7
‘We can carry out this operation on the English coast just the once while they are loading up on the beaches. After that, when they are unloading on the other side, between the landing craft and the beaches and against tanks just come ashore and so on. As I visualise it, the aircraft roar over the beaches and smash up all those heaps of material which are lying around in great confusion. That’s how the Führer sees the operational use and that’s how we are to prepare.’
Hermann Goering’s words – quoted from Galland’s book – referred to the Me 262 in the fast-bomber role acting against Allied invasion troops. In accordance with the will of the Führer, the Reichsmarschall had determined that the aircraft had no future as a fighter.
Galland, of course, was not prepared to take this lying down. The landing-craft notion was pure nonsense. Pilots and machines would be sacrificed without rhyme or reason. Scarcely a bomb would find its mark. Those dropped from a great height would all miss. The machine could not be used as a dive-bomber and at low level was easy meat for enemy fighters. That the latter would be present in large numbers to protect the landing craft was guaranteed. But the order had been given and presumably the disaster could no longer be averted.
The tremendous prospects for success which the Me 262 promised were demonstrated in the testing period by Thierfelder himself and the experienced former III/ZG26 pilots. The undisputed star was Leutnant Alfred Schreiber. Shortly after completing his conversion course he supplied the unequivocal proof for the efficacy of the jet aircraft in combat. In his first engagements he shot down five enemy aircraft one after the other, mostly RAF Mosquitos, the fastest enemy machine. He was summoned at once before a surprised Goering to make his report. If the Reichsmarschall conveyed notice of these successes with a covering memorandum, or whether they were mentioned in the daily situation conferences at Führer HQ, is not known, but apparently they influenced Goering’s opinion strongly. Schreiber was later killed in action and is buried at Schwabstadl near Lechfeld.
Galland’s staff included such proven fighting airmen as Gordon Gollob, Hannes Trautloft, Eduard Neumann and later Walther Dahl, and all now set to the task of making what they could of the Lechfeld successes. Nobody worried if a few intentional inaccuracies crept in. The end justified the means. Enemy fighter pilots captured after parachuting down from combat with an Me 262 were unanimous in confirming the absolute superiority of the German jet. Galland even came into possession of a report signed by General Spaatz, US Strategic Air Forces supreme commander, in which he spoke of ‘the deadly German jet fighter’. The document was sent to Hitler with a covering memorandum.
Some of this propaganda may have borne fruit immediately after the Allied landings when, on 7 June 1944 in a conversation with Saur, Hitler modified his stance on the Blitzbomber question. While the initial production of the Me 262 had to remain limited to the bomber version, the testing of the fighter version by the Kommando at Lechfeld and the Rechlin Test Centre could continue so long as it did not interfere with bomber production. It was at this time that Hitler issued the order that operational Blitzbombers were forbidden to descend below 12,000 feet over enemy territory, an altitude at which, with no bombsight, they were next to useless as bomber aircraft.
Another method Galland used in the attempt to change Hitler’s mind was to ask officers who were attending Führer HQ to receive awards from Hitler to bring the subject of conversation round to the Me 262, recommending its inclusion in the Reich air defences.
A typical conversation is recorded by Galland in his book:
There was no beating about the bush with his answer when Hitler asked the commodore of JG Richthofen, Oberstleutnant Kurt Buhligen, if German fighters were inferior to those of the British and Americans: ‘For two years we have been numerically inferior. Relatively speaking, our aircraft have now become slower. American and British fighters are about 70 kph faster than ours.’ Hitler snapped back, ‘What do you want then, a new aircraft?’ At this, Johannes Steinhoff, whom Hitler had just decorated with the Swords to add to his Knight’s Cross with Oak Leaves, butted in, ‘Jawohl, the jet fighter!’ Hitler gave a start and retorted brusquely, ‘Fighter jet, fighter jet, it’s a spook going round your heads. I won’t hear any more of it! That is not a fighter and you will not be able to fight with it. My doctor has told me that in the sharp turns you have to make in dogfights, parts of the brain will simply separate. This aircraft is not yet mature and the fighter arm will not get it until it is. For you, I have instead healthier aircraft which have been developed on the basis of established technical experience.’ Steinhoff, who would suffer severe burns a few months later during a failed Me 262 take-off, tried once more but was silenced with a single sentence. The consequence of this exchange was an order issued by both Hitler and Goering which strictly forbade any further mention of the words ‘Me 262’ and ‘fighter’ in the same breath.
