside I./J.G. 54, Stabsstaffel, Stab, I., and IV./J.G. 51 in support of Army Group Centre.[2] These fighters were tasked with escorting Ju 88s, He 111s, and Ju 87s of St.G.1, as well as flying scrambles and sweeps over the battle area.

At around 03:30 on 5 July 1943, the Soviets launched concentrated air attacks against the German airfields, and as all available Luftflotte 4 and 6 fighters scrambled, one of the largest air battles in history began. The Orel-based German fighters engaged the Soviets at 06:45, and it was Fw. Hubert Strassl who made J.G. 51's first two claims, for MiG-3s at 03:48 and 03:50. Just before 07:00, III./J.G. 51 was back into the fray over the northern sector of the Kursk battlefield. Soviet fighters were encountered at 3,000 m, and Strassl added three MiG-3s to his tally (downed at 07:18, 07:25 and 07:2.

Strassl's most successful mission of his combat career occurred mid-morning on 5 July, as III./J.G. 51 clashed with Soviet light bombers and their escort fighters. Strassl scored his Gruppe's first victory, a LaGG-5 at 10:34, and followed it up two minutes later with another. 9./J.G. 51 then engaged the fighters and accounted for six LaGGs, while 8./J.G. 51 attacked the bombers, which were flying about 1,000 m below their fighter escorts. Strassl downed an Il-2 and a Boston, along with a pair of LaGG-5s who had come down to attack the 8./J.G. 51 FW 190s. The only III./J.G. 51 mission on 5 July 1943 in which Hubert Strassl either did not take part or did not claim any victories was an hour after midday, when Bostons and LaGGs were attacked.

As evening approached on 5 July, a final combat was fought between the FW 190s of Luftflotte 6 and a Soviet bomber force. Between 18:11 and 19:17, the German fighters claimed 45 victories, and once more Hubert Strassl and III./J.G. 51 were in the thick of the action. The III. Gruppe was the first to engage, and at 18:24 and 18:27 Strassl claimed a pair of the big Il-4 bombers. He then downed two more from low-altitude at 18:31 and 18:33. III./J.G. 51 returned to Orel at around 19:00, after bagging three Soviet fighters and nine Il-4s. Strassl had claimed a remarkable fifteen victories in a single day.

On 6 July, Hubert Strassl wasn promoted to Oberfeldwebel. During the day he downed another four Soviet aircraft in his FW 190, the victories coming in two missions. III./J.G. 51 met LaGG-5s and MiG-3s at 12:30, and Ofw. Strassl claimed a LaGG-5 at 12:34, a MiG-3 at 12:37, and a LaGG-5 at 12:40. Later that afternoon III./J.G. 51 again engaged LaGG-5s and MiG-3s. Ofw. Strassl shot down one at 19:35, and Oblt. Maximilian Mayerl of 9./J.G. 51 claimed a LaGG-5 at the same time. III./J.G. 51 made no other claims in this combat.

On 7 July the fighters of Luftflotte 6 claimed 74 victories, and Ofw. Strassl made six of these claims. In the early morning 8./J.G. 51 encountered MiG-3s and Il-2s, the former at low-altitude. The Staffel made three claims, and Ofw. Strassl made two of these, for a MiG-3 at 04:20, and for an Il-2 at 04:25. In a fight with LaGG-5s shortly after 09:00, Ofw. Strassl made the only III./J.G. 51 victory claims, for LaGG-5s at 09:10, 09:24 and 09:26. At 18:36 he made his final claim for the day, another LaGG-5 at 1,800 m.

On 8 July 1943, Hubert Strassl was bounced by four Soviet LaGG-3s south of Ponyri, 60 km north of Kursk. Strassl had already downed three enemy aircraft on this day, but he was forced ever lower by the LaGG-3s, and eventually had to bail out of his FW 190 A-4 W.Nr 0142 351 'Black 4 + I' at 300 m. Unfortunately, Hubert Strassl failed to open his parachute in time.[3] Strassl posthumously received the Ehrenpokal on 22 July 1943, the Deutsches Kreuz in Gold on 16 August 1943, and the Ritterkreuz on 12 November 1943.

bobbysocks

12-04-2010, 03:17 AM

Saul Sitzer, veteran and Pappy's restaurant owner, dies

He had served in the Air Force during World War II and had been held by Germans

Saul Sitzer, who owned a popular Parkville restaurant and was a retired Air Force lieutenant colonel who flew numerous combat missions over Germany in World War II, died of stroke complications Sunday at the Loch Raven Veterans Affairs Hospital. He was 86 and lived in Perry Hall.
Born in Brooklyn, N.Y., and raised in the Canarsie section, he was the son of a Polish-born grocer. He was a 1942 graduate of Samuel J. Tilden High School.
He attended Brooklyn College and enlisted in what was then the Army Air Corps. He became a member of the Eighth Air Force's 357th Fighter Group.
"My father had excellent eyesight," said his son, David Sitzer, a bond specialist who lives in Baltimore. "He was small of stature and fit in a tight cockpit. He also had good reflexes."
He flew a P-51 Mustang, a single-engine fast and nimble fighter. He flew alongside several well-known pilots, including Chuck Yeager, who went on to break the sound barrier, and Leonard "Kit" Carson, who shot down 18 German fighters. Mr. Sitzer escorted bombers deep into Germany.
"The weather has been miserable all month [December 1944]. In the Ardennes Forest of Belgium, American troops, short of winter clothing and everything else, had been fighting desperately for a week to stem Germany's last massive attempt to change the course of the war," said a history of his unit written by Merle Olmsted.
Mr. Sitzer was credited with shooting down a German Messerschmitt. But on his 22nd mission, his plane was hit by ground fire. He parachuted, landed and suffered a broken nose. He told his family he was captured by a farmer with a rusty gun who alerted military police. He was held as a prisoner of war in Stalag Luft 1 in Barth, Germany.
He tried unsuccessfully to escape from a rail car that carried him to the camp, where he lived for nearly five months. Because he was Jewish, his German captors placed him in a separate part of the camp away from other captives. He was liberated by the Russian Army on May 1,1945.
After the war, he earned a bachelor's degree in history from the University of Delaware.
He remained in the National Guard. He survived a second crash in April 1951 at the Newcastle, Del., Air Force Base. He was badly burned and underwent skin-graft surgeries.
Mr. Sitzer flew transport planes during the Korean War, the Cold War and Vietnam War, where he flew under heavy fire. Throughout his career, he received numerous medals and decorations, including Bronze Stars and Oak Leaf Clusters.

RIP Saul....blue skies and tail winds...

bobbysocks

12-05-2010, 06:42 AM

David McCampbell

In one combat tour, David McCampbell shot down 34 Japanese aircraft. If he had served a second tour, he may very well have exceeded Dick Bong's total of 40. In recognition of his spectacular accomplishments: leading "Fabled Fifteen," personally accounting for 34 planes, and for his mission on October 24, McCampbell received the Congressional Medal of Honor, presented to him by President Roosevelt.

McCampbell also received the Navy Cross, the Silver Star Medal, Legion of Merit, and the Distinguished Flying Cross. After the war, McCampbell served in the Navy until his retirement in 1964. Married four times, David McCampbell must have had quite an eye for the ladies. He died in Florida after a lengthy illness on June 30, 1996.

"All available fighter pilots! Man your planes!" boomed the squawk box in Essex' ready room. The ship's radar had detected three large groups of Japanese planes coming in.

David McCampbell, the CAG and the Navy's most famous living aviator, considered this announcement. Earlier that morning, Admiral Sherman himself had forbidden McCampbell from joining a dawn sortie. Given his responsibilities as Commander of Essex' Air Group and his public prominence as a top ace, McCampbell was too valuable. He decided that he was indeed "available" and headed for his airplane, Minsi III. His plane crew hurried to fuel Minsi III, which had not been scheduled to fly that day. With the Hellcat only partially fueled, the Flight Officer ordered it off the flight deck - either into the air or below to the hangar deck. McCampbell went up, leading Essex's last seven fighters toward the Jap strike force.

He and Ens. Roy Rushing got out in front of the other Hellcats, putting on all speed to intercept the Japs, then only 22 miles away. He directed the other F6F's to get the bombers, while he and Rushing tackled the fighters. Surprisingly, the enemy fighters turned, allowing McCampbell and Rushing to gain altitude and a position behind them.

Seeing over 40 Japanese fighters, McCampbell radioed back to the carrier for help. "Sorry, none available." The enemy planes spread out in a typical formation of three V's. McCampbell picked out a Zero on the extreme right and flamed it. Rushing also got one on this first pass. Incredibly, there was no reaction from the Japs as they climbed back up to regain altitude. The two Hellcat pilots dived back down on their quarry for another pass; McCampbell blew up a second Zero. Now the gaggle of Zeros, Tonys, Hamps, and Oscars reacted - by going into a Lufbery! McCampbell made a couple of head-on passes against the formation, but without results.

A strange interlude ensued as McCampbell and Rushing climbed back up and circled, while the Japanese fighters continued to circle below. McCampbell radioed again for help; one of the Hellcats that had been going after the bombers headed his way. The Lufbery broke up and the planes headed toward Luzon in a wide Vee. The two American fliers closed in again on the formation. McCampbell opened up at 900 feet, and exploded his third plane of the morning. Rushing shot down his second one.

Apparently low on fuel, the Japanese planes doggedly flew on, maintaining formation. On his next firing pass, gunfire coming from behind forced McCampbell to break off his attack and pull up. It was another Hellcat shooting too close to him. A few choice words straightened things out. Still the enemy planes didn't turn and mix it up.

McCampbell realized he could relax and take his time. This was practically gunnery exercise. He could focus on identifying his targets carefully. The next one was an Oscar. Again his six fifties roared anad blasted the Oscar's wing root. It flamed for number four. Rushing had scored his third by this time. This continued for several more passes until McCampbell had downed 7 and Rushing 6. Rushing radioed that he was out of ammo, but he would stay on McCampbell's wing while the CAG used up his remaining bullets.

Two more passes and two more kills. As the Jap planes approached the security of their bases on Luzon, the two Americans' low fuel finally ended the slaughter. The Hellcats broke off and headed for Essex. In one morning sortie, McCampbell had shot down nine enemy planes and Rushing six, an unparalleled achievement in American fighter aviation.

bobbysocks

12-05-2010, 06:44 AM

Jorma Sarvanto and six kills in four minutes

Message was received at 11:50 - '7 bombers flying south following the northern railway!'. The pilots from 4./Sqn 24 (Lentolaivue - Fighter Squadron) climbed in their fighters, warmed up the engines and turned their radios on. Lieutenant Jorma Sarvanto listened to the radio traffic, soon he and his wingman (constituting one patrol) were ordered to take off. After take off the wingman found that he had an engine problem (snow had clogged the engine air intake during take off) and he had to return. Lt. Sarvanto continued alone at the optimum rate of climb, direction North to meet the enemy.

The second patrol took off after noticing that Lieutenant Sarvanto had to go alone, but Sarvanto had a good head start. Now the clouds had disappeared from the sky at Utti, and Sarvanto discovered the handsome formation of DB bomber bellies lit by dim sun shining through the haze. He counted seven silver coloured DB-3 bombers. To the left - a wedge of three, to the right - four abreast, all no farther than one plane length from each other. There was no fighter escort.

Sarvanto continued climbing, turning right to south. For a moment he was within the range and sector of the bomber nose gunners, but remained unnoticed due to sun glare. When he was at the same altitude of 3000 m with the bombers, he was about 500m behind them. Sarvanto pursued the enemy at full power. He decided to attack the leftmost wing bomber, although the third from left was closest to him, to avoid getting into cross-fire from the rear gunners. At a distance of 300 m his plane vibrated unpleasantly - he had flown in a bomber gunner MG salvo.

The fighter pilot kept on approaching the bombers. At a distance of 20 (twenty) meters he aimed at the fuselage of his victim, the left wing bomber, and pressed the trigger briefly. The tracers hit the target. Next, he shifted his aim at the rear gunner of the tail bomber, and shot him. Lt. Sarvanto then carefully aimed at the right engine of the first bomber and fired a brief burst. The bomber's engine caught fire. He repeated the same maneuver at the tail bomber with similar result. Two burning DB-3 bombers were leaving the formation.

Jorma Sarvanto cheered aloud and attacked the right wing of the formation while the bomber rear gunners blazed at his Fokker. He fired at each engine of the nearest bomber, making them smoke and forcing the bomber to leave the formation. Then he engaged the other bombers at a very close range. Each victim caught fire after two to three brief bursts of MG fire. Sarvanto glanced back - the smoking bomber was now in flames and diving to the ground.

Now Sarvanto decided to destroy every aircraft of the DB-3 formation. Some burning bombers made a slow half-roll before diving down, another pulled up before diving down. All the time they were flying south, the sun shone red through the haze low in southern horizon unless dimmed by smoke from a burning enemy plane.

Bomber no.6 was much more resistant to his bullets. The Fokker wing guns were out of ammo by now, but finally the DB-3 caught fire, and Finnish pilot could engage the last bomber. He had already eliminated the rear gunner, so he could fly close to the target. He aimed at one engine and pressed the trigger. Not a single shot. Sarvanto pulled the loading lever and retried shooting, but again in vain. He had spent his ammunition. There was nothing to do but leave the bomber alone and return to the base.

Columns of black smoke hung in the air and burning bomber wrecks could be seen on the ground. Sarvanto checked his instruments, there was no damage to vital parts, but his radio was dead and the Fokker's wings resembled Swiss cheese. When preparing for landing he found that the hydraulic pump for the landing flaps did not work, but he landed successfully despite that.

Lt. Sarvanto felt very satisfied as he parked his Fokker, but he did not quite get out of the cockpit before his cheering ground crew grabbed him and threw him in the air. The flight lasted 25 minutes and the actual battle around four minutes, during which he shot down 6 DB-3 bombers belonging to the 6th DBAP of the Soviet Air Force.

bobbysocks

12-05-2010, 06:47 AM

Hiroyoshi Nishizawa

With 87 confirmed victories, and 187 claimed, Nishizawa is a God among mortals... Many leading fighter pilots of World War II, such as Germany's Erich Hartmann, Russia's Ivan Kozhedub and America's Richard Bong, looked as if they had been born for the honor. Japan's ace-of-aces, Hiroyoshi Nishizawa, was a striking exception. One of his comrades in arms, Saburo Sakai, wrote that "one felt the man should be in a hospital bed. He was tall and lanky for a Japanese, nearly five feet eight inches in height. He had a gaunt look about him; he weighed only 140 pounds, and his ribs protruded sharply through his skin." Although Nishizawa was accomplished in both judo and sumo, Sakai noted that his comrade "suffered almost constantly from malaria and tropical skin disease. He was pale most of the time."
Sakai, who was one of Nishizawa's few friends, described him as usually being coldly reserved and taciturn, "almost like a pensive outcast instead of a man who was in reality the object of veneration." To the select few who earned his trust, however, Nishizawa was intensely loyal.

Nishizawa underwent a remarkable metamorphosis in the cockpit of his Mitsubishi A6M Zero fighter. "To all who flew with him," wrote Sakai, "he became 'the Devil'....Never have I seen a man with a fighter plane do what Nishizawa would do with his Zero. His aerobatics were all at once breathtaking, brilliant, totally unpredictable, impossible, and heart-stirring to witness." He also had the hunter's eye, capable of spotting enemy aircraft before his comrades knew there was anything else in the sky.

Even when a new generation of American aircraft was wresting the Pacific sky from the Japanese, many were convinced that as long as he was at the controls of his Zero, Nishizawa was invincible. And that proved to be the case.

Hiroyoshi Nishizawa was born on January 27, 1920, in a mountain village in the Nagano prefecture, the fifth son of Shuzoji and Miyoshi Nishizawa. Shuzoji was the manager of a sake brewery. After graduating from higher elementary school, Hiroyoshi worked for a time in a textile factory. Then, in June 1936, a poster caught his eye: an appeal for volunteers to join the Yokaren (flight reserve enlistee training program). He applied and qualified as a student pilot in Class Otsu No. 7 of the Japanese Navy Air Force (JNAF). He completed his flight training course in March 1939, graduating 16th out of a class of 71.

After service with the Oita, Omura and Sakura kokutais (air groups) in October 1941, Nishizawa was assigned to the Chitose Kokutai (Ku.). After the December 7, 1941, raid on Pearl Harbor and the outbreak of war with the United States, a chutai (squadron) from the Chitose group, including Petty Officer 1st Class (PO1C) Nishizawa, was detached to Vunakanau airfield on the newly taken island of New Britain, arriving in the last week of January 1942. They were equipped with 13 obsolescent Mitsubishi A5M fighters bequeathed to them by the Tainan and 3rd kokutais (which had re-equipped with the new A6M2 Zeros). The detachment got its first three Zeros on January 25.

Nishizawa was flying an A5M over Rabaul on February 3 when he and eight comrades encountered two Consolidated Catalina I flying boats of the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) that were operating from the Allied sea and air base at Port Moresby, New Guinea. One of the Catalinas evaded the Japanese, but Nishizawa attacked the other and disabled one of its engines. The Australian pilot, Flight Lt. G.E. Hemsworth, managed to nurse his crippled plane back to Port Moresby on the remaining engine, while his gunner, Sergeant Douglas Dick, claimed an enemy fighter that was later counted as a probable. Nishizawa, on the other hand, was credited with the Catalina as his first victory.

Rabaul was attacked by small groups of Allied bombers throughout February. The Japanese took Sarumi and Gasmata in western New Britain on February 9 and promptly established staging bases there. On the following day, several detachments, including Nishizawa's unit from the Chitose Ku., were amalgamated into a new air group, the 4th. As new Zeros became available, Nishizawa was assigned an A6M2 bearing the tail code F-108.

Twelve Zeros of the 4th Ku. were escorting eight bombers in a raid on Horn Island on March 14 when they encountered seven Curtiss P-40E Warhawks of the 7th Squadron, 49th Pursuit Group, U.S. Army Air Forces (USAAF), led by Captain Robert L. Morissey. In the fight that ensued, three pilots of the 4th Ku., including Nishizawa, claimed six P-40s, along with two probables, while their opponents claimed five Zeros. In actuality, the Japanese lost two fighters and their pilots (Lt. j.g. Nobuhiro Iwasaki and PO1C Genkichi Oishi), while the Americans lost one P-40 whose pilot, 2nd Lt. Clarence Sandford, bailed out over Bremer Island.

The Japanese did not encourage the tallying of individual scores, being more inclined toward honoring a team effort by units. As with the French and Italians, Japanese victories were officially counted for the air group, not for individuals. Generally, attempts to verify personal claims by Japanese airmen can only be conducted from postwar examinations of their letters and diaries, or those of their comrades.

Nishizawa's next claim was a Supermarine Spitfire over Port Moresby on March 24. He was also one of five Japanese pilots who participated in shooting down three alleged Spitfires claimed over the same location on March 28. It may safely be said, however, that the Japanese had misidentified their opponents, since there were no Spitfires in Australia at that time.

Meanwhile, on March 8, Japanese forces had landed in northeastern New Guinea and captured Lae and Salamaua. Then, on April 1, the JNAF underwent a reorganization, during which the 4th Ku. became exclusively a bombing unit, and its fighter chutai--including Nishizawa--was incorporated into the Tainan Ku., under the command of Captain Masahisa Saito. The unit operated from the jungle airstrip at Lae, where the living conditions were miserable. "The worst airfield I had ever seen, not excluding Rabaul or even the advanced fields in China," said Tainan Ku. member PO1C Saburo Sakai. But his wingman, PO3C Toshiaki Honda, gleefully described Lae as "the best hunting grounds on the earth." Honda was referring to Port Moresby, an Allied hornet's nest lying just 180 miles away. There, RAAF P-40s were being bolstered by the Bell P-39 Airacobras of the 8th Pursuit Group, USAAF.

A flight of Tainan Ku. Zeros, led by Lt. j.g. Junichi Sasai, patrolled the Coral Sea and was making its return pass over Port Moresby on April 11 when the Japanese sighted a quartet of Airacobras. Sakai, covered by his two wingmen, PO3C Honda and Seaman 1st Class Keisaku Yonekawa, dove on the two rearmost P-39s and promptly shot down both.

"I brought the Zero out of its skid and swung up in a tight turn," Sakai wrote, "prepared to come out directly behind the two head fighters. The battle was already over! Both P-39s were plunging crazily toward the earth, trailing bright flames and thick smoke....I recognized one of the Zeros still pulling out of its diving pass, Hiroyoshi Nishizawa, a rookie pilot at the controls. The second Zero, which had made a kill with a single firing pass, piloted by Toshio Ota, hauled around in a steep pullout to rejoin the formation."

From that time on, Nishizawa and the 22-year-old PO1C Ota stood out among the veteran airmen of the Tainan Ku., later ranking alongside Sakai as the leading aces of the group. "Often we flew together," wrote Sakai, "and were known to the other pilots as the 'cleanup trio.'" Ota shared Nishizawa's mastery of the Zero's controls, but his personality could not have been more different; he was outgoing, jocular and amiable. Sakai thought Ota would have been "more at home, I am sure, in a nightclub than in the forsaken loneliness of Lae."

For the next several weeks, the Tainan Ku. had its share of successes, but opportunities seemed to elude Nishizawa. On April 23, he, Sakai and Ota shot up Kairuku airfield north of Port Moresby, and on April 29, Nishizawa was one of six Zero pilots who celebrated Emperor Hirohito's birthday by strafing Port Moresby Field itself. On neither occasion, however, did the Japanese encounter aerial opposition. Then, on May 1, eight Zeros were heading for Port Moresby when they encountered 13 P-39s and P-40s flying along slowly at 18,000 feet. Nishizawa, as usual, spotted them first and swung around in a wide turn to attack the enemy planes from the left and rear. His seven comrades were not far behind, and they took the Americans completely by surprise, shooting down eight before the survivors dove away.

Sakai, who claimed two victories in the fight, described what happened when they returned to Lae: "Nishizawa leaped from his cockpit as the Zero came to a stop. We were startled; usually he climbed down slowly. Today, however, he stretched luxuriously, raised both arms above his head, and shrieked, 'Yeeeeooow!' We stared in stupefaction; this was completely out of character. Then, Nishizawa grinned and walked away. His smiling mechanic told us why. He stood before the fighter and held up three fingers. Nishizawa was back in form!"

Nishizawa remained in form, downing two P-40s over Port Moresby the next day and another P-40 on May 3. On May 7, Sakai, Nishizawa, Ota and PO1C Toraichi Takatsuka jumped 10 P-40s over Port Moresby, each pilot accounting for a Curtiss on his first pass. Four more P-40s turned on them, but the Japanese outmaneuvered them with tight, arcing loops. They came around behind their attackers and shot down another three. Nishizawa shared in the destruction of two P-39s on May 12, and got two more Airacobras on May 13.

Torrential rains grounded the Tainan Ku. on May 15, and on the following dawn a flight of North American B-25 Mitchell bombers of the 3rd Bomb Group swooped over Lae and cratered the runway with bomb hits. The day was spent repairing the damage. That night, Nishizawa, Ota and Sakai were lounging in the radio room, listening to the music hour on an Australian station when Nishizawa recognized Camille Saint-Saëns' eerie "Danse Macabre." "That gives me an idea," he said excitedly. "You know the mission tomorrow, strafing at Moresby? Why don't we throw a little dance of death of our own?"

Ota dismissed Nishizawa's proposal as the ravings of a madman, but he persisted. "After we start home, let's slip back to Moresby, the three of us, and do a few demonstration loops right over the field," Nishizawa suggested. "It should drive them crazy on the ground!"

"It might be fun," replied Ota. "But what about the commander? He'd never let us go through with it."

"So?" replied Nishizawa with a broad grin. "Who says he must know about it?"

On May 17, Lt. Cmdr. Tadashi Nakajima led the Tainan Ku. in a maximum effort to neutralize Port Moresby, with Sakai and Nishizawa as his wingmen. The strafing run accomplished nothing, however, and three formations of Allied fighters took on the Zeros in a swirling dogfight. Five P-39s were claimed by the Japanese, including a double for Sakai and some possible shared victories for Nishizawa. However, two Zeros were shot up over the field and later crashed in the Owen Stanley Mountains, killing Lt. j.g. Kaoru Yamaguchi and PO2C Tsutomu Ito.

The Japanese formation realigned for the return flight. Sakai signaled Nakajima that he was going after an enemy plane he had seen and peeled off. Minutes later, he was over Port Moresby again, to keep his rendezvous with Nishizawa and Ota. After establishing their routine by means of hand gestures and checking one more time for Allied fighters, the trio performed three tight loops in close formation. After that, a jubilant Nishizawa indicated that he wanted to repeat the performance. Diving to 6,000 feet, the Zeros did three more loops, still without coming under any fire from the ground. The Japanese then headed back to Lae, arriving 20 minutes after the rest of the unit had landed.

At about 9 p.m., an orderly told Sakai, Ota and Nishizawa that Lieutenant Sasai wanted them in his office immediately. When they arrived, he held up a letter. "Do you know where I got this thing?" he shouted. "No? I'll tell you, you fools; it was dropped on this base a few minutes ago, by an enemy intruder!"

The letter, written in English, said: "To the Lae Commander: We were much impressed with those three pilots who visited us today, and we all liked the loops they flew over our field. It was quite an exhibition. We would appreciate it if the same pilots returned here once again, each wearing a green muffler around his neck. We're sorry we could not give them better attention on their last trip, but we will see to it that the next time they will receive an all-out welcome from us."

Nishizawa, Sakai and Ota stood at stiff attention and made a herculean effort to conceal their mirth while Sasai dressed them down over their "idiotic behavior" and prohibited them from staging any more aerobatic shows over enemy airfields. Still, the Tainan Ku.'s three leading aces secretly agreed that Nishizawa's aerial choreography of the "Danse Macabre" had been worth it.

Nishizawa added another P-39 to his score on May 20. A strike on Lae by six B-25Cs of the 13th Squadron, 3rd Bomb Group, on May 24 brought a vicious reaction by 11 Zeros. Nishizawa reached the Mitchells first, and in moments his cannon shells sent the lead plane, flown by Captain Herman F. Lowery, crashing in flames just beyond the Japanese airstrip. In the running fight that ensued between Lae and Salamaua, Ota got the second B-25 in the formation, Sakai got two and Sasai another, leaving only one riddled survivor to return to Port Moresby.

The Japanese were flying low over the jungle on May 27 when they encountered four Boeing B-17Es of the 19th Bomb Group flying in column, escorted by 20 Bell P-400s (export models of the P-39 with a 20mm cannon in place of the P-39's 37mm weapon) of the 35th Pursuit Group, which had arrived at Port Moresby to relieve the battered 8th Group in late May. The Zeros attacked from below and a low-level dogfight ensued, during which Sakai shot down one Airacobra and drove another down to crash in a mountain pass. Coincidentally, Nishizawa and Ota also claimed Airacobras under identical circumstances, each one driving his victim down to crash and then pulling up at the last possible second.

Nishizawa added another P-39 to his personal tally on June 1, followed by two more on June 16. On June 25, he personally downed a P-39 and shared in the destruction of a second with two other pilots. Another P-39 fell to his guns on July 4.

Despite such dazzling successes, the Japanese did not have things entirely their way. Twenty-three Zeros intercepted a flight of B-26s over Lae on June 9. They had claimed four of them over Cape Ward Hunt when they were jumped by 11 P-400s of the 39th Squadron, 35th Fighter Group. Warrant Officer Satoshi Yoshino, a 15-victory ace, was shot down and killed by Captain Curran L. Jones, who later brought his score up to five while flying a Lockheed P-38F Lightning. Even the redoubtable Nishizawa met his match on July 11; his Zero was shot up in an unsuccessful attempt to bring down a B-17, but he did down a P-39 on the same day. Similarly, a Lockheed A-28 Hudson proved too fast and tough for him to bring down on July 22. On July 25, however, he downed another P-39 over Port Moresby and joined eight other Zeros in shooting down a B-17 over Buna.

When five more B-17s came to bomb Lae on August 2, the Japanese tried out a new tactic--attacking head-on. The result was spectacular--Nishizawa's cannon shells tore into the first and it exploded in flames. Ota, Sasai and Sakai, also accounted for B-17s. Three P-39s tried to intervene, only to be outmaneuvered and shot down by Nishizawa, Ota and Sakai. After a running fight, the fifth Fortress was also shot down, but not before its gunners had damaged Sakai's Zero and shot down Seaman 1st Class Yoshio Motoyoshi--Nishizawa's wingman. Upon landing, Nishizawa ignored the cheers of his ground crewmen. "Refuel my plane and load my guns," he ordered, and he set out on a lone search for his lost wingman. "Two hours later he returned," Sakai wrote, "misery written on his face."

The Tainan Ku. moved to Lakunai airfield on Rabaul the next day. On August 7, word arrived that U.S. Marines had landed on the island of Guadalcanal, more than 500 miles away at the lower end of the Solomon Islands chain, at 5:20 that morning. Without delay, Lt. Cmdr. Nakajima led 17 Zeros to escort 27 Mitsubishi G4M bombers of the 4th Ku. in an attack on the U.S. Navy task force supporting the invasion. The Japanese were met by 18 Grumman F4F-4 Wildcat fighters and 16 Douglas SBD-3 Dauntless dive bombers from the aircraft carriers Saratoga, Enterprise and Wasp.

Nishizawa was credited with six F4Fs in this first air battle between land-based Zeros and American carrier fighters. One of his victims was probably Lieutenant Herbert S. ("Pete") Brown of VF-5, who was attacked by a Zero that made a full-deflection shot from about 1,500 feet overhead, shattering his canopy and wounding him in the hip and leg. Pete Brown reported that his opponent came alongside him, and after the two adversaries had looked each other over, the Japanese pilot grinned and waved. The skill and wildness of Brown's antagonist both suggest Nishizawa's style, but for neither the first nor last time, his assumption of the F4F's demise was premature. Brown managed to make it back to his carrier, Saratoga. Other likely VF-5 victims of Nishizawa included Ensign Joseph R. Daly, who was shot down in flames and badly burned but parachuted to safety just off Guadalcanal, and Lt. j.g. William M. Holt, who was killed.

After a difficult fight, Sakai destroyed an F4F of VF-5 flown by Lieutenant James J. Southerland II, who was wounded but bailed out and survived. Sakai then downed an SBD-3 of Wasp's scouting squadron VS-71, killing Aviation Radioman 3rd Class Harry E. Elliott and wounding the pilot, Lieutenant Dudley H. Adams, who was subsequently rescued by the destroyer Dewey. Next, Sakai pounced on what looked like eight Wildcats--only to discover too late that they were really SBDs of VB-6 and VS-5. One of the dive bombers' .30-caliber rear guns struck Sakai in the head, temporarily blinding him.

The fight broke up and the Zeros re-formed for the return leg of their long mission. Nishizawa noticed that Sakai was missing and went into another of his mad rages. Peeling off on his own, he searched the area, both for signs of Sakai and for more Americans to fight, presumably even if he had to ram them. Eventually, he cooled off and returned to Lakunai. Later, to everyone's amazement, the seriously wounded Sakai arrived, after an epic 560-mile flight. Nishizawa personally drove him, as quickly but as gently as possible, to the surgeon. Evacuated to Japan on August 12, Sakai lost an eye, but returned to combat in 1944 and brought his final score up to 64--the fourth-ranking Japanese ace.

Japanese claims in the August 7 air battle totaled 36 F4Fs (including seven unconfirmed) and seven SBDs. Actual American losses came to nine Wildcats and a Dauntless. Four F4F pilots (Holt, Lt. j.g. Charles A. Tabberer and Ensign Robert L. Price of VF-5, and Aviation Pilot 1st Class William J. Stephenson of VF-6) and SBD radioman Elliott were killed. American claims were more modest--seven bombers, plus five probables, and two Zeros. The Japanese actually suffered the loss of four G4Ms and another six returning to base so damaged as to be written off, along with the loss of two Tainan Ku. members, PO1C Mototsuna Yoshida (12 victories) and PO2C Kunimatsu Nishiura, both killed by Lt. j.g. Gordon E. Firebaugh of Enterprise's VF-6, just before Firebaugh himself was shot down and forced to bail out.

Sakai and Yoshida were just the first of many Japanese aces whose careers would be cut short in the course of a six-month struggle with the U.S. Army, Navy and Marine squadrons that were operating from Guadalcanal's Henderson Field. Junichi Sasai, whose official score then stood at 27, was killed by Captain Marion E. Carl of Marine fighter squadron VMF-223 on August 26. On September 13, PO3C Kazushi Uto (19 victories), Warrant Officer Toraichi Takatsuka (16) and PO2C Susumu Matsuki ( were killed in a wild dogfight with F4F-4s of VF-5 and VMF-223.

Nishizawa survived and adapted to the improving American aircraft and tactics. On October 5, he and eight other pilots downed a B-25 attacking Rabaul, and on the 8th he and eight comrades accounted for a torpedo bomber over Buka. During an encounter over Guadalcanal between 16 Tainan Ku. Zeros and eight F4F-4s of VMF-121 on October 11, Nishizawa scored the only success for either side when he forced 2nd Lt. Arthur N. Nehf to ditch his Wildcat in Lunga Channel. Nishizawa was credited with one of five F4Fs claimed by the Tainan Ku. during a fight with VMF-121 over Guadalcanal on October 13. The only actual Marine loss occurred when PO1C Kozaburo Yasui, PO3C Nobutaka Yanami and Seaman 1st Class Tadashi Yoneda shot up a Wildcat whose pilot, Captain Joseph J. Foss of VMF-121, succeeded in making a forced landing on Henderson Field. Nishizawa claimed another F4F on the 17th, along with a torpedo bomber shared with another pilot. He claimed an F4F in a melee with Major Leonard K. Davis' VMF-121 on October 20, but in fact neither side suffered any losses.

Toshio Ota mortally wounded Marine gunner Henry B. Hamilton of VMF-212 on October 21, for his 34th victory, but was himself shot down and killed moments later by 1st Lt. Frank C. Drury. On October 25, the career of another Tainan Ku. ace ended when Seaman 1st Class Keisaku Yoshimura (9 victories) fell victim to Joe Foss of VMF-121.

The JNAF underwent another reorganization on November 1, in which all units bearing names were redesignated by number. The Tainan Ku. thus became the 251st Kokutai. In the middle of the month, the group was recalled to Toyohashi air base in Japan to replace its losses. Commander Yasuna Kozono became the new commanding officer, Lt. Cmdr. Nakajima became its air officer, and new personnel were trained by a cadre of 10 surviving veterans, including Nishizawa. By the time he was withdrawn to Toyohashi, Nishizawa's total of personal and shared victories stood at about 55, but the tide of battle was turning in favor of the Americans. The last Japanese troops were evacuated from Guadalcanal on February 7, 1943. From that time on, the Allies would be permanently on the offensive in the Pacific.

While in Japan, Nishizawa visited Sakai, who was still recuperating in the Yokosuka hospital. Updating his friend on events, Nishizawa complained of his new duty as an instructor: "Saburo, can you picture me running around in a rickety old biplane, teaching some fool youngster how to bank and turn, and how to keep his pants dry?" Nishizawa also described the loss of most of their comrades to the growing might of the American forces. "It's not as you remember, Saburo," he said. "There was nothing I could do. There were just too many enemy planes, just too many." Even so, Nishizawa could not wait to return to combat. "I want a fighter under my hands again," he said. "I simply have to get back into action. Staying home in Japan is killing me."

The 251st Ku. returned to Rabaul on May 7, 1943, and resumed operations over New Guinea and the Solomons. Among the Zeros known to have been flown by Nishizawa during that time was an A6M3 Type 22 with the tail code UI-105. On May 14, 32 Zeros of the 251st Ku. escorted 18 G4M bombers of the 751st Ku. on a large raid to Oro Bay, New Guinea. They were met by P-40s and new Lockheed P-38 Lightnings of the 49th Fighter Group. A confused dogfight took place, during which the Japanese claimed 13 Americans (five of them admitted to be probables), while the 49th Group claimed 11 G4M "Bettys" (Allied code term for the bombers) and 10 of their "Zeke" escorts. The actual result was that six G4Ms failed to return to their base at Kavieng, New Ireland, and four returned damaged, while the 251st Ku. lost no pilots at all.

The only American loss was 2nd Lt. Arthur Bauhoff, whose P-38 was downed by two A6M3s, one of which was flown by Nishizawa. Bauhoff was seen parachuting into the water, but the boat that was sent to rescue him found only a pack of frenzied sharks to hint at his fate. The 7th Squadron's P-40Ks attacked the bombers, but 1st Lt. Sheldon Brinson was thwarted by a wildly maneuvering Zeke whose pilot was clearly an old veteran, and he escaped only by diving away. That may have been the P-40 claimed that day by Nishizawa, whose fighting style was certainly consistent with Brinson's description. Another P-40K of the 7th was so shot up that its landing gear collapsed, and the plane was written off, although its pilot, 1st Lt. John Griffith, was unhurt.

The 251st and 204th kokutais took off on June 7 to sweep the Guadalcanal area, only to be intercepted over the Russell Islands by a mixed bag of Allied opposition--Marine F4F-4s and Chance Vought F4U-1 Corsairs of VMF-112; P-40Fs of the 44th Squadron, 18th Fighter Group; P-38Fs of the 339th Squadron, 347th Fighter Group; and P-40E Kittyhawks of No. 15 Squadron, Royal New Zealand Air Force (RNZAF). As on May 14, both sides overclaimed--the 251st Ku. alone claiming 23 victories (five of which were probables), while the Allies claimed a total of 24 Zeros. Actual Allied losses were four F4Us and a P-40, along with several damaged (two of the four damaged RNZAF Kittyhawks had to crash-land on Russell Island), but miraculously, all their pilots survived. On the other hand, of the eight Zeros that were destroyed, seven of their pilots were killed, including four from the 251st Ku. Nishizawa's claims included his first Corsair, which may have been that of VMF-112's commander, Major Robert B. Fraser, who, after downing two Zeros for his fifth and sixth victories, was shot down himself but bailed out safely.

The main drama of the day, however, centered on PO1C Masuaki Endo, who shot up a P-38 before being driven off its tail by P-40 pilot 1st Lt. Jack A. Bade of the 44th Squadron, and was later credited with the Lightning by Japanese eyewitnesses. Endo then got into a head-on gun duel with 1st Lt. Henry E. Matson of the 44th, but his Zero was set on fire by the American's six .50-caliber machine guns. In a final self-sacrificial act, Endo crashed his Zero into Matson's P-40. Matson bailed out and survived the attention of three approaching Zeros by giving them a toothy grin and waving at them, to which the Japanese responded by waving back and flying away. He was subsequently recovered by a rescue boat. Matson's P-40 was credited as the 14th victory for Endo, whose death deprived the JNAF of yet another invaluable, experienced fighter pilot.

By mid-June, Nishizawa had added six more Allied planes to his total. After that, Japanese naval air groups completely abandoned the practice of recording personal victories, and Nishizawa's exact record became difficult to ascertain. During that time, however, his achievements were honored by a gift from the commander of the 11th Air Fleet, Vice Adm. Jinichi Kusaka--a military sword inscribed Buko Batsugun ("For Conspicuous Military Valor").

Nishizawa was transferred to the 253rd Ku. in September. He operated from Tobera, New Britain, until he was recalled to Japan a month later. At that time, Lt. Cmdr. Harutoshi Okamoto, commander of the 253rd Ku., reported that Nishizawa's total score stood at 85.

Nishizawa was promoted to warrant officer in November and again served as a trainer in the Oita Ku., but his performance in that role was judged barely tolerable by his superiors. He was assigned to the 201st Ku. in February 1944, transferring from Atsugi to defend the northern Kurile Islands against bombing raids by the U.S. Eleventh Air Force. Few opportunities to engage the enemy arose, however, and Nishizawa did not add anything to his score.

The threat of an American invasion of the Philippines grew, and 29 aircraft of Hikotai (detachment) 304 of the 201st Ku. were dispatched to Bamban airfield on the island of Luzon on October 22, 1944. On October 24, Nishizawa was with a contingent from that detachment, which was sent to Mabalacat airfield on Cebu Island.

On the following day, Nishizawa led three A6M5s, flown by Misao Sugawa, Shingo Honda and Ryoji Baba, to provide escort for five others, carrying 550-pound bombs. The volunteers piloting the bomb-armed Zeros, led by Lieutenant Yukio Seki, were to deliberately crash their planes into the American warships they encountered, preferably aircraft carriers, in the first official mission of the suicidal kamikaze, or "divine wind." Brushing aside interference from 20 Grumman F6F Hellcats, Nishizawa and his escorts claimed two of the Americans, bringing his personal score up to 87. The suicide attack was also successful--four of the five kamikazes struck their targets and sank the escort carrier St. Lô.

Nishizawa reported the sortie's success to Commander Nakajima after returning to base and then volunteered to take part in the next day's kamikaze mission. "It was strange," Nakajima later told Saburo Sakai, "but Nishizawa insisted that he had a premonition. He felt he would live no longer than a few days. I wouldn't let him go. A pilot of such brilliance was of more value to his country behind the controls of a fighter plane than diving into a carrier, as he begged to be permitted to do." Instead, Nishizawa's plane was armed with a 550-pound bomb and flown by Naval Air Pilot 1st Class Tomisaku Katsumata, a less experienced pilot who nevertheless dove into the escort carrier Suwannee off Surigao. Although the ship was not sunk, she burned for several hours--85 of her crewmen were killed, 58 were missing and 102 wounded.

Meanwhile, Nishizawa and several other pilots left Mabalacat that morning aboard a bomber to pick up some replacement Zeros at Clark Field on Luzon. Over Calapan on Mindoro Island, the bomber transport was attacked by two Hellcats of VF-14 from the carrier Wasp and was shot down in flames. Nishizawa, who had believed that he could never be shot down in aerial combat, died a helpless passenger--probably the victim of Lt. j.g. Harold P. Newell, who was credited with a "Helen" (Allied code name for the Nakajima Ki.49 Donryu army bomber) northeast of Mindoro that morning.

Upon learning of Nishizawa's death, the commander of the Combined Fleet, Admiral Soemu Toyoda, honored him with a mention in an all-units bulletin and posthumously promoted him to the rank of lieutenant junior grade. Because of the confusion toward the end of the war, the publication of the bulletin was delayed and funeral services for Japan's greatest fighter pilot were not held until December 2, 1947. Nishizawa was also given the posthumous name Bukai-in Kohan Giko Kyoshi, a Zen Buddhist phrase that translates: "In the ocean of the military, reflective of all distinguished pilots, an honored Buddhist person."

bobbysocks

12-05-2010, 08:03 PM

all the us fighter jocks wanted to be like godfrey and gentile...

