In their own words...

[bobbysocks]

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]

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]

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_]

Love these postings and reading these first hand accounts from the pilots. Gives you some idea of what it must have been like.

[bobbysocks]

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]

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]

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.