With this, Galland had to accept that he could expect no further sympathy from Hitler for his concerns about the direction the air-war was taking. But he was still not yet prepared to yield. Given the situation on the various fronts and faced with an invasion of Europe which was probably imminent, he saw only one way to stop the rot or at least diminish it: fighters, fighters and more fighters. In this he knew that his staff stood with him shoulder to shoulder.
First he succeeded in obtaining the support of Armaments Minister Speer who agreed to divert to the fighter arm on a regular basis, and without Hitler’s knowledge, a proportion of the Me 262 bomber output.
Galland’s attempt to convince Reichsführer-SS Himmler of the decisive superiority of the Me 262 also bore fruit. Himmler, by now one of the most powerful men in the Third Reich, had for some time been aware that Goering was unable to provide the Luftwaffe with leadership in these critical months. That Goering’s influence on Hitler had sunk to a minimum he knew already. The Waffen-SS was responsible for the V-weapons programme and large areas of aircraft production in bomb-proof underground installations and Himmler was keen to extend his influence into operational control of the Luftwaffe. Co-opting Himmler’s aid was not received gladly in Luftwaffe circles, but for German fighter command affairs had deteriorated to the sorry pass where even Himmler was a welcome bedfellow in the campaign to exert pressure on Hitler to operate the Me 262 as a fighter.
When Goering saw Himmler’s shadow beginning to eclipse him, he also began to speak out for a strengthening of Reich air defences by including the Me 262 within fighter ranks.
In the Messerschmitt factories and SS-run bomb-proof assembly plants there now began the hectic programme to follow the new plans for turning out the Me 262 fighter as a fast bomber. To extend its range two supplementary fuel tanks of 250 litres each were fitted beneath the pilot’s seat. In the fuselage a 600-litre tank went behind what had been previously the main tank. This additional tank was the counterweight for the two 250-kg bombs slung below forward of the fuselage. Under normal circumstances aircrew would probably refuse to fly an aircraft cobbled together in this manner, even if the air force found it an acceptable addition to the fleet. Even without the possibility of encountering enemy aircraft it was problematic to fly the Me 262 bomber. Meticulous attention had to be paid to how the aircraft was manipulated. The particular problem was the rear 600-litre fuel tank. If this tank was full the aircraft was dangerously unstable without the bombs because the centre of gravity was too far back. Before dropping the bombs, however, the pilot had to ensure that the tank was empty. If he forgot this in the excitement of the moment or was forced to jettison the bombs in an emergency, the Me 262 became very tail-heavy and assumed an attitude out of the horizontal in which control could be lost. In turn the speed would drop to 700 kph or less, at which the aircraft was easy prey for a fighter. It was weakly armed in any case because two of the four machine-guns in the nose had been removed for weight reasons. Finally the Me 262 bomber had no bombsight and the pilot had to use the reflecting gunsight (Reflexvisier or REVI) for bomb-aiming in horizontal flight or a shallow dive. The instrument would have been useful in a steep dive but this form of attack was too dangerous to attempt. These circumstances were certain to lead to disaster – and they did.
The ten months of despair at the gates of hell between July 1944 and April 1945 were those least blessed by fortune and the most sacrificial in terms of casualties in the twelve years of existence of KG51 (formerly KG255, known as ‘Edelweiss’). Nevertheless the exemplary fighting spirit of the entire squadron never faltered. I think it right to say that one should never identify, in any war, those who were ‘the bravest’, for the term cannot be applied to some without doing injustice to others. Bravery is a conquest of the fear with which we are all born. For some, great bravery is required just to be near the fighting front. The bravery of KG51 is chronicled in sixteen pages of the unit’s War Diary.