Dominic S. Gentile was born on December 6, 1920. He enjoyed aviation as a youngster; he even acquired an Aerosport biplane as a teenager, and cut quite a figure in the small Ohio town of Piqua, flying it around, buzzing water towers, his girlfriend's house and the like. He enrolled in the Royal Canadian Air Force right out of high school. He soon transferred to the RAF and began flying in England. In 1942, he joined the No. 133 Eagle Squadron, composed only of American fighter pilots who had volunteered to fight with the British. Flying Spitfires and Hawker Hurricanes, the Eagle Squadrons gave Don Gentile the chance to prove himself in combat against the Germans. He score his first aerial victory on August 1, 1942, destroying an Fw-190 and a Ju-88 over France.

For this he was awarded the British Distinguished Flying Cross.

That September, he transferred into the United States Eighth Air Force: 336th Fighter Squadron, Fourth Fighter Group, which claimed over one thousand German aircraft destroyed. Several Eagles, such as Gentile, Don Blakeslee, Jim Goodson, and Duane Beeson, became top aces of the European theater, especially after the Group's conversion to P-51 Mustangs.

On a mission in early 1944, Gentile downed a couple of Germans, only to be bounced by two others. Gentile went into a tight turn with the Hun. Not many pilots could turn in a Thunderbolt on the deck with an FW-190, but Gentile had the skill and was too frightened to worry about spinning out. The Hun had his No. 2 glued on his wing and he soon showed Gentile he was a tough adversary. Gentile went shuddering and shaking over the treetops with the two Germans. He was cold with fright, the same as he had been in his green RAF days when he escaped a German assailant with violent black-out turns and pull-outs, thus winning the bet that his body could stand more black-outs than the Germans. On some reverse turns Gentile squirted what little ammunition he had left after downing the other two Jerries. Now he found himself without ammunition and with two determined, accomplished killers on his tail. In the head-on attacks the German discerned that the Thunderbolt's wings were not firing; this made him press the attack that much more resolutely. The Hun peppered Gentile with some 30° deflection shots. Gentile pulled away and flicked down.

One of the Germans had been lost in the maneuvering and Gentile found himself going around in circles over the trees, rawhided by the German. Gentile was defenseless without ammunition; his one chance of surviving the vendetta was to evade the German fire until his ammunition was also exhausted. The German kept pressing for the one brief opportunity of lining the Thunderbolt up in his sights. Gentile's hand got clammy on the throttle.

"Help! Help! I'm being clobbered!" Gentile screamed in near panic.

Somewhere above in the clouds the rest of his squadron was flying about. Until this day Gentile remembers the imperturbable drawl of Willard Millikan answering: "Now, if you will tell me your call sign and approximate position we'll send help."

Gentile shot back, "I'm down here by a railroad track with a 190!"

But Millikan couldn't find Gentile. The duel (cannon vs. flying skill) went on down below. Characteristically, Gentile began talking to himself: " . . . Keep calm, Gentile . . . don't panic."

Gentile still managed to keep one jump ahead of the German, but his desperation mounted. The Hun was lathered and remorseless, having seen the American clobber the two 190 pilots, his acquaintances and perhaps his friends. He knew by now that the American with the "Donnie Boy" insignia was a superlative pilot; this was a chance to blast an American ace out of the sky without risk. He kept firing, but the American always climbed or banked just inside his line of fire. Gentile felt like giving up; he was going to be shot down anyway; it would be better to get some altitude and bail out. But he had some last words:

"Horseback, Horseback! If I don't get back, tell 'em I got two 190s!"

The two fighters were flat-out on the deck, down by the railroad track, the German on the American's tail firing. The German began to close the gap. Gentile suddenly honked his ship up and stood it on his prop until it quivered and was ready to stall out. For the first time Gentile had gotten above the Hun and could have swooped down on him for a kill had his ammunition not been exhausted. Gentile had preserved himself. He had made the Hun fire all his ammunition without hitting him. The German suddenly peeled off and sulked home, his two FW comrades unavenged. Gentile bounced down the runway at Debden. He didn't bother to gun the motor before switching it off. He was spent and worn, his very fingers heavy with weariness. The intelligence officer jumped on the wing of his plane to interrogate him. Gentile didn't answer, just sitting in the cockpit rolling his eyes and panting.

One of the pilots composed a song to be sung to the tune of Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the Boys Are Marching. It became a Debden theme song. The chorus:

Help, Help, I'm being clobbered,
Down here by the railroad track,
Two 190s chase me 'round
And we're damn near to the ground
Tell them I got two if I don't make it back!

Duane Beeson and Don Gentile were involved in a highly publicized "ace race," to see who could shoot down more German planes. They both forwent leaves thay were due in early 1944 to continue their battle.

Gentile had a big day on March 8, 1944, when he shot down 3 Bf-109s (plus a shared credit) over Berlin. On April 5, 1944, Gentile claimed his 27th enemy planes destroyed, thus breaking Eddie Rickenbacker's WWI record of 26. (At the time the Eighth Air Force recognized ground kills as part of a pilots score, in part because strafing missions were felt to be least as dangerous, if not more so, than aerial combat. Seven of Gentile's destroyed aircraft were on ground kills.) Three days later, on April 8, Gentile downed three more planes, raising his total to 30. Gentile was credited with 21+ air victories. He scored two kills with the RAF in the Spitfire, 4.33 kills in the P-47 Thunderbolt, and 15.5 kills in the P-51B Mustang. He made half of his claims in March 1944, flying over the skies of Germany.

On April 13, a throng of local and US reporters gathered at Debden to greet Gentile, then the leading 8th AF ace. He buzzed the airfield, too closely as it happened, and "pranged his kite." Blakeslee was livid, and true to his word, sent Gentile home (whose tour was up anyway).

It was in the Fourth Fighter Group that Gentile met Captain John T. Godfrey, another American pilot who had been transferred from the RAF. With Godfrey as Gentile's wingman, the two formed a lethal combat team whose impressive teamwork destroyed more enemy planes than any other partnership of American fighter pilots. In June of 1944, the two men returned to the States, temporarily participated in a war bond tour, and were eventually separated after Gentile's assignment to Wright Field in Dayton, Ohio.

After the war Don Gentile stayed with the Air Force: as a test pilot at Wright Field, as a Training Officer in the Fighter Gunnery Program, and as a student officer at the Air Tactical School. In 1951, Don Gentile made his last flight, crashing a T-33 trainer which killed both Gentile and his passenger. His decorations include the Distinguished Service Cross, the Silver Star, the Distinguished Flying Cross, the Air Medal, the Presidential Unit Citation, the World War Two Victory Medal, the American Campaign Medal, the British Distinguished Flying Cross, the British Star, the Eagle Squadron Crest, and other foreign medals

bobbysocks

12-05-2010, 08:23 PM

Flight Sergeant Middleton RAAF

On the 28th/29th Nov 1942 flight sergeant Rawdon Middleton piloting a Stirling was sent to attack the FIAT works in Turin. Lacking power Middleton had great difficulty in gaining the 12000 ft required to clear the alps this lead to using excessive amounts of fuel requiring a go or no go decision, he pressed on.
Requiring to identify the target he dived too 2000 ft even though he knew regaining height would be extremely difficult passing over Turin three times in all before the target was confirmed..
Suddenly the aircraft came under intense light flak a large hole appeared in the port main plane and made lateral control very hard to maintain more flak was poured at the Stirling there was a loud explosion as an ack ack round detonated inside the cockpit. Middleton had the side of his face smashed open by shrapnel loosing his right eye and exposing his skull also shrapnel had entered his lower body and legs..
His co-pilot also received head and leg wounds that poured blood over the flooring of the plane, the wireless operator suffered leg wounds ,Middleton lost consciousness
The aircraft plummeted too 800ft before the co-pilot managed to arrest the dive and climbed back too 1500ft and drop the bomb load the flak continuing to be poured at their plane.
The three gunners onboard replied continuously until the tail turret was put out of action. Middleton had now regained consciousness and told his co-pilot to go back and receive first aid he returned to the cockpit before this was completed. Middleton could see very little and only speak with the loss of blood and great pain. The plane set course for home this meant crossing the alps in a damaged aircraft with insufficient fuel, thoughts of a forced landing in France where put to one side as Middleton decided to make for the English coast enabling his crew to bailout over home ground. He also realised that due to his own state of health it would not be an option for himself, crossing the French coast at 6000ft the battered Stirling came once again under heavy light anti aircraft fire and was struck many times. Middleton battled with the controls to maintain attitude and take what evasive action he could to protect his craft.
The English coast passed beneath the tattered bomber that was now down to five minutes of fuel, Middleton bank and ran parallel to the shore ordering the crew to jump five did but two remained with the plane. The Stirling plunged into the sea a few minutes later the bodies of the flight engineer and the front gunner where recovered the next day Middleton was lost with his aircraft.

Dogfight Over Bordeaux

On march 05, 1944, the 357th Fighter Group, led by Col. Russell Spicer, escorted B-24s of the Eighth Bomber Command on a raid to Bordeaux, France. The specific targets of the raid were submarines and their protection pens. The sub-pens were where the German "Wolf Packs" were based when not operating against Allied shipping.

I remember the weather conditions as being normal for Western Europe. Bombing would be guided by visual target selection, as lower clouds were scattered over the target area.

Upon rendezvous with the B-24 bombers, Col. Spicer (call named "Dryden") requested that the 363rd Squadron ("Cement" Squadron) furnish fighter support for a box of straggling B-24’s. My flight went back to pick up the stragglers.

I was leading the flight and my wingman was Lt. Bob Moore. The second element was led by Lt. William McGinley, with Flight Officer C.E. "Chuck" Yeager on his wing. Yeager was filling in for Lt. L.D. Wood on this particular flight. Wood had been forced to abort shortly after take off and return to our base at Leiston, England, due to mechanical problems.

As we approached the stragglers, I’d searched the skies for enemy aircraft, but none were seen. We took up a flight position about 3:00 o’clock to the bombers, at their altitude (but out of range of their 50 cal. machine guns). This was where Bomber Command wanted the fighter escort to stay. While the bomber boys liked our position "nice and close", it was all wrong for proper fighter coverage. We should have been about 5,000 ft. above and a couple of miles ahead of the bombers. At this time, General Jimmy Doolittle, was not commanding the Eighth, so we flew as ordered. Our primary mission was to protect the bombers not to destroy enemy aircraft. Wrong, but true.

We’d been with the stragglers less than a minute when I spotted an Me 109 attacking the bomber box from their 6:00 o’clock position. I’d just started to drop my left wing to attack the 109 when a call came from Yeager..."Break, Break"... we broke to the left. Yeager’s call saved us!

About 180 degrees through the break I latched on to a Fw 190 who was in a diving turn. I opened fire at a fairly close range, which resulted in some pieces coming off the 190. Both of us were now diving near vertical, when something large went flying past my cockpit.** I did not recognize what the object was at the time, however, I did see that I was fast approaching a solid undercast. It was time to start pulling up, as I had no idea how thick the cloud layer was and I figured the 190 was going straight down. I started to pull out and at this point, I did something really stupid; I let the P-51 go straight till it’s airspeed dropped well below 200 mph, when I broke into a left turn. And there was old Jerry, a Me 109 on my and Moore’s tail. After a tight circle, I couldn’t see him anymore and Moore and I headed back to England.

The longer we flew toward England, the worse the weather became. Moore and I could not communicate with each other because of radio failure. Ceiling and visibility were becoming more restrictive and luckily for us we made it into the RAF base at Ford, England.

As we spent the night at Ford, neither Moore nor I knew the group had lost both Russ Spicer and Chuck Yeager on the Bordeaux mission. I telephoned a claim for a "damaged" Fw 190 and our location. At first light we flew back to our base at Leiston. The next day, March 06, 1944, I got on the ground at Leiston just in time to Lead Cement Squadron on the first successful daylight bombing mission over Berlin, Germany.

Years later, at a 357th Fighter Group Association reunion, I told Chuck that I’d shot some pieces bigger that him off the enemy aircraft that shot him down. Yeager did know that a Fw 190 crashed near where he landed in his chute. I had often wondered why the Eighth Air Force had taken the unusual step to upgrade my "damaged" claim to the status of "probable destroyed." At one of our reunions, I was kind of ribbing Yeager about being shot down by one of the greenest pilots in the German Luftwaffe. Little did I know how close I was to the truth.

Chuck had been after me for a long time to fly with him during one of our reunions. For personal reasons I had declined his invitations. However, on one occasion at a dinner party, he said, "OBee, I have a letter from a contact in France about that fight at Bordeaux. I’ll give you a copy after we make a flight together."

I was delighted to fly with Chuck at our Louisville, Kentucky reunion. He had kindly given me a copy of the letter from Dr. Fuentes written in 1996 and mailed from France. The information showed that I had indeed shot down the Fw 190. While my official victory list maybe incorrect, I’m just happy to have made it into the Fighter Aces Association.

William R. "Obee" O’Brien

**Later learned, this German’s (22 year old Irmfred Klotz) parachute did not open. Letter from Dr. Fuentes in 1996

Obee O’Brien finished the war with 6 official victories. Chuck Yeager after parachuting into France, escaped into Spain and returned to the 357th to finish his combat tour. Chuck was credited with 11 ½ official victories and after the war became the first man to fly faster than the speed of sound in the X-1

bobbysocks

12-06-2010, 06:10 AM

A documentary of life as a fighter pilot at an American airbase during World War II. The airbase was in Leiston, England and supported European bombing operations from late 1943 until the end of the war in Europe.

The story is told by retired Colonel Clarence E. "Bud" Anderson, an American triple ace who flew with the 357th fighter group based out of Leiston field.

the gentleman who made this 30 minute video is Ken McCall. I met him in the course of my research. He his the nephew of Frederick McCall 357Fg 364Sq. In WW2 each pilot did not have their own airplane. the more senior ranking pilot got the privilege to name and decorate "his" plane. but on the days he was not scheduled to fly another pilot would take that plane out on the daily mission. on Jan 10, 1945 Fred McCall took my father's plane ( the cathy mae/karger's dollie) out and during a strafing run over paderborn airdrome was shot down by by flak and kia. Ken had an interest in the 357th and got together with bud anderson and put documentary together. its actually pretty good for an amateur interview...and bud is a genuinely decent fellow. once the video loads you may have to jump start it by moving the time bar up a few seconds.

http://vimeo.com/11923563

bobbysocks

12-06-2010, 06:38 PM

The May fliers - Jan Linzel
translation by marcel

Air Battle - 10 May 1940.

This day of May, innocent people will die. It is still dark. There is a humming in the air.The radio broadcasts confused messages.
Swelling noises, droning, explosions. All noises are drowned by the aircraft of the Teutons. Jan Linzel has a restless sleep.
At half past one in the morning there is someone at his bed: commander
Boy Ruijs de Peres.1st Lt. Boy Ruijs de Peres
"Go to Marienhoeve immediately and awake the ground crew. They must come to the base in a hurry. There is a lot of flying activity and we will have work to do".
Shortly after 01.30 there is a large number of aircraft flying high over our country from East to West. Large formations of German planes flying in the direction of the North sea. It is said that they will go to England.
But soon the intentions become clear. They turn over the sea and in the grey morning light they approach our airfields from the West.
The pandemonium starts at 02.55 hours.
Linzel drives on his bike along the concrete path to the farm. He runs through the stables and shouts: "Rise, everybody! As soon as possible to the base and prepare the aircraft!".
The boys are at their posts very quickly.
Jan changes his uniform for a brown woollen jack, his personal white pilots cap and runs with his parachute to his plane, the Fokker D-21 (215).
They did this before, but never that early.
After warming up the engines, the pilots stay in their cockpits in order to take off at first alarm.

Three sections are stand by:
1. P.J.B. Ruijs de Peres (222), G.K.P.Kiel (216), J.Eden (247)
2. G.Steen (246), A.M.van de Vaart (212), J.Linzel (215)
3. F.G.B.Droste (22, P.J.Aarts (217)
Only the Fokker D-21 (227) of Ottes was not prepared to fly, probably under repair.

It is still dark. There is no light in the cockpit of the D-21. The instruments are fluorescing, but not quite clear.
The Fokker D-21 is only provided with a few blind-fly instruments and has for instance no artificial horizon. There is a turn coordinator and a vertical speed indicator; the last one is reacting slowly.
Soon it will be daytime. Because fair weather the horizon is visible and the possibility for a safe take-off is getting better every minute.
At 03.55 hours (Amsterdam time) the siren starts its howling.
One after another the three flights start to take off.
Lt. Steen is nr. 1 of Jan Linzel. He is flying in the direction of Delft. They see a large formation of Heinkels flying in NE direction.
"Foreign Aircraft Violating our Air Space."
There is a large number. Jan is surprised that Steen doesn't attack but returns to base. Jan, who already had been punished for not following the leader before, follows immediately.
After Steen has landed, Jan parks his plane near him. Steen has already left the cockpit and asks Jan: "Are your machine guns ready to fire?" "Don't know". "Let me try them, mine don't work!"
Linzel descends the 215 and Lt. Steen climbs into the cockpit. He tries the MG's and says: "I take this plane, you can use mine!"
It is not funny, but what to do as an ordinary sergeant? Linzel runs to the 246 and gets in.
The ground crew in the mean time discovered that the compressed air bottles of this plane were closed. The machineguns work on compressed air.
Steen has Jan's parachute; fortunately they have both nearly the same size, so Steen's chute fits Jan too.
The soldiers shout "Try your machineguns!" Linzel gives short bursts of fire; all four are okay.
The moment he fastens his belts and the ground crew is starting his engine, from the South-West a large formation of Heinkel bombers approach. A number of approximately 36 are counted.
Suddenly there is everywhere screaming and bombs begin to fall. They fall on the field, in large rows, 200 to 400 meter in front of Jan.
The boys of the ground crew disappear. One is hiding in a sewage tube, another under a car. Linzel in his belts stays in his cockpit and is watching where the bombs fall.
In the direction of Delft is a non-damaged strip and for the first time he is aware of the fact that war has begun.
A few soldiers come running and swing the engines start handle. A new formation of Heinkels is approaching from the South-West. The boys gesture and shout: "Shoot their balls off, serg!" Jan starts taxiing, pushes full throttle and takes off.
Linzel starts in a crater-free direction and behind him are bursts of explosions. Bombs fall on the place he was just before. The second group of Heinkels release their bombs over buildings and hangars. One of the ground crew is killed.
Linzel climbs to 3000 meter in South-East direction. Levelling at that altitude he sees a plane from left to right at a higher altitude. The silhouette stands out against the clear eastern sky. Never he saw an aircraft like that.
He turns climbing to the left and comes right after the enemy. It's a Messerschmitt 110, flying very calmly; obviously never saw the Dutch aircraft at their tail or were convinced of their strength and didn't expect any resistance.
Right behind them, Jan gives a burst of fire. Immediately a purple flame comes out of the starboard engine, followed by black smoke. The Me dives downward and Jan stays after it. On low altitude the Germans level their aircraft, pass the Voorburg-Gouda railway and belly-land in a meadow with a thick cloud of smoke.
Linzel climbs to 3000 meter again and sees a formation of Heinkels over the Westland near Delft in the direction of The Hague. Time is now about half past four.
Jan attacks the last plane at the right. Right behind it he fires all his remaining bullets into that aircraft. He can't see if there is any damage, but as he turns away he sees a Heinkel leaving the formation.
That moment he feels a bang in his left thigh. A bullet has hit his leg. He does not know from where the bullet came. The sky is full of German planes and of course they saw Jan.
There is no time thinking about that. He is bleeding and knows this is very badly. He begins to feel light in the head. The Fokker is flying level; Jan throws his cockpit roof off and pulls himself up at the handle on the upper side of the windscreen. Sitting on the edge of the cockpit he lets himself fall backward. His feet nearly strike the stabiliser wing.
After counting to three he pulls, an enormous jerk and he is hanging quietly in the air.
Now everything turns black and he is unconscious for a while. As he comes to he is still hanging in the air, seeing the burning Ypenburg air base. Much smoke!
Blood is dripping from his leg. Again everything is black.
Then, a big bang. He comes to and is lying in a meadow. Suspicious cows come to look at him. There is no wind and his parachute lies behind him. It has been a cold night and the ground is wet and cold. Jan slides backward until the chute is under his back.
It is 04.35 hours. Jan pulls down his trousers. It does not look well. At the foreside of his thigh is a little hole, but at the back it looks awful. There is a big hole and pieces of flesh lay on his trousers but the bone is not hit. As he tries to sit up, he is dizzy again. Too much loss of blood.
Suddenly a whole flight of Junkers drone over his head. Of one of them the starboard engine is in fire. From the open door "Fallschirmjäger" are jumping out, land in the meadows further away, take positions and are heading in the direction of the airport.
Jan is still lying there, unable to do anything.
In a distance of 300 meters are little farmhouses. Jan swings his flying cap, but people don't see him. He blows on his whistle and waves with his pilot chute. He sees they are looking, but do not come nearer.
How long has he been there? A couple of hours?
A Heinkel, about 1000 m over The Hague, is hit by AA-fire from the ground and falls like a stone.
Linzel is unconscious now and then.
At last, it's almost 7 o'clock, a couple of farmers come walking slowly in his direction. A dog is circling around him, barking. An old man comes nearer and says: "We supposed you were a German paratrooper".
"I'm as Dutch as your cows overthere! I have been shot down, wounded and can't walk!"
"How can we take you away?"
"On a ladder!"
As they bring a ladder, they lay Jan on it with his parachute under his head and bring him to one of the houses. The old man goes out and after some time he comes back with two Red Cross soldiers.
They are just bandaging Jan, as suddenly two German paratroopers enter the room.
"Was ist hier los?" ("what is going on here?")
"Bin abgeschossen." ("I've been shot down") Jan answers.
“Tut uns Leid. Ist's schlimm?"("Sorry, is it bad?")
"Es geht, aber ich kann nicht laufen."("Not that bad, but I can't walk")
"Na ja, Krieg ist Krieg. Tut uns wirklich Leid!" ("Yes, it's wartime. We are really sorry")
They are friendly but have wounded men of their own and leave with one of the medics.
"Auf Wiedersehen!"
After the other soldier has bandaged Jan, a couple of members of the Air Surveillance, called by the farmers, take Jan to a hospital in Delft.
There is is nursed between other wounded soldiers, both Dutch and German.
Linzel is in hospital until the 24th of June, as he leaves, collected by his father, walking with a stick.
He stays with relatives at Voorburg for a couple of weeks to recover.

bobbysocks

12-06-2010, 06:57 PM

long but interesting..i believe THESE are the guys the movie Dark Blue World was written about.

Karel Miroslav Kuttelwascher was born in a family of a railway inspector at Svaty Kriz (Santa Cruz) near the town of Nemecky Brod (today Havlickuv Brod) on 23rd September 1916. He spent his childhood there, and graduated from a trade school. He worked in a convenience store in Kladno for a brief period, but he was not attracted by this kind of career. He loved planes, and volunteered to join the airforce. He went through the Military Flying School in Prostějov between 1935 and 1937. This school - SODL - prepared future junior airforce officers. There were many promising talents among them: the 73 graduates of 1937 also included future aces like Václav Jícha, Otmar Kučera or Ladislav Světlík as well as many other western front fighter pilots. First of all he had to go through a hard Prussian-style infantry boot camp, then through theoretical preparation, and then, finally, he got to flying. After graduation, Kuttelwascher served at the 4th Regiment in Prague-Kbely. He went through his fighter pilot training there. In May 1938 he transferred to the 1st 'T.G.Masaryk' regiment in Hradec Králové. He joined the 32nd Fighter Flight equipped with Avia B-534 biplane fighters. The flight commander was Staff Captain Evžen Čížek a later Sqadron Leader of the No. 312 (Czechoslovak) Squadron and a future ace, too.

International tensions grew in the fall of 1938. The 32nd Flight rotated between several South Moravian airfields (as part of the 4th Army Air Arm), and later operated in Eastern Slovakia and Ruthenia (3rd Army). They were on watch for Hungarian aircraft violating Czechoslovak air space frequently. After the Munich agreement and the Vienna settlement, Czechoslovakia lost large territory. The flight returned to Hradec Kralové. It was still there on the cold morning of March 15, 1938, when the remain of Czechoslovakia was taken by Germans. Extremely bad weather conditions (as well as military discipline) prevented pilots from fleeing abroad.

There were still enough of those who never put up with the situation. They left the country to offer their services to countries expected to get into a war with Germany soon. Sergeant Karel Kuttelwascher was among them. He and his friends from the Flight crossed the Polish border sealed in a railway car on the night of 19th June 1939. They were aided by the semi-legal Czechoslovak Airman Union. 23 of his SODL classmates escaped the same way at that time. He reported to the Czechoslovak consulate in Krakow. The Czechoslovak military group operated there, later to become the core of Czecholovak Resistence in exile. He spent some time in the nearby camp of Male Bronowice.

Polish officials did not show any interest in the runaway Czechoslovaks, and many Czech soldiers and pilots only viewed Poland as a stopover on their way to the West. A decision was taken to trasnfer them to France. This was under the condition that they join the Foreigners' Legion. There was still peace, so France could not hire any foreigners for their regular army. Kuttlewascher left Kdynia, and arrived in the French port of Calais on board of the Calstelholm ship on July 30, 1939. He went on to the 1st Foreigners' Legion Regiment in Sidi-bel-Abbés in Algeria. He had to go through hard infantry training once again.

As had been promised by the French authorities, the Czech airmen were transfered to the French Armeé de l'Air as soon as the war started. Kuttelwascher was sent to airports in Tunisia and Algeria. In the winter of 1939 he left for the fighter pilots training base (Centre d'Instruction de Chasse No 6) in Chartres. About a hundred of Czech airmen were retrained for French and American equipment there. He became familiar with the Morane-Saulnier MS-406C.1 fighter aircraft. Altough he got through the training very quickly, he did not get to the front line during the 'Phony War'. The situation changed after the German western attack on France which started in May.

Kuttlewascher, together with five other Czechs (including his later RAF Squadron friends Bedřich Krátkoruký and František Běhal) were transfered to the Groupe de Chasse III/3 seven days later. This unit, equipped with MS406-C.1 fighters, was stationed at the Beauvais-Tille airport. Evžen Čizek, Kuttelwascher's former commander, was among the many Czechs serving with the unit. The CG III/3 fighter group was very active from the very first days of the German offensive. It was led by Commandant Le Bideau. After tough fights at the opening phase of the Blitzkrieg, GC III/3 transferred to the Cormeilles-en-Vexin airport (21st May). They were equipped with modern Dewoitine D-520C.1 fighters, the only ones capable of resisting the enemy successfully. There were desperately few of those. GC III/3 was back in action by early June. They were fighting a lost battle, though. The resistence of the demoralized and decimated French army was getting close to an end. The unit was retreating south under the pressure of the moving front line, still fighting on the way. They passed through the airports of Illiers-l'Eveque, Germinon, La Chapelle-Vallon, Montargis, Grand Mallerey, Avord, and Perpignan-La Salanque. Three days after new French prime minister Philippe Petain asked for truce, the remains of GC III/3 crossed the Mediterrainian for Africa (20th June). Kuttlewascher's 6th escadrilla landed in Algeria one day before. The 5th escadrilla landed in Bone. The whole unit gathered in Realizane on 22nd July. They learnt about the French capitulation three days later.

Kuttlewascher's scores in the Battle of France are interpreted in various ways by different sources. The most precise figure given by French archives is two confirmed and one probable kills. He was decorated with the Croix de Guerre with a Palm and a Silver Star.

After the French capitulation, there only was one place to go for the Czech airmen - Great Britain, the only country still resisting Germany. The Czech members of CG III/3 were released from service on 1st July and took a train to Casablanca in Morroco. This is where the Czech pilots from all over Northern Africa gathered. A numerous group of them left Casablanca on board of the Royal Scotsman on July 9. They transferred to the David Livingstone in British Gibraltar. They took off on 21st July and arrived at the British port of Cardiff on 5th August.

Tired, but not broken, these men in unfamiliar uniforms speaking a strange language disembarked on the British coast. They were welcomed with high appreciation. Britain was alone against the enemy that had never been defeated. Well trained and experienced pilots was a really great help. They were given all they needed to fight on.

After a short stay in a quarantine camp, Karel Kuttlewascher joined the Royal Air Force in the rank of Sergeant (14th August 1940) as a Voluntary Reserve, as every foreign pilot had to. He was in a group of pilots sent from the Czechoslovak aircraft depot in Cosford to the No. 5 OTU in Aston Down to be retrained for the Hawker Hurricane fighters. He celebrated his 24th birthday with his first flight on the Hurricane. He achieved all his RAF victories on this machine.

On 3rd October 1940, the Battle of Britain was beginning to ease up, and the Germans were switching to night bombing. Kuttlewascher was transferred to the No. 1 Squadron that day. He stayed with this unit for almost two years, and contributed significantly to its fame.

The No. 1 Squadron was equipped with Hurricanes Mk. Ia in those days, which were replaced by Hurricanes Mk. IIa in February 1942, with some Mk. IIb's added in April. It was based in Wittering, Loncolnshire. Starting from 15th December 1940, the the Squadron operated from Northolt, Middlesex, and on 5th January 1941, they moved south of London to Kenley, Surrey. It was led by S/Ldr David Pemberon. After his fatal crash in November 1940, Canadian S/Ldr Mark 'Hilly' Brown took over, but he was soon replaced with S/Ldr Richard Brooker, DFC, on January 1941. The unit was mixed, as was common with RAF Squadrons. It was made of the British, Canadians, New Zealanders, French, even one Lithuanian, but mainly Czechs. There were eleven of them in October 1940, and the total number of Czechs serving with the Squadron within the next two years was 30. They formed almost one half of the flying personnel. In May 1941 was the A-Flight declared as Czechoslovak. It was headed by F/Lt Antonín Velebnovský until his death. Several Czech aces were with the flight beside Kuttelwascher -Vaclav Jícha, Bedřich Krátkoruký, Josef Příhoda, Evžen Čízek, and Josef Dygrýn-Ligotický.

Operational activities of the 1 Squadron were wide. Apart from defensive actions, they flew the first attacks over the coast of occupied France. These actions were called Circus: a code name for an air-raid performed by a small number of bombers accompanied by a strong figter escort. The goal was to attract and destroy the enemy right in the air. These offensive sweeps were usually done by a Wing - a higher tactical unit made out of three or more Squadrons. The No. 1 was first operational within the Northolt Wing (1, 601 and 303 (Polish) Squadrons). On 7th Apri 1941, the Squadron moved from Kenley to Croydon, and settled down at the Croydon satelite base of the Kenley sector in Redhill on the very beginning of May. It was transferred to the Kenley Wing made of the 1 and 258 and 302 (Polish) Squadrons, which was soon replaced by the 312 (Czechoslovak) Squadron.

Kuttelwascher drew attention to him during these offensive actions. He gained three certain and one probable kills in the Spring and early Summer of 1941. The machines shot down were Bf 109's, the E and F versions, generally considered superior to slower Hurricanes.

On 1st July 1941, the 1 Squadron was withdrawn from sweeps over France, and it transfered from Redhill to Tangmere. The base was located 5 kilometers North-East of picturesque Chichester. The unit stayed there for over a year. It was entrusted with the night defence of nearby ports of Southhampton and Portsmouth. It was rearmed, and the pilots started intesive night training. They were now flying Hurricanes NF Mk. IIc, which completely replaced the Mk. IIb versions in January 1942.

The 1 Squadron experimented with an unusual night tactic called Turbinlite. A two engined Douglas Havoc equipped with a radiolocator AI. Mk. IV and a huge searchlight at the nose was accompanied by a pair of satelite Hurricanes not suited for a radiolocator. Havoc pinpointed the target and lit the enemy, so the Hurricanes could attack it. This idea arose in the fall of 1940 during the massive Luftwaffe night bombing, when there was a shortage of radiolocator equipped night fighters. The project was dropped later, because it yielded poor results in view of high losses caused especially by collisions. There were also enough Bristol Beaufighter night fighters available in the end of 1941. The machines used in the 1st Squadron Turbinlite training were usually Havocs Mk. I of the 1455 Flight located in Tangmere. The 1 Squadron then employed another offensive night method called Night Intruder, which will be described later.

The operation activites of the 1 Squadron dropped a bit in the late Summer and fall of 1941. There were only some sporadic attacks on enemy targets in the Channel known as Channel Stop and Roadstead. In early 1942, Pilot Officer Karel Kuttelwascher was the only Czech serving with the unit, as the others had been transferred to other Squadrons. His abilities and achievments were rewarded on 17th February 1942, by a promotion to the rank of Flight Lieutenant, and the A Flight leader. In November, 1941, S/Ldr Brooker was transferred to the Far East Command, and replaced by famous S/Ldr James MacLachlan, DFC, DSO. This Royal Air Force ace, who had lost his left arm in a combat over Malta, made his mark once again by Kuttlewascher's side in the Night Intruder actions. This method was just getting its finishing touches en early 1942.

The Night Intruder was not Kuttelwascher's invention, as was sometimes claimed. It is true, though, that Kut brought this method to perfection, and achieved the highest score with it. These actions meant the night destruction of enemy bombers near their bases. The first RAF unit to use this method was the No. 87 Squadron, in return of similar actions taken by Junkers Ju 88's of the I./NJG 2 penetrating over British airports by night. It was later joined by the 3, 32, 43, and 253 Squadrons, but none got anywhere near the No. 1. The method itself developed significantly. In the beginning, British coastal guard reported German bombers approaching the coast. Several Hurricanes took off heading for selected German airports to wait for the returning attackers there. The bombers were very vulnerable on return. They had little fuel and ammunition, the crews were tired and frequently wounded, and the gunners had to leave their positions for the landing. They flew at a low speed with their positioning lights on, over lighted runway. All of this offered some chances to the Hurricanes. There is no denying this was sabotage tactics. Tired bomber crews shaken by the hell they had experienced over England were returning to their base, happy they had been given another day. Suddenly - right over their own airport - the shadow of a Hurricane emerges from the darkness. Tracing shots cut through the darkness. Explosions, flames, end... None of those blond men would have time to say their prayers... However advantageous this method was for the intruder, it was a passive method. The attacks were staged on machines that had already done their job. Another stage of the Night Intruder actions started when the British took the initiative, sending out the Hurricanes soon after dusk to catch the German bombers on the take off. This was riskier, since the German crews were more concentrated, but the effect was higher - the bomb load intended for British cities was destroyed with the aircraft. This was important especially in the Spring and Summer of 1942, when the Luftwaffe waged the so called baedecker offensive targeted at British historic towns, such as Bath, Canterbury, York, and Exeter, as well as other places of a high historic value. The Night Intruder operations, undertaken by lonely Hurricanes, were extremly dangerous. They were only suitable for pilots with strong nerves and cats' eyes, because no radiolocators could be installed into the single seated Hurricanes. The pilot was on his own, over enemy teritorry, near heavily defended airports, under circumstances that made him visible. He had to count with flak, German night fighters or engine failure. A short distraction could prove fatal in low flight. Navigation was very difficult. The pilot had to hold the lever in one hand, trying to spread the map on his knee with the other hand, and read it in the faint light of the controls. If he managed to find the badly visible enemy airport, he still had no guarantee of seeing anything there. Kuttelwascher sometimes visited up to five bases in one flight with no success. Luftwaffe frequently returned to other airports than they had taked off from. The crews had some twenty bases to choose from. Kuttelwascher remembered this later: "...I wonder around and wait. I must not be too low, or else I would not be able to copy the terrain, but I must keep to the ground as much as possible to see the sillhouettes of the returning airplanes above me. Sometimes waiting is in vain. I spent tens of minutes lost in the dark while my planes were not coming back. They were landing somewhere else, or they had never taken off from that particular airport. Sometimes I get lucky and managed to join them as they were getting ready for the landing. I had to decide quickly. If somebody went into my way, I took him immediately. If I was not sure, I climbed up a little bit, and joined them in the circle, so I could choose well. I occasionally turned on my lights, so they thought I am one of them - a Luftwaffe aircraft - and did not get scared unnecessarily. This is what I needed, I have to had order in my work. Just no turmoil. It will start anyway when the first catches on fire. It is best when it falls and explodes on the ground. The other then thought this had been a crash, and I had more time to choose another one..."

As the Night Intruder missions were pointed at airports deep in France, the Hurricanes carried two additional tanks under their wings, 200 litres of fuel each. Together with the 313 litres in the main wing tanks, and the 127 litres in the reserve fuselage tank, this made 840 litres of fuel - from 3 to 3,5 hours of flight at speed of 270 kph. No wonder the pilots returned quite exhausted from these long thrilling missions.

The Night Intruder operation was run by the 1 Squadron from 1st April to 2nd July 1942. They took 180 missions, shot down 22 enemy aircraft, and damaged another 13. They also destroyed 67 trains, 5 boats and a one vehicle. The highest scoring pilot in No. 1 was F/Lt Karel Kuttelwascher. In only 15 missions, he gained 15 confirmed kills, and 5 damaged airplanes. It was by far the best individual score in this operation. Kuttelwascher's personal scores went up to 20 confirmed kills, 2 probable, and 5 damaged.

On 9th July 1942, the 1 Squadron was transferred north from Tangmere to Acklington. They were re-equipped with Hawker Typhoon machines. Their task in Tangmere was taken over by the 43 Squadron. Kuttlewasher wished to continue with night actions. On July 8, 1942, he was transferred at his own request to the 23 Squadron, which performed Night Intruder missions over France, Belgium, and mainly the Netherlands. The No. 23 was located at the Ford base in Sussex. On August 6, 1942, they turned in their current machines - Douglas Boston Mk. III and Havoc Mk. I - switching completely to the new night fighter planes De Havilland Mosquito NF Mk. II. They moved to Manston, Kent. They spent the following two months moving back and forth between this base and and the Bradwell Bay airport. The standard equipment of this famous Mosquito included a AI. Mk. IV radiolocator, but this was not the case with the 23 Squadron. The loss of an aircraft over enemy teritorry would have meant the Germans getting acquainted with this top secret device. It is worth mentioning that Kuttelwascher was the first foreigner allowed to fight on the new Mosquitos.

Kuttelwascher formed a two-member crew with navigator P/O G. E. Palmer. They undertook six Night Intruder missions over France and the Netherlands from August 11 to September 8, 1942. Kuttelwascher wasn't as lucky as with No. 1 - he did not shoot down or even see a single enemy aircraft. Operations had to be stopped because of bad weather in the Fall of 1942. On October 1, 1942, F/Lt Karel Kuttelwascher, DFC & Bar, was permanently recalled from all actions. Having left active service, he was transferred to the Czechoslovak Airforce Inspectorate in London. He was entrusted with a special mission in the US on June 10, 1943. He helped in drafting American Czechs for the Czechoslovak Airforce in Great Britain, and gave lectures at flying schools, making his enourmous combat experience available to the young USAAF pilots. He travelled around the US from July to September 1943. He went thourghout the country, from Boston to Florida, from Washington to California. He lectured at the Army Air Forces School of Applied Tactics (AAFSAT) in Orlando. The Americans showed detailed interest in his success and tactics. They were trying to employ it against the Japanese. He also flew many machines exotic for the Czechs, such as P-40 Warhawk, P-51 Mustang, and P-38 Lightning. He made many public appearances in America. He was on CBS radio show twelve times (he had spoken on the BBC 42 times in England), he was a Hollywood guest meeting famous Errol Flynn there, and even became the hero of a comic strip calle the "Czech Night Hawk". Starting from October, he continued his tour in Canada. He visited RCAF flying schools from Montreal to Vancouver. New aircraft types were added to his flight records: Airspeed Oxford, Avro Anson, and Lockheed Hudson.

Half a year later, on December 12, 1943, Kuttelwascher came back to Britain. On January 24, 1944, he was transferred to the 32 MU (Maintenance Unit) in St. Athan near Cardiff, South Wales, as a testing pilot. He spent the rest of the war there, flying in new, repaired and modified aircraft of all categories. It were figter aircraft such as Hurricanes, Spitfires, and Beaufighters, seaborne Fireflies, light Magisters, Masters, and Proctors, two-engined Mitchell and Wellington bombers, transport Warwicks, Ansons and Dominias, as well as four-engined Halifaxes, Lancasters, Linconls, and Yorks.

With his 15 confirmed night kills, he appeared as the sixth on the listing of best RAF night fighter pilots. This was not a fair comparison, though, because his more successful colleagues (with 16 to 21 kills) won most of their victories under much better circumstances than him. They flew tow-engined Beaufighters or Mosquitos equipped with radiolocators. Kuttelwascher flew an one-engined single seated Hurricane with no radiolocator, relying exclusively on his cat's eyes. Unlike most of his higer scoring colleagues, he had to fly for his victims all the way to the heavily defended enemy airports, while most of the others collectied their kills over their own teritorry. In this aspect, he was only beaten - by the margin of a single kill - by W/Cdr B. Burdbridge. Burdbridge, however, scored as late as 1944, that is two years after Kuttelwascher. Kuttelwascher was by all means one of the most successful allied fighter aces.

He returned to liberated Czechoslovakia on board of a 311 Czech Squadron Liberator on August 18, 1945. He was welcomed as a national hero. He was promoted to a Staff Captain and transferred to the military section of the Praha-Ruzyně airport. One month later, he took up an assignment with the Military Airforce Academy in Hradec Kralové as an instructor. His post-war life was quite unlike the fate of his less lucky friends, who were released from service after the Communist putch in 1948, persecuted and frequently imprisoned. He quit his job with the Czechoslovak Airforce on May 21, 1946, and five days later left on board of a Dakota to join his family established in England during the war. He got a job with British European Airways in 1946. He flew Vickers Viking, Airspeed Ambassador, and Vickers Viscount airliners as the first officer, and later as the captain. This brought the number of types he had flown up to 60.

The war effort left its hidden consequences in him. He died of a heart attack quite unexpectedly on the night before August 18, 1959. This happened on a vacation in Truro in Cornwall, southern England. He was less than 43 years old. He is buried in Uxbridge near London.

