Peter Stahl, a former pilot of the Ju 88 Kampfgeschwader 30,
30 Squadron bombers of the Luftwaffe, describes a night raid with this classic
bomber at the time of the blitz on England.
The scream of the engine suddenly left when the automatic
command inserts the turbocharger wakes me.
Next to me, Hans, my navigator, is sitting tight in his
harness, his head leaning against the window of the cabin. I call Theo and Hein
intercom, sleep. Our Ju 88 rose after take-off at 4,200 meters; the temperature
of the engine is too low because the shutters of the radiators are still open
and the normal fuel tanks are nearly exhausted.
Nobody brings oxygen masks if we continued to sleep we
passed quietly from sleep to death.
Fly, sleep, eat and go fly here our routine in recent weeks.
This evening, the report on the mission, Stoffregen warned entire squadron that
Hermann Goering had personally ordered that night operations against the Island
not only had to continue with the current intensity, but should even be
increased by all means possible.
The Supreme Command was informed that the population of the
Island will give up in the next weeks. My navigator, Hans, loud enough to be
heard, commented: The Pot Belly and his scribblers of command with their pink
pants (the German staff officers wore a red stripe down the sides of his
trousers, hence the allusion ) they should go on a mission, so let's see who
surrenders first.
There was a moment of dead silence, in the meeting room.
Stoffregen then resumed as if nothing had happened.
Well then, a good journey.
What could he say to us on the other airmen who know what is
the truth?
The people of the command is so far from the war that no
longer thinks of us as human beings, but simply as numbers. A growing number of
crews reached the limits of endurance nervous and does not take into account
the forces, as no account is taken of the actual situation in the air war on
Britain.
England has had to endure an air war against a superior
opponent by more than 6 months and still does not give signs of weakness. On
the contrary, its defenses become stronger every week.
The profile of the coast is emerging before us, the
photoelectric we seek, but the flak is silent. Gunners enemies do not sleep,
and then it means that there are around night fighters. Some reflectors were
gathered in groups of five.
And as a result, our path is accurately indicated by a
pyramid of light beams that moves with us.
Very often, the light of a photoelectric takes us in full
and the glare is blinding me. The light beam is following us for moments that
seem interminable, before leaving us, which shows that, when we are at a good
level, our bombers with matte paint can no longer be followed in view of earth.
I plan to have the moon at an oblique angle behind us. If I
had it directly behind it would be easier for night fighters recognize us
against the sky clearer, after being guided by photoelectric. Are all lessons
learned with operational experience?
Sighted a twin-engine night fighter that I cut the route to
a hundred meters. Fortunately the moon's position is such that there sighted.
Then my gunner warns calmly intercom night fighters tail, on the left.
Cast down our Ju 88 with a bicycle kick on the left, and let
myself fall, upside down, into the night. I just leveled when Hein repeated the
warning. What the hell. Down a second time, like a stone, in the pitch darkness
below. Then again a third time.
We are now just 800 meters, with 2 tons of explosives on
board and a long climbing to be done to bring us to a decent share for attack.
The Ju 88 is something special, so different from everything
I knew before, that the riders are allowed to put commands only after a
minuziosissimo technical training on the ground.
To begin with, there is a complicated plumbing, which
activates the cart, flaps, brakes sharply, the device for the automatic
callback of beaten and locking the tail wheel, while the manual controls of
respect are triggered by a hand pump. A further innovation compared with the
previous modern types of airplanes around the world is that the Ju 88 was
designed as a single-seater plane, which means that although it has a crew of
four (pilot, bombardier / navigator, radio operator and gunner) , if necessary,
the pilot can only play from his seat during a flight operating all necessary
functions.
The location and arrangement of the cockpit is ideal.
Thanks to the fully glazed nose is full visibility in all
directions, including downward and toward the front. The pilot's task is
facilitated by the different shape of the various knobs, which can be
recognized as the right ones simply by touch (very important factor in the dark
and in the heat of the battle, when you have to look out all the time).
The Ju 88 seems to know to be a nice and interesting (just
as capricious actress) and acts accordingly. And that can give you an
incredible surprise without warning.
These quirks can be seen especially in takeoff, but just in
the air, just masters of the aircraft, the Ju 88 responds like a dream, really
a dream aircraft.
As I return to the attack rate expected, we run into the
clouds and begins to form ice. At 6,000 meters the temperature dropped to -30 °
C, but does not form more ice. It's cold in the cabin, and each slit apertures
filters a powder of icy needles. The clouds go away and almost immediately the
flak we shot.
The batteries seem to know not only our exact share but also
our speed and our route.
Grenades explode in front and behind us and every maneuver
to dodge it seems unnecessary. However I try to try all the tricks you know,
all the maneuvers of diversion possible, but to no avail. The situation is
becoming so difficult that I am several times to think it would be better to
unhook my mine blindly into the night.
These mines have on board are of the LM-B ships, seem big
barrels, weighing 1,000 kg each and are expected to arrive at the target
hanging from a parachute. Our squadron has used for the first time in land
operations against the city of Coventry, this month.