When the squadron received orders to fly the Me 262 as a fast bomber, neither the commanders nor the pilots had had any preparatory training. Their joy over the undisputed advantages of the much praised new turbojet warbird was soon overshadowed by the suspicion which accompanies every unexpected boon. From the beginning of the war, bomber units had been in desperate need of an aircraft with adequate speed, a strong defensive armament and above all long range. Despite all the conversion work and modifications, the Me 262 was neither a Stuka nor a recognisable bomber aircraft. At low level it was so greedy on fuel that only targets over a short range fell within its ambit, and its speed, reduced by the bombload, no longer provided any significant advantage.
On 6 June 1944 the Allies landed on the coast of Normandy. Contrary to Hitler’s plan and Goering’s interpretation of how it would be on the night, the total number of bombs dropped by Me 262s was nil. The loading operations on the English side had proceeded unmolested, and there were no jet bombers ‘smashing up all these heaps of material on the beaches’ on the French side either. The reason was that all 3rd Squadron/KG51 pilots were undergoing conversion training to the Me 262 bomber at Lechfeld, following the completion of which they would deploy to the invasion front. The unit was known as Erprobungskommando Schenk after its commander, Major Wolfgang Schenk, holder of the Knight’s Cross with Oak Leaves.
The KG51 Edelweiss War Diary records:
Quite a number of problems arose during the fitting out of the aircraft for bomber operations. At Schwäbisch Hall the undercarriage and tyres were strengthened and supplementary fuel tanks added. If care was not exercised in filling this tank it led to a hopeless shift in the centre of gravity leading to tail-heaviness and instability. There was no properly tested bomb retaining and release gear nor bombsights. In a shallow dive accuracy was poor. By order of the Führer, it was forbidden to dive-bomb, exceed 850 kph or descend below 12,000 feet over enemy-held territory. The last restriction was to provide enemy anti-aircraft batteries with less opportunity for a hit and thus to prevent any jet aircraft falling into enemy hands. It meant, however, that the project was doomed to fail from the start, and the poor bombing results were unavoidable and depressing. The infantry called us the ‘Damage-the-Fields Squadron’. It was humorous but did not do much to raise our spirits. The restrictions were finally lifted in December 1944. Many Me 262 aircraft flown to Schwäbisch Hall for conversion fell victim to Allied air raids. At every step the Sturmvögel [storm petrel, a descriptive term for the Me 262 bomber] was hunted down. Every take-off, flight and landing was a minor suicide mission and gnawed away at the nerves . . .
While Erprobungskommando Schenk was re-training at Lechfeld, sixty Me 262 bombers were destroyed on the ground in an air raid, which introduced a lengthy delay to full operations. Not until 20 July 1944, six-and-a-half weeks after the invasion, did these twelve pilots of 3rd Squadron/KG51 complete the conversion course. Each had flown the aircraft four times, these being solo flights because it was a single-seater. The curriculum did not allow for bombing practice or even an introduction to fighter tactics. In this deplorable state of preparedness the unit was ordered with nine machines to Chateaudun from where it would fly operational missions against the English coast immediately upon arrival. The base was close to the French coast because the fast bomber only had a radius of action of 200 km, there being no latitude in fuel for the aircraft to fly out from a more rearward airfield. And it was at Chateaudun that the unique and miserable odyssey of 3rd Squadron /KG51 began – a unit obliged to pay in full for the Führer’s obstinacy.
After six weeks of bombing the English coast, the squadron was forced back from Chateaudun to Etampes: from there three days later to Creil, where it stayed six days. This withdrawal seems to have been particularly hectic. Ground personnel were on the road day and night, constantly harassed by enemy fighter bombers. According to the KG51 War Diary, a lorry transporting several Me 262 jet turbines and spare parts was captured by an Allied unit. Thus it would appear that German turbojet engines were in American hands by August 1944. This was a serious loss to the unit, for engines had to be exchanged after eight hours’ flying time for overhaul.
On the seventh day the Squadron arrived at Juvincourt where, on account of its losses, Schenk was obliged to request another nine pilots and aircraft. Of these, only five arrived at Juvincourt. Two crashed on take-off at Lechfeld because of pilot error, a third crashed landed at Schwäbisch Hall and the fourth set down in a meadow just short of the destination.