He was decorated many times for his exceptionally successful military activity. He got the Czechoslovak Military Cross five times, the Czechoslovak medal For Bravery four times, Czechoslovak Degree I Honourable Medal, Memorial Medal of the Czechoslovak Army in Exile (with F-GB shields), the French gave him the Croix de Guerre with one Palm and one Silver Star, the British decorated him twice with the Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC & Bar - 16th May and 27th June 1942), with The 1939-1945 Star with French and Battle of Britain Clasps, Air Crew Europe Star, Defence Medal and the War Medal.

His biographer R. Darlington wrote:

"Kut was essentially a complicated, modest man with more than a trace of contradiction. He managed to combine cool blood in the air with a certain irritability on the ground, he frequently showed modesty in the public together with a strong personal ambition, and generosity towards friends with lack of the same towards some of his family members. He was very withdrawn in relation to his numerous British friends, so he seemed to use words with the same caution as he had shot his shells years before. There was nothing chivalric in his behaviour in the air. He felt tremendous hatred for the Nazis, which could have only originated in the fact that he had personally witnessed the violation of his homeland. He was absolutely determined to shoot down as many Luftwaffe aircraft as possible.

He was an uncompromising man, quite given to his job. He was an absolute professional, who took flying very seriously, and loved nothing more than being in the air. His asketic way of life usually excluded drinking, smoking, gambling, and even parties, at least on the night before an operational flight. He was in no way a rebel, but he distingueshed himself outside the group. He was a loner, rather than a leader, and this was an important factor contributing to his success as a night fighter pilot. More than ten British and Czechoslovak decorations bear witness to his bravery. After all, his excellent actions speak for themselves."

bobbysocks

12-06-2010, 07:12 PM

Arnošt "Wolly" Valenta - The Great Escape

In June 1943, RAF pilots held in the Stalag Luft POW camp started preparations for a large scale escape of over 150 prisoners - the Great Escape. Intelligence work was needed to obtain information and documents from the German staff. The man in charge of this task was a former RAF bomber wireless operator - Czechoslovak Arnost Valenta.

Arnost Valenta was born on October 25, 1912 in Svebohov near Zabreh na Morave. He graduated from the Hranice Military Academy as a radio operator. He also took courses in philosophy at the Bratislava university. He was a deeply devoted but tolerant christian.

He left occupied Czechoslovakia on March 19, 1939. He took a short course with the Polish intelligence and returned secretly to the Protectorate. He supplied the Polish general command with information about the organization and plans of the German army.

He crossed the Polish border for the second time on the planned date of August 27, 1939. He joined Lieutenant-Colonel Svoboda's unit in Poland. While retreiting to the east, the unit was interned by the Soviets until March 1940. Following an agreement between the Czechoslovak and Soviet authorities, he was sent to Marseilles by way of Odessa and Beirut. He served with the military department of the Czechoslovak National Committee in Paris. After the fall of France, he was evecuated to Britain, where he joined the 311 (Czechoslovak) Bomber Squadron as a wireless operator. He flew six missions on a Wellington Mk. Ic (KX-T) with the crew of P/O Cigos.

These missions were extremely risky for the Czechs. The British, Americans, Canadians, French, Belgians, and even Poles and other allied nationals were protected by the international law. There were only two exceptions: the Soviets, not considered statutary POW's under the pretext that the USSR had not signed the Geneva agreement, and the Czechoslovaks. The Nazis formally used the so-called Protectorate Status issued by Hitler on March 16, 1939, according to which the citizens of the 'Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia' were considered Reich nationals. Any resistance - including membership in an allied regular army - was treated as high treason. Some Czech POW's were even tried on these charges and condemned to death. Only after the British government threatened with severe sanctions (including the executions of captive German pilots), did the Germans put off the executions until after the war. The prisoners were still harrased, interrogated and jailed.

On February 6, 1941, the navigator of Cigos's crew became sick, and had to be replaced by an inexperienced freshman. The mission bombed the Boulogne port successfully, but on the way back the navigator suffered from altitude sickness so badly that he was unable to do his work. The flight continued with regular position checks with the base in England. Unfortunately, the radio broke down. The pilots had to guess their position. They landed on an airfield which they believed to be near Honnington. In reality, they landed in Normandy near the city of Flers.

Cigos attempted to take off again, but the plane got stuck in mud, and the crew were taken prisoners. They pretended to be Canadians, but the Germans had good information about Czechs in RAF. Jailing and harsh Gestapo interrogations followed. In the end, they were sent to Stalag Luft III.

Valenta was among the most active Czechoslovak officers in the camp. He took part in sports, enrolled for the Staff College and he was soon able to even teach there. He spoke perfect English and German. He followed both German and English radio and newspapers, kept track of the military and political situation in Europe, and lectured on these subjects as well as Czechoslovak history and resistence. Wolly - as he was called - soon became a respected expert. This is why the X Committee charged him with his important intelligence task in the escape.

His job was difficult and dangerous. He had to assess all the German staff in order to learn about their character streaks and weaknesses. The best method to weaken them was corruption. American cigarettes, cans, chocolate, coffee and cocoa were irresistible temptation for the Germans. Once they accepted the first gift, they were lost. They got used to the bribes, and sometimes they were even blackmailed into bringing 'gifts' in exchange.

In order to obtain a camera, Valenta corrupted an inexperienced young officer. He once delivered newspaper to Valenta and signed the acceptance of a reward - a food package. Wolly claimed this was just a formality in order to keep the Red Cross papers in order. When he was later asked for a camera, he had no choice. Illegal trade with prisoners was punished by a front line assignment.

Another method was 'lost and found', although there is a better word for these activities. A new German officer took off his coat while having a cup of tee with the prisoners. He later found out he had lost his ID. He was afraid to report this to his superior. In two days the prisoners 'found' the card and returned it discreetly. Its copy was ready by then.

Valenta also obtained forms with various company headers to make invitation letters for business trips. Another important document was a travel permit. Valenta stole one and gave it to a trusted German kitchen employee. He sent it to his wife in Hamburg to make a printing template. Other Czechs, including Bedrich Dvorak, Frantisek Cigos, and Vaclav Kilian worked in the tailor workshop.

The escape was planned for 220 prisoners. Seventy 'tickets' were given to people most involved in the preparations. These included three Czechs: Ivo Tonder, Bedrich Dvorak, and Arnost Valenta. The remaining 150 had to play a lottery. There also was a lottery to assign everybody his exact number. Valenta was among the first four together with Roger Bushell, the mastermind behind the escape.

The escape was planned for the night of March 25, 1944. Unfortunately, travel through the tunnel took more time than expected, and the far end was a few yards short of the forest by mistake. By five in the morning, 76 prisoners got out. Then the tunnel was discovered by a German guard, and a chase began. The remaining prisoners destroyed all their equipment quickly.

Architect Müller alias Valenta and French enterpreneur Rougier-Marshall decided not to risk a train journey under these circumstances. Valenta suggested walking to Bohemia using his knowledge of the terrain and friends in Hirschberg. The distance was something over 100 kilometers. They spent the day in the forest. As they set off in the evening, they were stopped by guards. Valenta could speak the local dialect and his papers were perfect. Before he could explain why architect Müller was hiking around a village near Halbau, Marshall was discovered. His French was not bad, but unfortunatelly, one of the Germans knew the language even better.

Out of the 76 escapees, only three made it to freedom. Two Norwegians, young Per Bergsland (aka Rock Rockland) and Jens Einar Müller got to Sweden aboard a Swedish ship, while Dutchman Bram van der Stock travelled through Holland, Belgium, and France to Madrid. They all got to London within four months. Out of the remaining 73 men, 50 of them were shot to death after they were captured. Arnost Valenta was executed on March 31, 1944, together with Pole Kolanowski, Canadians McGill, Langford, Birkland, and Englishmen Hall, Evans, Stewart, and Swain.

The remaining escapees were returned to Stalag Luft III or to concentration camps. This happened to the other two Czechs - Dvorak and Tonder. Paradoxically, the "traitors" were the only non-British who were not shot on the spot. Unlike the others, they had to stay alive to face their high treason charges in court. They survived and were liberated by the allies from the Colditz fortress.

Arnost Valenta became the only Czechoslovak airman killed in German captivity.

bobbysocks

12-07-2010, 08:06 PM

Ben Hauck
8th Af, 487th BG, 837BS Co-Pilot, F/O

The day I baled out we were on a mission to Brandenburg, which is on the outskirts of Berlin. It was April 10, 1945. We were just about ready to go on the IP when we were attacked by ME 262 jet fighters. We had seen them a couple times before.

The first ones that came through got one plane; I don't think anyone got out of it. I didn't see any chutes. A couple minutes later we got hit in the number 1 main gas tank and it started a fire. So we tried to get back to the American lines because we knew they had stopped at the Elbe River. But when the aluminum slags started falling off the back of the wing, we said it's time to get out of this. The communication system was knocked out in the back, so it was hard to get their attention, but they got the message and they all bailed out.

We started to get out at the front hatch - we couldn't go through the bomb bay because it was on fire. I was the co-pilot and I looked down and I saw that the guys were having trouble getting the hatch door open. I told Ted, the pilot, I gotta go down and help those guys. So I jumped down there. I said "Robbie, you pull on the release and I'll jump on the door." Well, the adrenaline was running so fast, I didn't notice that my leg straps [of the parachute] weren't fastened; I always flew with them unfastened because it was more comfortable to fly that way. When I jumped on the door, out I went.

I counted to ten, then I counted to ten, then I counted to ten one last time. When I pulled the ripcord and the chute opened, one of the buckles flew up and cut my lip wide open. That's when I realized what I had done. The part of the harness that goes across your chest came up and popped me under my armpits. If I had had my arms up, hey I would have been gone.

They said to count to three or four, then pull, but we were at about 28,000 feet. We didn't have bailout bottles.

We all made out it out OK, but we were still over enemy territory. They gathered us all up and the next day we were in the Madenburg Luftwaffe airfield jail. Another plane from our squadron that got shot down that day had their crew there, too.

The only bad part about the whole ordeal was the food. The Germans were starving to death themselves, and they knew it. They didn't treat us badly otherwise. I had a piece of bread about the size of a bar of soap maybe twice a week. It was terrible, but you had to eat something.

When we left the airfield, they marched us across Germany over to Leipzig. That's quite a ways! It took us five days to get over there. It took us five days because the guards were crippled with canes and crutches - we had to go slow because of them. But in those five days, one day we got a sort of stew with a few potatoes and carrots in it and maybe a bit of meat.

Other than that the only food we got was when one night they put us in an empty potato cellar. It was a quonset style hut covered with earth. We started digging around in there and lo and behold we found some potatoes. The guards didn't come in the cellar because it was cold in there; they stayed outside where they had a big fire going. So I can speak German, and I went out and asked them if I could throw the potatoes in the fire. I had maybe a dozen or so - it wasn't enough for everybody - but they let me throw them in there for about half an hour. They were all burnt to a crisp, but when I brought them back in I just about got mobbed. At least it was something to put in your stomach.

In prison, the food that we got was potato peelings, carrot tops, rotten rutebagas, all kinds of crap they'd throw in a garbage can with some water. Once a day we got a tin cup about 4" in diameter and about 3" tall full of that stinking mess it smelled horrible.

I didn't eat anything for the first three days. The guys who'd been in for a long time were fighting over my stuff [laughs]. But after about the fourth day I held my nose and just ate it. Well, you eat or you die, period. It gave you just enough nourishment to survive. In the month I was a POW I lost 22 lbs without even trying [laughs].

The 3rd Armored Division liberated us. They took us up to Hildesteim Germany. They took all the clothes away from us and burned them and put us in a DDT # they fogged us up real good and gave us clean clothes. The first meal was just broth from a killed sheep - there was no meat. It wasn't much. Then there was a bunch of prisoners on litters who had malnutrition paralysis.

They had about a dozen C-47's there but no pilots - I don't know what happened to the pilots, but they didn't have enough. There was about 5 or 6 of us who volunteered. I had never flown a C-47. I'd never been in one. But I figured, hell, if I can fly a B-17, I can fly one of these. They loaded those planes up and we flew to Paris. They ran the sick guys to the hospital, but they didn't have quarters for us pilots, so they put us in the hospital. it was a good place - good food, a warm bed.

After we got to Paris they forgot about us. We were there for 24 days. We got sick and tired of nothing to do and we said we want to go home! We had to beat the table and they sent us up to Camp Lucky Strike, then they sent us home.

bobbysocks

12-07-2010, 08:11 PM

Lev Shestakov versus Hans-Ulrich Rudel

Winston Churchill once described Russia as "an enigma wrapped up in a mystery". The same can be said about much of the history of the air war on the Eastern Front during WW II. The Soviet fighter ace Lev L'vovich Shestakov became legendary already during his lifetime. After the war, Vladimir Lavrinenkov (twice appointed Hero of the Soviet Union, credited with 35 + 11 kills), wrote a book - "His Call code - Sokol (Falcon) 1" - about Shestakov. Having drawn his first blood as a fighter pilot in the Spanish Civil War, Lev Shestakov flew in defense of Odessa as commander of 69th IAP (Fighter Aviation Regiment) in the first months of the Russo-German war.

On 10 August (9 August, according to the Russian report), Shestakov's fighters were engaged by fourteen Bf 109s of II./JG 77 flying as escort for the He 111s of KG 27. While the German pilots Oberleutnant Anton Hackl and Fahnenjunker-Gefreiter Günther Marschhausen each claimed one I-16 shot down and II./JG 77 reported no other loss than one damaged Bf 109 E, 69 IAP claimed to have shot down nine Bf 109s without any losses.

Lev Shestakov eventually flew more than 200 missions during the war, took part in 32 aerial combats and was credited with 15 kills before being killed in action in March 1944. According to Lavrinenkov's book, Lev Shestakov fought a private war with a well-known German Stuka ace - a 'Kurt Renner', who was awarded 'the Golden Knight's Cross'. No such Stuka ace existed, but the famous Stuka flier Hans-Ulrich Rudel - who flew over the same operational area as did Shestakov - was the only person to be awarded the Knight's Cross with the Golden Oak Leaves.

Interestingly, Lavrinenkov, who flew in Shestakov's unit, describes how he once met 'Renner' on the ground. His Airacobra hit by debris from a FW 189 he had shot down, Lavrinenkov went down over enemy-held territory and was captured by the Germans. He was brought to the Stalino airfield, where he met 'Renner'. Lavrinenkov claims that 'Renner' thought he was Shestakov, because he flew the Airacobra with call-code '01'. (Later, Lavrinankov managed to escape from a POW transport due to Germany, joined a guerilla detachment and eventually managed to make it back to the regular Soviet troops, where he re-joined his Fighter Regiment and took up combat flights again.) During this time, Hauptmann Hans-Ulrich Rudel (appointed commander of III./St.G. 2 'Immelmann' in September 1943) was stationed in Stalino.

During the first months of 1944, Lev Shestakov was hunting a Ju 87 with a viper painted along its fuselage sides - assuming that this conspicuos aircraft was flown by Rudel. Major Rudel certainly flew a Ju 87 G - one of the few Ju 87s still active in 1944 - over the same battlefields as Shestakov during this time. Due to his considerable successes against Russian tanks, Rudel was a highly coveted prey among the Soviet fighter pilots - as confirmed in Rudel's autobiography. Until March 1944, Rudel was credited with the destruction of more than 200 Soviet tanks and was awarded the Diamonds to his Knight's Cross with Oak Leaves and Swords.

On 13 March 1944, Lev Shestakov finally caught the Ju 87 he had been hunting for so long. Hit by a burst from Shestakov's La-5FN from short distance, the Ju 87 exploded in mid-air near Proskurov. But Shestakov didn't live to celebrate his victory. According to the version given in Lavrinenkov's book, his Lavochkin was thrown into a spin from the explosion and the famous Russian ace fell towards his death.

In reality, Rudel survived the war. No other famous Stuka ace was killed on 13 March 1944, nor is it known that Rudel ever flew a Ju 87 with a viper painted on its fuselage side (although he used a Ju 87 with a chevron painted on the fuselage side, which was quite unsusual in the Stuka units).
------------------------------------------------------------------------

'It is quite possible that this is a nice story to cover up how one of the highly esteemed fighter pilots was killed in a fight with a single Ju 87', according to Rodion Podorozhny. In his autobiography, Hans-Ulrich Rudel recalls how his Ju 87 once came under attack from 'an excellent "Lag-5" pilot': 'I just can't understand how he manages to follow my sharp turns in his fighter aircraft', wrote Rudel: 'Sweat poured from my forehead.' Rudel started preparing himself for the final end, as he suddenly heard his rear-gunner, Stabsarzt Ernst Gadermann, cry over the R/T: 'Got the Lag!' Rudel continues: 'Was he shot down by Gadermann, or did he go down because of the backwash from my engine during these tight turns? It doesn't matter. My headphones suddenly explode in confused screams from the Russian radio; the Russians have observed what happened and something special seems to have happened... From the Russian radio-messages, we discover that this was a very famous Soviet fighter pilot, more than once appointed as Hero of the Soviet Union

bobbysocks

12-07-2010, 08:12 PM

The Ghost Ship
The date was November 21, 1944; Lt. Harold R. DeBolt with the 401st Squadron was assigned a B-17G number 43-38545 from the 324th Squadron, Hal's 33rd mission. The plane was so new; it didn't have a "Name" yet. It was only the 3rd mission for this plane. The mission was to go back to Merseberg, Germany and was lead by Major Klette.

The weather was terrible, with solid clouds everywhere as the mission proceeded. Most things had been routine until he turned on the bomb run. The formation tended to slow up in the turn and with bomb bay doors open, DeBolt's aircraft stalled and dropped out of formation. At this instant he was attacked by enemy fighters and also began the run through a very heavy and accurate flak barrage. Due to malfunction with the bomb release mechanism, the bombs would not drop. This caused the aircraft to fall further out of formation. About this time the whole ship took the blast from a flak burst just below the bomb bays, the plane was badly damaged.

The explosion caused the bombs to drop but No. 2 and No. 3 engines also went out. No. 2 was out completely and No. 3 was windmilling and causing undue vibration throughout the aircraft. The crew began jettisoning all surplus equipment in an effort to lighten the Fortress as DeBolt set course for home.The plane was losing altitude and was turned to a heading of 270 degrees west, for friendly lines. The crew stayed with the plane as long as they could and when it was down to 2,000 feet, Hal gave the signal for everyone to "bail-out" and they did, while the Fort continued on its way with the autopilot doing its job. All chutes opened and the men were picked up by British infantrymen soon after landing.

The damaged Fortress continued onward, losing altitude and remaining in a perfect landing attitude. The Fortress mysteriously made a perfect three point landing in a plowed field. It ground looped at the end of the field and sat there with engines still running, undamaged in an open field, near Liege, Belgium. The landing was in a flat strip area, near a British Army encampment. A British Officer ran out to help the crew, but only found neatly stacked flying gear inside and was astonished to find no one on board. He inspected the Fort (as a possible German trap) but found no one. He then turned off the operating engines. The British Officers name was Major John Crisp.

The Stars and Stripes published the story the next day and called DeBolt's B-17 - a Ghost Ship, or Phantom Fort.

Rambo Rich 360

12-07-2010, 09:49 PM

That's pretty incredible!

bobbysocks

12-08-2010, 07:40 PM

On Christmas Eve 1944, a formation of specially configured HE-111 Heinkel bombers (I/KG53 squadron) flying over the North Sea launched 45 V1 Flying Bombs (Doodlebugs) aimed at Manchester 31 of which reached the target area. Fifteen fell on Manchester, the remainder impacting in surrounding towns and sparsely populated outlying areas BBC Report -- Doodlebug attack on Manchester

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/manchester/4122627.stm

One hit a row of terrace houses in nearby Oldham killing 37 people, including some evacuees from London, and seriously wounding many others. The blast damaged hundreds of nearby homes.

Six people died when one landed on Chapel Street, Tottington, near Bury.

One V1 that impacted near Oswaldtwistle carried a load of propaganda leaflets. Leaflets from these V1s were also found at Brindle, near Manchester and Huddersfield, Yorkshire. I believe the V1 that flew directly over our house was the one that impacted at Oswaldtwistle.

One of the errant V1s impacted in a farmer's field at Gregson Lane near Bamber Bridge just outside Preston. This crash site has recently been examined and recorded by the Lancashire Aircraft Investigation Team (V1 Gregson Lane 24.12.1944).

This V1 raid was a rude Christmas Eve shock for all of us in the Manchester area, for local officials had been hinting that the danger from air raids was was pretty much over for us in the North. D-Day had heightened the expectation that the war was winding down, besides, the unexpected V1 raids had been directed against London. Certainly none of us expected an air raid siren alert followed by the sound of Doodlebugs chugging across Lancashire skies during that Christmas of 1944! This V1 raid on Manchester occurred exactly four years after the first major Air Raid on the city -- the horrendous firestorm Blitz of Christmas 1940.

Evidently a large number of V1s were loaded with propaganda leaflets. This subject is covered in meticulous detail by Herbert A. Friedman in his Web page article The German V1 Rocket Leaflet Campaign.

http://www.psywarrior.com/V1RocketLeaf.html

This fascinating article explains how the leaflets were stored and dispersed and includes an impressive number of V1 related photographic images and numerous actual propaganda leaflet reproductions. It is also a treasure trove of V1 Flying Bomb information.

The British government was pretty secretive about V1 impact sites for they did not want the Germans to know the number of those that reached the target area and exactly where they had fallen.

bobbysocks

12-08-2010, 07:44 PM

Andrew Charles Mynarski was born in Winnipeg (Manitoba, CANADA) on the 14th of October 1916, the son of Polish immigrants. He had five other siblings, two brothers and three sisters. He was educated at the King Edward and Isaac Newton Elementary Schools and at St. John's Technical School. To help support his family after his father's death in age of 16, he worked for four years as a leather worker in Winnipeg.
He later built furniture and air planes models in a workshop that he built in the basement.
In November 1941 (the Second World War) he enlisted in the Royal Canadian Air Force. He took his training at Calgary and Edmonton (Alberta) and MacDonald (Manitoba) graduating in 1942 as a mid-upper gunner shortly before his 25th birthday. He went overseas in December 1942.
His first operational posting was with Number 9 Squadron in October 1943. In March 1944, he replaced another mid-upper gunner in 419 (Moose) Squadron and joined the crew with whom his name would be forever linked. On the crew's ninth mission together, (June 5th, 1944... D-Day minus 1) they were assigned a brand new Canadian built Lancaster Mk-X, with number KB-726 VR-A .
On June 11, 1944 Mynarski was promoted to Pilot Officer / Gunner.
On the night of June 12, his crew was to take off on the new Lanc's fourth mission, their target: the rail marshalling yards at Cambrai, France. It would be the 13th mission of the crew. They would be over the target on Friday the thirteenth. While waiting to go, the crew couldn't help but think of these omens related to the number "13". Andrew found a four leaf clover in the grass by the planes. He insisted that his closest buddy in the crew, tail gunner Pat Brophy, should take it. Pat put the leaf into his helmet...
Shortly after crossing the French coast, the Lancaster was briefly coned by enemy searchlights. After some evasive maneuvers, they were in the safety of darkness again. They began descending to the level of their planned attack when a Ju-88 came in from astern. It's cannons blazed from below.
Three explosions tore the aircraft. Both port engines were knocked out and began to flame. The third burst tore into the aircraft between the mid-upper and rear turrets starting a fire. Hydraulic lines to the rear turret were severed and the fluid ignited, turning the rear of the fuselage into an inferno. The captain, Art de Bryne gave the order to bail out...
...Pat Brophy, the tail gunner proceeded to exit his turret and bail out. To get out, Pat had to straighten his turret in line with the fuselage, go through the doors, collect his parachute and jump from the fuselage door on the starboard (right) side. Tail gunners stored their parachutes in the fuselage because there wasn't the room in the confines of the rear turret to wear or store one. Unfortunately that third round had split the hydraulic line feeding his turret, it wouldn't move and flames where sweeping down towards him. The alternate route was to rotate the turret with the inner doors facing to the outside and to bail out backwards. Pat managed to open his doors to the inside of the aircraft, enough to grab his parachute and clip it on. He would then manually rotate the turret with a hand crank as far he could to the side, open the doors and bail out into the night. To his horror, the handle broke off. He was now trapped in a burning aircraft heading for the ground. At that time Mynarski left his post at the mid upper turret and began to make his way to the rear escape door...

The remainder of this encounter is best left up to Pat Brophy himself:
"(...) Then I saw Andy. He had slid down from the mid-upper turret and made his way back to the rear escape hatch, about 15 feet from me, having received the same P signal to bail out from the skipper.
He opened the door and was just about to jump when he glanced around and spotted me through the plexiglass part of my turret. One look told him I was trapped. Instantly, he turned away from the hatch - his doorway to safety - and started towards me. All this time the airplane was lurching drunkenly as Art tried to keep it on an even keel without instruments. Andy had to climb over the Elsan chemical toilet and crawl over the tailplane spar, as there is no room at that part of the fuselage. These cramped conditions forced him to crawl on his hands and knees - straight through the blazing hydraulic oil. By the time he reached my position in the tail, his uniform and parachute were on fire. I shook my head; it was hopeless. 'Don't try!' I shouted, and waved him away.
"Andy didn't seem to notice. Completely ignoring his own condition in the flames, he grabbed a fire axe and tried to smash the turret free. It gave slightly, but not enough. Wild with desperation and pain, he tore at the doors with his bare hands. By now he was a mass of flames below the waist. Seeing him like that, I forgot everything else. Over the roar of the wind and the whine of our two remaining engines, I screamed, 'Go back, Andy! Get out!'
"Finally, with time running out, he realized that he could do nothing to help me. When I waved him away again, he hung his head and nodded, as though he was ashamed to leave - ashamed that sheer heart and courage hadn't been enough. As there was no way to turn around in the confined quarters, Andy had to crawl backwards through the flaming hydraulic fluid fire again, never taking his eyes off me. On his face was a look of mute anguish. "When Andy reached the escape hatch, he stood up. Slowly, as he'd often done before in happier times together, he came to attention. Standing there in his flaming clothes, a grimly magnificent figure, he saluted me! At the same time, just before he jumped, he said something. And even though I couldn't hear, I knew it was 'Good night, Sir'. (...)"

Now as Pat sat there alone with five tones of explosives fifty feet from him, in a Lanc that would hit the ground in seconds, he braced himself for the impact. As the aircraft came down in a steady glide, it hit a thick tree with its port (left) wing and spun round. Two of its twenty bombs exploded almost immediately after the first ground impact, throwing the tail gunner clear. He came to rest about fifty feet from the burning remains, against an another tree alive and with no a scratch.
His watch stopped at 12:13 a.m., Friday, June 13, 1944.
At the time when he picked up his helmet, out of it fell the cloverleaf.
The seven crew members were now all on the ground. Unfortunately, Andrew Mynarski was dead.
He had landed alive with his clothes still on fire. French farmers who had spotted the flaming bomber found him and hustled him off to a doctor but he died shortly of his severe burns.
He was buried in a local cemetery in Méharicourt (France).
Four of the crew members were hidden by the French and returned to England shortly after the crash.
The others were captured by the Germans and were interned until they could be liberated by American troops. It wasn't until 1945 when Pat Brophy was reunited with Art de Breyne and could tell the others what happened to himself and Andy that anyone knew the story.
Art de Breyne started the process by recommending an award for Andy at the end of 1945. The recommendation worked it's way up the command structure of the RCAF and RAF until it was decided upon, a Victoria Cross would be awarded for "valour of the highest order".
The medal was presented to his mother, Mrs. Stanley Mynarski by the Right Honorable J.A. McWilliams, Lieutenant Governor of Manitoba on 12th December 1946.

bobbysocks

12-08-2010, 08:14 PM

THE PREACHER
They called him The Preacher. 2nd Lt. Daniel T. Roberts, Jr. was a former divinity student from the torrid ranching community of Springer, New Mexico. With the onset of World War II Danny set aside his theology studies and joined the Air Corps completing flight training at Randolph Field, Texas. He didn’t smoke, drink or cuss and the nickname stuck.

The 80th Squadron of the 8th Fighter Group went to Darwin Australia and on to Port Moresby, New Guinea to bolster sagging fighter defenses in the area with P-39s and P-400s- the export P-39 version with the 20 mm cannon replacing the 37 mm but the four .50s in nose and wing retained.

The Japanese were on the move in New Guinea. Only the where and when were uncertain. The group flew a few missions without enemy fighter contact. There was activity at Buna Bay and enemy troops finally established a beachhead close to Milne Airdrome. The 80th went on a mission against the Japanese airfield near Buna Mission on August 26, 1942.

Ten war-weary P-400s cranked their rear-mounted Allisons and took off at 0600 led by Captain Greasly. His Airacobra developed electrical problems and he aborted along with three others cutting the odds even before enemy contact. Six planes led now by Lt. William Brown popped up over the Owen Stanley mountains and skimmed down the northern slope.

It was a surprise as the Zeroes were all not yet in the air. Roberts hit the triggers and a Zero just airborne took the brunt of his shells. Danny pulled a tight turn and came at one head on. Both pilots fired but Roberts’ rounds were accurate. The fighter shuddered and dropped into the water just off the beach. He got some rounds into another Zero before exiting the area. Two other Zeros were dispatched by other pilots and the P-400s pushed for home.

In the following days the groups continually attacked troop and supply columns and escorted bombers. The pounding paid off and though the Japanese were but a day’s march from Port Moresby, they were halted. New P-39Ds soon arrived with the blessing of the maintenance crews who’d done wonders keeping the older ships flying so long. No better than the P-400s, the P-39Ds at least were fresh and the group managed to hold off the enemy with them until they were scheduled for R and R in Australia in December 1942.

Upon returning to New Guinea in March and promoted to Captain, Roberts and his fellow flyers received the P-38F Lightnings to play with. On April 11th He led a flight of four and sighted a gaggle of twenty Vals escorted by Zeros intent on attacking Allied shipping in Oro Bay.

The quartet dived and Roberts caught a Val at 17,000 feet squarely with 20mm and .50 caliber. It disintegrated. Looking up he saw three more dive-bombers and pushed the throttles forward entering a steep climb. A long burst nailed one and a wing fluttered off. The result was a crazy, sharp turn and it crashed into the sea. Roberts noticed his wingman blazing away at a Val but three Zeros were lining up on him as he horsed the big plane towards them. The Val exploded and the other P-38 nosed over diving out of the Zeros’ reach. As often happened in combat, when Danny looked around again the sky was empty. But the four Americans tallied eleven shot down- three Vals and eight Zeroes.

When the 475th F.G. was formed in summer 1943 Danny Roberts was squadron commander of the 433rd Squadron. He was responsible for tactics, which he planned and discussed on the ground stressing that the pilots stay together “like a pack of wolves.” His ability continued and he downed a pair of Haps (A6M3 Model 32) on August 21st. An Oscar followed on September 9th.

On October 23rd Roberts led a sweep over Rabaul and was to keep enemies at bay from B-24s scheduled to appear for their big show. His squadron was at 25,000 feet and the two other squadrons at 15,000 were more than holding their own against some Zeros. Then thirty-five more enemy fighters materialized and the squadron now dropped their auxiliary tanks.

Thirty-two Allisons wound up and the sixteen P-38s accelerated down. Roberts lined up behind a Zero and punched out three short bursts. It fell off on a wing as The Preacher immediately slipped behind another. One burst hammered the right wing and the flimsy fighter turned into a ball of fire. Danny racked the P-38 around in a tight turn and came out head on to yet another. One more torrent of shells made the Zero roll and plunge groundward, streaming fire. He registered three quick victories and the whole squadron scored twelve.

By the November 2, 1943 Roberts had thirteen confirmed and a probable when their mission was to escort B-25 to hit airfields at Alexishafen on the northern New Guinea coast.

The P-38s dropped to treetop level to scour the area for enemy planes. Twenty Zeros, Haps, and Oscars challenged and Roberts sent deflection fire at a Hap maneuvering low to the water. The plane promptly exploded.

As they reformed with the bombers Roberts spotted a lone Zero skimming low headed home. Wingman Lt. Dale Meyers saw him and formed up on the right with Roberts as Lt. William Grady did so on the left. Down the trio went. Evidently the enemy saw his doom in the making and snapped a sharp turn to the right. Roberts quickly began a turn to counteract it but Meyers was split second slow and the two Lightnings smashed together and exploded killing both men.

Danny Roberts had the potential of being one of the top Pacific aces. At this time **** Bong only had nineteen and McQuire thirteen kills. Yet another fine ace was felled through accidental means.
__________________

bobbysocks

12-10-2010, 05:10 PM

12 May 1940 - In an attack on the Maas bridges, four out of five Battles are shot down. Fg Off Garland and Sgt Gray are later posthumously awarded the first air VCs of the War.

6 Apr 1941 - Six Beaufort torpedo-bombers attack the German cruiser Gneisenau, anchored in Brest harbour. One, piloted by Fg Off Kenneth Campbell, makes a successful attack before being shot down, inflicting serious damage that took six months to repair. For this, Campbell was awarded a posthumous VC. Also on this day, German forces simultaneously invade Yugoslavia and Greece.

4 Jul 1941 - A low-level daylight raid on Bremen, Germany by 15 Blenheims of Nos. 105 and 107 Sqns, results in the award of the Victoria Cross to the formation leader, Wing Commander H I Edwards.

9 Dec 1941 - Japanese aircraft attack Alor Star airfield, Malaya. From the two squadron of Blenheims based there, only one aircraft survives; its pilot, Flt Lt A S K Scarf single-handedly overcame strong enemy defences to attack Singora airfield in the North. After recovering to Alor Star, Flt Lt Scarf died from his wounds, and was posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross five years later when the full facts of his heroism were established.

30-31 May 1942 - The first 1,000-bomber raid. 1,047 aircraft were des patched to Cologne, of which 868 attacked the main target dropping 1,455 tons of explosives, two-thirds of which were incendiaries. The city suffered severe damage and 469 people were killed. About 250 factories and 18,400 houses were destroyed or damaged. Half of the city's power supply was out of action, and some 12,000 fires started, many of which burned for days. Forty one aircraft were lost, and Fg Off T Manser was posthumously awarded the VC for remaining at the controls of his No. 50 Sqn Manchester to allow his crew to bale out.

17-25 Sep 1944 - Operation Market Garden, the airborne invasion of Holland begins. During the morning of 17 Sep, some 3,887 Allied aircraft, including 1,053 Dakota transports and 500 gliders towed by Stirling and Halifax bombers, were involved in supporting or airdropping 35,000 men behind enemy lines in three areas; Arnhem to the North, Eindhoven some 65 miles further south and Nijmegen in the centre. During the initial phase of the operation not one RAF transport was lost. The attempted capture of bridges over three rivers met with fierce resistance on the ground, and air support from 2nd TAF Typhoons was needed to take out enemy gun positions. Over the following 7 days, aerial resupply by Dakotas, Stirlings and gliders resulted in the loss of 238 aircraft and 139 gliders, but the bridges at Nijmegen and Eindhoven were captured. Of some 10,00 men dropped at Arnhem, more than 7,500 were killed and the remnants evacuated after nine days of bitter conflict. Flight Lieutenant D S Lord of No. 271 Sqn, was posthumously awarded a VC for his conspicuous bravery during the resupply mission on 19 September; the only one awarded to a Transport Command pilot during the Second World War.

bobbysocks

12-10-2010, 05:11 PM

rommel killed by the raf??

On July 17, 1944, the 308 "City of Krakow" Polish Fighter Squadron patrolled over the northern France. The Western front seemed quite. The 308 was sent for a routine patrol, just to stay in shape.
Near Livarot, some 45 kilometers southeast of Caen, few motor vehicles were spotted, moving in the east direction. F/O Stanski with his wingman dove down to have a closer look. Flying on a deck, they concluded that two soldiers-full tracks escorting very chic limousine, indicated a traveling German VIP. The pilots strafed the column in few passes and climbing, returned to the squadron's formation.
Upon the return to the base, a British intelligence officer debriefed both pilots. The next day, the same officer sent for F/O Stanski to inform him:
- Claim Rommel!
- Are you sure?
- Yes I'm sure. Last night the Radio Berlin announced Feldmarshall Rommel - the Desert Fox -
killed in northern France, during strafing attack of British aircarft.
- How can you be sure it was our work?
- Yesterday, only the 308 sortied for France, and only you were strafing vehicles.

As it became known later, Feldmarshall Rommel survived the attack, but was seriously wounded.
In his book "Classic Warplanes - Supermarine Spitfire" (Salamander Books Limited - 1991) , Mike Spick wrote: "A significant contribution to the Allies war effort was an attack of Spitfires IXs near Livarot on July 17, 1944, on the car carrying Feldmarshall Rommel, during which, he was seriously wounded what removed him from active command."
(retranslation from polish)
An interesting question is why the Radio Berlin announced false information on Rommel's death. Was the Abwehr's disinformation to blame? Impossible. Three days later in Wolfschantze near Ketrzyn, an unsuccessful attempt on Hitler's life took place. It is known that Rommel sympathized with the members of the putsch. Some time later, during the visit by mysterious guests, Rommel committed suicide. This obscure event has many versions.
On 17 July that year, F/O Waclaw Stanski became twenty-four, and coincidently gave himself a memorable birthday present.
Waclaw Stanski was born on July 17, 1920, in Bezenczuk in Soviet Russia, as a son of force-laborer in Siberia, Jozef Stanski, who was sent there for refusing to join the Czar's Army. His roots were in Podlasie, eastern Poland. After the October's Revolution, Jozef was freed, and to reach Poland he had work for many days to afford one or two hundred kilometers by train. After crossing Ural Mountains, he found a temporary employment near Ufa, at a watermelon plantation. He fell in love with the youngest of the owner's daughters, married her and returned to newly independent Poland. He returned home not only with his wife, but also with his two sons and mother-in-law. Six other daughters of Szevieliev, stayed in USSR with the father. Szevielievs never met theirs mother, sister and wife again.
Upon his return to Poland, Jozef Stanski settled in Siedlce and worked for PKP, Polish national railroad. Waclaw, and his older brother Wiktor, grew up in Siedlce. As a teenager, Waclaw was very keen with sports. He played football (soccer) and competed in athletics. In 1936 he finished parachute course and a year later, glider course in Warsaw Aeroclub. He planned to graduate from the Szkola Lotnicza in Deblin (Military Aviation Academy). He failed one class, what postponed his High Scholl graduation by one year. In 1939 he entered the officer cadets course in Swidnik, where he trained on RWD-8.
During the Polish campaign he evacuated to Romania, then through Bulgaria and Liban he reached fighting? France (see left). During combat flying in England, Waclaw Stanski scored 2 and 1 shared, enemy aircraft destroyed (Focke Wulf FW190). Flying with 131 Polish Fighter Wing (302, 308 and 317 squadrons), Waclaw Stanski logged in record breaking number of dive bombing sorties. It is mentioned in Tadeusz Schiele's memoirs: "Blisko nieba" ("Near the Sky"). Schiele, Stanski's closed friend, was highlander, pilot, writer and mountaineer.
Once asked whether he was ever really scaired, he replied:
- Yes, very much so! When they shot me down over the front lines somewhere in France or Belgium. I forced landed with undercarriage up on a wood clearance at no-man's land, between Wermacht and Canadian divisions. Both sides fought for me like crazy. I lay under my Spitfire frozen with fear. Luckily for me the Canadians were better fighters.

After returning to Poland in 1947, it became apparent that, it was tough to live through war but to live through the "peace" was far more difficult. The "eastern climate" brought the real hardship.

bobbysocks

12-10-2010, 05:16 PM

Tom McGuire's Most Exciting Mission...

(McGuire and Bong were in an ace race for the us in the PTO)

During the give and take air battles to and from Rabaul in Oct 43, McGuire (Mac from here on out) flew what he remembered as his most exciting mission...

On Oct 17th, the 431st FS of 475th FG met a Jap formation head on at 23,000 ft... On the first pass, Mac got a Zeke and was promptly jumped from behind by 3 more... Getting separated from his flight, he was left with one course of action - dive away... Going down to 12,000 ft, he felt as if he were on a huge circular stage: Zekes all around but not a single P-38... Nothing to do but fight it out...

Both Mac and the enemy exchanged numerous passes... Spotting a smoking Lightning, he attempted to help, but was bounced by a flock of fighters... He turned into the formation and engaged... One Zeke blew up, then another... With 3 for the day, it was time to leave, but before he could bank away, the instrument panel disappeared under enemy fire, the left engine broke into flames, and a 7.7 mm round hit him squarely in the wrist... Instinctively, he pushed forward on the yoke to get away, going straight down... The then right engine began pouring black smoke and a 20mm round exploded in the cockpit, hitting the yoke...

The rear of the canopy flew off and 5 pieces of shrapnel entered his arm and leg... The -38 was out of control, giving no response to Mac's movements... Only one fear crept into his mind, "Boy, will Nick be sore at me!!!" (He was flying Maj Franklin A Nichols' plane)...
Trying to get out, Mac became wedged halfway - the oxygen mask was firmly attached over his eyes as the wind tore at him.... Kicking like crazy, he finally came sailing out after falling 5,000 feet... Find the rip cord - it was gone, torn off!!! Another 5,000 feet was gone before he found the D-ring wire trailing behind...

At 800 feet, Mac yanked the wire, the chute deployed and he hit the water... Getting away from the chute and harness, he inflated his rubber dinghy, but it was full of bullet holes and sank away... As he was going under, a PT boat picked him up and got him to the hospital...

On November 1st, just 2 freakin weeks later, a group of 20 P-38's flew in to Tacloban air field on Leyte, which badly need more fighters... Suddenly a Japanese Tojo fighter appeared... Mac opened up the P-38 full throttle, hit the gear and flap levers, sounded a warning to other pilots, and swung around to face the Tojo... In full view of the Tacloban airstrip, the P-38 pilot attacked and shot down the intruder with one short burst.... The Tojo crashed in flames just outside the field. Finding no other Jap planes, the P-38 pilot circled and landed....

The man really was a hell of a pilot...

Mac climbed down from his beloved Pudgy V and grinned... He had just shot down his twenty-fifth Japanese aircraft.... "This is my kind of place. You have to shoot down Japs to land on your own field..."

McGuire was the commander of the 431st Fighter Squadron of the 475th Fighter Group... The pilots of the 431st felt that McGuire could do things in a P-38 that were virtually impossible... His skill with the P-38 was so extraordinary, he almost defied reality.... He had tremendous faith in his skills as a pilot and the plane he flew....

bobbysocks

12-10-2010, 05:22 PM

"Wing commander Nicky Barr, who has died aged 90, was one of Australia's most successful wartime fighter pilots, credited with destroying at least 12 enemy aircraft.