Now we finally arrived on the main path to attack other air
all around. The aircraft batteries can choose their targets and for a few
minutes let alone us. Beyond the horizon we see a reddish reflection. We no
longer need to study the route and I can vary my path towards in order to avoid
major concentrations of flak. The closer we get to the target, the more we
realize that there must be in a living hell.
Mines dropped from planes that have gone before exploding in
regular series.
As we approach, the shooting antiaircraft thickens and it
seems that every sector of the sky is searched by thousands of light curtains.
The adjustment path, through the inferno, punctuated by explosions of
anti-aircraft shells, seems to have no end, and I am compelled again and again
to grope the dodges.
But what we feel above the lens exceeds any possible
imagination. It seems that the whole city is in flames, and we are only the
vanguard; a large number of our bombers is yet to come, and will not have some
navigation problems with the reflection of flames in the sky. Furthermore the
aim is illuminated by flares that light up at irregular intervals.
With the engine idling begin to glide toward the goal that
was assigned to me.
Suddenly my Ju 88 is located in the midst of a
strike-aircraft precisely that forces me to turn and walk away. I wait until
the shot is focused against another plane, then I take advantage of that moment
to throw with a fast swooping to the point of release.
Beneath us everything is red and the heat of the fires
raises a huge black cloud, fed by the flames below. Our target is closed in the
Docks area.
Hans did not find it hard to take aim for our mines. I fly
over the harbor on fire following his instructions. We can recognize, as if we
were in broad daylight, all the details that we have studied the photo
reconnaissance. My stopwatch turns and the exact second we spot two large
explosions in our area, are our mines.
A row of flares hanging from the parachute we suddenly
explodes in front and on the left, to our exact share. I discarded immediately
to the right. It changes all the time, at irregular intervals, my route and the
speed of the engines, in order to change its roar. The minute one another
without end, until we spot the coast. My nerves are going to give in.
Without wasting any more time it reduces the engines idling,
and I'll throw in a glide fast and decisive, even knowing that this will bring
me a shot of the shore batteries of anti-aircraft light. I do not care anymore
and count on luck to avoid areas of higher concentration-aircraft.
And then it happens. A blinding flash. They were impressed.
Recall our Ju 88 and cast a quick look at the instruments.
It seems completely normal and no one aboard was injured.
Reduce the speed to the engines, but as pull back the
throttle, the engine continues to turn left at full capacity. A splinter has
probably sliced the lead. There is no aircraft engine that it can withstand
long, in these circumstances.
I decided off and the Ju 88 continues drifter in the dark of
night.
Those beams rummaging heaven before us are our curtains, and
we're happy to have them spotted. We launch rockets of recognition, but the
spotlight continues to dazzle us in full. Another set of rockets of
recognition. Suddenly the flak it takes lightly at gunpoint, and are forced to
make a series of maneuvers to avoid it. Hazardous, with the engine stopped.
This deadly game with the curtains and lightweight batteries
continues along the coast. We are already exhausted by fear and lack of sleep,
and my crew vents his anger returning fire with machine guns. Shoot at their
fellow soldiers.
I can not blame them.
The fear of the fire engulfs, we would like to jump out of
the plane and flee, but the roof of the cab crashed. Soldiers rushed to the
split and we can roll out.
Firefighters and doctors arrive quickly. The soldiers say to
the doctor, a young guy just arrived at the front, that none of us is seriously
hurt. And we see that the slips in the plane and he goes out with the clock
edge, which intends to keep as a souvenir.
Hans for this gesture of the doctor is the last straw that
breaks the camel. Go to him calmly, he takes off of the clock hand and plant a
fist in the face with such force that the medicine man slips on the wing and it
ends up on his back on the grass.
And this is the end of another mission to London.
A 14 year old boy would already recognized as a friendly
aircraft.
As we approach the base prepare the crew to the difficulties
of a landing on one engine only. I want to download the excess fuel but the
control of the discharge must be dead. Visibility is excellent, so, contrary to
accepted practice, down with the cart instead of groped a belly landing.
The operation requires time, since I have only half of the
normal hydraulic pressure. After a final check, turn the engine good for
approach and landing. On board no one speaks. I value my share while plane to
land along the lighted path.
Too low.
We bump with the left wing and we run into the ground in complete
darkness. The swath on the ground seems to never end. The right engine begins
to creak and there's no way to stop it.
The fear of the fire engulfs, we would like to jump out of
the plane and flee, but the roof of the cab crashed. Soldiers rushed to the
split and we can roll out.
Firefighters and doctors arrive quickly. The soldiers say to
the doctor, a young guy just arrived at the front, that none of us is seriously
hurt. And we see that the slips in the plane and he goes out with the clock
edge, which intends to keep as a souvenir.
Hans for this gesture of the doctor is the last straw that
breaks the camel. Go to him calmly, he takes off of the clock hand and plant a
fist in the face with such force that the medicine man slips on the wing and it
ends up on his back on the grass.
And this is the end of another mission to London.
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