On 28 August 1944, Schenk’s gradual homeward journey took another step eastwards to Ath-Chièvre in Belgium, from there on the 30th of the month the unit reached Volkel and Eindhoven in Holland for a five-day stay and after a flight in overnight fog put down on a Reich airfield at Rheine, Westphalia, on 3 September. Erprobungskommando Schenk was here upgraded to I/KG51. As a squadron its operational aircraft had only been identified by a single capital letter on the fuselage but now also bore the tactical marking 9K before the black fuselage cross. Schenk was promoted to Oberstleutnant and took over command of the squadron, Major Grundmann led II/KG51 at Schwäbisch Hall. To consolidate the jet-bomber force the unit transferred next to Achmer and Hesepe where sections of KG76 flew operations against Allied targets in Belgium and Holland with the first twin-turbojet bomber, the Ar 234.
On 13 November 1944 the Allies mounted air raids on the bases at Rheine and Hesepe which took their toll of pilots and the almost irreplaceable engineers and technical support staff. Little mention is ever made of the part played by the men and women in these and other unglamorous roles such as radar direction. Such servicemen, for whom no better name has been found than ‘ground personnel’, served with a devotion to duty no less laudable than that of the pilots.
Many Me 262 fliers were cruelly cut down in a fiasco following the early morning attack known as Operation Bodenplatte on New Year’s Day 1945. At 03:00 800 German aircraft took off to bomb Allied airfields, bases, anti-aircraft emplacements and bridgeheads in France, Belgium and Holland. 810 enemy aircraft were destroyed together with workshops, fuel dumps and valuable materials. It made no difference to the outcome of the battle, and 293 German machines shot down was a high price to pay for a surprise raid which the enemy side had not expected. The attack had been carefully prepared and kept secret until immediately before take-off. The plan was so secret that it omitted instructions to inform the German flak batteries of what was afoot and these gunned down no fewer than 200 German aircraft returning from the mission. ‘Points glowing red in the snow marked where they crashed,’ was the laconic observation of the KG51 War Diary.
After US forces captured the bridge at Remagen on 7 March 1945, Goering telephoned the I/KG51 orderly officer that night ordering him personally to comb through the unit without delay in search for ‘volunteers who, following the example of Japanese kamikaze pilots, would dive their aircraft into the Rhine bridges so as to deny these valuable bridgeheads to the Americans.’ Two pilots actually did volunteer but fortunately for them nothing came of this pointless notion, nor of the suggestion to Me 163 squadron JG400 made at about the same time when volunteers were invited to come forward as ramming pilots. This order also came from Goering.4
In the last eight weeks of the war, the senselessness of using a fighter aircraft like the Me 262 as a bomber proved itself to the full. The only positive thing to come of it all was that the devotion to duty and the fighting spirit of pilots and ground personnel alike continued to the last day. The epitaph to the Me 262 as a bomber aircraft appears in a single sentence of the KG51 War Diary:
During the relatively short operational period flying the Me 262, 172 Squadron members were killed: 53 officers, 91 NCOs and 28 men.
The early reported shortcomings of the Me 262 as a fast bomber reinforced the concerns over its obvious unsuitability as a conversion for the role, but there was still a long way to go before Hitler finally recognised it. The useless early sacrifices confirmed the opinion long held in the offices of General der Jagdflieger Galland, and his more recent converts Speer and Himmler. Meanwhile enemy bomber streams flowed in and out of the Reich day and night. In a single attack on Lechfeld alone, sixty operational Me 262s were destroyed on the ground.