Shot down three times, on the third occasion he was badly wounded and was taken prisoner by the Italians. He then escaped three times, and remained behind enemy lines for more than a year conducting clandestine operations with the partisans and special forces.

On January 11 1942 Barr was flying a Kittyhawk fighter with No 3 (RAAF) Squadron escorting bombers over El Alamein. When enemy fighters appeared on the scene Barr attacked, shooting one down.

He then observed one of his fellow pilots being forced down by two enemy and he immediately engaged them, dispatching one. Minutes later Barr saw his colleague waving to him from the ground, and, as he was preparing to land in the desert to rescue him, two Messerschmitt Bf 109 fighters attacked.

Although the undercarriage of his aircraft was not fully retracted, Barr engaged his attackers, only to find that his guns had jammed. He quickly rectified the fault and shot down one of the Bf 109s before two more appeared. When they attacked he was wounded and forced to crash land.

While on the ground Barr was again wounded by enemy fire, but still managed to make his way through enemy lines. He reached Allied territory after walking through the desert for three days, bringing with him valuable intelligence on the dispositions of enemy tanks and defences. He was awarded an immediate DFC for "displaying the greatest courage and tenacity".

Andrew William Barr, always known as Nicky, was born on December 10 1915 at Wellington, New Zealand, but he grew up in Australia. He was educated at Swinburne Technical College, in Victoria, where he excelled as a sportsman. But it was at rugby that he made his greatest mark, playing as hooker for Victoria and Australia.

Barr was selected for the Australian team to tour England. But shortly after their arrival war was declared, and he immediately returned to Australia to train as a pilot. Commissioned as a pilot officer in November 1940, he joined No 23 Squadron, flying Wirraway aircraft patrolling the coasts of Queensland.

After demanding to see some action, he was sent to join No 3 (RAAF), a squadron that developed a reputation as one of the most aggressive and outstanding fighter squadrons of the Desert Air Force.

Initially flying the Tomahawk, Barr achieved his first success on December 12 1941, and this was quickly followed by four more before his encounter with German fighters over El Alamein. His philosophy in combat was simple: "The Tomahawk and Kittyhawk were not considered by us to be top fighter aircraft.

I decided early on that any deficiency either type had could be offset by unbridled aggression. I had done some boxing, and had beaten better opponents by simply going for them, and I decided to use this tactic in the air. It paid off."

After recovering from his wounds, Barr returned to combat and immediately destroyed an Italian fighter near Tobruk. He was made a flight commander, but on May 27 1942 the engine of his Kittyhawk overheated and he had to land in the desert. He took off the covers to repair the engine, having already prepared a rough strip for take off.

Then he heard enemy tanks approaching and, despite the malfunctioning engine, he took off without replacing the engine covers and reached base after being missing for four hours. The next day he was promoted to squadron leader. It was just six months since he had joined as a junior pilot officer.

On May 30 Barr went to the aid of his wingman, who was being attacked by fighters. Flying at only 50 ft, his aircraft was hit by ground fire and he was forced to crash land. On this occasion he returned after spending two days in the desert.

In June he accounted for another Bf 109, his twelfth confirmed victory, in addition to having damaged at least five others. During the fierce fighting around Tobruk on June 16, Barr flew six sorties during the day in support of the retreating ground forces engaged against Rommel's Panzers.

Ten days later he was escorting bombers when he suffered engine trouble, and was then attacked by two Bf 109s. Badly wounded, he baled out of his burning fighter.

After 84 sorties, in which he was No 3 (RAAF) Squadron's top-scoring pilot of the war, Barr became a prisoner of the Italians, and nothing was heard of him for three months - he had been put in hospital in Tobruk before being moved to Italy. Once his survival had been confirmed, it was announced that he had been awarded a Bar to his DFC.

Barr spent five months recovering in a hospital at Bergamo, in northern Italy. As soon as he felt fit enough he escaped, getting as far as the Swiss border, where he was apprehended by a customs official; Barr knocked him unconscious, but was soon captured.

After a court martial, in which a Swiss border guard spoke in his defence, he was given 90 days' solitary confinement in the notorious Garvi jail, near Genoa.

Following the Italian capitulation in September 1943 the Germans started to transport all Allied PoWs to Germany. Barr jumped from a moving train and travelled south to join the Italian partisans. He helped other escaped prisoners to make their way towards the Allied forces, but after two months he was recaptured by the Germans and badly beaten up.

He escaped for a third time, and, with the help of Italian farmers, eventually joined an Allied special operations group collecting intelligence and conducting sabotage operations.

Finally, in March 1944, Barr escorted 10 other prisoners through the German lines and met up with the advancing armies. For his gallantry in organising escape routes and on clandestine operations against the Italian Fascists and Germans, he was awarded the MC.

Barr arrived in England in April 1944, and two days after D-Day he landed on Omaha Beach in charge of an air support control unit. Despite being grounded, he managed to fly Typhoons on a number of rocket-firing operations against German forces in Normandy. In late 1944 he returned to Australia as chief instructor, fighter operations, and then flew fighters in Papua New Guinea and Celebes in support of Australian ground forces.

After leaving the RAAF in 1946 Barr was involved in the development of the Murray Valley Basin in Victoria; he later joined the oil seed industry, becoming chief executive of Meggitt Ltd. He was the Australian representative on, and chairman of, the International Oil Seed Group. In 1983 he was appointed OBE for his services to the industry.

Barr earned a reputation amongst allies and enemy alike for his acts of bravery, his selflessness, dogged determination and his infectious sense of humour. He was an ardent supporter of the RAF Escaping Society, and regularly returned to Italy to meet the Italian farmers and peasants who had aided him.

Nicky Barr died on June 12. He married his wife Dot in 1941; they had two sons."
Sydney Morning Herald, June 2006
__________________

Robotic Pope

12-10-2010, 07:03 PM

There is an awesome IL2 1946 movie about Nicky Barr. I'll try and find it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=THAHcxUQakI&annotation_id=annotation_859834&feature=iv

bobbysocks

12-12-2010, 07:58 PM

Lt Col Harry harrington USAF Retd joined the RCAF in 1940 got his wings dec 41 i n Mar 43 came on strength of USAAC but remained with 410 sqn RCAF this is one part of an article out an old Airforce (RCAF Assoc)magazine at the time of this story its Nov 44
"410 squadron had by Nov 44 moved from Amiens Glissy to Lille Vendeville joining 409 squadron . November was a quiet month until the 25th . That night Harrington had been patrolling for about an hour with nothing to report . Then quite suddenly he and his navigator F/L DG Tongue recieved vectors on to a target which he and Tongue identified as a JU88g . Harrington utilised his standard attack manoeuvre and shortly obtained strikes on the enemys a/c cockpit engines and wings the a/c exploded and crashed to the ground . Immediately after the pair was vectored on to a second a/c and while stalking this adversary it was determined that they were being stalked by a 3rd a/c after 10 minutes of violent evasive action the second Junkers fell prey to Harringtons marksmanship recieving strikes on cockpit engines and wing roots. after a half roll hard turn to the left looping and stalling the enemy a/c ended up in a inverted spin which ended with a spectacular crash and explosion . climbing out of this second engagement Harrington again encountered enemy a/c 2 this time and one was immediatly engaged with the same results the Ju88 caught fire and descended below cloud and exploded with his ammunition spent and another enemy night fighter in the vicinity Harrington elected to RTB icredibly the entire action took 16 minutes the Hat trick raised his an Tongues score to seven confirmed kills and one unconfirmed . As such Harrington distinguished himself as the highest scoring nightfighter ace of the USAAF

First air victory of WWII

At about 7:00 a.m., (other sources say 5:30 a.m.), two P-11c's moved onto the runway. Just after take off, at about 300 meters altitude, the Polish fighters were suddenly attacked by a pair of German Ju 87B dive-bombers, from I/StG2 "Immelmann". Uffz. Frank Neubert , piloting a "Stuka" coded "T6+GK", sucessfully shot at Medwecki and scored probably the first air victory of WWII. "Jedenastka" ("Eleventh" - popular Polish name of P-11) fell, and commander of the "City of Krakow" Regiment was killed. Gnys was now also under attack, but a few seconds later he shot at a "Stuka" piloted by Lt. Branderburg. From the German aircraft there appeared some smoke, but it managed to escape into the clouds and returned to Nieder-Ellguth Airfield.

CR 42

"After taking off at 15:00 on 30 January [1941], Flying Officers Ernest Mason and Thomas Patterson of 274 Squadron, arrived over an Italian airfield, which they identified as Barce [but probably was Benina] at 16:45. Here they discovered a CR.42 on the starboard beam and 2000 feet below, which they chased down to 6000 feet. The Italian pilot fought back tenaciously, hitting Patterson’s Hurricane (P3765), who was forced to retreat with shrapnel wound in his left arm and was taken to hospital the next day. The Italian then started a series of head on attacks on Mason (P3723), who recalled:

This CR 42 was very tough. We kept doing head on attacks where we rush at each other head-on until point-blank range and then shoot past each other. Usually very successful. But this fellow wouldn’t go down. On the fourth attack we were rushing each other, each firing. But this time he didn’t pull out but came straight on. I pulled up instinctively and as he passed underneath my wing I felt a crash and a bump. I thought we had collided. I had a glimpse of him going straight on and burning.
I now realised that I had been hit and not collided (…)

Mason had to turn back, he was slightly wounded in the side, his plane had been badly shot about, but he was able to return to Gazala and land at 17:45. Back at base, he claimed this CR 42 as confirmed.
The RAF duo had run into Sgt. Mario Turchi of the 368a Squadriglia. The young Sergeant had taken off for a standing patrol over Benina when at 16:20 he was attacked by two Hurricanes. Under the eyes of his Squadriglia mates and of his temporary CO (Lt. Giuseppe Zuffi), Turchi was able to quickly disengage from the first Hawker [Patterson] and then attacked the second one, finally colliding with it [Mason was right in his first impression] loosing the wingtip of the upper wing and suffering some airscrew cuts in the lower wing. His last opponent was seen to abandon the fight, leaving a track of smoke and claimed damaged. The Italian pilot landed his Fiat (MM6255), which was classified RS, being welcomed like a hero by his Squadriglia comrades that had witnessed his successful combat.
...
Turchi was awarded with a Medaglia d’argento al Valor Militare for this combat."

unseen help

There was even a case of eleven twenty-millimeter cannon shells penetrating the fuel tanks of a B-17 flown by the 379th Bomb Group without exploding. Inside one of the shells, taken by technical intelligence for examination,
was a note in Czech that read 'This is all we can do for you now.'

This was in Winged Victory, talking about the high amount of duds that the Germans were using mainly due to slave labor. What are the odds? That's a pretty neat little story.

lady be good ala italiano

On 21 july 1960, Gian Luca Desio and Giovanni Vacirca, technicians of the CORI (geological prospects company), that were 580 km south of Bengazi, heading for Cufra, at 8 km from the Gialo-Giarabub track, discovered the body of a man, perfectly preserved under the sand.
He dressed an italian flight suit, with him there were a big compass taken from the instruments of an italian bomber, a 1/2 liter empty water tank, a screwdriver, a signal gun with three used rockets and a bunch of keys marked MM23881.
The body was that of Marshall Giovanni Romanini, gunner of the torpedo bomber SM 79 MM23881 that taken off from Berka in the late evening of 21 april 1941 and never turned back.
On that day the Italian torpedo bombers were employed in a series of spaced out attacks at dusk counter a british convoy near Crete. The MM23881, was commanded by Cpt. Oscar Cimolini that, with his crew, arrived in Africa only two days before. The aircraft has taken off a middle our after that of Lt. Robone. Robone arrived over the convoy at 19,25, badly damaged the tanker "British Lord" (the merchants "Bankura" and "Urania" were lost due to aerial attacks that day) and landed safely at 21,30. He testified to have heard AA fire from the convoy when he was coming back, so he thought Cimolini attacked the convoy only few minutes after him, but after that there were no more signs ot the MM23881, for 19 years.
After the recovery of the body of Romanini, the search for the aircraft and for the rest of the crew resumed, but only after two month, and still by case, the aircraft was discovered 80 km south of him (and several hundreds of Km out of the maximum range of the aircraft) by the technicians of AGIP (Italian oil company).
The aircraft, apart for the fabric covering, was in nearly perfect conditions, with even the windscreen intact and without signs of enemy fire. Subsequent studies estabilished that it landed with the engines functioning and the undercarriage open (that was broken at impact)
Still on the pilot's seat there were the body of Cpt.Cimolini, with a broken shouder. The bodies of the others members of the crew and some empty bottles of water were few meters off the plane.
What happened first than the landing is only a matter of hypotesis. The more probable is that, returning from the attack, in the dark, Cimolini has misjudjed the intensity of the wind to calculate the drift, so lacked the airstrip, was lost in the desert and finally, running out of fuel, decided to land, but this explanation supposes the failure of the radio. It's difficult to estabilish if the radio was or not functioning at 19 years of distance, but the AGIP technicians were able to switch it on with only a summary polishing.
What appened after is easy to immagine. The crew decided to send one of them in search for rescue, hoping to find a track. Romanini, the younger of the crew, was equipped with the compass, the signals and the keys (probably to permit an easier identification in case of death) and headed north.
He covered 80 km of distance in the desert, carring the heavy compass, first to die at 8 km from salvation. Probably, in his last night (perhaps hearing the vehicles over the track) he fired the rockets, but none saw him.

bobbysocks

12-12-2010, 08:11 PM

i had posted a story about P 38 jock Mcguire who was in an ace race with bong. come to find out he wrote a small book on tactics in the pacific theater and here it is.

http://www.eaf51.org/EAF/Miscellaneous/CTinSWPA.pdf

bobbysocks

12-12-2010, 08:46 PM

Following its attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, Japan's primary goal was to capture the island of Java and force the surrender of Dutch forces in the Netherlands East Indies.
The Japanese military desperately needed the region's vast oil reserves and natural resources to support its war on Mainland China.
By February 1942, their forces had taken the islands of Tarakan, Borneo, Celebes, Ambon, Bali and the southern half of Sumatra.
In an effort to stem the Japanese advance, the American,British,Dutch and Australian governments formed a joint military command to coordinate the Allied defense of Southeast Asia. ABDA (American, British, Dutch, Australian)
- as the command was named - became operational in January 1942 and quickly established its primary supply base at the port of Darwin in Northern Australia. As supplies for ABDA forces arrived, they were routed through Darwin to the East Indies, Singapore and Mindanao in the Philippines.
In addition, Darwin was a vital staging point for air reinforcements bound for Java. While Allied bombers had the range to reach Java non-stop, fighters had to navigate a network of primitive island airstrips throughout the eastern East Indies. From Darwin, they staged through Penfoi Airfield on Timor to Den Passar Airfield on Bali and then onto Java. These reinforcements, especially the fighters, were critical to the survival of Java. Without them, Japanese air power would break Allied resistance and the East Indies would collapse. The Japanese quickly recognized the importance of Darwin as they moved into the eastern Netherlands East Indies. Their primary goal was the capture of Timor to cut off air reinforcements to Java. At the same time, its capture on 20 February would give them an air base only 600 miles off the north coast of Australia. To cover their invasion force and disrupt Allied supply efforts, an air raid on Darwin was simultaneously planned for 19 February 1942.

At nightfall on the 15th, a powerful carrier task force under the command of Vice-Admiral Nagumo Choichi departed Palau. His force included the 1st Carrier Fleet with the 1st Carrier Squadron (IJNS Akagi and IJNS Kaga) and the 2nd Carrier Squadron (IJNS Hiryu and IJNS Soryu). Although the 3rd Carrier Squadron (IJNS Shokaku and IJNS Zuikaku) had returned to Japan in late January, Nagumo's force was essentially the same as that which
had attacked Pearl Harbor. IJNS Akagi and IJNS Kaga had just returned from a refit at Truk, while IJNS Hiryu and IJNS Soryu had recently supported the invasion of Ambon. In support were the 1st/3rd Battleship Squadron (IJNS Kirishima and IJNS Hiei) and 8th Cruiser Squadron (IJNS Tone and IJNS Chikuma). The 1st Destroyer Flotilla with the light cruiser IJNS Abukuma (flagship), 17th Destroyer Division (IJN Ships Tanikaze, Isokaze, Hamakaze, Urukaze), 18th Destroyer Division (IJN Ships Kasumi, Arare, Kagero, Shiranuhi) and the destroyer IJNS Akigumo screened the task force. In accordance with orders he had received on 8 February, Nagumo put into Kendari on the 17th.
The following night, he made a high-speed run across the Banda Sea.
By dawn of the 19th, his strike force was in position in the Timor Sea to attack Darwin. The four carriers then launched 188 planes - 36 fighters, 71 dive bombers and 81 level bombers. 54 Japanese Army Air Force Ki-21 "Sally" bombers from recently captured Dutch airfields on Ambon and Kendari were to join them over the port as part of a second wave of air strikes. En route to Darwin, the carrier formation encountered a United States Navy PBY Catalina flown by Lieutenant Thomas Moorer USN. The PBY belonged to Patrol Wing 10 and was on patrol out of Darwin. One of the Kaga's Zeros, flown by Naval Air Pilot 1st Class Yoshikazu Nagahama IJN, broke formation and bounced the Catalina before Moorer's crew knew what hit them.
In his first pass, Nagahama shot out the PBY's port engine and ruptured the port fuel tank, causing flames to engulf the plane. Killing power on both engines to counter the drag caused by the dead engine, Moorer managed set down on the water in an extremely hard landing. As the crew scrambled into rafts the PBY disappeared in a column of flame and smoke. Observing the action, a small Filipino Flagged merchant ship - the Florence D - altered course and rescued the crew a short time later.
From her captain, Moorer learned that she was a blockade-runner under contract to the United States Navy to deliver supplies to American forces in the Philippines. Despite the presence of Japanese aircraft, the captain had already been unsuccessfully attacked several times and remained confident of his chances. The attack on Moorer's PBY had been so fast that his radio operator had been unable to notify Darwin.
As the Japanese passed over Melville Island, an Australian coastwatcher radioed a warning. However, 10 P-40E Kittyhawk fighters, led by a LB-30 Liberator, had just departed Darwin and it was assumed this was the same formation.
They were bound for Java via Timor.
However, had liaison between the Americans and Australians been better, the Australian duty officer might have realized that Melville Island was well north of their course. A second warning followed at 0937 as the Japanese passed over Bathurst Island. Father John McGrath of the island's Catholic Mission sighted it and radioed -
"AN UNUSUALLY LARGE AIR FORMATION BEARING DOWN ON US FROM THE NORTHWEST."

Again the duty officer took no action; as at Pearl Harbor on 7 December, Darwin's final chance to make last-minute preparations for the impending raid slipped away. Without radar, the port was unaware of the Japanese and they were able to approach the port undetected. Port Darwin itself had very few defenses of any kind and the recently departed P-40s had represented the only effective fighter cover. A cyclone had shut down the port from February 2-10, so the harbor was crammed with merchant ships waiting to unload. The port's communist-led stevedore union then staged a strike, further adding to the backlog. When unloading finally continued (using American troops armed with rifles and bayonets), the tiny port's single wharf could only unload two ships at a time.
The harbor contained nearly 30 ships.
Australian ships included the examination steamer Southern Cross; the boom vessel's Kookaburra, Koala, Kangaroo, Karangi; and the gate vessel Kara Kara. Also present, were the RAN auxiliary minesweepers HMA Ships Tolga, Terka and Gunbar; patrol boat HMAS Coongoola; depot ship HMAS Platypus; sloops HMA Ships Swan and Warrego; and the 24th Minesweeping Flotilla with the corvettes HMA Ships Deloraine, Katoomba and Lithgow. The hospital ship Manunda also awaited orders after being held in port when Singapore fell.

The American destroyer USS Peary and the United States Army Transports Meigs, Mauna Loa, Portmar and Admiral Halstead were also in port.
The seaplane tender William B. Preston was making preparations to head further south down the coast. They joined the British tanker British Motorist, which carried a full load of high-octane aviation gasoline. The Australian cargo ships Barossa, Tulagi, Zealandia and Neptuna (whose cargo included 200 tons of depth charges) waited to unload at the small wharf.
On Darwin's military airdrome were nine Hudson bombers of 2 RAAF and 13 RAAF Squadrons. Darwin's civilian airport was home to five unserviceable Wirraway fighters of 12 RAAF Squadron. Nine more of the squadron's Wirraways were on Batchelor Field, just outside of Darwin. Some distance away was Daly Waters, a primitive airstrip with eight more Hudsons.
A miscellaneous assortment of civilian aircraft rounded out the military planes. There were very little antiaircraft defenses at any of these bases.

As the Japanese formation approached Darwin, it encountered the 10 P-40s, which had taken off at 0915. En route to Timor, the American planes, belonging to the 33rd Pursuit Group, encountered violent weather just 20 minutes after takeoff and turned back to Darwin. Five planes landed to refuel, while the remainder patrolled the skies over Darwin. These planes now encountered the Zero flown by NAP 1st Class Yoshikazu Nagahama IJN.

His attack on Moorer's PBY had caused Nagahama to lose his formation, so he proceeded to Darwin alone. As a result, he was the first Japanese plane over the target. He sighted the five American Kittyhawks immediately and dove to attack.
The first indication the Americans had of Nagahama's presence came when Lieutenant Robert Ostreicher USAAF casually looked up and was shocked to see a Zero bearing down on him.
Ostreicher immediately jettisoned his drop tank and dove away.
The other P-40s attempted to follow, but Nagahama was too quick.
In a matter of seconds, he shot down Lieutenant Jack Peres USAAF and Lieutenant Elton Perry USAAF before they could react.
Both plunged to the ocean in flames.
Nagahama then shot up Lieutenant Max Wieck's (USAAF) P-40 so badly that he was forced to bail out. As Wiecks floated to the water, Nagahama also seriously damaged the plane flown by Lieutenant William Walker USAAF.
Barely out of flight school and unable to shake the Japanese pilot, Walker was badly wounded and barely managed to crash-land his mangled plane at Darwin.
The first elements of the main Japanese formation now arrived over the port and almost immediately encountered Lieutenant Ostreicher's lone Kittyhawk.
He made a number of attacks and claimed to have shot down one bomber and damaged another. Although his own aircraft was damaged by return fire, he was able to land safely at Darwin. It is possible that Ostreicher attacked two different formations, both belonging to IJNS Soryu. The first consisted of 18 B5N "Kates" which reported being attacked by fighters and having four planes damaged, but none lost. A second formation of 18 D3A "Val" dive bombers also reported being attacked by fighters. One was lightly damaged, while a second was forced to ditch in the ocean. A Japanese destroyer later rescued its crew.
The main fighter force now arrived over Darwin and began strafing AA positions and other targets of opportunity. One of their first targets was the auxiliary minesweeper HMAS Gunbar as she passed through the harbor boom. She suffered heavy damage and a number of dead and wounded before the Zeros moved on. The five P-40s refueling on Darwin's military airfield now tried to scramble. The 33rd Pursuit Squadron's commanding officer, Major Floyd Pell USAAF, was the first off the ground. He managed to reach approximately 100 feet before his plane was attacked by a flock of Zeros from IJNS Hiryu. Pell bailed out of his burning plane at about 70 feet, and his parachute barely opened before hitting the ground. He was still alive and crawling slowly when a group of strafing Zeros killed him. Lieutenant Charles Hughes USAAF did not make it off the ground and was killed in the cockpit as his Kittyhawk rolled down the runway. Lieutenant Robert McMahon USAAF got into the air and encountered three Zeros, which he managed to get behind. He claimed hits on one, but his landing gear then dropped, helping the Japanese gang up on him.
The Zeros badly holed the P-40 and wounded McMahon in the leg, but were unable to complete the kill before AA fire from the harbor drove them off.
As McMahon nursed his burning plane back to the airstrip, he encountered a "Val", which he hosed with gunfire.
The rear gunner slumped over his weapon but McMahon was forced to bail out before he could observe more.
This could also have been one of the planes attacked by Lieutenant Ostreicher. The attention paid to the three previous pilots undoubtedly helped Lieutenants Burt Rice USAAF and John Glover USAAF get airborne.
However, Rice came under attack almost immediately and his plane crashed in flames. He bailed out and drifted to the ground in a semiconscious state.
Glover tried to cover Rice's parachute, but he too was hit.
With his plane barely controllable, Glover headed back to the airfield.
There, he crash landed and was dragged from the burning wreckage by RAAF ground personnel.
At 0957, the level bombers began their run over the harbor and town at 14000 feet. One minute later, Darwin's air raid klaxons belatedly sounded.
Bombs struck the wharf, blowing the pier's train into the harbor.
Explosions destroyed water mains, oil pipes and much of the pier itself.
The bombs then slowly and methodically moved across the hospital, post office, police barracks and through the town's administrative district.
Many workers were killed with dozens more wounded and trapped.
With the water mains destroyed, it proved impossible to extinguish the fires that soon engulfed the town. Attacking singly, in pairs and in waves of three, 27 "Vals" now concentrated on shipping in the harbor.

HMA Ships Swan and Warrego along with the USS Peary and William B. Preston got underway, but USS Peary was buried under a rain of bombs.
Two bombs on the fantail demolished the depth charge racks, sheared off the propeller guards and flooded her engine steering room. A third bomb exploded in the galley. It was followed by a fourth, which penetrated her main deck and exploded in her forward magazine. A fifth bomb then gutted her engine room and the ship broke apart. Eighty officers and men perished in the hailstorm and flaming oil that surrounded the USS Peary. Among the dead was her captain, Lieutenant-Commander John Bermingham USN, along with all his officers. Only 40 enlisted men survived, most of them wounded.

The only officer to survive was Lieutenant W.J. Catlett USN who was ashore in the hospital during the attack.
As Manunda sent out rescue boats, William B. Preston blew through the harbor at high speed. Steering on her engines, she just missed the hospital ship's bow by mere inches, cleared the harbor and set a southerly course down the coast of Australia at full speed.
Shortly afterwards, Manunda - although clearly marked with white paint and red crosses - was near-missed several times by dive-bombers.
Postwar Japanese records indicated these attacks were in error and were not condoned. None-the-less, she suffered four dead, 76 shrapnel holes and over 100 indentaions in the hull with heavy damage to her upper works.
A direct hit then smashed the aft end of the bridge, causing much internal damage and starting seven fires.
Despite 12 killed and 47 wounded among the crew and medical staff, Manunda continued to provide medical care to wounded personnel during and after the raid.
At the same time, HMAS Swan was badly damaged by a near-miss.
The British Motorist was also badly hit and began sinking by the head.
Mauna Loa had her back broken by a direct hit and began to settle at the stern. HMAS Platypus managed to beat off her attackers, although three near misses immobilized her engine room and sank the lighter Mavie, which was tied up alongside. HMAS Katoomba was confined to dry dock, but sharp AA fire from her gun crews caused a dive bomber to miss. Zealandia took a bomb down her #3 hatch, which exploded deep in the hold. She then swung slowly into the wind, causing flames to fan up all along the ship.
As they spread fore and aft, her master gave orders to abandon ship.
As his crew went over the side, Tolga, Terka and several small harbor patrol boats moved in to take off her survivors and those of the British Motorist.

Neptuna and Barossa were unloading at the pier when both were hit.
With their boilers cold, neither could move as burning oil from the wharf's ruptured oil pipes gradually enveloped them.
Braving intense heat and flames, the naval tug HMAS Wato moved in and towed away the oil lighter moored to Barossa's side.
She then returned and towed Barossa to safety.
HMAS Wato beached the burning ship nearby and her cargo of timber for expanding the pier was allowed to burn itself out. Tulagi was also hit and beached to avoid sinking. She would later be pulled off and repaired with little difficulty.
Shortly after the raid ended, Neptuna's 200 tons of depth charges exploded, destroying what was left of the pier and much of the town.
Although her stern and engines disappeared immediately,the bow briefly remained afloat.
The carrier raid lasted less than an hour and these planes were gone before 1100. Bombers from Kendari appeared overhead at 1158.
They ignored the town and harbor, instead concentrating on the military airfield. What little the Zeros had left untouched, the bombers finished off, including the damaged fighters belonging to Ostreicher and Walker.
Although only six men were killed, highly accurate pattern bombing destroyed two hangers, four dormitories, mess halls, equipment stores and a number of other buildings, including the hospital. Sinking ships and shattered hulks littered the harbor and small boats darted everywhere, fighting fires and gathering wounded. Eight ships had been sunk, including USS Peary, British Motorist, Neptuna, Zealandia, Mauna Loa, Meigs, Mavie and the coal hulk Kelat. Three more - Barossa, Portmar and Tulagi - were saved only by beaching, although the latter suffered little damage and was soon repaired.
Ten others were damaged in varying degrees.
On the ground, the Zeros and bombers had destroyed virtually every Allied plane they could find. In addition to the 33rd Pursuit Squadron's 11 P-40s, one LB-30 and three USAAF Beechcraft biplanes used for liaison duties were also destroyed. In addition, Zeros from IJNS Hiryu burned three PatWing 10 PBYs in the harbor.
The RAAF lost six Hudsons with another one and a Wirraway damaged.
As hard as it is to believe, the raid could have been worse.
AA fire was extremely heavy, causing a number of attacks to fail.
Still, the Japanese lost only one fighter and two "Vals" over Darwin.
A third "Val" was forced to ditch in the ocean on the return flight, but its crew was rescued by one of Nagumo's destroyers. Another 34 aircraft were damaged in varying degrees, although the number written off upon their return to the carrier task force is unknown.
No Army planes were lost or damaged.
As the Japanese retired, dive bombers from the IJNS Kaga sighted what they reported to be a "camouflaged cruiser." Based on this report, IJNS Soryu and IJNS Hiryu each launched nine "Vals" on an armed reconnaissance patrol.
1½ hours later, the planes from the IJNS Soryu found the ship; it was actually the 3200 ton merchant vessel Don Isidore, which like the aforementioned Florence D, was also under contract to the USN as to blockade runner between Darwin and the Philippines.
The dive bombers scored five direct hits, leaving the ship heavily damaged.
In exchange, return fire lightly damaged one "Val."
Just 30 miles to the south, Florence D picked her distress call.
Don Isidore reported that she was under heavy attack with many casualties.
Her captain immediately changed course to render assistance.
He had barely done so when an Aichi E13A1 "Jake" floatplane appeared.
Launched from one of Nagumo's battleships or cruisers, it had likely been sent out to monitor the attack on Don Isidore.
Unarmed and with a top speed of only 10 knots, Florence D's captain decided it was useless to try and outmaneuver the floatplane.
He dropped anchor and ordered everyone to take cover.
The "Jake" then came around and dropped two 100 lb. bombs; fortunately the pilot was a poor aimer and both missed the ship by several hundred feet.
He then strafed Florence D several times before flying off to the west.
As the "Jake" disappeared, Florence D continued on course.
Approximately 90 minutes later, lookouts sighted the Don Isidore.
Although the two ships exchanged recognition signals, the latter did not slow down as she continued to the south.
She later lost rudder control and was beached on the north coast of Australia to avoid sinking. The Australian corvette HMAS Warrnambool rescued her crew on 20 February.
Florence D's captain now decided that it was too dangerous to proceed and turned back for Darwin. Unfortunately, his decision came too late; 30 minutes later, IJNS Hiryu's nine dive bombers found the freighter and launched an immediate attack.
Although only two bombs hit, the first exploded in the forward cargo hold, which contained 3-inch AA shells and a large quantity of .50-caliber ammunition.
The second exploded amidships and Florence D went down by the bow within a matter of minutes.
Moorer's men and the surviving crew eventually reached the north coast of Australia and were also rescued by the HMAS Warrnambool on the 23rd.
Once IJNS Hiryu's dive bombers were recovered, Admiral Nagumo turned for Kendari, where he arrived on 21 February.
The operation had been a complete success.
Not only was Timor taken without Allied sea or air resistance, but the vital air route to Java had also been severed. A series of devastating air strikes then let the Japanese achieve complete air superiority over Java, allowing their invasion convoys approach virtually unhindered from the air.
Unlike Pearl Harbor - where Nagumo's pilots had failed to hit fuel stocks, repair facilities and other shore installations - they were ordered not to make the same mistake at Darwin. As a result, it was annihilated as a supply base with 262 killed and 311 wounded. The port would later be rebuilt into a major supply hub, but played no further role in the Netherlands East Indies campaign. And although Japanese bombers attacked the port well into 1943, improved radar, AA and fighter defenses prevented another Australian Pearl Harbor.

bobbysocks

12-13-2010, 06:01 PM

The military zeppelin USS Macon was meant to be a floating American aircraft carrier over the Pacific Ocean -- but it crashed, sank and has been lying on the ocean floor for more than 70 years. Now scientists have discovered and documented the unique wreck off the coast of California.

The tragedy unfolded unusually slowly for an aviation catastrophe: The crew fought to control the USS Macon for more than an hour. US naval officers threw fuel canisters overboard in an attempt to reduce the weight of their vessel. The canisters imploded on their way to the ocean floor. Meanwhile, the Macon -- the largest rigid airship ever constructed in the United States -- sank inexorably downward, the safety of the Moffett Field hangar just within reach.
The Macon hit the water surface only five kilometers (three miles) off the Californian coast, along the latitude of the Point Sur lighthouse near Monterey, on Feb. 12, 1935. The zeppelin broke apart and sank into the deep water. Two of the 83 crew members died -- the low number of deaths is likely due to the fact that the Macon sank in slow motion.
Neither enemy fire nor sabotage was to blame for the giant airship's doom (and a giant it was: longer than three 747 jets parked nose to tail). A heavy storm above the picturesque stretch of Californian coast known as Big Sur tore off the Macon's vertical tail fin. The airship's structural framework was so badly damaged that the Macon broke apart when it hit the water.

A riddle at the bottom of the ocean

Why and how that happened is the question an interdisciplinary research team now wants to answer. While an investigative commission formed by the US Navy following the catastrophe was able to determine that shoddy repair work was to blame for the crash -- a test flight above Texas had led to damage to the structural framework earlier -- the results reached by the commission were never definitively proven. The commission's researchers had to content themselves with speculation -- after all, the evidence for their hypothesis lay 450 meters (1,476 feet) below the ocean surface. Scuba divers are still unable to reach that depth today, although treasure hunters and dealers in military paraphernalia are sometimes equipped to go there. However, the location of the wreck was kept secret precisely in order to prevent plundering.

It was only in June 1990 that Chris Grech, the deputy director of the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute (MBARI) discovered the first pieces of wreckage on the ocean floor. Several high-tech searches had been unsuccessful during the 1980s. Grech finally discovered the Macon's remains in the middle of a deep-sea reservation area. Its existence is the only reason why what Grech calls a "unique time capsule from another era" has remained untouched for more than 70 years. If commercial fishing had been allowed in the area, dragnets would long since have destroyed the ghostly remains at the bottom of the ocean.

In late September of this year, scientists from MBARI and the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) joined forces with the US Navy. They left Monterey on board the research ship Western Flyer in order to systematically survey the area. Until then, the scientists had to work with low-resolution sonar images of the wreckage, but now an underwater robot, the remotely operated vehicle (ROV) Tiburon, was able to explore the Macon's final resting site -- and take close-up pictures.

A chapter in the history of military technology

"The primary goal of the mission is to conduct comprehensive documentation of the site of the USS Macon's loss that can be used to evaluate the archaeological context of the craft," according to a NOAA statement. But the scientists are also secretly hoping to find the Macon's tail fin -- the part that turned out to be the weakest link in the construction, during the airship's final, ill-starred ocean flight.

Grech, the project's director, says he's noticed changes since his last visit. "A lot of the wreck is covered up," Grech told the New York Times. "It's easy for sediment to build up over time, and some large objects have moved."

Water currents along the Californian coast could pull the Macon's remains so far apart that they would become useless to historians. That's why the September expedition documented every detail of what it discovered, producing a mosaic of photographs. Paradoxically, the most easily recognizable objects on the photographs are the remains of four small Curtiss F9C-2 "sparrowhawk" fighter planes. The airship was intended to function as an airborne aircraft carrier -- an enormous, cigar-shaped vessel that would carry the small, agile biplanes much further into the airspace above the Pacific Ocean than they would ever have been able to venture themselves. The propeller-driven fighters were meant to fly reconnaissance flights above the ocean. As early as the 1920s, the US Navy was preparing for a war in the Pacific.

"The planes don't look damaged," Grech told the New York Times, pointing out that the wings of the planes are intact and that their bright yellow color and blue and white Navy star are visible. What is more, five of the Macon's giant Maybach engines can also be seen lying on the ocean floor off Point Sur, along with parts of the airship's canteen and the officer's quarters. An aluminium chair, a metal cabinet, a desk and several shelves offer insight into the interior design preferences of the 1930s military.

No tail fin, no corpses

The Macon consisted of a rigid framework made from aluminium alloy; the framework supported a canvas hull. Inside the hull, helium tanks ensured the overall construction was lighter than air. While the giant airship's overall weight was more than 200 tons, the lightness of its construction materials has turned out to be the very factor that poses special difficulties for today's underwater archaeologists.

Only two thirds of the wreck have been discovered and mapped, according to Grech. When they returned to the port of Monterey, the scientists had to face up to the fact that the Macon's missing tail fin -- the decisive component of the crashed airship -- has yet to be discovered. "It's either buried under sediment or in one of the canyons," Grech told the New York Times. Nor was any sign of the two victims of the crash discovered. Bruce Terrell, a marine historian at NOAA, told the New York Times that the researchers "had not seen any indication of human remains."

The loss of the USS Macon in 1935 marked the end of the US Navy's dirigible program, which already had a 20-year history then. The program had long been criticized for the high costs involved -- costs especially well exemplified by the USS Macon, the most expensive aviation object of its time. Following the Macon's crash, concerns about costs were compounded by security-related arguments, and the aviation program no longer seemed justifiable. And yet the airship the New York Times called the "high-tech wonder of its day" was off to a good start: The construction was considered especially safe, since it contained no flammable hydrogen, but only helium, which cannot explode.

Two years later, the most famous of all airship disasters demonstrated just how dangerous the use of hydrogen -- which is lighter and cheaper than helium -- can be: On May 6, 1937, the German airship LZ 129 Hindenburg caught fire on the Lakehurst airfield in New Jersey, where the USS Macon had been stationed for a brief period of time as well. Filled to the brim with hydrogen, the Hindenburg caught fire while landing on the airfield -- 36 of the 97 persons on board died. That day, military strategists lost whatever interest they may still have had in the use of airships for military purposes.

picture 1- The USS Macon flying over New York harbor in 1933.

picture 2- The wing and cockpit of one of the Curtiss Sparrowhawk biplanes that went down with the USS Macon. The tube at lower right was a telescopic gun site. Just above the cockpit is the frame for the "sky-hook" that allowed the biplane pilot to dock with a trapeze hanging beneath the belly of the USS Macon.

bobbysocks

12-13-2010, 06:13 PM

The kamikaze pilot who chose life before empire- an oil leak and a kind commander saved a young recruit...

IN ALL ways but one, Shigeyoshi Hamazono is the kind of elderly ex-military man whom you might meet anywhere.
His back is ram-rod straight and his black shoes and grey suit are as polished and crisp as a uniform. His skin is tanned by the southern Japanese sun, and he looks closer to 70 than to his 81 years.
Even if you spotted the singeing that still affects his eyebrows, and the shrapnel fragments in his arm, you would never guess Mr Hamazono’s extraordinary story. For he was a kamikaze pilot, destined to die at 21.
Mr Hamazono resolved to die — gladly, as a sacrifice on behalf of his mother country — and flew to the boundary between life and death. Staring across it, to his own great surprise, he chose life.
He tells a story of young men like him, sucked into volunteering for a war they could not see beyond, who were nonetheless deeply ambivalent about the sacrifice of themselves and their comrades, and took great risks to save one another from death.
“I saw so many of these new young pilots, fresh out of training, arriving at the airbase in their fresh uniforms — the next day, they were gone,” he says.
“On the surface, they thought they had no choice but to be kamikaze pilots. But deep in their hearts, it wasn’t what they wanted.”
Mr Hamazono was born into a fishing family in southern Japan. After the bombing of Pearl Harbor in December 1941, he volunteered as soon as he could. He said: “My mother could hardly read but she wrote me a letter with the only words she could manage: ‘Don’t be defeated’ and ‘Don’t die’.”
It was the young Mr Hamazono’s bad luck to be fighting for commanders for whom these two priorities were mutually exclusive.
As Japan’s early success turned to a slow, grinding reverse, he had many narrow escapes as a naval fighter pilot. Then, in October 1944, he found himself in the Philippines, where the first Divine Wind Special Attack Squadrons were organised.
Service in the Special Attack Squadrons was to be entirely voluntary, and so a hundred pilots in Mr Hamazono’s group were handed a piece of paper, and invited to mark it with a circle, indicating that they volunteered, or a cross if they declined.
“Three men marked the cross,” he says. “And they were forced to go anyway. Some of them came back saying they couldn’t find the enemy, or that their fuel was running out. They were sent out again. I feel hatred towards those officers who made them go like that.
“One day, I was called in by the commander, and he said, ‘I’m sorry, but will you go tomorrow?’ I knew immediately what it meant.
“As a military pilot, there was no way to say no. I was grateful for my training, and the responsibility given to me, and my Zero fighter. This was my duty. That night all I thought about was my mission.”
With two other pilots, Mr Hamazono took off the next morning, bound for their target, a British cruiser. In two years of flying a Zero fighter, he had never had a technical problem — but now, suddenly, oil began to leak from his propeller and sprayed across his cockpit window, obscuring his vision. He radioed to his commander in the aircraft in front and was ordered to return to base. Then another order: to go not to Manila, from where he had flown, but to Taiwan.
“I had never cried before — that was the first time,” Mr Hamazono said. “He knew that if I landed at Manila I’d be sent out again the next day. I could have disobeyed his order, but the commander recognised that I had not decided whether to live or die. He recognised my feeling, and he saved my life.”
Mr Hamazono never recovered the will to die. He stayed in Taiwan, where the engineers obligingly lingered over the repairs to his aircraft. With an increasing shortage of airworthy planes, he was sent back to Japan.
By this time, in any case, the chances of the heavily laden, rickety aircraft penetrating the American air defences to get close to a ship, were almost nil. Two thousand kamikaze aircraft set out during the war, but between them they sank only 34 ships.
Suicide aircraft were supposed to fly with enough fuel for only a one-way trip; on his second mission, Mr Hamazono’s engineer made a point of giving him a full tank. But long before they reached their target, he and his comrades were cut to pieces by US Grumman fighters, and he alone limped home to live out the few remaining weeks of the war, training the new and younger pilots who were being hastily sent to their deaths.
He continued serving the Japanese defence forces until retirement.
“They used to tell us that the last words of the pilots were ‘Long Live the Emperor!’,” Mr Hamazono said. “But I am sure that was a lie. They cried out what I would have cried. They called for their mothers.”

bobbysocks

12-13-2010, 06:23 PM

interview with a yak pilot...

