In their own words...

[bobbysocks]

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]

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]

...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]

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."