Kommando 262 Thierfelder, now reduced to a very small team of six operational pilots, could claim twenty-five enemy aircraft shot down, a noteworthy achievement. Günther Wegmann was Thierfelder’s adjutant. While Wörner saw to the conversion training of newly arrived men, Thierfelder, Wegmann and four other pilots made the operational test flights. The prime target was enemy reconnaissance machines and successes proved the Me 262 to be an excellent fighter aircraft once its peculiarities had been mastered. Within the framework of the Reich air-defence system as a whole, the successes of these first Me 262 fighter pilots were not significant. It was only when the statisticians measured the victories per aircraft and expressed the figure proportionally that it was at once evident why the aircraft merited the trust of fighter pilots and their command staffs. And more than that, it suggested how much greater the overall successes would have been had Hitler and Goering given the machine the highest priority from its debut.
In July 1944 Galland managed to obtain authority to operate a second small Kommando 262 over central Germany. That this was possible was due in no small measure to the successes of Thierfelder’s unit and not least to Alfred Schreiber. Wegmann was appointed to lead it and once Kommando Wegmann was in existence, it was to transfer to Erfurt-Bindersleben.
On 18 July, a fine summer’s day, Thierfelder took off for a test flight. Onlookers watched his aircraft gather ever more speed along the runway, lift off about two-thirds of the way along and, after a few seconds of level flight, soar into the almost cloudless sky at a steep rate of climb. The Me 262 was then not visible until condensation trails began to form behind it. After a while it was observed that the aircraft was put into a shallow dive which gradually became ever steeper. At this point a witness stated that he thought he saw flames. The jet was in a virtual nose-dive when an object came free – possibly the cabin hood – and quickly afterwards a dark bundle emerged. Within three seconds the silk of a parachute began to inflate and then both the aircraft and pilot were lost to sight.
They found Hauptmann Thierfelder in a field near Buchloe. He was dead in the harness of his parachute. The canopy was in long ribbons, the material apparently having failed to withstand the opening stresses at deployment. The team puzzled over the possible cause of this accident for many days, for Thierfelder knew the Me 262 in all its moods and had proved himself an exceptionally apt pilot for the machine. The best explanation seemed to be fire in one or both turbojets which Thierfelder had perhaps tried to extinguish by diving the aircraft at high speed. It might then have wandered into an almost vertical dive from which there was no hope of recovery. On the other hand, possibly the trim was wrong. There were many possibilities. Thierfelder’s successor as commander was Hauptmann Horst Geyer.
Wegmann’s new unit was of squadron size, about ten aircraft. At Bindersleben they had their hands full with adapting the aerodrome for the Me 262. Both runways had to be extended from 1,200 to 1,500 yards, mechanics’ equipment rigged up in the hangars and a radar direction centre built on the northern fringe of the airfield. The work lasted into September 1944 when the Kommando was suddenly ordered to Achmer, the airfield at Rheine north of Osnabruck from where Kommando Schenk’s Me 262 bombers operated. Wegmann’s annoyance can be imagined, for he and his men had spent a great deal of time and energy expanding and fitting out Bindersleben.
The purpose of the move was to merge the two units at Lechfeld and Bindersleben into a single larger Kommando of which Major Nowotny was to be the unit leader. Whereas Goering had ordered the transfer, the order certainly did not originate from him, for he did not have the authority to arrange a change of this nature at the time without Hitler’s express approval. Accordingly it seems probable that Hitler had caved in slightly to Galland’s persistence. The Führer had not actually changed his mind: the events of recent months had forced him to bend a little. These events can be summarised as follows.
On 20 and 21 May 1944 the Allies destroyed the German synthetic fuel plants and attacked Berlin with an air fleet consisting of 1,500 bombers and 1,000 fighters. On 22 May the Soviet Army began its summer offensive under an umbrella of 4,000 aircraft.
After the violent verbal exchange between Hitler and Generalfeldmarschall Milch at the Berghof on 24 May 1944, the future of the Me 262 as a lame-duck bomber seemed certain. On the 29th, Oberst Gollob, Galland’s staff officer with responsibility for the Me 262 fighter, was relieved of the portfolio by Goering who transferred it to General der Kampfflieger, Generalleutnant Peltz. At about the same time, Oberst Petersen advised Milch that the whole field of aircraft production, which was until then Milch’s responsibility, was being transferred to the newly appointed Chief of the Fighter Staff, Karl-Otto Saur, Speer’s deputy. That signalled the end of Milch’s role as Goering’s Plenipotentiary which he had held since the summer of 1941.