"While trying to set a date and place for the interview with “our” pilot, we got the impression of him being strict man that prefers to keep his privacy and stay away from the public eye. Another thing that concerned us was that he said he flew 15 types of planes which puzzled us a bit.
So we had some concerns but hoped for the good. Meeting this guy we found him to be nice 83 old year man with good hand shake, very good memory (we brought some cockpit pics from the game and he loved to elaborate on them and thought that they are rather good) and above all an honest man that has no phony thing about him.
The pilot asked us to remain anonymous as he dose not want to appear in any public eye so we can only say that the interview took place in Israel and we will refer to him as “A” in the interview.
Since we had interpreter we can’t say we quote him in the most exact manner but we did our best to bring things in the right spirit and facts.
We had only one hour to complete the interview and so here is his story in very brief way:
“A” was born in Gomel in Belarus in 1923, In 1939 at the age of 16 he joined flight club in the city of Odessa and learn to fly Polikarpov-2 for 1 year, He joined the army at the age of 17 though the age of enlisting was 18, he was granted permission to do that after he had sent a letter to the defense minister. In September 1940 he joined the air force flight school in Odessa later towards the coming war the school was moved (orders) to Stalingrad were they became 1000 man combat flight school, When the war broke there was a thought to turn 600 man from them to regular soldiers but it was abandoned and all continued flying studies. They started training on PO-2 (Polikarpov biplane) than moved to Polikarpov UTI-4 (monoplane) and than to I-16.

PO-2 (Polikarpov biplane)

UTI-4 (monoplane)

In 1941 when the war started, the school was moved to a spot near the Don river and when the Germans got close to 100 km’ the school was moved to Kazakhstan where they got to train on YAK-1.At that time all the flight instructors were sent to fight the Germans and new flight instructors were appointed from the students,” A” was among the newly elected guides. ”A” served as fight instructor till October 1944.Then it was decided to send the school instructors to combat duty so they will get actual fight experience and return to be better guides and pass their knowledge to the students. “A” was sent to the”1st Belarus front” were he flew the YAK-9T as close escort for IL-2, The whole plane unit was under the command of the artillery commander of the front and their act was to defend IL-2 who had an artillery officer on board instead of rear gunner and was sent to locate German units and inform the artillery they’re whereabouts. They flew in 7 to 9 planes a flight – 1 IL-2, four to six YAK-9T as close escort (no close than 500 m’) and 2 more YAK-9T as high altitude escort.
Q: Did you have radio control on board?
A: Only flight leader and his #2 had tow way radio, all the others had receiver radio only.
Q: What were the German planes you were up against?
A: Mostly BF-109 variants, FW-190 and Ju-87 also.
Q: Did you encounter German fighters?
A: No, at that time of war they were week and would not go up against larger fighter group, only to pick on one or two planes.
Q: Did you try to seek for German fighters?
A: No, our job was to protect our most important IL-2, allowing it to be shot down was not an option.
Q: Did you encounter AA fire and hits?
A: We knew the places of AA guns so we went around, I got hit only once and my trim was damaged.
Q: What was your place in the flight?
A: I was #2 of the of the escort leader.
Q: Did you fly a lot and get combat fatigue?
A: No, we had easy times – sometimes we didn’t fly for a week and we had nothing to do.
Q: How many combat sorties did you fly in the Belarus front?
A: 25.
Q: Did you have problems hitting targets with the 37 mm’ gun of the YAK?
A: No, it had strong recoil but I had my sight and had no problems hitting targets.
Q: Was the YAK physically demanding to fly?
A: Not at all, we flew 400 to 450 kmph and there were not such loads at that speed.
Q: At what height did you start to use supercharger?
A: We activated supercharger and used oxygen masks above 5000 m’ but since I didn’t usually fly that high I didn’t use it.
Q: How did you manage the prop pitch?
A: We use to change prop pitch only on long distance flight in order to conserve fuel otherwise it was at 100%.
Q: How did you find the YAK-9?
A: I liked it very much, it was very good, relievable and simple, could be flown by any average pilot, easy to take off and land. It had no compressed cockpit and no heating system so it was very cold in the winter-we use to ware arctic suits. We use to have our fuel tank filled up and that would degrade the plane behavior, the “hunters” of us who went to pick up German planes, got their tanks partially filled for better dogfight ability. The YAK-3 was better plane and had better organized cockpit without all the radiators sticking up as in the YAK-9, the French Normandy Niemen got it.
Q: What did you do after Belarus?
A: I was stationed in Belarus till the war in Europe was over, Than we moved to Mongolia to fight the Japanees in the same roll as in Belarus, Got to fly two combat sorties and the war was over.
Q: What about after the war?
A: I became squadron leader and flew the La-9, La-11, Mig-15, Mig-17, got to train on Mig-19 but in 1958 the air force was forced to make cuts and the program was stopped.
Q: What plane did you like best?
A: Mig-15/17, they are almost the same.
Q: What about prop driven, La and sort?
A: I liked the YAK better - it was much easier to take off and land.
Q: Did you have to use a lot of pedals during take off?
A: It wasn’t such problem, after the tail wheel was up I needed to use more pedals in order to compensate for increased tendency to fly sidewise because of the torque.
Q: What next after the cuts?
A: I was offered to be 2nd in command for wing leader position but my wife said “enough” and I left the air force with full pension benefits.
Q: Did you take the flight as a job or really like it?
A: Oh I loved flying very much and wish I was flying till this day."

This is the second session we had with a yak-9 ww2 pilot. This time he agreed to publish his name - Boris alterman.
At the beginning of the session we showed Boris the sim (FB 4.06). Without too much explanation, we asked him to give it a try. The set we used was X52 joystick and throttle (no pedals).
The next 5 minutes were extremely moving and exciting, something that all who were present will never forget - Boris alterman, an 83 years old man, using a cane, transformed in seconds into a sharp professional pilot, looking and moving as a much younger man.
He started flying the Yak-9, immediately doing a few perfect rolls. While performing it, his legs moved instinctively trying to push the (nonexistent) pedals, and his body moved in anticipation of G forces.
Performing loops was much more difficult, because he tried to evaluate his situation according to his body position (and being unfamiliar with the view system). When in stall situation, he again tried to push pedals.
Boris flew the sim for 5 minutes. We could tell he was enjoying very much, despite the unfamiliar joystick system and sim functions. He said that in order to really play he would need to practice for a few days, since the feel of the sim is different than reality, due to the lack of gravity and G forces on the body. The joystick in the sim responds too strongly, the rudder in reality was not difficult to press.

The next phase was the interview. We kept the FB tracks playing, and so what we have is based also on comments to what he saw on the screen

About his ww2 service: He served in a unit named: “The aerial unit for reconnaissance and intelligence no. 117” (we have the name in Russian, not sure about the exact translation). As mentioned in previous interview, he flew escort missions for IL2 artillery observation plane.

Battle formation: when escorting IL2, a pair at the same level, 1 k”m to the side and behind, the other pair in front and higher. 4 other planes flew high cover. Hight differences - 500 meters.

Communications: At the beginning of the war, only a few of the airplanes had radio receivers, and even fewer had transmitters. When a pilot saw an enemy plane, he moved his wings to draw attention. By the time he flew combat missions, 1945, all planes had 2 ways radios.

Navigation: IL2 pilots used maps; combat pilots did not have time for that. Therefore, they relied upon visual objects and learning the area. There were no beacons. In case of cloudy weather, they flew under the clouds.

Airfields: improvised, as they were chasing the retreating Germans into Prussia. They used agricultural fields; sometimes metal nets were spread on them. The net was 500 meters long, 100 meters wide, size 5X0.5 meters.

Take-off ‘s and landings: at the center of the strip, flaps 15 degrees down. With the brakes pressed, applying full power and than idle – a few times, to warm the plugs. Letting go of the breaks, throttle ahead, applying rudder. Lifting the tail slowly to keep the propeller blades from hitting the ground and the fuselage from turning right or left (depending on the direction of the motor)

Shooting: 200 meters (not recommended) and less, the closer the better. At the beginning of the war there were no cannons – only 7.9 machine guns
.
Dog fighting a Messerschmitt with Yak 9: depends on the abilities of the pilot. If he were able to anticipate the opponent’s moves, and act before him, he would win. It was extremely important to stay on the inside of the opponents turn radius. And again – it is up to the pilot and not the plane.

Head on – the FW could dogfight head – on, due to the star like engine that could sustain damage, protect the pilot and continue to operate. The Yak 3 could not, because it had a radiator, but the LA could.

Use of rudder in turns – always. Keep the ball in the center.

The Normandy Niemmen – he visited their sqd a few times, but communication was difficult due to language differences. They flew different missions – intercept – protecting general Zacharov’s army. Once, after landing, someone brought out a football. Everybody, including mechanics that fixed the returning airplanes, and preparing others for missions, left their jobs and ran to play football.
At the end of the war Stalin gave them 33 new Yak 3 (from the factory) as a gift to France.

I-16 (in the background he saw TB3 with 2 I-16’s): Boris laughed as seeing a dinosaur coming to life, and said that indeed they were in use. The I-16 ‘s engine would not shut off immediately, if the joystick was pushed forward, or even if the plane flew inverted. There was enough fuel for 2 or 3 minutes. The Germans were happy to fight these planes, as they shot them down easily.

P39 Aircobra – they had no doors, but a sliding canopy. The engine was not strong, in the last year of the war they changed to Kingcobra. Why did the Americans consider it as not feet for dogfight? – “It is the dancer’s legs, not the floor”.

Hurricane – extremely inflammable, turned into a ball of fire quickly (you should have seen the ed look on his face when he saw the Hurricane).

About Yak’s and LA’s: Boris flew all models of Yak, except the 3 model (he was supposed to fly one, but the gift to France prevented it), and LA 7, 9,11. He considers the Yak a good plane for mediocre pilots, and the LA for a higher-level pilots, in part because they are more difficult to land.

bobbysocks

12-13-2010, 06:33 PM

The third part of the interview, is in fact, from the second session. It details an after war training flight experience where he almost lost his life in an inverted spin.

“After the war, I flew in a 2 seats trainer with a new trainee. The guy was at least 10cm taller than me, much heavier, and blocked completely my front view. We reached 2000 meters, me strapped only in the belly straps, and than I passed the control of the plane to the trainee. I told him to pull the stick upwards, combined with weak pressure on the rudder, and than to recover from the situation.

The trainee pushed the rudder hard - all the way, and the plane inverted upside down – and started an inverted spin. I could not reach the pedals, because I was lifted from the seat (downwards in fact) and my head bounced against the cockpit glass. I ordered the trainee to react, but he just dropped his head on his shoulder and did not move – completely paralyzed. Meanwhile, the plane made at least two spins, and lost some 1000 meters.

I pulled myself with my hands strongly into the seat (upwards in fact), and tried to push the pedals. I could not because the trainee (who was bigger, heavier and stronger than me) would not let go. Finally I opened the glass between the seats, knocked him on the head strongly, and only than he let go of the pedals. I managed to level and recover at 200 meters.

The commander of the flight school came to see us right after we landed, to ask us what had happened, as he was watching us from the ground. He sent us to the clinic, as our eyes were filled with blood from the opposite G forces, and told me to take the rest of that day off.

As for the trainee – he was too afraid to fly again, and was sent to the AA forces, where he made a good career. He used to send me a greeting card every year, at the date of that event, to “our new birthday”. Many years later, I flew with some officers to the Ukraine where we were ordered suddenly to land at a certain airport. I was surprised to find the trainee, who has become a high-ranking officer in the AA forces, waiting. He saw my name on the flight list, and decided to take me for dinner!”

bobbysocks

12-14-2010, 06:32 PM

601 Squadron: Millionaire flying aces of World War II

from http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-11951642

Seventy years after the Battle of Britain, the BBC has retraced the story of a little known amateur RAF squadron formed in a London gentlemen's club and composed of aristocrats and adventurers. But their privileged upbringing did not shield them from the brutal realities of war.

Born into high society in 1914, William Henry Rhodes-Moorhouse was determined to follow a family passion for flying.

His father had built and designed planes and flown in World War I, becoming the first airman to win the Victoria Cross, the highest award for bravery in battle.

Flying at just 300ft (91m), William Barnard Rhodes-Moorhouse volunteered to drop a single bomb on a strategic rail junction near Ypres in the face of intense ground fire. He made it back to British lines, but died of his wounds shortly afterwards.

Young Willie, his son, was able to fulfil his dream, thanks partly to his school friend George Cleaver, whose family owned a plane. He had his pilot's licence by the age of 17 before leaving Eton.

After extensive travelling, he returned to settle in England where, so family lore records, he "fell head over heels in love" with his wife-to-be, Amalia Demetriadi. A strikingly attractive woman, she was approached in a London restaurant by a talent scout to be screen-tested for the role of Scarlett O'Hara in Gone With The Wind. A private person, Amalia declined.

For Amalia and Willie, life must have seemed to be bursting with promise. They were well off and enjoyed invitations to the south of France and skiing trips to St Moritz.

A keen sportsman, Willie was selected for the 1936 British Winter Olympics team, but an accident on the ski jump prevented him from competing. But war was looming and short of funds, the RAF had its eyes on amateur pilots like Willie, George and Amalia's brother Dick. It could not maintain a large peacetime force, but if war came, it would need to mobilise fast.

As early as the mid 1920s, the first Chief of the Air Staff, Lord Trenchard, had come up with the idea of auxiliary squadrons, amateur pilots who could be rapidly recruited and deployed on the outbreak of war.

The first auxiliary squadron, 601, later to be known as the Millionaires' Squadron was, according to legend, created by Lord Grosvenor at the gentlemen's club White's, and restricted to club membership.

Recruitment under Grosvenor involved a trial by alcohol to see if candidates could still behave like gentlemen when drunk. They were apparently required to consume a large port. Gin and tonics would follow back at the club.

Grosvenor wanted officers "of sufficient presence not to be overawed by him and of sufficient means not to be excluded from his favourite pastimes, eating, drinking and Whites," according to the squadron's historian, Tom Moulson.

The squadron attracted the very well-heeled, not just aristocrats but also sportsmen, adventurers and self-made men. There would be no time for petty rules or regulations. But Grosvenor was nonetheless intent on creating an elite fighting unit, as good as any in the RAF.

Under their next commander, Sir Philip Sassoon, the squadron acquired a growing reputation for flamboyance, wearing red socks or red-silk-lined jackets as well as driving fast cars. Wealthy enough to buy cameras, they even took to filming their escapades.

There were other auxiliary squadrons, but none was as exclusive or elitist as 601.

The Millionaires had a reputation for escapades and flouting the rules, says Peter Devitt from the RAF Museum. "But they could not have got away with it without being an efficient and effective fighting unit. They were very serious about their flying and their fighting."

Heavy losses

Days before the German invasion of Poland in 1939, 601 squadron was mobilised. Stationed at RAF Tangmere in West Sussex, by July of the following year, Willie, Dick and George were on the front line.

The German air force, the Luftwaffe, was targeting Allied shipping in the Channel in an attempt to lure the RAF into combat.

On 11 August 1940, in one of the opening skirmishes of the war, 21-year-old Dick Demetriadi was shot down off the Dorset coast.

Willie had lost his best friend, but he also had to break the news to Amalia that her brother would not be coming home.

The following weeks saw intense raids on southern England as the Luftwaffe attempted to destroy the RAF and seize control of the skies to allow an invasion.

Willie and the Millionaires of 601 Squadron were in the thick of the fighting. After heavy losses, the squadron was pulled back to Essex, only to find themselves in the front line again as the Luftwaffe targeted London.

From an initial strength of about 20, they had lost 11 men in action, with others injured or posted to other squadrons.

The replacements were a more mixed crowd. And while many of the Millionaires' traditions survived, they were no longer the band of aristocrats and adventurers who had started the war.

Other squadrons suffered heavy losses too but the RAF pilots were destroying two German planes for every British loss. Willie was responsible for shooting down nine aircraft. On 3 September, he and Amalia were invited to Buckingham Palace where Willie was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross.

It was to be one of their last times together. Just three days later he was shot down.

Other members of 601 squadron survived the Battle of Britain, including Willie's friend George "Mouse" Cleaver, who shot down seven planes before an eye injury which ended his flying career.

But by the time the Luftwaffe called off its assault and the invasion of Britain was cancelled, the RAF had lost 544 pilots.

Churchill immortalised "the few", but for each man lost, there were wives, parents and sisters left behind, women like Amalia.

It was not fashionable for women like Amalia to go to work and, after the war, she lived within modest means, tending her garden and - like many of the wartime generation who had lived through rationing - recycling everything.

She never remarried, although there were certainly offers, and lived a quiet life until her death in 2003.

Average age of RAF pilots was 20 Two huge bombing raids on London on 15 September 1940, known as Battle of Britain Day It marked a heavy defeat for the Luftwaffe, which lost 61 planes to the RAF's 31 A week earlier, the Germans had switched tactics from targeting RAF bases to focusing on London This gave Fighter Command some breathing space to prepare to defend the nation

Willie's body was recovered from his plane and his ashes buried alongside his father The Victoria Cross was sold to raise money for the W.B. Rhodes-Moorhouse VC Charitable Trust which makes donations to RAF charities Willie is pictured above with Amalia, who died in 2003

bobbysocks

12-14-2010, 08:10 PM

Fokker D.XXI over Holland

written by pilot Carl Steensma, a civil KLM pilot who flew Fokker D.XXI’s in the LVA. On May 10th 1940 he had to escort 2 T-V bombers on their way to the airfield Waalhaven, which was captured by German para’s.:

We’ll see….

The weather was beautiful on that day, May the 10th. At 2000 metre there was only some Cumulus. The two T-V’s took off to bomb Waalhaven. We followed them immediately. The fighters would be flying around a lot, above the T-V’s.. and we’ll see…

… a Heinkel
Even before we arrived at Rotterdam, I saw a Heinkel flying, below and to the right. I steeply dived upon him, with the intention to fly past and underneath it while firing. Then I would pull up and take a shot at it from straight under it.

..tracers..
The idea worked out quite nicely, but the moment I fired my 4 machineguns, I had a real fright. Tracers flashed right in front of me and for one moment I thought I was being shot at from behind.
In all my life, I had never fired tracers, not even practiced with it. And nobody had thought of informing me about this very useful ammunition.

...disengaging
Meanwhile, the Heinkel was a few hundred meters above me and I steeply pulled up my kite, almost vertical, and I sprayed the port engine, the hull and the cockpit, too. In order to get away quickly, I cut the throttle and with a quick roll, I dived away. Then I pushed full throttle to gain height again. The last I remember of the Heinkel was a silhouette turning to the left. I was alone, eh well….

…but German fighters everywhere..
When I was circling, I saw Me 109’s at greater altitude then me. Me 109’s to the left and right
A neat ‘Kette’ fare above. I still know exactly what I thought: “Look, that’s a real piece of art. What I was doing seemed to me very amateurish and clumsy…and most unreal.

…me in my KLM clothes…
Then I was, over Waalhaven in my KLM uniform, under a clear blue sky in a D.XXI with deadly ammunition. The place where I got my first licence. The place where the enemy was. The place that had to be bombed by the T-V’s. And I had to make it possible by downing all the flying Jerries in the sky…madness.
…being attacked
The way they attacked didn’t surprise me. From far I had seen how they dived on their prey from a small group in neat formation, one after the other and after a long furious blast disappeared the heights again.
I was much more manoeuvrable, but that was about it. I had to make a mess out of it, turning from the right to the left like a madman and see what would happen.

..victory over a German fighter..
..The last attacker tried some kind of sloping looping. By flying directly in his line, I forced him to dive steeper and longer than he probably intended to do. I got on top of him with half a roll and when he pulled up, I fired for what I was worth. I kept the straight line, out of which he couldn’t escape because of his high speed. In the middle of the line of fire, debris suddenly started to fly. Around me I saw some smoke becoming darker and darker.. the last dive of that Me 109.

..being shot myself…
Surprised about the ease of things, I ascended with roaring engine in order to gain altitude… and was totally surprised by some big noise. Fire seemed to spray between my legs and I literally freezed from terror.

…but I could escape
The instrument panel was destroyed. Oil poured over my feet. Loose fabric was on the right wing. And my right leg felt funny. I felt with my hand and it became smeared with blood.
----
After this, Steensma escapes in a cloud. Although the flaps and breaks don’t work he manages to land on Schiphol. There he had to be carried out of the plane. The bullets had ripped though his KLM uniform, right under his arm and also between and through his legs. The plane was a write off as there was no time to repair it.
During the war Carel Steensma tried to escape to England. His leg had to be amputated in a German prison.
On the 4th of May 2006 he died at 93.

bobbysocks

12-14-2010, 08:23 PM

THE GREEK PZLs IN OPERATIONS

The first aerial engagement was on the very day the war was declared by the Italians , the 28th October 1940. , with a squadron of SM-79 escorted by CR-42 attacking Thessalonica. The few PZLs that got up were found outnumbered as part of the squadron was moved to the western Albanian front. Yet, they did dash against the agressors and were able to disperes them effectively so that no harm was done to the city or the harbor. One PZL came down in flames but the CR-42 were rather ineffective despite their superiority. Then on the 2nd of November 1940, over the VII (Greek) division’s front in Epirus, 3 PZL-24s of 21 Fighter Sq,mixed F & G types, attacked a hostile formation of fighter-bombers , possibly Cant Z-1007 bis (Alcyon). During the action F/Lt Sakellariou & Sgt Papadopoulos were shot down and killed in action. The third PZL managed to escape.

The same day also saw the first Greek aerial success when a formation of Cant Z-1007 bis bombers tried to bomb again Thessalonica. Six PZLs of 22 Sq. , supported by A/A fire, engaged the enemy. F/Lt Marinos Mitralexes, after unsuccessfully expending all his ammunition against an Italian bomber, he rammed it sawing off its rudder with his propeller’s blades. The bomber crashed to the ground out of control, while Mitralexes successfully crash-landed his own aircraft. During the same action Sgt Epameinondas Dagoulas claimed one more bomber. Mitralexes was decorated with the Golden Order for Valour and later on with the Flying Cross, War Cross, Golden Cross of St. George’s Order with Swords and the Phoenix Order with Swords .

During the evening hours of the same day another formation of 15 enemy bombers, escorted by 7 fighters, raided the city of Thessalonica once again. Aircraft of 22 Sq. took off under the leadership of the unit’s commander, Cpt Andreas Antoniou, who shot down one enemy fighter for the loss of one PZL-24, whose pilot, Sgt Konstantinos Lambropoulos, bailed out safely.

Next day, 3 November, 5 fighters of the same unit tried to chase off a formation of 9 Italian bombers and fighters heading for a third time against Thessalonika. F/Lt Konstantinos Giannikostas claimed one enemy fighter.

14 November 1940. Nine PZLs of 23 Sq. shot down two CR-42s and damaged a third, which was later destroyed during crash-landing. Unfortunately the Greek pilots who claimed these victories are not known.

18 November. On the 18th PZL-24s of 22 & 23 Sqs engaged in combat with Italian fighters over Morova. Valkanas, of 23 Sq, desperate to claim his first victory, rammed on purpose an enemy fighter. Italians on the other end, claimed half of Royal Hellenic Air Force’s aircraft as destroyed, on paper at least ! During the same fight Sgt Demetrakopoulos was shot down but took to his parachute.

20 November. A section of 4 PZLs of 21 Sq were engaged with 3 CR 42s and a Capproni bomber over the Small Prespa Lake. The bomber was shot down by the Squadron’s C.O. Cpt Ioannis (John) Kellas. Only hours later 21 Sq. had all its PZL-24s replaced by British biplanes Gloster Gladiator. Although maneuverable they were prone to frequent mechanical problems due to overuse during their previous service in Britain’s fights against Italian and German aircraft. Yet one of the British pilots Lt 'Pat' Pattle was able to shoot down at least 21 Italian planes with a Gladiator becoming the first RAF scorer at the time

The last engagement for the year came on 3 December 1940 over the region of Moschopolis, when 6 PZLs of 23 Sq. fought against 18 CR-42s, during which P/Officer Konstantinos Tsetsas fell victim of the enemy’s numerical superiority.

During 1941 Royal Hellenic Air Force was significantly supported by the arrival of RAF units in Greece. Greek serviceable aircraft at that time were down to 19 PZL-24s, 2 Bloch MB 151 and 7 Gladiators. From January 1941 onward RHAF (Royal Hellenic Air Force) changed its tactics according to those of its British ally, the RAF, trying to gain control over an area by flying numerous standing patrols over the battlefield.

At 09.30 of 8 January 1941, over Ostrovo, 9 PZLs of 22 Sq. and 6 Gladiators from 21 Sq. attacked a formation of Cant Z1007bis, Cptn Gregorios Fanourgakes of 22 Sq. claiming one as probably shot down. The same Greek formation was later engaged in combat against 9 CR-42s and one Romeo 378bis over Celoure, where Captains Antoniou and Nikolaos Scroubelos claimed one each as confirmed destroyed.

Bad weather during the rest of January prevented further action until the 25th of that month, when the enemy appeared again over Thessalonika. Concentrated actions from 21 & 22 Sqs resulted in one more Cant Z1007 confirmed destroyed by Antoniou.

During the evening hours of that eventful date 7 PZLs and 7 Gladiators from the very same two squadrons attacked against 8 BR-20 bombers over Cleisoura, where Antoniou scored his first “double” of the war –a rare feat in those days. One more was claimed by Staff Sgt Panagiotes Argyropoulos of 22 Sq. A third one was destroyed by the guns of Cptn Kellas of 21 Sq. Two more BR-20 were also destroyed fell to the guns of one more PZL and one Gladiator, although the names of the two victorious pilots remain unknown to this day, raising the score of the day to 6 confirmed destroyed without loss to the Greek side.

January 1941 came to an end with one more Greek success on the 28th, when PZLs from 22 Sq. attacked an enemy bomber formation heading to Thessalonika. Cptn Savellos, former commander of 24 Sq, later transferred to the 22nd, shot down one Cant Z1007. Greek success on the 28th, when PZLs from 22 Sq. attacked an enemy bomber formation heading to Thessalonika. Cptn Savellos, former commander of 24 Sq, later transferred to the 22nd, shot down one Cant Z1007.

A curious incident took place on 8th of February, showing to the extreme the varying capabilities and fighting skills of Greek fighter pilots: during a reconnaissance over Cleisoura, 7 Gladiators of 21 Sq. and 8 PZLs of 22 & 23rd, all attacked against a lone two-engine Italian bomber, which, thanks to the skills of its pilot and the inexperience of the Greek pilots, managed to escape safe and sound!

On the February 9th it was the turn of 24 Fighter Sq. to show up, when the unit’s Bloch MB 151 attacked Italian bombers over Thessalonika . One Cant fell to the guns of Staff Sgt Eleftherios Smyrniotopoulos. Meanwhile a large dogfight took place over Cleisoura between 8 PZLs of 22 & 23 Sq. plus 4 Gladiators of 21 Sq. against 30 Italian bombers escorted by 12 fighters. F/Lt Mitralexes claimed one CR 42 trailing black smoke as probable. Cptn Kellas shot down two fighters and one more was claimed by Stf. Sgt Demetrakopoulos of 21 Sq. Two other pilots belonging to the same unit claimed one probable fighter each. Dagoulas of 22 Sq. on the other hand, described by the archives as …“…a wise and dangerous to the opponent fighter pilot, always on the forefront of the fighting”, added one confirmed destroyed to his tally. There were losses to the Greek side also: two badly damaged fighters were crashed while trying force-landings on their bases.

On 10 February, a mixed patrol of 21, 22 & 23 Squadrons, consisting of 11 fighters in all, attacked three Italian bombers over the area Boubesi-Cleisoura-Premeti, resulting in the probable downing of one bomber by Cptn Fanourgakes.

11 February. Two Gladiators of 21 Sq. on a patrol searching for enemy aircraft reported in their sector, were surprised and shot down by Italian fighters. The pilots, Cptn Anastasios Bardivilias and Stf Sgt Kostorizos, were killed after having damaged two Italian fighters.

15 February. Cptn Fanourgakes claimed one bomber, out of a formation of three, as probable over the Tepeleni area.

On 20 February a fierce scrap took place over the Sendeli area, when a massed force of 19 Greek fighters from all available squadrons –in other words the whole of Royal Hellenic Air Force- escorted friendly bombers. 10 Romeos 37 and 15 G-50s attacked out of the blue and in the ensuing melee the 7 PZLs of 22nd Sq lost contact with the rest of the formation due to a radio malfunction, and were forced to bear the brunt of the fighting on their own. 4 Italian fighters were shot down by Antoniou, Fanourgakes, F/Lt Michaletsianos and Dagoulas. The PZL of the unit’s commanding officer, Antoniou, was badly shot up but the pilot crash landed safely at Premeti.

On February 23rd a mighty formation of Greek fighters consisting of 3 Gladiators of 21 Sq, 5 PZL of 22 Sq and 9 PZL of 23 Sq, engaged 7 Italian fighters but this time, instead of their numerical superiority the battle ended as a Greek defeat, with the death of F/Lt Scroubelos and Staff Sgt Chrissopoulos, whose Gladiator was destroyed while crash landing.

On April the 2nd , 1941, over Florina, took place the last major aerial battle between Greek and Italian aircraft, when 8 Gladiators of 21 pursued 10 Cant Z-1007 bombers. Reportedly two bombers were shot down with no further details. Four days later the German invasion of Greece drew the final curtain to the fighting days of the Royal Hellenic Air Force. Until that moment the Greek fighters fought to the bitter end with whatever they had, along with the experienced RAF which during the two-month period of November-December 1940-41, shot down a total of 42 Italian aircraft for the loss of 16 British aircraft. Without the British support the Greek fight would never have had stood a chance.

Greek Squadrons had flown a total of 1531 hours –mainly: 21 Sq 513h, 23 Sq 455h, 22 Sq 455h, 24 Sq only 158h due to problems with its Bloch MB 151. All those resulted in the confirmed destruction of 64 victories with another 24 probable. Greek losses were 19 aircraft.

Although the number of Greek losses is more than verified, serious doubt was raised during post-war research as to the verification of the victories, since according to the pilots combat reports, the sum of total enemy aircraft shot down was down to a mere 22 confirmed plus 12 probable! Even the sum of confirmed plus probable victories would only give us 34 victories. So the only way the total of 64 can be brought up is by adding the 31 victories reported by the Greek A/A defenses. It still remains unknown if that “mistake” was done in purpose or it was just the result of confusion between confirmed, probable and shared victories -a problem quite complicated even in much more experienced Air Forces of the Allied world, such as the RAF and the USAAF, even as late as 1944-45. On the other hand the Italians have reported not only larger numbers of victories but very often of wrong types ; some 20 Spitfires were mentioned as shot down while no such types were flown in these air battles.

Even against the mighty Luftwaffe of 300 Me-109s & 110s the Greek pilots, while almost considered defeated, at least in the air, managed to score some last victories to the German aerial armada. On 6 April, the very day of the invasion, a German reconnaissance aircraft Hs 126, was shot down, shared between Cptn Antoniou and F/Lt Antonio Katsimbouris. A second aircraft of the same type was shot down, this time shared among three pilots, Cptn Doukas, F/Lt Kontogeorgios and Katsimbouris. During the same day a Dornier 17 bomber was shot down by F/Lt Oikonomopoulos. On April the 15th one more Hs 126 was destroyed by Staff Sgt Pericles Koutroubas of 23 Sq, killed in action later in the day. The remnants of RHAF from all four fighter squadrons were all scrambled in a dogfight over Bascilikee, trying to fight off a large formation of German bombers escorted by fighters. One Gladiator, one PZL and one Bloch were shot down and Staff Sgt Georgios Mokkas was killed. Whatever was left of the Greek fighter force was destroyed on the ground by the subsequent German raids against the airfields.

bobbysocks

12-14-2010, 08:37 PM

Stolen Hurricane flies into history books

Two amateur historians have uncovered the story of an audacious spy, who infiltrated the RAF in the middle of World War II and escaped back to Germany in a stolen RAF Hurricane.

Augustin Preucil came to Britain along with scores of other Czech pilots when mainland Europe fell under Nazi domination.

The first clue to Preucil's treachery came when Richard Chapman, an historic aircraft enthusiast who lives in Germany, came across some old photos from the German National Aviation Museum in Berlin.

Dating from 1941, they showed an RAF Hurricane on display among German aircraft.

The squadron markings were clearly visible and Mr Chapman, intrigued to know how the Hurricane got there, set about tracing the aircraft.

Steep dive

Mr Chapman enlisted the support of Roy Nesbit, an air historian with 20 books to his name, and who had himself served in the wartime RAF.

Together they established that the plane belonged to "55 OCU" - an Operation Conversion Unit which trained foreign pilots converting to British aircraft.

What's more they found an official loss report relating to the plane in the picture; it said that the plane, and its pilot Augustin Preucil, had been lost, presumed crashed, in the North Sea off Sunderland.

Preucil had taken off with another pilot, a young Pole, to practice dogfights over the sea.

The Pole returned to base reporting he had seen Preucil in a steep dive and assumed he had crashed.

Gestapo

In fact Preucil had flown his machine across the North Sea to Belgium.

There he landed on a farm and was offered food and shelter by the farmer and his family .

But Preucil immediately betrayed them to the Gestapo and the family were imprisoned.

Preucil went on to work for the Gestapo mainly by infiltrating Czech political prisoner groups in concentration camps; it is known that some of those he betrayed were shot.

When Germany was finally defeated Preucil was captured by the Czechs and put on trial for treason.

He was executed in 1947.

'High regard'

So how was it that Preucil was able to be accepted by the RAF and remain undiscovered?

Roy Nesbit says that in the early 1940s Britain welcomed many pilots from Poland, Czechoslovakia, Greece, Holland and France whose countries had fallen to the Nazis.

"They were very valuable to us" he said.

"The Czechs, especially were courageous. We had a very high regard for them.

"They had a fervent feeling to fight the war, often they were more ferocious than we were. But Preucil was an exception. He was a complete traitor."

Mr Nesbit says that the pilots wouldn't have been very carefully screened and it would have been easy for Preucil to dupe the British authorities.

RAF morale

Mr Chapman believes that Preucil would have had a lot of information of use to the Germans.

"He went from one unit to another and must have gathered a lot of information about RAF morale and, of course, its shortcomings."

Mr Chapman says that in his experience the Preucil story is unique.

"This is the first time I've heard about an agent in the RAF" he said.

The Preucil story leaves many questions unanswered, the most important being who was his handler?

Roy Nesbit thinks he must have been working for a German controller here in Britain.

But so far there are no clues as to the handler's identity and Mr Nesbit believes the files that would reveal it are still classified as secret by the government.

bobbysocks

12-19-2010, 09:06 PM

galland talks about the pilots rebellion..

Galland: Yes, he had many problems, but he was basically an intelligent man and well educated, from the aristocracy. He had many weak points in his life, and he was always under pressure from Hitler, yet he never contradicted him or corrected him on any point. That was where he made his greatest mistakes. This weakness increased as the war dragged on, along with his drug addiction, until he was nothing. As far as our Luftwaffe was concerned, he was even less and should have been replaced.

WWII: Isn't it true that regardless of Göring's position the fighter pilots looked to you for leadership most of the time?

Galland: Yes, that was true.

WWII: What were your impressions of Hitler, since you spent months in his company and knew him very well.

Galland: Yes, I did spend months around him, speaking and having meetings, but I don't think anyone ever really knew Adolf Hitler. I was not very impressed with him. The first time I met him was after Spain when we were summoned to the Reichschancellery. There was Hitler, short, gray-faced and not very strong, and he spoke with a crisp language. He did not allow us to smoke, nor did he offer us anything to drink, nothing like that. This impression was strengthened every year I knew him as his mistakes mounted and cost German lives, the mistakes that Göring should have brought to his attention. Other officers did, and they were relieved, but at least they did the right thing and voiced their objections. For Göring to willingly follow along was a terrible situation for me personally.

WWII: So you feel Hitler should have replaced Göring as head of the Luftwaffe long before things became terminal?

Galland: Sure, if Hitler cared, but who would take Göring's place and stand up to Hitler, to do what was right? People were not lining up for the job, I can tell you. Hitler was unable to think in three dimensions, and he had a very poor understanding when it came to the Luftwaffe, as with the U-boat service. He was strictly a landsman.

WWII: Well, of all the men you led and are friends with today, are there any who simply stood out as great leaders apart from their records as aces?

Galland: Oh, my, that would be a long list, and you also know most of them. Of all the names you could mention, I think perhaps the greatest leader was still Mölders. All the rest are still very good friends of mine, but we are old men now, and life is not as fast as it was in the cockpit. However, as their leader I also made many mistakes. I could have done better. I was young and inexperienced with life, I guess. It is very easy to look back retrospectively and criticize yourself; however, at that time it was very difficult. My situation was that I had to fight with Göring and Hitler in order to accomplish what they wished, but without their support, if that makes any sense. Göring was a thorn in my side, and Hitler simply destroyed our country and others without any regard for the welfare of others.

WWII: What led to the Fighters' Revolt in January 1945?

Galland: Basically, it was the problems we were having with Göring, and the fact that he was blaming us, the fighter pilots, for the bombings and the losing of the war. All of the senior Kommodores brought their grievances to me, and we chose a spokesman to represent them. I sat on the panel and arranged for the meeting with Göring.

WWII: Your spokesman was Günther Lützow?

Galland: Yes, Lützow was a great leader and a true knight, a gentleman. When they all sat down with Göring, he told Göring that if he interrupted, which he always did so that he could show his importance, nothing would get accomplished. Lützow, Johannes Steinhoff and myself had voiced our grievances many times, but since I was not invited to this meeting, Hannes Trautloft along with Lützow kept me informed as to their recommending that Göring step down for the good of the service. Well, I was fired as general of fighters, Steinhoff was banished from Germany and sent to Italy, and Göring told Lützow that he was going to be shot for high treason.

WWII: What was the atmosphere like, and what were the Kommodores' opinions of the meeting?

Galland: Well, Göring knew that he did not have their loyalty, and we knew that we could not count on Berlin doing anything to help us, so we were alone, as we always were. At least now it was in the open, no pretenses.

WWII: What do you recall about the death of ace Walter Nowotny, and do you feel that his death had any impact on Germany's Messerschmitt Me-262 jet fighter program?

Galland: I had been telling Hitler for over a year, since my first flight in an Me-262, that only Focke Wulf Fw-190 fighter production should continue in conventional aircraft, to discontinue the Me-109, which was outdated, and to focus on building a massive jet-fighter force. I was in East Prussia for a preview of the jet, which was fantastic, a totally new development. This was 1943, and I was there with Professor Willy Messerschmitt and other engineers responsible for the development. The fighter was almost ready for mass production at that time, and Hitler wanted to see a demonstration. When the 262 was brought out for his viewing at Insterburg, and I was standing there next to him, Hitler was very impressed. He asked the professor, "Is this aircraft able to carry bombs?" Well, Messerschmitt said, "Yes, my Führer, it can carry for sure a 250-kilogram bomb, perhaps two of them." In typical Hitler fashion, he said "Well, nobody thought of this! This is the Blitz (lightning) bomber I have been requesting for years. No one thought of this. I order that this 262 be used exclusively as a Blitz bomber, and you, Messerschmitt, have to make all the necessary preparations to make this feasible." This was really the beginning of the misuse of the 262, as five bomber wings were supposed to be equipped with the jet. These bomber pilots had no fighter experience, such as combat flying or shooting, which is why so many were shot down. They could only escape by outrunning the fighters in pursuit. This was the greatest mistake surrounding the 262, and I believe the 262 could have been made operational as a fighter at least a year and a half earlier and built in large enough numbers so that it could have changed the air war. It would most certainly not have changed the final outcome of the war, for we had already lost completely, but it would have probably delayed the end, since the Normandy invasion on June 6, 1944, would probably not have taken place, at least not successfully if the 262 had been operational. I certainly think that just 300 jets flown daily by the best fighter pilots would have had a major impact on the course of the air war. This would have, of course, prolonged the war, so perhaps Hitler's misuse of this aircraft was not such a bad thing after all. But about Nowotny....

bobbysocks

12-19-2010, 09:12 PM

the real dogs of war... has nothing to do with airplanes but interesting nonetheless.

The Red Army trained as many as 50,000 dogs before and during the early part of the war. Dogs proved themselves paricularly valuable during the severe Russian winters, when they located and dragged wounded soldiers from the front on sleds.

A wounded man's chance of survival in the extremely low temperatures of Russian winters, depended largely on how rapidily he was discovered and then transported to a first aid station. Dogs alone could travel in the deep snow, which bogged down motor vehicles, thus improving their chances!

During one battle, near Duminichi, in between attacks, a german shepherd named Bob, located sixteen wounded men, who had crawled into shell holes and ditches. Bob, when he came across a soldier, would lay down beside him, until the wounded man took some dressing from a medical kit strap on the dog's back.

And in one sector of the front, a team of sled dogs, in five weeks, carried 1,239 wounded men from the battlefield and hauled 327 tons of ammunition.

White Samoyeds, were found particularly useful for winter operations and were used to pull white-clad Russian marksmen on sleds close to enemy lines undetected. Plus six dog teams transported machine guns in sleds and two dogs teams were used to pulled soliders on skiis into battle.

The Russian military also trained suicide dogs, during WW II. The dogs (half staved) were loaded with explosives, and trained to seek out food under moving tanks; a trigger device attached to their backpacks, would depressed causing an explosion capable of cutting through the steel under belly of the tanks.

In one day, alone, on the Izyum sector, these canine tank busters destroyed nine tanks and two armored cars. So feared by the Germans, that as soon as they heard the barking and saw the running dogs, they would frantically turned their tanks around and head back towards their own lines, for they knew from experience what was in store for them.

