In their own words...

[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."