On 7 June 1944, the day following the Normandy landings, Hitler ordered an increase in Me 262 and Do 335 production. During the Invasion, aircraft of the Allied air forces flew 14,700 missions compared with 319 of the Luftwaffe. On 19 June, Milch found out that he was to be relieved of his office. His request to resign as Secretary of State and Minister for Aircraft Production was approved by Hitler with the result that the office devolved upon Speer and Saur. On 25 June Hitler demanded a greater effort in the fight to reduce Allied air superiority and asked Saur how many fighters could be turned out each month if production work on the He 177 bomber were suspended. Saur told him about a thousand. On 27 June Goering ordered a halt to bomber production. When General Köller protested, Goering told him, ‘It is the will of the Führer that only fighters are to be built from now on.’ On two occasions, immediately after the attempt on Hitler’s life on 20 July 1944 and again on 30 August, General Kreipe solicited Hitler’s agreement for the exclusive deployment of the Me 262 as a fighter. Hitler made a brusque refusal each time. At the end of August Hitler circulated throughout the Luftwaffe a Führer-edict which every officer was obliged to sign. This order read: ‘With immediate effect I forbid anybody to speak to me about the Me 262 jet aircraft in any other connection or any other role than as a fast or Blitzbomber.’
Nine months for possible Me 262 fighter operations had been lost up to the time when Kommando Nowotny was formed. Without question these nine months were decisive for the seizure of air supremacy over the Reich by the Allies, the precondition for the total defeat of Hitler’s Germany. Hitler may have sensed that for himself when he suddenly began to demand ‘Fighters! Fighters! Only fighters!’5
Hitler’s resistance crumbled further in mid-September 1944. Major Walther Dahl had set up IV Sturmgruppe within JG3 Udet in May 1944. Once operational in September, after only two days this piston-engined fighter group initially produced astounding successes pitted as they were against a numerically superior enemy force of bombers and fighters. This led to corresponding Allied countermeasures such that the unit was hard hit by a sudden reversal of fortune on the third day. In his remarkable book Rammjäger Dahl described it thus: with Dahl leading his Sturmgruppe on 11 September 1944, they shot down 170 enemy aircraft (95 bombers, 75 fighters) for only 3 German losses. On 12 September the tally was 100 enemy aircraft (87 bombers, 13 fighters) for 13 German losses. On 13 September the Allied bomber formation lost 24 aircraft (7 bombers, 17 fighters) for the loss of 36 German aircraft. The reversal was caused by the Allied air force having strengthened the fighter escort substantially. On account of this adverse swing in the fortunes of his unit, Major Dahl was summoned at once over Goering’s head to Hitler’s HQ. In his book he records:
I arrived at Führer HQ Wolfschanze in East Prussia and was taken to the so-called situations room where I waited for Hitler... suddenly I saw a figure entering the bunker with a tired walk, bent as if carrying a heavy burden. It was Hitler!
The Luftwaffe ADC, Oberst von Below, introduced me and I reported myself. Hitler offered me his hand and said warmly, ‘I am pleased to see you here. I have already heard much about you and the efforts of the brave men of your squadron. Your Sturmgruppen(fighter assault groups) have made a decisive contribution and I am proud to have such pilots in the Luftwaffe.’ With a gesture he invited me to take an armchair. I sat directly opposite him. He came at once to our three engagements of 11 to 13 September, the actual reason for my presence. I had to describe exactly the course of each air-battle and especially that of ‘the black 13 September’. During the session of question and answer with Hitler, the no. 1 problem of the Luftwaffe, the Me 262, was constantly at the back of my mind. Somehow I had to bring the topic of conversation round to this theme despite the Führer-edict of the month before.