One Russian correspondent stated that "the dogs have saved thousands upon thousands of lives on the Russian front." And he was right!

The German High Command also entered into a secret pact with Russia, to establish other military facilities across their border, in Russia; airfields, training schools, and various war plants. In return for the use of Russian soil, they were to train Russian officers in the art of warfare!

Also at that time, the Army High Command formed an alliance with Hitler, seeing in him, an opportunity to eliminate the Treaty and rearm the military. The National Socialists, then formed their own training camps, where members were secretly trained in military tactics by the army (SA K-9 Units were also formed), under the guise of being public work units.By the time, the Nazis and Adolf Hitler were in power, these units simply traded their shovels for rifles and became the new German Army.

In the ten year period leading up to World War II, Germany trained at many as 200,000 dogs. The Berlin dog paper Die Hunderwelt told of a grand recruiting rally held in that country, adding another 15,993 Shepherds, Dobermans, Airedales, and Boxers to their K-9 army. The dogs were trained as sentries, scouts, guard and messagers.

In 1939, when Hitler launched his blitzkrieg against Europe and Poland, Germany K-9 Army units were there as well, organized and trained as thorough as the Luftwaffe or armored forces were. Once occupied, the K-9 units were used for policing the cities; and the Jewish ghettos and camps create by the Nazis.

The use of large dogs gave the Bahnschutz (Railroad Police) increased effectiveness during patrols of train stations, waiting rooms and railway cars. As early as 1923, the Reichsbahn began a systematic program of training dog handlers as well as dogs.

Schäferhunde (German Shepherds), considered the most loyal and least temperamental of the large breeds and the easiest to train, composed over 90 percent of the Diensthunde (service dogs) in the Bahnschutz.

While on duty a Bahnschutzstreifer (patrolman) normally would accompanied the Bahnschutz Hundeführer (dog handler) and his dog. This allowed the handler to keep the dog on the leash while the second patrolman could perform routine duties such as checking identity papers. When a arrest was warranted, the Streifer handcuffed the suspects while the Hundeführer controlled the dog.

The Reichsbahn operated a breeding farm and training facility for Diensthunde (service dogs) in Röntgental near Berlin.

The leader of the school, was Reichsbahninspektor Langner, who was an experienced World War I dog handler and trainer; he recognized the importance of matching the appropriate handler for each dog.

He sought handlers who were, above all, Hundefreunde (dog lovers), and spent as much time training the Hundeführer as he did the Diensthund.

Each of the 700 teams of dogs and handlers underwent yearly re examination by Reichsbahninspektor Langner, and teams, that were incompatible disbanded. The K-9 training methods developed by Langner became recognized worldwide.

As noted, these same Railroad K-9 Units, were used later on by the SS during the deportation of millions of prisoners to the concentration and slave labor work camps, as well as POWs!

On November 26, 1944 - Dr. Aaron Kuptsow, a B-17 radar officer, was shot down and then captured by German farmers, This is a brief account of what it was like for him!

"We had a force march, which I think was about 17 kilometers. That was the worst experience of my life. I was still wearing my flight boots, and by the time we reached the station, my feet were bloody and raw! I think we had three policemen and two german shepherds walking with us.The march to Frankfurt was quite an experience, the guards and dogs kept us in line, the dogs nipped at us, or the guards prodded us with their guns if we slowed down."

Ousseltria, Tunisia - Allied troops held the western edge of a little valley, and the Germans and Italian forces the eastern side. The battle went back and forth, with each side trying for a knockout blow.

An American lieutenant and two sergeants were sent out to scout the enemy positions. After edging their way slowly to the eastern side, they suddenly spotted a pure white dog, about fifty feet ahead of them. The dog stood as silent as death. He didn't bark or growl a warning as a sentry dog would. Instead he stood there like a statue, head erect and tail straight out behind him. As if he was pointing!

The silents was broken by machine gun fire, hitting one of the men, both his legs shattered. The others had to leave him.

Later, a well armed patrol was sent out to find him, again near the eastern edge of the valley, the white dog appeared again. When the group finally reached the spot where the wounded man had fallen, the man was gone. To all appearances the dog had hunted him out and returned to the Germans, who found him first.

Other white dogs, were later observed, in the Ousseltia Valley, where groups of three or four would prowl through the British and American positions, pointed, then returned to their line. Apparently the German snipers were using them to point the enemy!

Towards the end of the African Campaign, both the German African Corp and Italian armies were forced to abandon most of their dogs during their rapid withdrawal in the North African desert.

The Nazis used so many dogs during the war, that by the end, there wasn't hardily any breeding stock left in the entire country.

bobbysocks

12-19-2010, 09:27 PM

Fighter Ace Bruce Carr . . Evading With A Dead Chicken Around
His Neck

After carrying it for several days, 20-year-old Bruce Carr still hadn't
decided how to cook it without the Germans catching him. But, as hungry
as he was, he couldn't bring himself to eat it. In his mind, no meat was
better than raw meat, so he threw it away. Resigning himself to what appeared to
be his unavoidable fate, he turned in the direction of the nearest German
airfield.
Even POW's get to eat. Sometimes. And they aren't constantly dodging
from tree to tree, ditch to culvert. And he was exhausted.

He was tired of trying to find cover where there was none. Carr hadn't
realized that Czechoslovakian forests had no underbrush until, at the edge of
the farm field, struggling out of his parachute he dragged it into the .
During the times he had been screaming along at tree top level in his P-51
"Angels Playmate" the forests and fields had been nothing more than a green
blur behind the Messerchmitts, Focke-Wulfs, trains and trucks he had in his
sights. He never expected to find himself a pedestrian far behind enemy
lines.
The instant antiaircraft shrapnel ripped into the engine, he knew he was in trouble.

Serious trouble.

Clouds of coolant steam hissing through jagged holes in the cowling told Carr
he was about to ride the silk elevator down to a long walk back to his
squadron. A very long walk. This had not been part of the mission plan.
Several years before, when 18-year-old Bruce Carr enlisted in the Army,
in no way could he have imagined himself taking a walking tour of rural
Czechoslovakia with Germans everywhere around him. When he enlisted, all he
had just focused on flying airplanes .. fighter airplanes.

By the time he had joined the military, Carr already knew how to fly. He had
been flying as a private pilot since 1939, soloing in a $25 Piper Cub his
father had bought from a ed pilot who had left it lodged securely in
the top of a tree. His instructor had been an Auburn, NY, native by the name
of Johnny Bruns. " In 1942, after I enlisted, " as Bruce Carr remembers it,
"we went to meet our instructors. I was the last cadet left in the assignment
room and was nervous. Then the door opened and out stepped the man who
was to be my military flight instructor. It was Johnny Bruns !

We took a Stearman to an outlying field, doing aerobatics all the way;
then he got out and soloed me. That was my first flight in the military."

" The guy I had in advanced training in the AT-6 had just graduated himself
and didn't know a bit more than I did," Carr can't help but smile, as he
remembers .. which meant neither one of us knew anything. Zilch ! After three
or four hours in the AT-6, they took me and a few others aside, told us we
were going to fly P-40s and we left for Tipton, Georgia."

" We got to Tipton, and a lieutenant just back from North Africa kneeled on
the P-40's wing, showed me where all the levers were, made sure I knew how
every- thing worked, then said ' If you can get it started .. go fly it' . .
just like that ! I was 19 years old and thought I knew every thing. I didn't
know enough to be scared. They didn't tell us what to do. They just said 'Go
fly,' so I buzzed every cow in that part of the state. Nineteen years old ..
and with 1100 horsepower, what did they expect? Then we went overseas."

By today's standards, Carr and that first contingent of pilots shipped to
England were painfully short of experience. They had so little flight time
that today, they would barely have their civilian pilot's license. Flight
training eventually became more formal, but in those early days, their
training had a hint of fatalistic Darwinism to it: if they learned fast
enough
to survive, they were ready to move on to the next step. Including his 40
hours in the P-40 terrorizing Georgia, Carr had less than 160 hours total
flight time when he arrived in England.

His group in England was to be the pioneering group that would take the
Mustang into combat, and he clearly remembers his introduction to the
airplane. " I thought I was an old P-40 pilot and the -51B would be no big
deal. But I was wrong! I was truly impressed with the airplane. REALLY
impressed! It flew like an airplane. I FLEW a P-40, but in the P-51 - I WAS
PART OF the airplane.. and it was part of me. There was a world of difference."

When he first arrived in England, the instructions were, ' This is a P-51. Go
fly it. Soon, we'll have to form a unit, so fly.' A lot of English cows were
buzzed. On my first long-range mission, we just kept climbing, and I'd never
had an airplane above about 10,000 feet before. Then we were at 30,000 feet
and I couldn't believe it! I'd gone to church as a kid, and I knew that's
where the angels were and that's when I named my airplane 'Angels Playmate.'

Then a bunch of Germans roared down through us, and my leader immediately
dropped tanks and turned hard for home. But I'm not that smart. I'm 19 years
old and this SOB shoots at me, and I'm not going to let him get away with it.
We went round and round, and I'm really mad because he shot at me. Childish
emotions, in retrospect. He couldn't shake me . . but I couldn't get on his
tail to get any hits either. " Before long, we're right down in the trees. I'm
shooting, but I'm not hitting. I am, however, scaring the hell out of him. I'm
at least as excited as he is. Then I tell myself to c-a-l-m d-o-w-n."

" We're roaring around within a few feet of the ground, and he pulls up to go
over some trees, so I just pull the trigger and keep it down. The gun barrels
burned out and one bullet . . a tracer . . came tumbling out . . and made a
great huge arc. It came down and hit him on the left wing about where the
aileron was.

He pulled up, off came the canopy, and he jumped out, but too low for the
chute to open and the airplane crashed. I didn't shoot him down, scared him
to death with one bullet hole in his left wing. My first victory wasn't
a kill - it was more of a suicide."

The rest of Carr's 14 victories were much more conclusive. Being red-hot
fighter pilot, however, was absolutely no use to him as he lay shivering in
the Czechoslovakian forest. He knew he would die if he didn't get some food
and shelter soon.

" I knew where the German field was because I'd flown over it, so I headed in
that direction to surrender. I intended to walk in the main gate, but it was
late afternoon and, for some reason . . I had second thoughts and decided to
wait in the woods until morning."

" While I was lying there, I saw a crew working on an FW 190 right at the edge
of the woods. When they were done, I assumed, just like you assume in America,
that the thing was all finished. The cowling's on. The engine has been run.
The fuel truck has been there. It's ready to go. Maybe a dumb assumption
for a young fellow, but I assumed so. "

Carr got in the airplane and spent the night all hunkered down in the cockpit.

" Before dawn, it got light and I started studying the cockpit. I can't read
German, so I couldn't decipher dials and I couldn't find the normal switches
like there were in American airplanes. I kept looking , and on the right side
was a smooth panel. Under this was a compartment with something I would
classify as circuit breakers. They didn't look like ours, but they weren't
regular switches either."

I began to think that the Germans were probably no different from the
Americans . . that they would turn off all the switches when finished with the
airplane. I had no earthly idea what those circuit breakers or switches did .
. but I reversed every one of them. If they were off, that would turn them on.
When I did that . . the gauges showed there was electricity on the airplane."

"I'd seen this metal T-handle on the right side of the cockpit that had a word
on it that looked enough like ' starter ' for me to think that's what it was.
But when I pulled it . . nothing happened. Nothing."

But if pulling doesn't work . . you push. And when I did, an inertia starter
started winding up. I let it go for a while, then pulled on the handle and the
engine started. The sun had yet to make it over the far trees and the air base
was just waking up, getting ready to go to war. The FW 190 was one of many
dispersed throughout the woods, and at that time of the morning, the sound of
the engine must have been heard by many Germans not far away on the main
base. But even if they heard it, there was no reason for alarm. The last thing
they expected was one of their fighters taxiing out with a weary Mustang pilot at
the controls. Carr, however, wanted to take no chances.

" The taxiway came out of the woods and turned right towards where I knew the
airfield was because I'd watched them land and take off while I was in the
trees. On the left side of the taxiway, there was a shallow ditch and a space
where there had been two hangars. The slabs were there, but the hangars were
gone, and the area around them had been cleaned of all debris."

" I didn't want to go to the airfield, so I plowed down through the ditch, and
when the airplane started up the other side, I shoved the throttle
forward and took off right between where the two hangars had been."

At that point, Bruce Carr had no time to look around to see what effect the
sight of a Focke-Wulf ERUPTING FROM THE TREES had on the Germans.
Undoubtedly, they were confused, but not unduly concerned. After all, it was probably
just one of their maverick pilots doing something against the rules. They didn't
know it was one of our own maverick pilots doing something against the rules.

Carr had problems more immediate than a bunch of confused Germans. He
had just pulled off the perfect plane-jacking; but he knew nothing about the
airplane, couldn't read the placards and had 200 miles of enemy territory to cross. At
home, there would be hundreds of his friends and fellow warriors, all of whom
were, at that moment, preparing their guns to shoot at airplanes marked with
swastikas and crosses-airplanes identical to the one Bruce Carr was at that
moment flying.

But Carr wasn't thinking that far ahead. First, he had to get there. And
that meant learning how to fly the German fighter.

" There were two buttons behind the throttle and three buttons behind those
two. I wasn't sure what to push . . so I pushed one button and nothing
happened. I pushed the other and the gear started up. As soon as I felt it
coming up and I cleared the fence at the edge of the German field, then
I took it down little lower and headed for home. All I wanted to do was clear the
ground by about six inches.

And there was only one throttle position for me >> FULL FORWARD ! ! "

As I headed for home, I pushed one of the other three buttons, and the flaps
came part way down. I pushed the button next to it, and they came up
again. So I knew how to get the flaps down. But that was all I knew.

I can't make heads or tails out of any of the instruments. None. And I can't
even figure how to change the prop pitch. But I don't sweat that, because
props are full forward when you shut down anyway, and it was running fine.

This time, it was German cows that were buzzed, although, as he streaked cross
fields and through the trees only a few feet off the ground, that was not his
intent. At something over 350 miles an hour below tree-top level, he was
trying to be a difficult target. However, as he crossed the lines . . he
wasn't difficult enough.

" There was no doubt when I crossed the lines because every SOB and his
brother who had a .50-caliber machine gun shot at me. It was all over the
place, and I had no idea which way to go. I didn't do much dodging because I
was just as likely to fly into bullets as around them."

When he hopped over the last row of trees and found himself crossing his own
airfield, he pulled up hard to set up for landing. His mind was on flying the
airplane. " I pitched up, pulled the throttle back and punched the buttons I
knew would put the gear and flaps down. I felt the flaps come down, but the
gear wasn't doing anything. I came around and pitched up again, still
punching the button. Nothing was happening and I was really frustrated."

He had been so intent on figuring out his airplane problems, he forgot he was
putting on a very tempting show for the ground personnel. " As I started up
the last time, I saw the air defense guys ripping the tarps off the quad .50s
that ringed the field. I hadn't noticed the machine guns before . . but
I was sure noticing them right then."

" I roared around in as tight a pattern as I could fly and chopped the
throttle. I slid to a halt on the runway and it was a nice belly job, if
I say so myself."

His antics over the runway had drawn quite a crowd, and the airplane had
barely stopped sliding before there were MPs up on the wings trying to drag
him out of the airplane by his arms. What they didn't realize was that
he was still strapped in.

I started throwing some good Anglo-Saxon swear words at them, and they let
loose while I tried to get the seat belt undone, but my hands wouldn't work
and I couldn't do it. Then they started pulling on me again because they
still weren't convinced I was an American.

" I was yelling and hollering; then, suddenly, they let go. A face drops down
into the cockpit in front of mine. It was my Group Commander, George R.
Bickel. " Bickel said, ' Carr, where in the hell have you been , and what have
you been doing now?' Bruce Carr was home and entered the record books as the
only pilot known to leave on a mission flying a Mustang and return flying a
Focke-Wulf.

For several days after the ordeal, he had trouble eating and sleeping, but
when things again fell into place, he took some of the other pilots out to
show them the airplane and how it worked. One of them pointed out a small
handle under the glare shield that he hadn't noticed before. When he pulled
it, the landing gear unlocked and fell out. The handle was a separate,
mechanical uplock. At least, he had figured out the really important things.

Carr finished the war with 14 aerial victories after flying 172 missions,
which included three bailouts because of ground fire. He stayed in the
service, eventually flying 51 missions in Korea in F-86s and 286 in Vietnam,
flying F-100s. That's an amazing 509 combat missions and doesn't include
many others during Viet Nam in other aircraft types.

Bruce Carr continued to actively fly and routinely showed up at air shows in a
P-51D painted up exactly like' Angel's Playmate'. The original ' Angel's
Playmate' was put on display in a museum in Paris, France, right after the war.

There is no such thing as an ex-fighter pilot. They never cease being what
they once were, whether they are in the cockpit or not. There is a profile
into which almost every one of the breed fits, and it is the charter within
that profile that makes the pilot a fighter pilot-not the other way around.

And make no mistake about it, Col. Bruce Carr was definitely a fighter pilot.

bobbysocks

12-20-2010, 06:53 PM

On the 30th of April, 1942 a detachment of the 15th Squadron of the South African Air Force, consisting of three Bristol Blenheim Mk.IV. aircraft, under the command of Major J.L.V. de Wet arrived at Kufra, to provide air support to the Garrison maintained by the Sudan Defence Force. On the morning of 4th May, the three aircraft took off on a familiarization and practice mission, never to return. The grim story of the next week is detailed in the War Diary entries:

The testimony of Noel St Malo Juul, the sole survivor, during the subsequent Court of Inquiry is a shocking listing of the DON'T-s of desert survival:

I am an armourer in 15 S.A.A.F. Squadron detachment, KUFRA. On the evening of May 3rd I was detailed by Maj. de Wet to fly in his aircraft on the following morning on a Triangular patrol flight. We took off in formation and started our flight at 06.00 hrs. on May 4th. We completed our patrol as detailed with Maj. de Wet leading throughout the flight, and returned over KUFRA about 08:30 hrs. We flew then away from KUFRA as we had time to spare, but I do not know in which direction. After about half an hour the engine of T.2252 started cutting. This was the starboard engine, and therefore we all force-landed together. The pilots and observers discussed then our position with the aid of maps. At about 11.00 hrs. one aircraft took off and flew away between South and West, as the pilots thought they have ascertained their position from the surrounding hills. This aircraft returned after about half an hour. The pilot 2/Lieut. Wessels could not find KUFRA. We had all this time been transmitting but received no replies. At about 15.00 hrs. on the 4th of May, 2/Lt. Wessels took off again and flew east of South and returned after half an hour. For this flight he had taken some of the petrol from T.2252. he said on returning that KUFRA was not in that direction. we then spent the night all together.

On the morning of the 5th May we drained all the petrol from T.2252 and put it into Z.7513. 2/Lieut. Wessels took off about 11.15 hrs. in a northerly direction, and returned after about half an hour. He had nothing to report, so it ws decided to do no more flying that day.

On the morning of the 6th May, 2/Lt. Pienaar decided to take off in Z.7513 and fly west as this was the only direction that has not been searched. He did not return. We were still trying to receive wireless messages without success.

We were condfident all the time that a search party would find us. Maj. de Wet was uncertain of his position as he had been circling for a suitable forced landing ground. The visibility had been good during all the flights. There was no argument as to our position.

We did not ration the water on the 4th May, and by the following morning had consumed nearly 20 gallons, when we decided to ration water. On the morning of the 6th we received our last ration. On that afternoon we broke open the compasses to extract the alcohol.

On the 6th May in the morning a sand storm blew up, and so we took out the fire extinguishers and used them in the usual manner to try and keep ourselves cool. They relieved us temporarily but soon produced blisters which burst into sores.

The first member of the crews died on the 7th May. It was suggested to Maj. de Wet that he should shoot them as all hope of being found had been given up, but we persuaded him to stick it out. One of the crew, who drank too much alcohol, shot himself from the pain from the alcohol in his stomach. Morphia was used to relieve the pain from the fire extinguisher burns. gentian Violet was also used to relieve the pain of burns, but this gave little relief.

At regular intervals throughout every night we were firing Very lights and tracer ammunition from the turret guns. No ground strips were laid out except to lie on, but a parachute was laid out on a nearby hill. No aircraft nor ground patrols were seen. we did not light any fire.

When at last I did see the Wellington, I was the only one alive, and although I was too weak to fire a Very light I managed to put out some ground strips. The aircraft landed and I was flown back to KUFRA.

The diary of Major de Wet was found, and attached to the Court of Inquiry Proceedings:

Monday 4th Took off 0600 hrs and led 7610 and 2252 on flight Rebiana - Bzema and L.G. No.7. On last leg (No. 7 to Cufra) D.F. gave course to steer 305 deg. On E.T.A. turned to 305 found lost so flew on 125. 2252 engine trouble so landed.
Searched by 7610 and 7513 no avail.
Tuesday 5th D.F contact helio, Cufra, etc. but we cannot receive. they definitely receive us - Kufra gave us Q. 5713 to East gilf 45 miles 90 deg. hannes, frank and Oliver in 5713 on bearing 290 - 100 miles. Did not return.
Wednesday 6th 7610 in bearing 290 - saw nothing. Our last water. Only 1 bottle per man. Sandstorm in afternoon. Most of the fellows dead - started dying 1400 hrs. Still alive but for how long. Van Breda very weak. Still some water left. Broke compass for alcohol - it's stimulating. Not so much heat as previous days - but one must have water.
Thursday 7th (?) Boys are going mad wholesale - they want to shoot each other - very weak myself - will I be able to stop them and stop them from shooting me - Please give us strength.
Friday 6 of us left - out of 12 - no water - we expect to be all gone today. Death will be welcome - we went through hell.
Saturday 9 (?) Hope, Sgt. Vos and Lew also gone. Only me, Shipman and Juul left. we can last if help arrives soon - they know where we are but do not seem to do much about it. Bit of a poor show isnt it. But we will try to stick it out to the very (From this point it is impossible to know what the date is)
Sunday 10th It's the 5th day, second without water and 5th in a temp. of well over 100, But "Thy will be done, Oh Lord".
"Ons kan niks doen behalwe le en wag - miskien kom ons nog weg uit die Hel op Arde Hou diuwels vas hoor !" (We can do nothing except lie and wait - perhaps we may yet get away from this Hell on Earth - Hold tight.)

After an extensive hearing of withesses the Court of Inquiry made the following findings:

The cause of the accident was in our opinion:-

1. The causes of the aircraft forced landing were:

(a) Lack of experience in desert flying by pilots and observers

(b) Failure by the observers to keep accurate navigator's logs

(c) Inability of wireless operators to carry out their duties in the air.

2. The reasons why the searchers failed to locate the three aircraft sooner were:

(a) GROUND SEARCH Lack of accurate information regarding the probable position of the aircraft, difficult terrain, and sand storm conditions made search from the ground far from easy. Nevertheless every effort was made both by No. 15 Squadron detachment and the Sudan defence Force who gave every possible assistance.

(b) AIR SEARCH Despite three aircraft being detailed by No. 203 Group on the day of the loss on prompt advice from No. 15 Squadron detachment, the Bombay did not receive the signalled instructions from Wadi Halfa, the Blenheim became unservicable at Wadi Halfa, and the Wellesley force landed at Station 6. This caused a fatal delay of twenty four hours as on the two following days (May 6th and 7th) visibility in the Kufra area made flying impossible; this weather also affected two other Bombay aircraft sent from No. 216 Squadron by H.Q. R.A.F. M.E. but in addition these did not obtain the call sign of Kufra HF/DF. station. On receipt of instructions from H.Q. R.A.F. M.E. No. 162 Squadron took very prompt and efficient action which resulted in the finding of all three aircraft, the first being located about 36 hours after the original instructions were received by the Squadron.

(c) ASSISTANCE GIVEN BY FORCED LANDED CREWS
(i) Bad D/F procedure even on the ground
(ii) lack of visual signs by day (particularly ground strips and smudge fires)

3. The reasons of the early death of the personnel were:

(a) Failure at first to appreciate their plight.

(b) Failure to ration their water immediately.

(c) Unintelligent use of compass alcohol and fire extinguishers.

...

The Court makes the following recommendations:-

1. That every aircraft likely to fly over desert carries as part of its desert equipment a pamphlet setting out comprehensive instructions covering

(a) Visual signals to be displayed by day and by night.

(b) Information regarding the most economical rationing of food and water.

(c) Precise details as to the use of the first aid kit.

(d) A list of "Donts" regarding compass alcohol, fire extinguishers, urine, leaving the aircraft, etc., etc.

(e) Special instructions regarding the particular type of equipment and its equipment.

2. That only crews experienced in flying over desert should be based at places such as Kufra.

3. No flying should be carried out from Kufra unless at least one serviceable aircraft and crew remains on ground.

4. That no aircraft should leave the vicinity of Kufra until effective two way wireless communication has been established with ground station.

5. That more attention must be paid by navigators to the strict maintenance of accurate navigators' logs at all times.

On the 10th & 11th of November, 2001, during our trip to SE Libya, we have relocated both the forced landing ground, and the possible remains of Z.7513.

By a very strange quirk of fate, during research on the SAAF Blenheims, it emerged that a very similar incident happened to another Blenheim IV of the Groupe Lorraine of the Free French Air Force. On the 5th February 1941, during Leclerc's Kufra campaign, Blenheim T1867 became lost on it's return flight to Faya after bombing Kufra. The remains of the aircraft and the crew beside it were found 18 years later in Ennedi, 250 kilometres to the south east of Ounianga.

more info and subsequent stories here:

http://fjexpeditions.com/frameset/blenheims.htm

bobbysocks

12-20-2010, 06:57 PM

the last of the dutch bombers...

It’s the 13th of may 1940, the 4th day of the German invasion. There is a gap in the first line of defence, he “Grebbelinie” but the seccond, the “Waterlinie” is still holding. Near to Rotterdam, the German airborne troops captured the 2 bridges near Dordrecht, called the Moerdijk bridges, leaving the way to Rotterdam open. In the south, the French army retreated, leaving a big gap open for the Wehrmacht, to circumvent the Dutch defense and getting through to the Moerdijk bridges.

At 5.19h, the LVA (dutch airforce) dispatched the very last Dutch bomber, the Fokker T.V 856 to bomb the Moerdijk Bridges with 2 bombs of 300 kg. The bomber was escorted by 2 Fokker G.I’s (numbers 315 and 308 ), the most potent fighter in the LVA.

The 3 planes very low to avoid the German fighters. When passing Dordrecht, they ascended to an altitude of about 1000m. Shortly before they reached the bridges, they were attacked bij 8 Bf109’s of JG26. While being attacked, the 3 planes first flew over the water, made a 180° turn to the north and attacked the bridge with one of the bombs. They missed the bridge by a mere 50m. They saw that they missed, so they turned and headed back south again. Then they made another 180° tun and attacked the bridge again. They threw the second bomb and this time they hit the bridge. Unfortunately the bomb didn’t explode. After this, the 3 planes flew over Dordrecht, back to Schiphol. They were chased by several Bf109’s. One of the G.I’s was attacked by 4 Messerschmitts, finally killing the pilot, lt. Schoute. The plane crashed in a polder. The gunner tried to bail out, but fell to the ground and died as well.

The T.V Was attacked several times and finally crashed near Ridderkerk, killing all 5 crewmembers. One G.I could escape and safely landed at Schiphol airport at 6 o’clock.

One last strange note. The G.I and the T.V were declared been shot down by Hauptmann Karl Ebbinghausen. His Messerschmitt Bf109 still seems to be on display at the Militairy airforce museum at Duxford, England.

bobbysocks

12-20-2010, 07:09 PM

Aviator has a blast from a wartime past.

When Lee Lamar sat Friday behind the controls of a vintage B-24 Liberator bomber, it was as if nearly 63 years had faded away.
Lamar of Mission recalls Nov. 18, 1944, with perfect clarity. The four-engine B-24 he co-piloted during World War II had been gunned down over what was then northern Italy.
“They (the Germans) kept hitting us and hitting us,” Lamar said. “It was hard to control with just two right engines. We lost altitude from 20,000 to 5,000 feet.”
The B-24’s two left engines had been shot out. The plane had lost its hydraulics. Lamar and nine other crew members spent the next 30 minutes trying to nudge the plane back to Allied territory in southern Italy, but they didn’t make it.
The men parachuted shortly before the plane crashed in what is now Croatia. Everyone survived — seven escaped and three were captured, including Lamar.
Fast forward to today.
Lamar, now 86, will return to the crash site next month to meet with an archaeologist who discovered the wreckage and tracked down Lamar through the Internet.
Accompanying the veteran will be Park University professor Dennis Okerstrom, who will film the excavation and create a documentary about Lamar’s last mission. The objective was to destroy a German airfield so fighter planes couldn’t take off. Lamar and his comrades succeeded.
Okerstrom called World War II an “extraordinary” time when young men were called into combat. And Lamar, a mere 23 years old when he was shot down, earned the nickname “Pappy” because he was the oldest on board. Other crew members were barely out of adolescence — 17-, 18- and 19-year-olds, Okerstrom said.
“He was one of several million who had to do the horrible time,” Okerstrom said.
Lamar said three other crewmates are still living, but their deteriorating health will prevent them from returning to Croatia.
The bomber Lamar briefly flew Friday is the last flying B-24 in the world, said Hunter Chaney, spokesman for The Collings Foundation, which works to educate the public about World War II through aircraft shows.
The foundation arranged for Lamar to take the helm during a flight from Fort Collins, Colo., to Kansas City. The foundation has the B-24 and a B-17 bomber on display at the Wheeler Downtown Airport until Monday.
“Most of these World War II veterans are in the mid- to late-80s,” Chaney said. “One of our primary objectives is to remind people what these fellows did in the war.”
After his three-hour trip Friday, Lamar was tired, giddy and emotional. He was dressed in a replica leather flight jacket and cap in 90-degree weather. A reporter asked Lamar when he last had flown a B-24.
“Nov. 18, 1944,” he responded as tears welled in his eyes.
Then, he straightened up and faced reporters calmly. He said he had forgotten how much strength it required to control the plane. And the plane’s instrument panel was much like he remembered.
“I enjoyed it,” he said. “It’s an opportunity that a lot people don’t get.”
Regarding the trip to Croatia, Lamar said he hoped to find something he left behind.
“I buried a perfectly good parachute over at the intersection of two stone walls,” he said, referring to the military policy of hiding gear.
Lamar, Okerstrom, their families and several Park University students will depart Aug. 3 for Croatia.

bobbysocks

12-22-2010, 08:43 PM

DETAILS Of MARINE CORPS ACE PAPPY BOYINGTON'S LAST COMBAT FLIGHT

It was December 1943. The Battle for the Solomons had reached a furious level and was intensifying daily. Rabaul, the Japanese "Pearl Harbor," at the northern end of the Solomon Island chain, had to be neutralized before the Allied march toward the Japanese homeland could continue.

A key factor in the neutralizing process was Marine Major Gregory "Pappy" Boyington, the swashbuckling CO and his hastily-thrown-together band of casuals and replacements who were blazing a heroic record across the South Pacific skies. Calling themselves the "Black Sheep," as a wry nod to their questionable origin, they had already downed a total of 76 Japanese planes by 25 December 1943. By usually giving him the first shot and protecting him while he scored, they had assissted Boyington in getting within reach of the US record for planes destroyed in aerial combat. That record, 26 planes, was jointly held by Medal of Honor winner Marine Major Joe Foss, for action over Guadalcanal, and Army Captain Eddie Rickenbacker from World War One. Boyington had downed 18 Zeros. These, with the six Japanese planes Boyington claimed from his service with the Flying Tigers shortly after Pearl Harbor, gave him a total of 24 (Editor's Note: Most sources do not allow Boyington the six AVG claims, narrowing his victories to two aerial victories and 2.5 aircraft destroyed on the ground).

We had seen the pressures mount daily on Boyington as he closed in on the record. The news media, already focused on the remarkable exploits of the Black Sheep squadron as a whole, descended on our little island of Vella Lavella in droves and dogged his every waking moment. They were in the ready room, in the mess hall, at the flight line and even in our tent where our Flight Surgeon, Dr. Jim Reames and I tried to fend them off. We recognized that he had enough pressures without the constant questioning: "Do you think you'll break the record?" "Are you scared?" "When will you break the record?" "If you break the record will you quit then?" "How does it feet to shoot down a plane?"

I told the most persistent, A.P. Correspodent Fred Hampson, that I would arrange an interview with Boyington for him if he would then leave him strictly alone. Hampson agreed and got his interview.

As some of us sat in our tent with Boyington on Christmas night, one of the Black Sheep pilots, Bob Bragdon, expressed a thought that was in all our minds:

"Look, Pappy, we all want to see you break the record but we don't want you to go up there and get killed doing it." "Don't worry about me," Pappy responded. "They can't kill me. If you guys ever see me going down with 30 Zeros on my tail, don't give me up. Hell, I'll meet you in a San Diego bar and we'll all have a drink for old times' sake."

On the 27th, Boyington got his 25th Zero to bring him one shy of the record. At the same time, the Black Sheep raised their squadron total to 82.

On the 28th, the Black Sheep shot down four more Zeros to bring the squadron total to 86 but Boyington did not score. The mission was costly for the Black Sheep as J.C. Dustin, Don Moore and Harry Bard failed to return.

Weather partially cancelled the major mission on the 30th but the Black Sheep added another Zero. Again, Boyington did not score.

After the mission on 30 December, Boyington went off by himself to sit and look at the rain. When we went to chow, Fred Hampson sat down across from us at the long table.

"Well, Pappy," he said. "What do you think? Are you going to get another chance at the record?"

"I don't know."

"Well, if you do, are you going to break it? Are you going to be satisfied with just one or two, or are you going after more?"

Boyington blew up.

"God damn it," he shouted, "why don't you guys leave me alone? I don't know if I'm going to break it or not. Just leave me alone till I do or go down trying."

He slammed his fist down onto the table, catching the edge of his plate and spattering food in the face of the correspondent, and then stormed out of the mess hall.

"I told you to leave him alone," I said to Hampson.

"Yes, I know you did, and I'm sorry," he said.

Deciding that Pappy was in no condition to fly on New Year's Day, Doc Reames and I cooked Lip a story about a mythical Zero down in the jungle and arranged for Doug White, a Marine Corps Combat Correspondent, and our own jungle expert, Bill Crocker, to take him out to find it and get some publicity photos. Doug and Crocker tramped what Boyington termed "a thousand miles" and brought him in at five o'clock ready to go to bed. He took a shower, stretched out for a "nap" and slept straight through until time to get up for the 2 January mission over Rabaul.

On that day Boyington led three other Black Sheep among a total of 56 Marine and Navy fighters on a sweep to Rabaul. The Black Sheep got one Zero but Pappy's plane was throwing oil and smeared his windshield so that he was unable to see.

When Pappy returned from Bougainville at five-o'clock all conversation ceased.

"Had a little tough luck up there," he said quietly.

"Do you think you should try to make that hop tomorrow?" Doc Reames asked.

"I'm okay," he said.

We got some sandwiches down from the mess hall for him and gave the thumbs-up sign as he rode away in the truck with Bruce Matheson, George Ashmun and Mack Chatham. The four of them took off for Bougainville for the early morning takeoff the next day.

On 3 January, Boyington led the flight of 44 Navy and Marine Fighters, including just the four Black Sheep, in a sweep over Rabaul. The battle was joined at 22,000-ft over Rapopo airfield with Pappy taking his four-plane division down on a flight of 12-15 Zeros. Boyington and Matheson each shot down a Zero and then, in the melee and the haze, the Black Sheep became separated.

Back at Vella Lavella, we expected the flight back before noon but long before that time the ready room was full of people wanting to know if Pappy had broken the record.

At 10 o'clock the first planes were back at Bougainville.

At 11:30, Matheson landed at Vella Lavella and brought the first word. He'd seen Pappy and Ashmun attack 15 Zeros and Pappy had brought one down. We cheered. Were there any more? Matheson didn't know. He and Chatham had had their hands full with another 15 Zeros; he'd shot one down and then Chatham's electrical system had gone bad and they'd had to return to Bougainville. Our squadron bag was now 90.

As time dragged on, other pilots came in. I talked to all of them. No, they hadn't seen either Boyington or Ashmun. I asked Operations to check all the other airfields: Munda, Ondonga, Treasury, to see if they'd possibly landed there. They had to be down somewhere, their fuel was long gone.

And then, gradually, it began to dawn on us.

Fred Hampson's report described it:

"The Skipper didn't get back!

"The news spread like a chill from revetment, to the ready room, to the tent camp on the hill. The war stood still for a hundred pilots and 500 ground crewmen.

"It couldn't be true. The Japs didn't have a man who could stay on the Skipper's tail."

But as the minutes rolled into hours and negative answers to our queries came in from all fields, we began to comprehend that Pappy and Ashmun were really missing.

The Black Sheep raged like wild men up and down the coasts of New Ireland and New Britain for the remaining three days of our combat tour. They shot up barges, gun positions, bivouac areas; strafed airfields, killed Japanese troops, cut up supply dumps, trucks, small boats. Every rumor of a sighting brought a horde of Black Sheep whistling down so close to the sea that their prop wash left white wakes in the water.

Aerial combat was incidental; they wanted to get down to look for the Skipper and George. Nevertheless, they shot down four more Zeros to bring the squadron total to 94* Japanese planes shot down in aerial combat, 35 probably destroyed, 50 damaged; and 21 destroyed on the ground. But it was a sad day for us when we returned to Espiritu Santo minus twelve of the pilots who had been with us such a short time earlier when we'd dubbed ourselves the Black Sheep.

Note: Boyington DID show up for that post-war party. At the end of the war he was released from the Japanese prison camp where he'd spent 20 months, flew to San Francisco and joined his squadron mates for the celebration he'd told us he would be there for, no matter what.

* Upon his release, Boyington reported that he had actually shot down three Zeros and that Ashmun had shot down one, thus raising the Black Sheep Squadron total to 97 planes.

bobbysocks

12-22-2010, 08:45 PM

The ones on the wrong side of the war
the story of mr. Kuhn, who turned traitor twice, first on the dutch and allied cause, then on the german LW:

JOHANNES ANTONIUS KUHN
Johannes Antonius Kuhn. Born in Amsterdam on 15th November 1908 was destined to survive WW2. Having obtained his pilot’s brevet in 1932, he was applied in 1937 for a six-year posting to the KNIL. He was accepted on August 14th. In the colony the reserve NCO flew Martin 139 bombers, but in 1938 he was repatriated due to health problems related to the tropical climate. En 1939 he re-engaged for service in the ML. He started with the unit I-2 LvR (equipped with Fokker C-V & Koolhoven FK-51) before progressing at the end of 1939 to V-2 LvR (a fighter unit) to re-train as a fighter pilot. At the start of 1940 he was the pilot of a Douglas DB-8A. The Netherlands had 28 of these aircraft. It is amazing that they were in service as fighters as they were designed as two-seat bombers. A shortage of fighter aircraft had forced the Dutch to take this drastic measure. Kuhn’s (nicknamed ‘Bulletje’ by his colleagues on account of his short stature) involvement in the May 1940 actions was to be brief. On the 1oth May his DB-8A N° 392 was shot down near Pijnacker (probably by a Bf 110 of II./ZG1) Kuhn and his radio-operator NCO Staal were able to leave the machine but Kuhn suffered serious injury to a knee as a result of the crash landing. This meant long months of recuperation in hospital which then followed. In 1942 he was regarded as fully recovered and discharged on 15th October, having been declared as unsuitable for flying duties. That same year he applied to join the Luftwaffe. What was his motivation? In 1944 during interrogation by the British he stated that his German fiancée pushed him into making this choice. One suspects that this was purely an excuse.

Anyhow, in view of his prolonged absence from flying, the Luftwaffe were not going to let him escape the need for re-training! From October 1942 through to April 1943 he was at Flieger-Ausbildung-Regiment 63 at Toul (F) before moving on to the Flugzeugführerüberprüfungschule at Prenzlau. Subsequently at the start of January 1944 he moved to Schlachtgeschwader 101 (a ground-attack unit equipped with Fw 190 and some Hs 129s) based at Orly (F) After an interlude training at Quedlinburg, the Dutchman was transferred to Überführungsgruppe West, a ferry unit formed in mid-1943to fly new or repaired aircraft from factories to front-line units.

Überführungsgruppe West comprised 4 Geschwader. Kuhn belonged to the third. It Willie recognised that Kuhn had arrived at a bad moment. In the weeks preceding June 6th 1944 the ferry pilots had to accept the risk of allied intruder fighters spoiling for a fight. Many pilots were shot down due to this cause. When the ferried aircraft finally reached the airfields, they were then likely to become targets for allied bombers. After the invasion on D-Day 6th June, Überführungsgruppe West abandoned their advance bases and retreated to within the Reich borders. The quality of the pilots declined rapidly as a result of losses reaching 35/40%! Kuhn was particularly depressed as, being based at Langendiebach, he regularly had to take-off in He IIIs of TG 30 participating in supply flights for the German pockets of resistance on the Atlantic coast.

He decided to desert. To do so he had to wait for a favourable moment, which presented itself on 30th August 1944. On that day he was flying one of fourteen FW 190A8s being sent to reinforce JG 26 at Brussels-Melbroek. Kuhn was flying Werknummer 171747. Time was getting short. At 11:30 he took off for Belgium. He passed Aachen & Ostend and then headed west. Close to the many ships at sea he crossed the North Sea. So as not to run the risk of being shot down by British flak, he did not head for a known aerodrome, but managed to put his aircraft down in open country near Monkton in Kent. It was a good landing and his aircraft suffered only minor damage. It would receive the serial AM230 and would be displayed to the public many times; at Farnborough in 1945 , then going to the Science Museum in London in 1946. It was later scrapped.

As for Kuhn he remained a POW in Great Britain until 1949. In the 1980s he was given a friendly welcome by Dutch military aviation veterans. His peers managed to sponge over his ‘intermezzo’ in the Luftwaffe.

bobbysocks

12-22-2010, 08:50 PM

Mosquito vs V! Story

ever wonder how the paint got scorched off the Mosquito?