As Hitler began speaking about our heavy losses of 13 September, he attributed them to the numerical superiority of the bombers. I saw my chance. ‘The enemy fighters are our greatest danger in the air,’ I said, ‘and only fast, very fast, aircraft can win us the opportunity to strip away from formations the enemy fighter cover so that the bombers can be attacked unmolested.’ Tensely I waited for his reaction. He gave me a searching look and then his gruff voice replied, ‘You mean the Me 262. Say what you want to.’ I knew that my opinion contradicted his own but I attempted to convince Hitler by argument. During the resulting discussion, Hitler astonished me with his precise knowledge of technical details. At the end of our talk, which lasted almost three hours, I had the feeling that my opinion was not without its echo. Some time later the order came down that a proportion of Me 262 was to be re-scheduled for the fighter arm.
Galland was overjoyed. To some extent he now had a free hand and nominated as commander of the combined Kommando 262 Thierfelder – Wegmann the best available man, Austrian-born Major Walter Nowotny, with 256 kills to his credit the second most successful fighter pilot after Erich Hartmann. Besides being a proven and thoroughly capable wing leader, he knew how to nurse inexperienced young pilots through their first combat missions. In view of the sizeable contingent of pilots in Kommando Nowotny fresh from training school, that seemed to Galland a point of no small importance.
In his letter to me dated 26 January 1977 responding to my request for information, Adolf Galland recounted the inside story of many events related in this book, principally the setting-up of the Kommando Nowotny, and its last day of operations. I reproduce here the pertinent abstract from the letter because it shows how the formation of Kommando Nowotny coincides closely with the political manoeuvring referred to earlier in this chapter. In September 1944 Galland had received from Goering the order:
. . . to set up forthwith an operational Kommando from the two manufacturer’s test units, and locate it on the Western Front. Apparently this was done on Himmler’s advice that it was a simple way of providing evidence in the form of aerial combat victories that the Me 262 was an outstanding fighter aircraft. My objection that the development was too rapid and that this unit would be better defending the Reich from within was unsuccessful. I appointed Major Nowotny commander of the unit and told him to operate from Achmer near Rheine. Here, under the the most difficult circumstances, aided by a constant fighter umbrella to protect the runways at Achmer and Hesepe, he achieved good results but also sustained losses. I mention particularly a large number of losses attributable to technical faults and errors for which the ground personnel were partially responsible. On the day when he destroyed a Mustang and was himself shot down after a turbine failure, I was an onlooker. By telephone I ordered the withdrawal to Brandenburg-Briest and sent the pilots to Lechfeld for further training. It was from this unit, however, that the best jet Group, III/JG7, came into being . . .’
Professor Willy Messerschmitt (1898 – 1978), designer of the Me 262.
Flugkapitän Fritz Wendel, chief test pilot, Messerschmitt AG Augsburg.
A montage depicting two Me 262A-1a fighters. The nearer aircraft, works number 110522, was flown by Fritz Wendel at Lechfeld as part of III/EJG2 and later with Nowotny’s Kommando.
An Me 262 in England after the war.
The cockpit of the Me 262: (1) Instrument panel (2) Blind flying equipment (Ed: NB-perhaps he means panel far left. Tr.) (3) Speedometer (4) Artificial horizon (5) Variometer (6) Altimeter (7) Main daughter compass (8) AFN2 (9) SZKK2 (10) Revolutions indicator (11) Gas pressure gauge (12) Gas temperature indicators (13) Pressure gauge (injection) (14) Pressure gauge (lubricant) (15) Fuel gauge (forward tanks) (16) Fuel gauge (rear tanks) (17) ZSK 244A (only fitted to aircraft on Blitzbomber operations).
The He 178.
Test pilot Erich Warsitz made the first flight with the Heinkel rocket aircraft He 176 on 20 June 1939. On 27 August 1939 he piloted the first jet-turbine prototype, the He 178, on its maiden flight. Two German successes on the grandiose scale destined never to be used.
An artist’s impression of the He 178 in flight.
Hauptmann Walter Nowotny.
With sixteen victories, Oberstleutnant Heinz Bär, commander EJG2, was one of the two most successful jet-fighter pilots of the Second World War.
On the runway at Lechfeld, Hauptmann Wolfgang Späte, who test-flew the prototypes for the Reich Air Ministry, speaks to Adolf Galland and Willy Messerschmitt.