BY DAVE MCINTOSH

The following excerpt is from Dave Macintosh's book, "Terror in the Starboard Seat, "published by General Publishing Co. Ltd., Don Mills, Ont. It is Mclntosh's personal account of his experiences as a 418 Sqn observer/navigator on Mosquitos and of his sometimes strained relationship with his pilot, Sid Seid. Seid was a Jewish-American in the RCAF whose main aim in life was to single-handedly win the war against Hitler. The story picks up on their 1944 encounter with German V-l buzz bombs.
Ihere was nothing very complicated about the V-l. It was a small glider with an engine in it and it was loaded with explosive. Jerry put enough gas in the engine to make it go to London. \Vhen the gas ran out. the bomb fell down on whatever — or whomever — was underneath. The thing understandably made the Brits very jittery. It did me too.
The launching pads were near the French coast from Le Havre to Boulogne. You'd think they would be easy to find and bomb, but they weren't. The only alternative was to shoot them down, preferably over the Channel where they could do no damage. There was little point in shooting them down over England because they were going to fall out of the sky anyway.
So away we went looking for flying bombs. Better than stooging around France, I thought, until I found out we'd be stooging around at 10,000 feet over France waiting for the bombs to appear.
SEARCHLIGHTS
The first night we set out for Beachy Head, from where we were going to make track for France. Near Brighton, a couple of searchlights snapped on. They picked us up right away. It was blinding in the cockpit.
"Jesus, tell them we're on their side." Sid said, crouching as far down as he could so he could see the instrument panel. This was old hat. I reached around and casually fired die Very pistol. A beautiful green flare shot out- But the searchlights didn't go off as : posed to do. Two more stung
i .'si deadly accuracy. Zap!
"For Christ's sake, vou must have the
wrong color," Sid barked. He started to take the airplane into contortions to get out of the lights but then resumed straight and level flight. "They'll think we're Jerries if we try to get away," he said.
Meanwhile. I was scrambling around looking for the code color chart. I had left the green flare in from our last trip and had forgotten to check the chart.
"C'mon. for Christ's sake." Sid said. This made me doubly nervous. I located the color key in the map box. Then I began searching for my flashlight.
Sid exploded. ""What in hell do you want a flashlight for? You can read a ten-cent pulp novel in here."
The chart said red and yellow for 10 P.M. to midnight. I was so unnerved that I looked at my watch to check the time.
Sid could read me like a book. "It's after ten o'clock and it's before midnight." he roared. Then he added: "If you don't get those lights off. I'm going to go blind." He was really alarmed.
I looked along the rack and couldn't find the right flare. I thought I was going to be sick. I started over. This time I found one. pinching my fingers getting the old one out, thrust in the new one and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. My God. was there another red and yellow flare? I thought not. I pulled the breach open, slammed it again, fired. There was a sound like a fist in a pillow. Two beautiful red and yellow lights soared out aft. The searchlights went out like a basement light clicking off.
"Sorry." I said. It didn't seem adequate.
Mercifully. Sid didn't say anything. I think he didn't want to betray that he had been scared too.

SUPERSTITIONS
The trip was a washout. We couldn't concentrate on anything after that, though it was really a very minor incident. We carried out a two hour patrol but didn't see anything.
The next night started out the same. I wore the same shoes as I had the first trip. I also peed under the port wing before takeoff. I stuck with these superstitions, though my feet got damn cold sometimes and the ground crew complained now and then about having to tramp around in my wet spots. A superstition is not a good one unless you stick with it through thick and thin.
I think I had always been impressed by the film in which Clark Gable got in flying trouble the moment Spencer Tracy forgot his habit of sticking his wad of gum on the cockpit before takeoff. I was not particularly superstitious before the war but I have been since. More than the ordinary orx^-. a black cat crossing your path, breaking a mirror, walking under a ladder. When I struggle out of my high-back rocker. I have to make sure it stops rocking before I leave the room. Never a hat on the bed. Happy is the corpse that is rained on. You name it — I've got it.
We took off, crossed the English Channel and took up station inside France
east of Le Havre. We were at about 2,000 feet. "Look out the back." Sid said.
I stayed like that for an hour. There was a real danger, sitting up in the open, that we would draw a Jem' night fighter. "Jesus, there's one," Sid said suddenly. He jammed the throttles forward.
I looked down. Sure enough, there was the red glow, the exhaust of a V-l. It seemed to be moving fairly slowly, poor judgement on my part. We went into a dive to get more speed. The Y-l was ahead of us. In the blackness, of course, all we could see was that small burning sun in front of us. Because the V-l was smaller than a plane, you had to get fairly close to get in a telling shot.
We were doing more than 350 mph by this time but we weren't gaining. In fact, we were dropping back a bit. In a minute or so, we had to face the truth that the damn thing was running away from us.

We had been warned about this too. Jerry mixed 'em up. He'd send one over at 500 miles an hour, which we couldn't catch, and then poop one off at 200 miles an hour. Whether this was deliberate or not we didn't know, of course, but it drove us crazy. We climbed back up to 10,000 feet: Sid was sore as hell. He took the two misfires as an affront to his flying ability.
Another hour went by and we were thinking of doing one more stooge before heading home, when we spotted a third doodlebug. "By God. this time." Sid said.
The speed went up as we went down. I looked at the clock. It read 350 mph. I looked out along the wing. It was flapping like a seagull working in a hurricane. My stomach gave another wrench. Christ, the wings will come off and we'll go straight in. I didn't take any comfort from what had happened to Tony Barker and Gord Frederick, his navigator. They hit the drink

was thrown hard against my straps because the cannons going off cut down the speed suddenly.
When the explosion came I thought I was going to be dead. The goddam thing went off right in our faces. I opened my eyes and caught a glimpse of things whirling around outside the window. Black things and blobs of smoke.
"I can't see," Sid said.
"OK boy,"I said. "Just keep her like that. You can cut your speed though." He throttled back. After those hours of darkness, he had been blinded for a few seconds by the flash. Why we hadn't been smashed up from all that flying debris. I don't know. We had flown right through it.
" I got too close," Sid said.
"I noticed," I said. Now that I found myself in one piece and the props still going around, I wanted to laugh and natter and be Jesus H.(for Hannah) Christ in a blue bottle sitting on the mantlepiece. "Boy, I bet we saved the life of some limey in London reading his paper about how all the doodlebugs are being shot down by ack-ack guns," I babbled.
"Yes. you're quite a little savior," Sid said. But he didn't fool me. He was pleased he had finally made a score, no matter how small, in his Jewish war against the Germans.

"Russ said to go to 10,000." I said. Russ Bannock, our new flight commander, and Don MacFadyen, had worked out some tactics for the V-l. One of Russ's pieces of advice was to climb to 10.000 feet and wait there for the V-l launching. The height would enable us to gain our maximum speed of about 400 in a dive. "Look out the back." said Sid. We climbed to 10.000 feet and stooged around, my neck getting sorer by the minute.
"There's another bastard." Sid said. He banged the throttles forward and stuck the nose down. The sudden dive lifted me up hard against the straps and my guts came up with a thud against my heart. Down we went like a bat out of hell. We wouldn't be too slow this time. We weren't. We went screaming by the bloody thing before Sid could get set for a shot.

so hard the cannons pulled them through the floorboards of the cockpit and clear of the Mosquito. They got into their dinghies and a rescue plane picked them out of the Channel two miles off the Dieppe beaches. It takes all kinds.
Down, down, down. We were gaining some because the fire coming out the ass end of the V-l was getting bigger. The Mosquito was screaming in every joint. Sid had both big, hairy hands on the stick. When he began to pull back. I thought the wings would never stand it. But we began to level out and the clock said 400 mph. Sid pulled and pulled and she kept coming out of the dive. I tore my eyes away from the shaking wing and looked ahead. It was just like looking into a blast furnace.
"We're too close," I screamed. I shut my eyes as the cannons began banging away. I

we got one." was all he said. •: -:k the pistol," Sid said. I did, then turned on the Gee box and got a fix on our position. We were nearly home. That stretch at 400 miles an hour had helped speed things up.
I gave Sid a course: "Three-four-eight." Then I checked the IFF and the gas gauges.
"I bet we're all blistered." Sid said. He was talking about the Mosquito.
We drifted in over the coast and pretty soon our circle of lights showed up. He did a circuit and landed and parked. A flashlight bobbed around under my wing, the door opened, a ladder came up and with it a blurred face.
"Where in hell have you been?" ; -.-.-Hal.
"We got a doodlebug."
"From pretty close."
"That's been mentioned." Sid said.
I climbed down the ladder. Sid followed and took Hal's flashlight and played it on the wings and nose. There wasn't an inch of paint anywhere. The Mosquito was black. No roundel, no number, no letters, nothing.
What did you do, fly right up its ass?" asked Hal.
"Looks like," Sid said.
The truck with its little dim lights arrived and we rode back to the ops room. Sid reported to the IO.
A few minutes later, Pete came in smoking an enormous cigar. "One ceegar," he shouted, waving his smoke. He meant he had shot down a V-l.
"The son of a bitch," Sid said to me. "What'll he do if he ever shoots down a plane?" He was really annoyed.
The next afternoon, all the crews went around to have a look at our scorched plane and the CO said in the mess, "Don't get too close to 'em." I could have said that.
Sid didn't talk about shooting down a V-l. He talked about mistakes. "Jesus Christ. There we were going down like a stone in a well and my alligator sitting there with his balls in his mouth he's so scared and I'm fingering the old tit to get ready for a shot when we go tearing by as if that goddam thing had stopped to let somebody off. Then my alligator lectures me on tactics."
The bar laughed and roared. "Back up we go. with my alligator twitching like a dry leaf on the end of a dry twig in a dry wind because he's afraid a Jerry is going to come up our ass while we're trying to get up the doodlebug's ass. Well, we spot another, though my alligator here pretends he doesn't see it and says we should go home another way, like the three wise men. Well, down we go again. I don't know how you're supposed to tell how far away you are. I thought we were about 300 yards away when I fired. Jesus, we weren't three yards away. I'm going to wear dark glasses at night after this."
More laughter.
No other pilot talked like Sid did. The

others never admitted mistakes. They'd rather die than admit they had, for instance, overtaken a V-l without getting a shot in. Oh, they had heard of that happening to somebody over in 605 Sqn (our RAF equivalent). But that was all.
Except when describing a kill, most crews kept to themselves what went on in the cockpit. I was always interested in how the other navigators got along with their pilots and once in a while I found out.
One said his pilot gave him **** all die time in the air — a constant stream of instructions, complaints, invective about his navigation. But he didn't feel like retaliating because his pilot was so damn good he didn't make mistakes — he knew exactly what he was doing and what his plane could do every second the plane was in the air. It was uncanny. He added that he didn't speak to his pilot except in the ops room and in the plane. This must have taken some doing because, like the rest of us, they bunked in the same room.
Bill told me about his pilot: "Look, the guy makes mistakes. He puts us on the
wrong course sometimes. He's not one of your wonder pilots we have around here, with years of instruction. He made the course and he tries hard and he really flies pretty well. Do you think I'm going to hold him up to ridicule in front of the mess?"
I didn't consider that Sid was ridiculing himself or me. He was simply entertaining the Squadron. Besides, he was telling the truth while he did it, with a pinch of exaggeration here and there. I won't say he was the only one who told the truth. But he was the only one who broadcast it.

bobbysocks

12-26-2010, 07:55 PM

Operation Airthief

By the beginning of 1942 it was clear that the capture of an airworthy Fw 190 would be of inestimable value to RAF Fighter Command. Yet in wrtime the aquisition of an example of the latest enemy fighter in an undamaged condition was a requirement far easier to state than to achieve. Nevertheless Captain Philip Pinckney, a Commando officer who was undeterred by the many obvious difficulties, put forward a proposal for 2 men to attempt to achieve by stealth what a battalion would not achieve by force: to steal one of the new German fighters and fly it back to England. For sheer effrontery the plan, which is reproduced in full below, can have few equals in military history. And it might just have succeeded.

MOST SECRET AND URGENT
To: Officer Commanding No 12 Commando
From: Captain Pinckney, E Troop, No 12 Commando

Sir,
I understand that as a matter of great urgency and importance a specimen Focke Wulf 190 is required in this country. I attach a proposal for procuring one of these aircraft.
....I have the honour to request that this, my application to be allowed to undertake the operation described, may be forwarded as rapidly as possible through the correct channels to the Chief of Combined Operations I further propose that the pilot to accompany me should be Mr. Jeffery Quill who is a close friend of mine, and as a well known test pilot of fighter aircraft is well qualified to bring back the plane. He is also young, active, a yachtsman, and a man in every way suitable to carry out the preliminary approach by land and sea.
....If Mr. Quill cannot be allowed to undertake this operation, perhaps a substitute could be made available from the Free French Forces. I am most anxious to be allowed to volunteer for this operation.

I have the honour to be
Sir
Your obedient servant
(signed) P. H. Pinckney

23.6.42

1) Object: to bring back to this country undamaged a Focke Wulf 190
2) Forces Required:
One MGB (motor gunboat) equipped with DF (direction-finding radio) apparatus, to carry a folbot (collaspable canoe) to within 2 miles of the coast of France.
One folbot equipped with wireless transmitter.
One officer of a Commando.
One specially selected pilot.

Method
3) Day 1
a) On the night of D1, the MGB, carrying the officers and folbot, will leave England after dark and proceed at best speed to within 2 miles of the French coast off a selected beach.
b) On reaching the beach the folbot will be carried inland and hidden in a wood or buried in the dunes. The officers will lie up during the following day.

4) Day 2
After laying up all day the officers will move inland until they are within observation range of a fighter aerodrome.

5) Day 3
a) On D3, the officers will keep the aerodrome under observation and plan the attack for the start of nautical twilight (ie, just before sunrise) on D4.
b) During the night of D3, the officers will penetrate the aerodrome defenses by stealth and will conceal themselves as near as possible to a selected Focke Wulf aircraft.

6) Day 4
a) At the start of nautical twilight on D4, when the aircraft are warmed up by the ground mechanics, the two officers will take the first opportunity to shoot the ground mechanics of the selected plane as soon as it has been started up. The pilot officer will take off in the machine and return to England. The commando officer will first ensure the safe departure of the aircraft and will then withdraw to a previously reconnoitred hideup. Should no opportunity to seize the aircraft have presented itself, the officers will withdraw to a hideup and make another attempt the next morning.
b) During the night of D4, the commando officer will return to the concealed folbot.

7) Day 5
a) After nautical twilight of D5 ot during the succeeding night, this officer will launch the folbot and be picked up by an MGB.
b) The MGB should be off the coast for two hours before nautical twilight on D5, D6 or D7 providing the weather is calm. If the weather is unsuitable, the Mgb should come on the first suitable morning. The ooficer after launching the folbot will paddle to a pre-arranged bearing. the MGB, making due allowance for the day and consquent set of the tide, will proceed on a course to intercept the folbot. In addition the officer will make wireless signals, which will be picked up by the MGB using DF gear.

Notes
Selected Aerodrome:
a) The selection of an aerodrome will be dependant on intelligence not at present available to me. The requirements are:
1)Within 20 miles of a landing beach which is not too strongly defended, and which has a hinterland of dunes or woods offering a hiding place for the folbot.
2) Within observation range or a few miles of a covered approach or a wood or place of concealment.

b) It is thought that possibly Abbeville aerodrome might be suitable with a landing made on the Somme Estuary. The Cherbourg peninsula, entailing a cliff-climbing onlanding, might give a good chance of making an undiscovered landing, providing a suitable aerodrome is nearby.

9) Return of the Plane:
Arrangments must be made with Fighter Command to ensure that the pilot officer is not shot down by our fighters on returning with the aptured aircraft. It is suggested that these arrangments should not be dependant upon wireless or on the officers taking distinctive markings or signalling aparatus with them. Possibly Fighter Command could be instructed not to shoot down any enemy Focke Wulf 190 appearing over the coast during specified times on selected days. In addition the undercarriage could be lowered for identification. If a Focke Wulf 190 after all is unprocurable on the aerodrome, a Messerschmitt 109F could be brought back instead. I understand that its aquisition would also be valuable.

10) Date:
The landing should be made on a rising tide to cover footprints and also on a dark night to achieve surprise.

11) Alternative Return of Commando Officer:
If it is considered an unacceptable naval risk to bring back an MGB to pick up the Commando officer, this officer could either paddle on a course pre-arranged by Fighter Command and eventually be picked up by an RAF rescue launch or, as a third alternative method of withdrawl, he could be instructed to make his way back through occupied France.

12) Other Considerations:
a) Food. the officers will be equipped with 10 day's compressed rations.
b) Preparation. The officers should have ample time to train together for a period which need not exceed 10 days. Training should also be carried out on the MGB.
c) Security. The officers suggested in the covering letter accompanying this proposal are both at present stationed at Bursledon, where they frequently go sailing together; the Commando officer owns a double folbot which is used daily; there are MGBs stationed at Bursledon; training could therefore be started without delay without arrousing any suspicions that an operation was under rehearsal.

Pinckney's proposal was allocated the operational code-name "Airthief" and detailed planning began; the airfield at Cherbourg-Maupertus was considered suitable for such an enterprise. Yet while still in the embryo stage, "Airthief" was overtaken by a coincidence more bizarre than any fiction writer would devise. On the very evening after Pinckney submitted his paper, on 23 June 1942, a German pilot became disoriented during a fight with Spitfires over southern England and inadvertantly landed his Fw 190 at Pembrey in South Wales. So the RAF got its Focke Wulf, without having to resort to "Airthief".

Philip Pinckney did not survive the war; he was killed in action in Italy in 1944. Of the chances of success of "Airthief", Jeffery Quill recently commented, "Provided we could get to the aircraft with its engine running, get the German airman out of the cockpit dead or alive and get me into it, I thought I had a 50-50 chance of getting back to England. As to the early part of the operation I was not qualified to have a view and I was guided entirely by Philip who seemed very confident and I would just have done what he said. He ws obviously relying on stealth - and perhaps we might have got away with it. Philip was always evasive about his own plans for getting back. I had a splendid way of getting back by air, but it was a very different kettle of fish for him. But he was very resourceful and might well have made it, one way or another, provided I had got the aircraft off the airfield without too much of a hue and cry.
Anyway it was a non-event, as it turned out. Philip Pinckney was the inspiration behind the whole thing. Had it succeeded it would have been 90% due to him and the balance of danger would have been heavily against him. I think he was bitterly disappointed when it was called off and he was quite cross about the German pilot landing in Wales. I am afraid I have to confess to a certain easing of tension within my guts!"

bobbysocks

12-26-2010, 09:07 PM

Tuck's Luck!

Robert Stanford Tuck shot down a total of 30 officially credited enemy fighters before his luck finally run out in January 1942. From the early days of 1939 to 1942 he had become one of the living legends of the Royal Air Force, leading 92 Squadron and 257 Squadron during the Battle of Britain with often fantastic results and supernatural luck.

In 1935 Tuck was a young student trying to learn to fly and he was failing by the minute. Tuck, a strikingly handsome young man, born in 1916, saw an add in the newspaper about the RAF one day and decided to try it out. So there he was, sitting in an Avro Tutor biplane trying to learn to be fighter pilot.

He was about to be dumped off the programme, simply because he seemed not to learn even the basic ideas of flying. October 1935 was quite frankly his last chance to prove himself as a pilot in the RAF. And Tuck knew it himself.

But suddenly on that day in October it all came to him. Flying an aeroplane was not about calculating and predicting every move the plane made. It was not about trying to work out the pure mathematics of a turn or a roll in his head before doing them, it was about instinct and handling the plane as apart of himself. When he realized this, right there on his last chance to be apart of the RAF, it was all very easy. Robert Stanford Tuck was without doubt a natural pilot. With just a bit of bad luck and a not so understanding flight instructor, Tuck would have been on his way home a long time ago. The same day he went solo for the first time and did all exceptionally well.

By August of 36, Tuck had earned his wings and got his posting to 62 Squadron, flying Gloster Gladiators. Two years later it might have been all over when 3 Gladiators flown by Tuck, Gaskell and Hope-Boyd ran into turbulence. Gaskell’s plane struck the turbulence and then caught Hope-Boyd’s slipstream. Gaskell then crashed into Tuck’s plane, who was flying as number three. Gaskell died in the crash while Tuck managed by shear luck to get out of the plane and into his chute. He badly injured his cheek and from this day he would be known for his long scar on his right cheek. Tuck knew that skill did not save him that day, but pure luck and he discovered that he had become quite the cheeky pilot and had to be careful in the future. His nerve remained steady, his judgment good and his enthusiasm high, but he no longer took needless risks in flying.

Flying was Tuck’s life. His life was up in the air, in the cockpit of whatever plane he was flying and he did not care for much else. He was quite the beer drinker and could drink an awful lot of pints during a night out with his flying buddies, but flying was above all his main interest. In these early years women did not really appeal to him. He was not a monk by all means, he simply did not have the time or the energy of the company of women.

By May 1940 Tuck was transferred to 92 Squadron, flying Spitfires out of Hornchurch. Tuck scored his first victory in those dark days of spring 1940 when the British army seemed beaten and lost at the beaches of Dunkirk. A Me-110 fell to Tuck’s 8 Browning machine guns and he saw it spiral down and slam into a field near St. Omer, France. Just minutes earlier, Tuck had seen Pat Learmond’s Spitfire go down in a ball of fire. 92 squadron went up 2 more times that particular day and by the last sortie, Tuck had scored 3 victories, but not without a dose of “Tuck’s luck”.

Tuck circled the wrecked Me-110 as the German pilot climbed out of the cockpit. He slid open his canopy and waved at the downed German pilot. The German seemed to be waving back, but suddenly a large crack was heard and his canopy suddenly had a hole in it, just inches from Tuck’s face! The German wasn’t waving, he was holding a Mausser machine gun and firing at him!

Angered, Tuck pushed the stick of his Spitfire downwards, swung it around, came in low and pressed the firing button. The German became engulfed in smoke, and lethal Spitfire machine gun fire and that was the end of him.

Within the next couple of days, 92 Squadron lost their CO, Roger Bushell and Tuck was handed the squadron shortly thereafter.

The first thing he did was to order his pilots to make more space between them. That way they could pay more attention to enemy fighters and not the stupidity of perfect formation flying in a combat zone. Tuck shot down 2 Dornier bombers that day. Ignoring several hits on his Spitfire, Tuck didn’t stop attacking one of the bombers before it hopelessly fell down from the sky. When taking over the squadron, Tuck had his friend Brian Kingcome posted to 92 squadron, later one of the best pilots during the Battle of Britain.

During the last days of May 1940 Tuck got the chance to fly a Me109 which they had rebuilt from its crashed landing in Britain. Tuck found out that the Me109 was a wonderful little plane, it was slightly faster than the Spit, but lacked the Spits amazing manoeuvrability. By taking part in this testing, Tuck could put himself inside the Me109 when fighting them, knowing its weak and strong points, which obviously must have helped him a great deal later on.

At a ceremony at Hornchurch on June 28, 1940, Tuck was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC) by King George VI for his "initiative" and "personal example" over Dunkirk.
While 92 Squadron being drawn back from the front line and to Wales during July and August 1940 something remarkable happened. Tuck was chasing a lone German bomber and shot it down. Later he found out that the German plane had crashed close to a military camp, killing one soldier there. This soldier was, as amazing as it sounds, his sisters husband John Spark. This was by all means, Tuck's Luck in reverse.

While visiting friends at Northolt in August, he came right in the middle a major bombing raid. He refused to take cover and took off in a Spitfire, catching up with 2 Ju88 bombers.

Far below him the two 88's passed him, Tuck put his Spit in a shallow dive going head on with the bombers. Tuck fired his guns on the port side enemy bomber. He struck the fuselage of the plane so hard to seemed to bend backwards, like the body of a leaping fish. Then one of the wings tipped and the bomber went into the ocean in a gigantic explosion. He pulled sharply up getting pressed violently down in his side. He half rolled his Spitfire on top and dived down after the second bomber. He passed it overhead, turned his Spitfire round and went in for another head-on attack. Tuck got an instant feeling that this was different than the others and very dangerous. Ignoring his feelings, he continued straight towards the bomber, trying to avoid the bullets coming in from the German front gunner. He pulled off just fractions before impact to the German bomber. He had been hit several times and Tuck's engine gave up. He knew it wouldn’t make it and got out, pulling the ripcord as fast as possible. The doomed German bomber continued towards France probably crashing down in the channel.

During September of 1940, Tuck was transferred to 257 squadron flying Hurricanes. 257 squadron was quite possibly the only squadron in the RAF at that time that had lost more fighters than they had shot down. It was a dismal situation when Tuck took over the squadron. However with only a couple of days rest and practice, Tuck managed to turn this squadron around. When meeting the 257 pilots for the first time, always the beer loving young man, Tuck strolled right to the bar, downed half a pint of beer in one gigantic gulp and started talking to his new pilots.

On September 15, Tuck lead 257 squadron and two other Hurricane squadrons towards the armada of German planes coming in over England. Not having time to gain altitude or a tactical advantage, Tuck took his squadrons in for an attack, coming from below the Germans. Ignoring the attacking Me109's coming in from the sun they attacked the bombers. While attacking a He111 slightly out of formation, Tuck was jumped by a Me109. He sent his wingman after the attacking Me109 and continued shooting at the He111.

This day would later in history be known as "Battle of Britain day".

Tuck was awarded a bar to his DFC for his bravery during those daring attacks on the German formations. Surprised by this honour, he replied only "I've just been bloody lucky, that’s all".

He was later awarded the Distinguished Service Order (DSO), a decoration second only to the Victoria Cross. The award was for leading 257 Squadron with "great success. Tuck had transformed 257 squadron from zeroes to heroes in just a couple of weeks and just in time for the very crucial September battles during the Battle of Britain.

I mid March of 1941 275 squadron started to operate also at night attacking the German bomber raids. A second bar to his DFC was awarded later the same month, for "conspicuous gallantry and initiative in searching for and attacking enemy raiders, often in adverse weather conditions."

Tuck was flying alone over the east coast of England when he was jumped by 3 Me109's. The first Me109 fired at Tuck and and passed him so he suddenly had the 109 straight in front of him. Ignoring the other two 109's he fired at the 109 in front him. Deadly accurate, the first 109 hopelessly fell into the sea below. He then banked sharply and found another 109. Letting it pass beneath him first he dived after him. After a quick burst, the second 109 went down. He had gotten very low by now and pulled straight up trying to gain height before the last 109 would attack. Too late. The 109 hit his Hurricane several times shooting the throttle out of his hand, his canopy got shot to bits and pieces along with the gunsight of the doomed Hurricane. Tuck did not jump out, but turned his Hurricane around, firing with everything he had against the last 109. He managed to damage it severely before he had to jump out himself. He was later picked up from the sea and treated for minor injuries.

In mid July 1941 Tuck was relieved as a wing commander for 257, certainly earning all the praise he got from both his pilots and the ground crew. They had all just wonderful things to say about this extraordinary man at only 25 years of age.

Tuck was then given orders to take command of the Duxford wing, flying Airacobras, Spitfires and Typhoons. Besides his beloved Spitfire, Tuck took a liking to the Typhoon.

Another incident of Tuck's Luck happened when he and some pilots were partying in a pub not far from Norwich. Being with his girlfriend, Joyce, Tuck suddenly got a feeling he had to get out of the pub in a hurry. He told his pilot friends he wanted to go into Norwich to hit the pubs there. They declined to his offer because they would never be able to make it there before closing time. Tuck knew this but still wanted to go. Driving back from the pub Joyce confronted him with his and Tuck told her that he felt he had to leave in a hurry and didn’t really want to go to Norwich after all. The next day he was given the news that a lone German bomber had dropped its cargo straight on the pub killing most of the people inside. Another close shave. Tuck's Luck once more.

The Germans finally nailed Tuck in January of 1942. Doing a low “Rhubarb” sweep over France, he and his wingman got into massive flak from both sides of a shallow valley when trying to hit a distillery and some trains. Tuck managed to crash land his Spitfire right in front of a squad of German soldiers standing beside a cannon. Tuck's Luck was with him once more when one of his last shots from the Spitfire had entered the German cannon, peeling it like a banana. Seeing this, the Germans couldn’t stop laughing, which probably saved Tuck's life. Even when picking up the dead German soldiers Tuck had just shoot up with his Spitfire, they didn’t stop laughing.

Tuck was transferred to Stallag Luft 3 where he met many of his old friends, including the legendary Douglas Bader and his old CO, Roger Bushell. Bushell was later shot by the Germans after over 70 pilots escaped thru a tunnel. Tuck was supposed to be apart of this escape plan but was transferred from the camp just days before it was put into action. Lucky once more. Only three pilots managed to escape to safety, two of these were Norwegians.

Tuck managed to escape in 1945 when the whole camp was moved due to the Russians coming a bit too close for the Germans liking. Tuck and a Polish captain managed to get to the Russian lines. While in a Polish city, Tuck's Luck came into action yet another time when Tuck was recognized by a friend of his brother. A one in a million chance of meeting someone like that in a Polish city in 1945! With the help of this man, they soon managed to get themselves back to safety and the green fields of England.

Robert Stanford Tuck settled in Kent with his wife Joyce after the war. He died in 1987.

bobbysocks

12-26-2010, 09:11 PM

Rolf Arne Berg - One of the Few

Rolf Arne Berg was probably the best Norwegian fighter pilot during world war two. He might still be the best fighter pilot Norway has ever had. Spitfirepilots.com presents the story of this magnificent fighter pilot, and perhaps even previously unknown information to many about this fascinating man from Norway.

The Norwegian pilots during the war spoke seldom about individuals in their group of people. They were all of the same team. Even though, if one individual should be pointed out, it has to be Rolf Arne Berg.

Rolf Arne Berg was born in Trøndelag in Norway and joined the air force shortly before the war, and continued his war efforts from England and Europe alongside his fellow pilots in 331 and 332 squadron. Rolf Arne was the kind of person that is very seldom noticed in peace-time. Shy, quiet but extremely intelligent. An expert in handling a Spitfire, maybe the best Norway had.

He was an officer but not a snobby one. Rolf Arne was an individual everyone liked, Englishmen and Norwegians all the same. He was an expert at handling dangerous situations. Calm and steady on the stick in most situations normal people would wet themselves in horror.

To fly was his life. Once a mission was completed, he was ready for the next. There’s more than a slight possibility that Rolf Arne had more missions than anyone else in the whole 2nd Tactical Air Force.

He often talked about what he wanted to do after the war. Sometimes he wanted to continue flying, sometimes he wanted to buy a fishing boat or maybe just travel the world.

Fighter pilots were considered as something very glamorous during the war. Glamorous and popular. Almost celebrity like. Some of them were widely known in the media. Rolf Arne however was no big tease among girls as many others were. According to Svein Heglund, Rolf Arne had someone special. Somewhere.

One story about Rolf Arne that may not be widely known is the story told in Duncan Smith’s book “Spitfire into battle”. After a mission Smith and Berg landed at an American bomber base in England after running low on fuel. Most of the Americans had never seen a Spitfire up close before and giggled at the site of the small Spitfire compared to their Flying Fortresses. To escort B-17 bombers to Germany had probably never crossed Mitchell’s thought when he designed the wonder that is a Spitfire.

The Americans more than willingly filled up their Spitfires with fuel and even wanted to give Rolf Arne and Smith a few dollars as thanks for escorting their bombers into France and back. Rolf Arne, quite embarrassed said: “I’m a Norwegian Officer; I cannot take your money”. The Americans thanked for all the help and waved goodbye to the departing Spitfires on their way back home to North Weald.

Rolf Arne stayed with 331 squadron all the way to the end. Promoted to Wing Commander Flying he was the only one in the squadrons with a specially painted Spitfire. His own initials instead of the regular squadron codes. Parts of the tail and the wings were painted in Norwegian flag colours. He had the respect and admiration of both squadrons.

Rolf Arne Berg died in February 1945 in a tragic crash. Not only was it so tragic that he died in a crash but he was also tour-expired. He went along for an extra mission out of pure stubbornness and willingness to go up again one more time to fight the enemy. He convinced his friend Zulu Morris to add him to the mission. There had been reports about a Dutch airfield full of German airplanes parked around it. After getting “no” from Helge Mehre, he went further up the command and got his “yes” after all.

Even his bags were packed. He was supposed to go to Chamonix to ski. He wasn’t supposed to go over Holland in a Spitfire another time. But, the German airplanes were a too good of a chance to miss. A great opportunity to get in a few easy ground kills. It was supposed to be the encore for Norway’s best overall fighter pilot.

Flak was a fighter pilots worst enemy. No experience or 10 German airplanes shot down can help you deal with flak. Flak is about luck. Lots of experienced allied pilots lost their lives to flak when the war in reality had already been won. A German pilot could probably never have gotten close to shooting Rolf Arne down. He was that good and that experienced. Flak was something else. It was game of dice where the looser died.

When the Norwegian Spitfires attacked the airfield in Holland the flak opened up on them. Rolf Arne’s Spitfire was hit massively in one of the wings. Probably hit while gaining height after the attack. The Spitfire lost one of its wings and dived without control straight into a barn without exploding. He was found inside the cockpit by locals and buried nearby.

It may sound weird that Rolf Arne pulled up after such an attack. Famous fighter pilot Pierre Clostermann writes in his book “The big show” that pulling up from such an attack is asking to be shot down. The flak batteries are able to aim better if you’re higher up and not 10 meters from the ground. Rolf Arne pulled up but he probably had his reasons.

There were no real German airplanes on this airfield. They were dummy planes. It makes the entire event even sadder.

Rolf Arne Berg, with his capability and experience as leader and as a fighter pilot would have been as good as gold for Norway after the war. The loss of him can still be felt in Norway and the air force. What Rolf Arne would have done for the air force and for his country after the war nobody knows for sure, but it would have been a huge presence from a great man.

Norwegian fighter pilots and friends of Rolf Arne visited the church yard were Rolf Arne was buried after the war. On his grave someone had put flowers. Someone cared.

Rolf Arne's body was later transferred back to Norway and he's buried in Trøndelag.

bobbysocks

12-27-2010, 09:01 PM

Hans-Guido Mutke on the morning of 25 April 1945

"I made contact with 20 to 25 Marauders north of the Bodensee, then I noticed that I was running very low on fuel while flying over French-occupied territory. I had two choices - to land in Zurich or bale out and use my parachute at 2000 metres. I chose to land in Switzerland as I wanted to avoid being captured by the French, and came down at Zurich's Dubendorf military airfield with only enough fuel left for a further two minutes flying. The Swiss surrounded the plane with roughly 60 soldiers, all with guns aimed at me - something which struck me as being rather belligerent in neutral Switzerland, particularily since I was 'over the moon' at having escaped being taken prisoner by the French and had no intention whatsoever of somehow opening fire on the Swiss with my aircraft's weapons."

Obituaries
Hans Guido Mutke
Aviator who believed he broke the sound barrier in 1945

Flying a Messerschmitt 262 jet fighter, on 9 April 1945 Hans Guido Mutke may have become the first person to travel faster than the speed of sound as he flew over Austria.

Hans Guido Mutke, pilot and gynaecologist: born Neisse, Germany 25 March 1921; married (two children); died Munich 8 April 2004.

Flying a Messerschmitt 262 jet fighter, on 9 April 1945 Hans Guido Mutke may have become the first person to travel faster than the speed of sound as he flew over Austria.

In an attempt to assist a fellow pilot under Allied fire he went into a sharp dive and lost control of his Me-262 as it started to vibrate violently and the controls ceased to function. When he regained control, the speedometer was stuck at 1,100km an hour. On his return to base, considerable damage was revealed. Although he saved his comrade, this could have cost him his place in the squadron, as pilots had been ordered not to exceed 950km/h. If Mutke's account is true, and there are doubters, the story means that the German Luftwaffe pilot broke the sound barrier two years before the US pilot Colonel Chuck Yeager, who achieved this during a 1947 flight over California.

Mutke, called up when he was a medical student, spent three years as a night fighter reconnaissance pilot searching for, and tracking, Allied bombers over Germany. The war was already lost, and the Americans and British effectively controlled the skies over Hitler's Reich when, because of his flying skills, Mutke was posted to train as a jet pilot flying the Messerschmitt 262, the first jet plane produced in quantity for combat. On his last combat mission, running out of fuel, Mutke crossed into neutral Switzerland, to avoid falling into enemy hands. He was interned with American flyers who had also landed in Switzerland.

After the Second World War, released from Swiss internment, Mutke completed his medical training, in Berne and Zurich, but then spent some years flying DC-3 Dakotas for airlines in Argentina and Bolivia. On his return to Germany, he worked as a gynaecologist until his retirement. He did, however, keep his ties with military aviation by serving as a reserve medical officer in the German air force. His Me-262 was handed over by the Swiss, in 1957, to the Deutsches Museum in Munich, where it is still on display.

It was only in 1989 that Mutke became convinced that he had broken the sound barrier. This was after discussing his flight with experts at a conference in Munich celebrating the 50th anniversary of jet-powered flight. He died during a heart operation in Munich, and donated his body to Gunther von Hagens, the controversial artist who uses human bodies in his "Body Worlds" exhibitions.

bobbysocks

12-27-2010, 09:35 PM

Retired aviator cited for WWII bravery

He was a waist gunner in a B-17 aircraft that made the first daylight raid on Berlin.

Edward L. Cardenas / The Detroit News

SHELBY TOWNSHIP -- Retired U.S. Air Force Technical Sgt. James Marbry was among the first members of the Army Air Force to see Berlin as his B-17 swooped in for a bombing raid of the German capital in March 1944.

Nearly 64 years later, he's finally received recognition for that harrowing mission to push deep into German territory during daylight.

The 84-year-old Shelby Township veteran received his Distinguished Flying Cross Sunday Selfridge Air National Guard Base for his efforts as a ball turret gunner aboard the B-17 bomber named "Dreambaby."

The honor came about when a grandson of a crewmate began asking his grandfather about his service medals in 2004. Soon, an effort was started to get the entire crew the Distinguished Flying Cross, a medal given to those who "exhibit heroism or extraordinary achievement while participating in an aerial flight," according to the Air Force.

Marbry received his medal before a contingent that included his grandson, Air Force Master Sgt. Michael Marbry, who flew home from Ramstein Air Base in Germany.

"It's important that we recognize this passing generation and their sacrifices before they are gone. Their sacrifices enable us to enjoy the freedoms we have today," said Col. David Miller, Selfridge vice-commander.

Shortly after the Berlin mission for which he was honored, he was transferred to another bomber that was sent on a Memorial Day raid in 1944 just days before the D-Day invasion.

His job on that raid was to bomb a fighter plane factory deep in Germany. But a Luftwaffe fighter hit his B-17 with a 20 mm machine gun fire between the third and fourth engine. The bullet tore into the wing and started a fire on the bomber, which was flying at an altitude of 26,500 feet.

Marbry, who was a radio operator on that flight, knew he had 90 seconds to get out.

He deployed his parachute and landed just before pieces of the plane came raining down around him. He learned that four members of the crew died in the crash, and a few hours later he was taken prisoner by the Germans. After 11 months, was finally liberated by a unit attached to Gen. George Patton's Third Army.

"It was a quite an experience," he said. "I wish I could give you all the feelings I have about the men that didn't come back."

bobbysocks

12-27-2010, 09:44 PM

“Icky and Me”
By Jack Payne

This story is true - the names of the people have been changed but not enough so that any of them reading this would not know themselves. The dates, times, places and action were taken directly from notes made by the pilot who flew the mission and from the briefing slip and maps for this mission. As for the other details which were recorded only in the pilots memory, they, too, are real, I know. I was the pilot.

It was August, the 9th, 1945. I had just been awakened by the O.D. and was trying to pull myself out of the musty, but warm, sleeping bag which had been dragged all over the South Pacific. It was dark on Ie Shima, not yet 04:30. Briefing was at 06:00. I sat on the edge of my cot now, looking for my socks. "Oh yeah," I thought, "I washed them last night, they're out on the tent rope." Slipping the wooden shower clogs on my feet I stepped out of the tent. The morning was clear, each star as bright and shiny as a speck of blue white diamond. Off to the north I could see the "Witches Tit" silhouetted against the starlit sky. Up there on the rise of ground behind our tent area were the runways, Birch and Plum, and the revetments, where now I could hear the deep-throated rumble of the big Pratt and Whitney R-2800C Wasp engines being started and warmed up by the ground crews. Now the crews would be climbing all over each "Jug", poking their heads in inspection openings and preflighting each plane for its day's work. The ordnance men would be carefully laying about 3,300 rounds of .50 caliber ammo in the eight feed bins and hooking ten five-inch rockets under the wings of two Jugs in each squadron. My old “Bucket of Bolts,” 02, more affectionately called "Icky & Me", which was painted on the cowl, would be getting ten rockets hung under her wings plus external tanks or bombs, depending on the mission we would be partners on today. I found my socks and groped my way back to my cot. As I was pulling on my socks, boots and flying suit my thoughts wandered back to the many other mornings in the past year, I had followed this same routine - always, it seemed, it was dark; always, even in the Pacific, it was cool. Then there were always the same noises - the rumble of the engines being warmed up, or sometimes, a while back, it would be a different sounding engine, maybe a Packard or Allison in a P-40 or P-38, but it always meant the same thing, the fighters were being made ready for their day's business.

I zipped up my flying suit, put a pen and pencil in the breast pocket, and slipped the belt through my hunting knife sheath and buckled it. I picked up the .45 in its shoulder holster from the tent floor, where it laid every night within easy reach from my cot, slipped it on and snapped it fast. As I picked up my helmet and goggles, I looked around at my stuff. It was all there, handy in case one of my buddies had to pack my bags this time.

"Hell, nobody's gonna pack my stuff. I'll carry it home with me when I go!" I thought, as I went outside and turned toward the mess tent. I went into the mess tent and picked up my tray, got two eggs over light and a pile of bacon, some toast and butter, went over to a table and put the tray down. Lt. Brummer put his down next to mine, and we went over to get coffee, took it back to the table and ate.

"I wonder where in hell we're going today," Brummer said, not looking at anyone in particular.

"I don't know," someone replied, "But I bet we get our ass shot off again."

"Yeah, they aren't putting up many fighters these days but they're sure throwing the flak around."

"Well, with none of their own pea shooters in the air they can shoot like hell without aimin'."

"Yeah, well, if we don't get more Jugs in the air today than we did yesterday, they'll have to aim damn good, cause there won't be but only a couple of targets to shoot at!"

"Crap!" exclaimed Brummer, "I ain't goin' up there alone! All them guns will be shootin' at me then, an' my luck's gettin' pretty thin!" So went the conversations around the table at breakfast. When I finished I went over and filled my canteen with water, then put salt in it and shook it up. That salt water tastes like sugar water after a few hours in the air. The temperature in the cockpit gets up to around 120°, and you sweat out a lot of salt.

We all walked over to the briefing tent and sat down. The C.O. with his trailing assortment of aides and intelligence people walked in and, we all popped to, at the first sound of ten-hut!

"As you were," the Colonel said, "We've got a bitch today boys. we're running a little late, so let's get at it. Captain, you give 'em the 'poop'!"

"Your target is Matsuyama West," said the Captain, "it's a large airfield off the northwest side of Shikoku, reported as being a medium bomber base."

Someone handed me a mimeographed mission sheet with a map of Japan on it and places for all the specific information required for this mission. As the Captain read the information, his voice became a monotone in this now silent tent. Every pilot was getting this information on his sheet. A slip here could mean your neck! As the words came, I wrote - Target - Matsuyama West; Man Planes - 07:50; Start Engines - 07:55; Takeoff - 08:13; call signs are: Group Leader - Tycoon; Squadron Leader - Vampire One; Communications are; Primary - A; Secondary - B; Air-Sea rescue - D; IFF - 6; Recognition Lights – Red and amber. The squadron will assemble over Oboe at 08:35; the group over Yoke, at 08:45; route out 25°; weather CAVU.

"Your air-sea rescue units will be at these points," the Captain said. "Playmate 16 and Sub 593 off the southern tip of Kyushu at Cape Sata — their code name today is ‘Blowhole.’ Playmate 15, Jukebox 33 and Sub 539 will be here off the Tozaki Point. This is where you'll need them if you get clobbered. Their code name for today is 'Giltedge'."

"One or two last items you may like to Know before you guys strap on your airplanes," the Captain went on. "Our intelligence reports this field is protected by 83 automatic weapons and six heavies. We expect you'll run into a lot or fighters, your going in pretty deep, and there's a railroad down the west shore and a small refinery just southwest of the airfield, that's it men - good luck and good hunting!"

We checked our watches and piled outside. The jeeps and weapons carriers were waiting to take us up to the parachute room and then to the flight line. The stars had faded now and the sky was getting light. Dawn came fast here in the Ryukyus, so by the time I had put on my "Mae West" and slipped into my chute harness, it was quite light. I tucked my chute pack up over my butt and went over to the jeep that had three other pilots from the 333rd in it, and we bounced off to the line. Lt. Brummer was flight leader with Lt. Holly on his wing. I was number 3 with Lt. Dombray on my wing. Capt. Cary, our squadron commanding officer, was leading the squadron today. If everytning went right tne 333rd would put twelve planes in the air, the 73rd and the 19th squadron the same. This meant tne 318tn group would have 36 P47Ns over the target today.

The jeep dropped Brummer off by "Miss Vivian", Holly by "760" and I jumped off by "02" - "Icky and Me". "02" was a veteran of forty-one missions and an uncounted number of sorties, she was a good airplane, not always flown by me, as I shared her with other pilots on the days I wasn’t assigned to missions. "02" flew every day she wasn't "Red A'd" and that wasn't too often. Icky's crew was a good one; they hovered over her like a hen over her chick.

I started my preflight inspection; this I made a habit of. The crew knew "Icky" better than I, but it was my ass that would be sittin' in this beast for the next few hours, and I wanted to be sure it was all there. As I ran my hand along the leading edge of the stabilizer I remembered my first meeting with "02" back at Hickam Field on Oahu. Several pilots from the 3l8th were flown back to Hawaii to pick up new planes and fly them back here to Ie Shima.

I picked "02". She was brand new, shiny and clean, but was parked right smack in the middle of a big mud puddle at the edge of the taxi strip.

"What a mess this thing's going to be when I give her enough power to move out of this mud," I said to the crewman who was helping me up on the wing.

"Yeah," he replied, "My nice pollish job will be all icky with mud."

And icky she still was when I sat her down on Ie Shima, some 14 flying hours later, and "Icky" she still is. She couldn't fly alone however, and I felt that she belonged to me, so her full name became "Icky and Me".

The people at Republic Avaition, way back on Long Island, U.S.A., had built her. She sailed to the island of Oahu on a Victory Ship and put in combat readiness at Hickam Field. Now I was going to take her into the deep blue Pacific sky and fly her straight into war; that is what this P47N was made for. The "N" was bigger than the old "D" which we had all through the Marshalls and Marianas and the boys in Europe were using. The "N" was built specifically for our war over the vast, trackless waters of the Pacific, it was a VLR (Very Long Range) fighter. Longer wings with squared off tips, a bigger engine, more internal fuel capacity, tail warning radar, auto pilot and many other innovations and improvements just for our type of war. And how well it did it is a matter of record. The first five days of the Ryukyus-Kyushu Campaign the 318th's Thunderbolts had knocked down 54 enemy planes and lost not one of its own and against 17 to 1 odds.

"This is an airplane to fight with," I thought as I continued my inspection. The holes that "Icky" picked up from ground fire yesterday were neatly patched, and a new bottom section was on the engine cowl, She looked good to me, so I climbed the wing and lowered myself into the cockpit.

Everything looked good; the form A and 1A were good. There was a red mark on the generator, "I'll watch that," I thought. I settled my chute in the bucket and reached for the safety belt, the crewman laid the shoulder straps over my shoulders and handed the ends to me as I slipped them through the belt and locked it.

My airplane was strapped on!

I ran through the cockpit check, automatically unlocking the controls, setting the fuel selector on "Main" tank for starting and take off. As I went over the cockpit's controls and instruments from left to right, I plugged in my mike, earphones and oxygen mask, turned on the master switch and pushed the "A" channel on the VHF transceiver. The radio came on just as "Vampire 1" was calling for a radio check. I held the mike button on the throttle handle down, and called, "hello, Vampire one, this is Vampire three, over."

"Roger, Vampire three, I read you, R5-S5 out," came the reply. Then it was time to start the engines. I cracked the throttle, shoved the prop pitch full forward, all switches on, mags on both, and leaned on the energizer. As the pitch of the starter reached its peak, I threw it to engage. The Pratt and Whitney turned over, each prop blade came over the top, then it fired, rumbled and took hold. Smoke poured out the short stacks and out around the cowl flaps as I pushed the mixture to "auto rich", the jug rocked gently, now, as I brought the engine to 800 RPM's. The crewmen were out on the wings. "Icky and Me" were ready.

Brummer went taxing by, then "760". I saw my wing man in "Por-Lil-Fuzzy" coming, slowing down to let me in. I released the brakes and kicked "Icky" around to take my place in the line of taxing fighters.

The tension was building up in me now. The take-off was the first obstacle to overcome, and most any take-off is a bit tense. It is a very critical point,—the airplane is heavy, the engine untried under full load, and the runway is too short. An engine failure on take-off is no bed of roses anywhere, in any airplane, but on Plum strip, with a fully loaded P-47N, every take-off is Hairy! Plum strip was only 4,820 feet long, one third the length of any stateside runway, and here the air temperature was around 80°, so there was less lift and less air for the prop to bite into.

Take-off's on Plum were life or death! One of Republic's test pilots was killed taking off on Plum. His wheels never left the ground till he was at the very end of the runway, and then the "N" tried to fly. God, how it tried! We all watched as, with its nose up and 2,800 horses screaming, it sank slowly toward the rocks on the edge of the cliff. It looked for a moment as if he were going to make it. Then the tail of the fuselage hit, with a sickening grinding noise. Eleven tons of airplane went down over the edge of the coral to eternity - a loud puff as it blew into flames and put a smoky period to it's pilot's life.

Brummer was going down the runway now; I could see him leaning into his shoulder harness as though he were trying to help "Miss Vivian" get rolling faster. His tail was up, the runway was running out—he was off — mushing along — his gear was up — he disappeared below the edge of the runway. I watched and waited. I thought he was out of sight too long — I waited for the smoke, but no — "he made it," I yelled. There, out over the China Sea was "Miss Vivian" - low, but flying.

Lt. Holly rolled out on the runway; I moved up and slewed "Icky's" tail around so that, as I ran the engine up to check mags and prop, I wouldn't blow coral all over Dombray, who was behind me.

Being busy with cockpit and mag checks, I didn't see Holly go off; but I knew he made it all right, my wing men would have let me know if he hadn't. By wing men in this case I refer to the ground crewmen who ride laying on each wing with their toes on the aileron. While taxiing, the pilot cannot see over the nose of a Thunderbolt so the crewmen signal him by kicking the aileron, which the pilot can feel in the stick. Everything checked okay, and I was signalled out onto the runway. I rolled around as close to the end as I dared, held my right brake, and eased the Jug around till it pointed straight down the runway. I then let it roll a few feet, locked the tail wheel and then the brakes. The wing man on the right wing came to the cockpit and I throttled the Wasp back to idle. He told me that my right tire was soft. "Christ no! not now," I thought. "That will keep me on the ground for this mission. "I know," I yelled at him, "it was soft yesterday, too. why in hell didn't you guys put air in it." He shook his head. The Sergeant knew damn well that tire wasn't soft when we started to taxi out this morning, and he knew full well it wasn't soft yesterday either. He hit me on the shoulder and yelled, "Give 'em hell for us, Lieutenant," and jumped down.

The signal officer was winding me up. We took off of this island just as though it was a carrier. With brakes locked we would wind up our engines, then the signal officer would give the go signal. I eased the throttle all the way up—prop pitch full forward. The engine came to full roaring life, twenty five hundred RPM — 50 inches of mercury on the manifold pressure gauge. I cut in the turbo super charger, and the manifold pressure went up to 55, 60, 65 inches of mercury. I flipped on the water injection switch on the throttle - 72 inches of marcury! The Wasp had it all now! "Icky" was screaming; the stick was hard to hold back against the pressure, the noise with my canopy open was a violent ear-splitting thing. The tires were dragging on the white coral surface of the runway. "Jesus, let us go! Before this bucket blows up!", I screamed into the blast of air. The signal officer's hand dropped, and I kicked off the brakes and shoved the stick up to the panel to get my tail up as fast as I could and get rid of the drag of the tail wheel. I, too, leaned into my shoulder harness. "Come on, Baby, let's go," I said aloud. I had to put in left rudder to hold it straight. "That damn right tire," I though, "it's slowing me down." I released the landing gear lock with my left hand, then pushed a little harder on the throttle—the runway was being used up fast now - I could see the end! There was a blur of a red cross as I careened by the meat wagon. There was the end of the runway! "Now, Baby, now!", I yelled, as if it might help. I pulled the gear out from under me and at the same time put back pressure on the stick. I was sinking. I could feel this lousy hunk of iron sinking. "She won't fly," I thought. "This pile of tin will never fly. Come on Icky, up! up!" We sank, belly first, nose up just a little, toward those lousey rocks on the end of the cliff. "Why in hell hadn't the engineers or the Seabees gotten rid of them? I'll move then myself, when I get back," I thought. My hand wanted to bring the stick back more, to pull the ship up a little higher. "No! You'll hang it on the prop, then she'll drop right out from under you," flashed through my mind. I was pushing up against the belt as if to lift her that extra inch or two by myself. "Come on Baby, up! Maybe a little more air speed will do it," I thought. I eased the nose down just a little, now those rocks were in my sights, but the Jug was starting to feel a bit lighter in my hand now! I added a little back pressure on the stick, the nose came up, and so did "Icky", not much but the rocks went under her belly and we were over the water, she was still mushing, but if that Pratt and Whitney just holds on a few seconds more we'll have it made—and hold on it did. Then, with 180 MPH on the clock and climbing, I took back all the bad things I had called "Icky". She was still the best in the air for my money.

The 333rd rendezvoused over Oboe. My wing man had to abort with a generator failure and some of the other planes didn't make the rendezvous for one reason or another. The squadron, instead of 12 planes had 8 - our flight had 3 planes. We picked up the rest of the group at Yoke and picked up our heading. Every so often a plane would slide out of formation and test its guns. I took my turn, slid out and away, flipped the switch to guns only, and squeezed off a short burst. I could feel the eight .50s recoil in the wings as the tracers arced out over the China Sea.

The flight up was routine, each pilot busy with his own thoughts and airplane.

Amami-0-Shima passed 10,000 feet beneath us, then Yaku-Shima came in view on the left, ahead of us. Tycoon leader signaled for combat formation — there was Kyushu. We flew east of the Island over the Hyuga Sea. Right below us, under the ocean's surface lay Sub 539, one of the Air-sea Rescue team today. Playmate and Jukebox would be here soon. They would stay around until all the aircraft were accounted for and all the pilots were safe or beyond their help. The group flew on, everyone on the alert, watching for enemy aircraft. As we bored through the clear morning skies over the very shores of the Land of The Rising Sun, Bungo Channel was slipping by way under "Icky's" belly now. There was the long finger of land with Sada-Misaki Light House on its tip. The group swung around to the east more now, out over the lyn-Nada - we were at 14,000 feet - Tycoon leader let his belly tank go, and I watched it tumble, end over end, down, down, till it went out of sight, I held onto mine because I wanted every drop of gas I could get for that big engine. I'd let my tank go just before I started my target run, and then I'd have plenty of reserve. Tycoon leader with the two other squadrons had moved up and were starting to turn to the southwest now. There they go, looking like silver fish in a clear blue ocean. First Tycoon leader nosed over, ever so slowly, then his wing man, then Number 3, then 4, and as the leader picked up speed in the long dive the spacing grew between him and his wing man, between the wing man and Number 3, and so on. It was a long line of airplanes, spaced evenly all the way down. I watched Vampire One — I saw he was going to take us in short — A different angle than the rest of the flight went. "Good boy," I thought. "All the ground fire will be firing at the wrong angle when we come in."

Brummer gave the peel-off signal. We were going down the chute. Over went "Miss Vivian", the sun glistened on her silver belly for a moment, then the black and yellow zebra stripes of her tail slipped behind Holly's Jug as Holly went up and over. "He's too close!", I said into my oxygen mask, but I was alone at 14,000 feet now, no time to worry about Holly and Brummer. I checked the 360° of sky above me and pulled "Icky's" nose up a little as I rolled her to the left and over, a little back pressure and the nose came through, then we were in the chute. Way down ahead of me I could see airplanes, smoke and tracers. "Icky" was really going down now. "The Belly tank" I yelled at myself. I released it and reset my switches for the rockets, flicked the gun switch to "Guns and Camera" and looked for a target. "There", I thought, "There is a row of 'Zekes' parked along the edge of the field." My mind was racing now. Reality was in slow motion. The tracers floated up toward us, the bursts of flak opened slowly like sooty puff balls in the azure sky. The air speed showed 550 MPH, yet we seemed to close on the first Zero at but a snail's pace! I eased the Jug over, brought my optical sight dead on the first plane, and waited for the range to close. Now! I squeezed the trigger and the eight .50s started spitting steel - I brought the Pipper up through the line of parked fighters. The eight fifties barked their song of destruction. I could see pieces fly off the Zeros as my slugs tore them apart. A lot of automatic weapon fire was coming my way. I could see the tracers knifing through the air past the ship, a huge orange ball appeared right in front of my face, then the world seemed to blow up — I ducked to the side instinctively, and hit my head, hard, on the side of the bubble. I was dizzy and I couldn't see, everything a white haze. Just then my engine died. "This is it, 'Icky'," I said. "You and I are going to part company now." I pulled the nose up to use my excess speed to gain altitude, so I could bail out, then changed my mind and pointed the nose out to the sea. I reached down and switched the gas tank selector to main and hit the emergency full boost switch, more routinely than hopefully. The engine caught. "Hey, chalk one up for you, 'Icky', I gleefully yelled. My head was clearing now and I could see what had happened. A 20 MM had hit square on the thick wind screen, and the heavy 2-inch glass had taken the full impact and explosion of that shell. It was in real bad shape, but still there. I turned in toward shore. There was a small refinery of some type there, the cracking tower was my target. I couldn't use my gun sight because of the shattered windshield, so I leaned to the left and watched my tracers until they started hitting, then the tower blew up in my face! I pulled up and slammed the Jug over on one wing. The blast hurled us up to fifteen hundred feet like a stick, but we were still flyin'. I looked around for a target, out on the Iyn-Nada. I saw two or three airplanes buzzing around a Jap destroyer. I still had my rockets, and here was a worthy target for those ten 5" warheads. I banked around and let "Icky" down to the wave tops, set my nose on the stern of the DD, and opened the throttle to the stop. As we closed on the ship, I could feel "Icky" buck and stagger. We were being clobbered! I started firing at the destroyer, the tracers arched into the water, still out of range, but closing fast. I set the panel to salvo the rockets — Now! I hit the button on top of the stick with my thumb, ten rockets went streaking for their target. I raised the nose and held the trigger down, the tracers whipped into the gun- positions until I roared up and over the DD. I saw the rockets hit the stern, low, near the water line, before I pulled over the ship and as I went over I saw the gun crews lying twisted, by their guns, dead.

"Icky" was hit—and hit bad! That big faithful Wasp was only giving out with 27 inches of mercury, the oil pressure was down and oil capacity was down from 40 gallons to 20, the engine was running very rough. I could see holes in the leading edge of the wings and there were some in the bubble over my head.

I started a long shallow climb as I looked for the rest of the squadron, but there was not a plane to be seen. "Oh boy 'Icky', it's you and I alone again," I said, "and baby, you're hurt." I moved in close to shore and flew southwest toward the Hohyo Strait trying to get some altitude, by the time I reached Hasedo-Hana I had 600 feet under us, so I turned south and crossed the point of land and headed out toward the Bungo Channel. "Icky" was clawing for each foot of altitude she put under her oil-smeared belly now, she had managed to get 800 feet under her, "Boy, what a piece of machinery this gal is, she's shot to hell and still flying — and climbing at that!" Coming in from my right was an airplane, "Oh no! not now," I said, "I don't even dare turn this Bucket of Bolts, let alone fire those eight guns." I only had 160 MPH on the clock. That's practically over the fence speed for landing. The distant plane became a B-24 as it grew closer, I saw we were flying courses that would bring us together in a short while, so I saved "Icky" the trouble of turning to intercept my Mother Hen, for surely that is just what that B-24 was going to be. I would tuck "Icky and Me" right under her big wing and we would fly home together.

As the B-24 and "Icky" came close together I could see the waist Gunner’s grinning face at the port, he waved and I waved, we were like happy little kids who just met outside the dentist office, after the tooth was out!

"Icky and Me" tucked in under the wing and away we went for home. I studied this big bomber next to me with new interest now. She was shot-up pretty bad, the waist gunner's head and arm were wrapped in red-stained bandage, he would go from one side of the Liberator to the other scanning the sky. I dropped a little, in order to see the cockpit, there was only one pilot sitting there. For the first time I noticed the left outboard engine was hanging in its mounts at a crazy angle with feathered prop, these boys were in bad shape too. My Mother Hen was hurt real bad!

"What a set-up for an enemy aircraft," I thought, "A real turkey shoot for any pilot, all the bastard would need to do would be to come up under us from my side of the 24, I would blank out the waist gun’s fire and the Jap could pour all he had into us both."

We were over air-sea rescue "Giltedge" now, "This is it! Should I call 'May Day' and sit 'Icky and Me' in the water now?" I thought. If I ditched here and now my chances of survival were good, "Giltedge" was right under me, "Icky" was still flying, I still had power to set her down right where I wanted her. I could set her so close to Sub 539 that I could walk out on the wing and step over to the sub, but that would be the end of "Icky".

We'd been through a lot together and she was trying, so why condemn her to the ocean to sink? The people at Republic built her to fly and fight and this she was doing! Oil streaked the canopy now and wisps of smoke were coming out around the cowling. That beautiful big Wasp up front was vibrating badly and making odd noises, but it was still running.

My attention was attracted by the waist gunners waving. I turned and looked up in the direction he pointed, and there, about 4 o'clock high were Bogies, not one or two, but at least 30. They were Japs all right, not "Zeros", but a mixed flight of "Tonys", "Jacks", "Tojos", "Vals", and others. "There goes my nice landing alongside Sub 539," I said to myself. "I'd never survive on the water now, because those Jap fighters would blast ‘Icky and Me’ to hell the moment we touched the sea, and if 539 surfaced for me the fighters woul clobber her too. No, we'll stay and fight in our own element."

A sleek "Jack" with a big red meat ball on its side slid out of the formation and started down the chute toward us. I saw the waist gun on the B-24 following the fighter down. I dropped "Icky" down a little and fired a short burst from her eight .50s to give the Jap the impression I was ready and just testing my guns. The "Jack" wasn't pushing us. He turned to fly parallel with us. I started to roll "Icky" toward him when off in the west there was a bright flash. The whole world seemed to light up, then there was a column of smoke rushing skyward. The Jap fighters all swung to the west toward the flash and the smoke which was perhaps one hundred and forty miles away. I watched the fighters disappear to the west as the large cloud of smoke climbed to 40,000 feet and boiled out into a huge mushroom shape at the top — "Nagasaki," I said, "Now I know why we were told not to approach within 100 miles of that city today." I looked at my watch, it was jujt 10:40 A.M., August 8, 1945. "I'll remember this," I thought.

My attention was yanked back to the B-24 above me as the other left engine burst violently into flame. I saw the prop slow down and feather as the pilot tried to keep the big ship on an even keel. The B-24 was losing altitude fast now, and I could do nothing to help. I watched as the pilot turned into his two good engines and let down toward "Giltedge's" position. For the first time I noticed there was no voice on the radio! Was my radio out too? I punched the buttom for "Dog" channel on my VHF transceiver, and there was no sound, I called into my oxygen mask mike, "Hello Giltedge, hello Giltedge, this is Vampire 3 - over." I pressed the earphone against my ear, but no reply came from air-sea rescue. "Hello Giltedge, hello Giltedge, this is Vampire 3 - over," I called again. Then, loud and clear, like a voice from heaven came the reply.

"Vampire 3 this is Giltedge - over."

"Giltedge from Vampire 3, I’m following a B-24 down toward you from the south, he's in bad shape, wounded aboard-over."

"Roger, Vampire 3, we see you, turn west 5 degrees - over."

"Roger, Wilco, Giltedge, Vampire 3 standing by - out."

I eased up along side the B-24 cockpit and signaled the pilot to

bear left a little and tapped my ear phones, he shook his head, indicating his radio was out. The big bomber went around to the heading I had indicated and there directly ahead of us I saw Sub 539. The B-24 let down now, the pilot gave me the high sign with the thumb and first finger forming a circle the other fingers sticking up straight, the universal sign of O.K., thanks, everythings under control, we've got it made.

I watched as the Liberator hit the water, splashed along for a way then settled, yellow life rafts appeared along side the fuselage and the sub came over, they were alright now.

"Vampire 3, this is Giltedge - over."

"Giltedge, this is Vampire 3 - over."

"Vampire 3, aren't you going to ditch that thing? - over"

"Negative, Giltedge, negative," I replied.

"Vampite 3, you're pulling a lot of smoke and your bottom cowl is hanging loose, you don't sound too good - over."

"Roger Giltedge, but she flies and I'm not losing any more power, we'll go home. Well done Giltedge - out."

I turned "Icky" to the south again and started the long climb for Ie Shima.

My oil capacity had dropped to fifteen gallons, fuel was down to about one hundred and seventy five gallons. We had four hundred feet under us now and at least holding it.

My butt was sore. I couldn't sit very comfortably. The sores on my can, from sitting in my own sweat, we're raw again. I loosened my safety belt and chute harness and did a few "in flight" exercises to loosen up my stiff arms and legs, then took a long pull from the canteen of salt water. The water was hot now, but boy, was it good! I cracked the canopy a little to suck out some of the hot air and fumes in the cockpit, took out a cigarette and lit up, then settled back as comfortably as possible.

I couldn't trust "Icky" to the auto pilot, not in the near stalled position we had to maintain to stay in the air. "Icky" had to be gently hand flown, by feel, all the way back to le-Shima.

I bent my course around the southern tip of Kyushu and out over Osumi, the Pratt and Whitney raggedly ran on, why I don't know, no engine ever should have to keep running in that condition. The fuel was getting lower fast, there would be no safety factor today!

Amami-0-Shima appeared on the sea ahead of me, so we were two thirds of the way home now. "Icky" was vibrating bad. We were holding 800 feet of altitude, now we weren't gaining any more. The engine was only giving me 26 inches of mercury, I had the turbo in and the throttle through the war emergency stop, the Wasp had everything I could give her but it didn't have enough left to use it!

Amami-0-Shima slipped by under our belly as the other islands in the Ryukyu chain came into view, we were losing some of our hard won altitude now, the rate of climb showed below the "0" on the dial, not much, but then we didn't have much to waist! I fastened my chute harness and safety belt again. Iheya-Mae-Shima came over the horizon, next one would be le-Shima, home! When "Icky and Me" were over Iheya-Mae, I called the tower on Plum strip.

"Hello Plum tower, hello Plum tower, this is Vampire 3. One duckbill, requesting emergency landing instructions please - over." Duckbill was the code word for P47Ns in the area.

"Vampire 3" came the reply, "Land to the northwest, if possible, on Plum strip, you are clear all the way to pancake - over."

"Roger Plum, I'm in sight of Ie now. I don't have enough altitude to go around to land to the northwest, will have to land southwest - over."

"Roger Vampire 3, wind is ten from 310 degrees. We have you in sight, good luck - over."

"Roger Plum, wind is ten from 310 degrees, I'm coming straight in - out." Plum was right in from of me. "Icky" was smoking badly now and air speed was off to one hundred and fifty five MPH. Oil capacity was almost empty, I was afraid to put my gear down because of the drag, but I didn't want to belly in with all that oil on the Jug's belly either. I pulled the lock on the gear handle, put down a few degrees of flaps, "Icky" staggered in the air, she was near stalling. The runway was rushing up to meet us, I pulled the nose up a little, still full throttle, "Icky" started to sink faster now, I knocked the gear leaver to down position, then the bottom fell out. "Icky" stalled out! I pulled the throttle closed, brought the stick back in my lap and waited, "That tire! That God damn right tire! Was it flat? Was that tire going to pull 'Icky' around in an uncontrolled ground loop after all this?"

Whump! The gear hit the runway, bounced and came to earth again, "Icky" tried to slew around to the right, I put left rudder in hard, then a little left brake, blue smoke curled from the tortured tires as the full force of the violent landing shook the whole plane. We rolled straight, the Curtiss blades ticked over the top a few times then with a weak flump! the Wasp billowed out a cloud of smoke and quit. I rode "Icky" to a stop near the center of the runway, fire trucks, jeeps and the meat wagon were screaming out to meet us. I switched off all of "Icky's" power, "we made it baby!" I said to my airplane. "Thanks to your guts, you and I will always come Home!!!"

bobbysocks

01-03-2011, 09:13 PM

a bunch of short stories..

operation manna

With all the destruction the bombing caused, in the Netherlands the heavies are still remembered as live savers. This is because of operation manna, which started on April 29th 1945.

The fact that the northern part of the Netherlands was not liberated after the failure of Market Garden had severe consequences for the big cities in Western Netherlands. As revenge for the rail road strike in 1944, German authorities prevented all food transport to western Holland. The cites entered the worst winter of the war, called the Hunger winter. Hardly any food or fuel was available. Trees were cut down, to be burned for heat and many people, mainly women travelled hundred of kilometres on bike to get some food from the farmers in the eastern part of the country.

After months of negotiations, the german authorities allowed te alles to help these people by dropping supplies from the air. On april 29th, 1945, hundreds of Lancaster bombers dropped 535 tonns of food and supplies, later joined by the B17's of the USAAF. The Germans agreed not to fire on the a/c, although some minor incidents occured, mainly with light weapons. In total 11000 tonns of supplies were dropped during 8 days by 30 RAF and 11 USAAF squadrons. After those 8 days, the German army had surrendered and supplies could be transported in other ways to the hungry dutch.

remarkable kill

The Netherlands, may 1940:
Sergeant pilot J. Roos was flying the Fokker D-21, reg.nr. 225. With two others he had escorted a flight of T-5's, bombing the Maas bridges at Rotterdam. On their way back they were attacked by 12 Me's from Waalhaven. Three of them chased Roos. He was driven in a corner that way that he decided to bail out. As he threw off his cockpit cover to jump off his aircraft he saw the canopy struck the propeller of the following Me, so it was knocked out.
chased D-21
He didn't jump but escaped in the clouds.
Coming out of the clouds he was surprised to be on the tail of another Me. An ideal position to open fire, so he shot down the Messerschmitt.
The moment Roos thought he was safe, his plane was hit by a projectile, obviously from Dutch anti aircraft fire from the ground, and he was thrown out of his open cockpit. Just before reaching the ground he succeeded in opening his parachute and landed, seriously wounded, in the surroundings of Leiden.

more on dutch af

May 10, 1940: After the landing of German transport planes at Waalhaven airport from Schipol airport, an attempt was made by the Dutch defenders to destroy the invaders. Three T-5 bombers escorted by 7 D-21 fighters performed a successful raid and destroyed several Junkers on the ground. The aircrew of II(J)./TrGr 186 had a busy day, shooting down 8 Fokker D-21s - one by Ofw. Kurt Ubben and 2 by Uffz. Herbert Kaiser of 5(J)./TrGr 186 - but lost one Bf 109 near Den Helder and a Bf 109 to ground fire near Borkum. Oblt. Dieter Robitzsch, staffelkapitaen of 5(J)./TrGr 186 was shot down by a D-21, flown by Lt. Jan van Overest and crash landed on De Koy airfield where he was taken prisoner. D-21s from Ja V.A. from De Koy gave the Luftwaffe trouble as they were able to shoot down 4 Bf 109s and harrassed most of the airbourne operations over the Dutch airfields.

a funny story

A Heinkel He 111P was forced to land, with smoke streaming from its port engine, at East Coldingham near St Abbs Head, Berwickshire at 12.30 hours. The enemy aircraft landed in a field in a very remote spot, and as Squadron Leader Douglas Farquhar of No.602 Squadron (whose kill it was) wanted the authorities to examine the Heinkel, he decided to land his Spitfire beside it, to prevent the Germans from destroying their plane, he landed his plane alongside at high speed, the bombers crew looked on in disbelief as it trundled on down the hill and cartwheeled into a bog. They first hauled out their injured rear gunner and set fire to their plane, then ran down the hill to rescue the gallant Squadron Leader, who was suspended upside down by his safety harness, the bomber's crew all took part in this rescue.

By then, the Heinkel was well alight so they all rushed up the hill (Sq Ldr Farquhar included) to pull the German rear gunner further from the flames. The comedy of errors was not quite over, the LDV arrived on the scene over the crest of a nearby hill and because they hadn't seen the Spitfire at the bottom of the hill, assumed that the Squadron Leader was part of the Heinkel's crew, so they arrested him too. It was only when he produced an OHMS envelope bearing his latest income tax demand that they transferred him to the side of the 'goodies'. One of the Heinkel's crew, Fw Sprigarth, was mentioned in Parliament for his part in the rescue.

Squadron Leader Farquhar also took the first British gun-camera film of the war, while attacking and destroying the Heinkel He111 over Coldingham in Berwickshire on that day.

a note to remember

In England monitors heard the German pilots gathering from all over France and Germany to ambush our homeward flight ... All across Germany, Holland and Belgium the terrible landscape of burning planes unrolled beneath us. It seemed that we were littering Europe with our dead. We endured this awesome spectacle while we suffered a desparate chill. The cartridge cases ere filling our nose compartments up to our ankles....

But then we come to the interesting bit at the end:-
The professorial Captain of Intelligence confirmed the story. Eleven unexploded 20 mm shelss were in fact found in Tondelayo's tanks. No he ... could not say why.
Eventually (he) broke down. Perhaps it was difficult to refuse ... the evidence of a highly personal miracle ... Or perhaps ... the truth ... was too delicious to keep to himself. He swore (the crew) to secrecy.
The armourers who opened each of those shells had found no explosive charge. They were as clean as a whistle and as harmless. Empty? Not quite, said the Captain ....
One was not empty. It contained a carefully rolled piece of paper. On it was a scrawl in Czech ... Translated, the note read:
'This is all we can do for you now'.

"what ever you do..DONT FLUSH!"

We were to fly to England to look at this new type artillery shell. They called it a proximity fuse shell. It was a different kind of artillery shell, which exploded above 15 feet from contact of anything. It automatically exploded. This allowed them to shoot down more planes and blow up more open-end trenches that the Germans were hiding in. The Colonel took us with him because they had extra room on the plane.

We got to London and he went to the Cumberland Hotel and we went to the Red Cross. Well, while we were there a Buzz bomb come over and hit the hotel. So we had to go back and get his luggage which was still there. As we entered the building we were told that his room was on the fifth or sixth floor. The bomb had really made a mess of the place and there were some Englishmen laying there wounded on the stretchers and we asked if we could be of any help and they said, "Yeah, sure, mates, you can help carry some of the wounded out."

So when I was getting ready to carry this one guy out he opened his eyes and he looked up and he said, "Hi Yank, how you doing?" I said, "Well we are doing all right." I said, "You are going to be all right." I offered him a cigarette which he said sure. "We are going to take you out of here in a little while." I said, "What happened?" He said, "Tell you the truth Yank, I don't rightly know. I was in the pisser, he said, and I just finished and he said, I was shaking my wicky wacky. I reached up to flush it, pulled the chain and the whole "focking" building came down!

Now this was because in England, they had water closets. There is a pipe and the tank is over the toilet. When he pulled the chain on the toilet to flush it, the place blew up at that instant! He thought he was responsible for it blowing up. We convinced him he wasn't.

bobbysocks

01-03-2011, 09:16 PM

lawrence thompson meets a legend...

( sounds a little far fetched to me but interesting reading...)

"this was my first major dogfight I had in the war, in January 1945. I was flying a P-51D and we were supposed to meet with bombers over Romania. Well, the bombers never showed up! And we kept circling and wasting our fuel. When we were low on fuel the squadron leader orders us back to base, with the top group at 24,000 feet and the four bait Mustangs ordered to 15,000 feet. Now you might not really think about it, but the difference in altitude, 9,000 feet, is almost two miles, and assuming that the top flight could dive and rescue the 'bait' airplanes, it might take a full sixty seconds or more for the top group to come to the rescue. A heck of alot can happen in sixty seconds. Earlier, I requested to fly in the bait section believing that I'd have a better chance to get some scores (at that time I had no victories either) and this was my seventh mission. I have to say now that I grew up in Kansas City, Kansas, and my older brother flew a Jenny biplane in the late 1930s, so I learned the basics of flying even before joining the Army.

So we're all heading back to Italy when, all of a sudden, a dozen or so Me109's bounce us. From one moment it's a clear blue sky, next moment there are dozens' of tracers passing my cockpit. I'm hit several times and I roll over to the right, and below me is an P-51, heading for the deck, with an Me109 chasing him. I begin to chase the Me109. All this time I believe there was another Me109 chasing me! It was a racetrack, all four of us were racing for the finish line! Eventually I caught up with the first Me109 and I fired a long burst at about 1,000 yards, to no effect. Then I waited until about 600 yards, I fired two very long bursts, probably five seconds each (P-51 has ammo for about 18 seconds of continuous bursts for four machine guns, the remaining two machine guns will shoot for about 24 seconds). I noticed that part of his engine cowling flew off and he immediately broke off his attack on the lead P-51. I check my rear view mirrors and there's nothing behind me now; somehow, I have managed to lose the Me109 following me, probably because the diving speed of the P-51 is sixty mph faster than the Me109. So I pull up on the yoke and level out; suddenly a Me109 loomes about as large as a barn door right in front of me! And he fires his guns at me, and he rolls to the right, in a Lufberry circle. I peel off, following this Me109. I can see silver P-51s and black nosed camouflaged painted Me109s everywhere I look, there's Me109 or P-51 everywhere! At this time I cannot get on the transmitter and talk, everyone else in the squadron is yelling and talking, and there's nothing but yelling, screaming, and incoherent interference as everyone presses their mike buttons at the same time. I can smell something in the cockpit. Hydraulic fluid! I knew I got hit earlier.

.... I'm still following this Me109. I just got my first confirmed kill of my tour, and now I'm really hot. I believe that I am the hottest pilot in the USAAF! And now I'm thinking to myself: am I going to shoot this Me109 down too?! He rolls and we turn, and turn; somehow, I cannot catch up with him in the Lufberry circle, we just keep circling. About the third 360 degree turn he and I must have spotted two Mustangs flying below us, about 2,000 feet below, and he dives for the two P-51s.

Now I'm about 150 yards from him, and I get my gunsight on his tail, but I cannot shoot, because if I shoot wide, or my bullets pass through him, I might shoot down one or both P-51s, so I get a front seat, watching, fearful that this guy will shoot down a P-51 we're approaching at about 390 mph. There's so much interference on the R/T I cannot warn the two Mustangs, I fire one very long burst of about seven or eight seconds purposely wide, so it misses the Mustangs, and the Me109 pilot can see the tracers. None of the Mustang pilots see the tracers either! I was half hoping expecting that they'd see my tracers and turn out of the way of the diving Me109. But no such luck. I quit firing. The Me109 still dives, and as he approaches the two P-51s he holds his fire, and as the gap closes, two hundred yards, one hundred yards, fifty yards the Hun does not fire a shot. No tracers, nothing! At less than ten yards, it looks like he's going to ram the lead P-51 and the Hun fires one single shot from his 20mm cannon! And Bang! Engine parts, white smoke, glycol, whatnot from the lead P-51 is everywhere, and that unfortunate Mustang begins a gentle roll to the right.

I try to watch the Mustang down, but cannot, Now my full attention is on the Hun! Zoom. We fly through the two Mustangs (he was taken POW). Now the advantage of the P-51 is really apparent, as in a dive I am catching up to the Me109 faster than a runaway freight train. I press the trigger for only a second then I let up on the trigger, I believe at that time I was about 250 yards distant, but the Hun was really pulling lots' of negative and positive g's and pulling up to the horizon. He levels out and then does a vertical tail stand! And next thing I know, he's using his built up velocity from the dive to make a vertical ninety degree climb. This guy is really an experienced pilot. I'm in a vertical climb, and my P-51 begins to roll clockwise violently, only by pushing my left rudder almost through the floor can I stop my P-51 from turning. We climb for altitude; in the straight climb that Me109 begins to out distance me, though my built up diving speed makes us about equal in the climb. We climb one thousand fifteen hundred feet, and at eighteen hundred feet, the hun levels his aircraft out. A vertical climb of 1,800 feet! I've never heard of a piston aircraft climbing more than 1,000 feet in a tail stand. At this time we're both down to stall speed, and he levels out. My airspeed indicator reads less than 90 mph! So we level out. I'm really close now to the Me109, less than twenty five yards! Now if I can get my guns on him.........

At this range, the gunsight is more of nuisance than a help. Next thing, he dumps his flaps fast and I begin to overshoot him! That's not what I want to do, because then he can bear his guns on me. The P-51 has good armor, but not good enough to stop 20mm cannon hits. This Luftwaffe pilot must be one heck of a marksman, I just witnessed him shooting down a P-51 with a single 20mm cannon shot! So I do the same thing, I dump my flaps, and as I start to overshoot him, I pull my nose up, this really slows me down; S-T-A-L-L warning comes on! and I can't see anything ahead of me nor in the rear view mirror. Now I'm sweating everywhere. My eyes are burning because salty sweat keeps blinding me: 'Where is He!?!' I shout to myself. I level out to prevent from stalling. And there he is. Flying on my right side. We are flying side to side, less than twenty feet separates our wingtips. He's smiling and laughing at himself. I notice that he has a red heart painted on his aircraft, just below the cockpit. The nose and spinner are painted black. It's my guess that he's a very experienced ace from the Russian front. His tail has a number painted on it: "200". I wonder: what the "two hundred" means!? Now I began to examine his airplane for any bullet hits, afterall, I estimate that I just fired 1,600 rounds at the hun. I cannot see a single bullet hole in his aircraft! I could swear that I must have gotten at least a dozen hits! I keep inspecting his aircraft for any damage. One time, he even lifts his left wing about 15 degrees, to let me see the underside, still no hits! That's impossible I tell myself. Totally impossible. Then I turn my attention back to the "200" which is painted on the tail rudder. German aces normally paint a marker for each victory on their tail. It dawns on me that quick: TWO HUNDRED KILLS !! We fly side by side for five minutes. Those five minutes take centuries to pass. Less than twenty five feet away from me is a Luftwaffe ace, with over two hundred kills. We had been in a slow gradual dive now, my altitude indicates 8,000 feet. I'm panicking now, even my socks are soaked in sweat. The German pilot points at his tail, obviously meaning the "200" victories, and then very slowly and dramatically makes a knife-cutting motion across his throat, and points at me. He's telling me in sign language that I'm going to be his 201 kill! Panic! I'm breathing so hard, it sounds like a wind tunnel with my mask on. My heart rate must have doubled to 170 beats per minute; I can feel my chest, thump-thump and so.

This goes on for centuries, and centuries. The two of us flying at stall speed, wingtip to wingtip. I think more than once of simply ramming him. He keeps watching my ailerons, maybe that's what he expects me to do. We had heard of desperate pilots who, after running out of ammunition, would commit suicide by ramming an enemy plane. Then I decide that I can Immelmann out of the situation, and I began to climb, but because my flaps are down, my Mustang only climbs about one hundred feet, pitches over violently to the right and stalls. The next instant I'm dangerously spinning, heading ninety degrees vertically down! And the IAS reads 300 mph! My P-51 just falls like a rock to the earth! I hold the yoke in the lower left corner and sit on the left rudder, flaps up, and apply FULL POWER! I pull out of the dive at about 500 feet, level out, (I began to black out so with my left hand I pinch my veins in my neck to stop blackout). I scan the sky for anything! There's not a plane in the sky, I dive to about fifty feet elevation, heading towards Italy. I fly at maximum power for about ten minutes, and then reduce my rpm (to save gasoline), otherwise the P-51 has very limited range at full power. I fly like this for maybe an hour, no planes in the vicinity; all the time I scan the sky, check my rear view mirrors.

I never saw the Me109 with the red heart again. At the mess I mention the Me109 with the red heart and "200" written on the tail. That's when the whole room, I mean everybody, gets instantly quiet. Like you could hear a pin drop. Two weeks later the base commander shows me a telex: "....according to intelligence, the German pilot with a red heart is Eric Hartmann who has downed 250 aircraft and there is a reward of fifty thousand dollars offered by Stalin for shooting him down. I've never before heard of a cash reward for shooting down an enemy ace ... "