General der Jagdflieger Adolf Galland on 22 May 1943 discussing with test pilot Fritz Wendel the qualities of the Me 262 after having flown the aircraft for the first time: ‘It feels as though there’s an angel pushing it.’
Udet (far left) with Goering, Willy Messerschmitt and Rakan Kokothaki evidently in high spirits during an exhibition of the Me 262.
In the presence of Willy Messerschmitt, Goering takes his leave in front of the Messerschmitt AG administration building after a visit.
Pilot Gerd Lindner reporting his immediate findings to Goering after an Me 262 test flight.
Oberleutnant Günther Wegmann at Schwabstadl near Lechfeld in July 1944.
Oberst Edgar Petersen, head of the Luftwaffe Test Centre, Rechlin, in conversation with Adolf Galland.
Major Rudolf Sinner, left hand and face heavily bandaged after being shot down on 4 April 1945, is escorted by Hauptmann Streiber to the aircraft which took him to Salzburg Military Hospital.
Jochen Marseille discussing the Me 262 with test pilot Fritz Wendel while Me 163 pilot, Austrian Joschi Pohs looks on.
Willy Messerschmitt explaining a point about the Me 262 to Adolf Hitler and Ernst Udet.
Oberst Gordon Gollob, successor to Galland as General der Jagdflieger.
Me 262A-1a fighter, works number 170059, delivered to Thierfelder’s EKdo 262 at Lechfeld on 20 August 1944 and allocated to Leutnant Fritz Müller. The aircraft was later transferred to I/KG(J)54.
Graveyard of German aircraft: in the foreground two wrecked Me 262s, behind is a Ju 88 and other aircraft.
Oberfeldwebel Rumler (with peaked cap standing on wing) at Perleberg on 15 April 1945 during an intermediate stop.
Oberleutnant Kurt Welter, Staffelkapitän 10/NJG 11, was the 769th recipient of the Oak Leaves to the Knight’s Cross. His Welterkommando Me 262 obtained its success in the searchlight beams of Berlin. Welter was probably the top-scoring jet-fighter ace with twenty victories.
‘FE’ means Foreign Evaluation. This Me 262B-1a, two-seater night fighter equipped with an SN-2 Lichtenstein radar, was captured undamaged by the Americans. Possibly Kurt Welter flew it once or twice.
An Me 262 night fighter being serviced prior to operations.
Four Messerschmitt test pilots: Theo Tumborn, Fritz Wendel, Hermann Wurster, Sepp Sinz.
Twelve R4M rockets carried in a rack below each wing and fired in salvoes achieved a good scatter and proved the most accurate and effective armament of the jet fighter. An aircraft so fitted was re-designated Me 262A-1aR1 or R7.
The only Me 262 to be armed with a modified Rheinmetall BK5 50 mm anti-tank cannon. Here the ammunition belt is being loaded with 5-cm shells. The gun was to be used in the anti-bomber role but was never used operationally.
The Inspector of Day-fighters, Oberstleutnant Hannes Trautloft, with Erich Hohagen, who has just landed after a training flight. Between the two commodores of EJG2 (Ergänzungs-jadggeschwader 2) is Oberstleutnant Werner Andres. Extreme left is Hauptmann Georg Eder, at the right with his back to the camera Oberleutnant Wörner.
Erich Hohagen in the cockpit before taking off. He wore a protective cap following his serious head injury. Assisting him buckle up is his personal ground crewman.
Staffelkapitän Oberleutnant Franz Schall, Kommando Nowotny and III/JG7, issuing his instructions by field telephone.
Cameraman Karl W Lüttgau, Messerschmitt Works photographer, made the Me 262 training films.
Ground crew and pilots of Erprobungskommando Me 262 turn out for a soccer match. On the right are the future pilots of the Kommando Nowotny and III/JG7.
War’s end design for a three-seater Messerschmitt night-fighter equipped with two Heinkel S-011 jet turbines.
Shortly before the capitulation, Messerschmitt test pilots Gerd Lindner, Karl Baur (chief pilot) and Ludwig Hofmann share a joke with a Luftwaffe officer during a pause from flying at Lechfeld.
