As Me-262 pilots gained more experience in flying the Me-262
in combat, all were in agreement that special measures should be taken to
protect them at the beginning and end of their flights. For one thing, there
was a need for the airfields to be more effectively disguised. The pilots
concurred that the huge nets over the hangars and other installations were
fairly effective, but they felt that overall, the camouflage could be improved.
The runways were the worst problem. They were easy to spot
from the air, and scorch marks left on the pavement by jet engine exhausts were
a sure tipoff to enemy airmen flying reconnaissance. As much as possible, the
pilots said, runways should be hidden when not in use.
For another thing, it would help to have piston fighters fly
top cover when Me-262s were taking off and landing. It was obvious that the
enemy had quickly become aware of the jets’ vulnerability at those critical
times, and that was when they did their hunting. More 88mm flak batteries would
be a good idea as well.
Admittedly, only a handful of Me-262s had been lost in
combat so far, and some of those were destroyed by AA fire. One such incident
had occurred when Lt. Rolf Weidemann was hit over Diest while on a bombing
mission. Another was when German flak gunners in Holland mistook Unteroffizier
Herbert Schauder’s aircraft for an Allied bomber and shot it down. But the
others had been lost while the jets were just getting off the ground, or when
they were on final approach.
The talk then turned to tactics. Once aloft, speed was a
boon, of course—but it could also be a hindrance, especially if the pilot
didn’t know the best way to use it. In a dogfight, the standard practice of
scissoring was fine for a Bf-109 or an Fw-190, but not for an Me-262. An astute
enemy flier would realize he could outmaneuver an attacking jet by turning
inside it, which had been done a number of times. The pilots were aware that
making abrupt turns was to be avoided. Bank too sharply in an Me-262 and you
ran the risk of engine flameout. It had led to fatal accidents even in practice
flights, and if you lost power in combat the game was up.
Therefore, whenever possible, an Me-262 should rely on a
fast-closing attack from astern—that was when the jet was at its best. Baudach
could attest to that, and so could many of the others. You wanted to line up on
the enemy and give him a good squirt with the cannons before he knew you were
there. Deflection shots were far more difficult, again because of the jet’s
speed. And the Revi gunsight wasn’t much help, either. Any angle greater than
30 degrees usually insured a miss, thanks to the enemy’s ability to break
quickly.
Attacks on bombers presented special problems, which were
different from engaging a fighter. It was true that Feldwebel Lennartz had
easily shot down a B-17 over Stuttgart back in August, but that was because the
Fortress had been alone. That in itself was unusual, inasmuch as the bombers
almost always flew in large fleets. Their standard battle formations comprised
tight combat boxes, which enabled them to protect one another with massed
machine-gun fire. An enemy squadron of twelve aircraft formed such a box, with
four elements of three aircraft each. A group would have three squadrons, or 36
planes. A wing consisted of three groups, for a total of 108 bombers. On some
raids the Allies would fly five or six wings, or even more. And now with
hundreds of Mustangs escorting the bombers, the Me-262 pilots were heavily
outnumbered.
Although they’d encountered heavies several times since Lennartz’s
victory, the jets had claimed only a few kills. The pilots agreed that having
to deal with large numbers of fighter escorts was the main obstacle, especially
now that the Mustangs were ranging freely out in front of the enemy formations.
And even when an Me-262 penetrated the fighter screen and reached the bombers,
the jets’ speed was again a factor. Typically the bombers would be flying at
about 350 kph, and an Me-262 attacking at more than twice that rate would have
little time for a firing pass. If you weren’t a good shot, you had almost no
chance to make a hit.
Some pilots felt it would be best to use the boom-and-zoom
type of attack, diving on the enemy from above and firing, then pulling up and
away. The angle of the dive would present the largest silhouette of the bomber,
resulting in more of a target to shoot at. Others said it would be better to
continue the dive after firing rather than risk a rapid pull-up. Or maybe
boom-and-zoom would be all right if the dive were kept very shallow. The so-called
roller coaster attack might also work, though it wouldn’t allow the pilot much
time to fire with accuracy.
But what the pilots couldn’t dispute was that no matter how
they did it, attacking a Fortress in an Me-262 was a lot better than in an
Fw-190 or a Bf-109. Many of the pilots were veterans of such battles, and closing
on the tail of an enemy bomber through a hail of .50-caliber bullets was not a
pleasant task.
Most of all, the pilots wanted more aircraft. They realized
the Messerschmitt plants were doing their best to produce them, but the supply
was a trickle. With more Me-262s, they were sure they could blow enough of the
Allies out of the sky to make a real difference.
And one other point. Supposedly they were at Lechfeld to
form a special jet squadron, which was to be fully staffed with qualified
pilots. Ideally, it would be led by a commander who knew his business, yet so
far that person hadn’t appeared. When would he?
General Galland answered that question on 26 September, when
he ordered Major Walter Nowotny to take charge of the unit. Nowotny had all the
ability the Me-262 pilots could hope for, and all the credentials to prove it.
Fine-featured and slim, with black hair and a cocky attitude, Nowotny was one
of the Luftwaffe’s top aces. Only 23, he’d already posted 255 victories.
Most of the major’s record had been achieved on the eastern
front, where his exploits were legendary. On several occasions he’d made
multiple kills, knocking down five or six of the enemy in a single battle. And
on one memorable day over Leningrad, he shot down ten Soviet aircraft.
He’d also displayed great personal courage. In a dogfight
with Soviet I-53s off Riga Bay, his Bf-109 was riddled with machinegun bullets.
The battered fighter crashed into the frigid waters, and Nowotny climbed out
just as it sank. Cold and wet and bleeding from wounds, he spent three days and
nights in a rubber dinghy before reaching shore.
On another sortie, near Novgorod, he destroyed four Ratas
while refusing to bail out of his smoking Bf-109. Afterward he crash-landed,
and leaped from the flaming wreck as it skidded along the ground. When he
recovered from his wounds, he flew an Fw-190 and continued to run up his score.
In recognition of his heroism, Nowotny was awarded Germany’s
highest decoration, the Knight’s Cross with Oak Leaves, Swords and Diamonds.
The Luftwaffe then assigned him to administrative duties, rather than risk
losing him, but he hated being grounded and agitated constantly to get back
into the air. He got his wish when he was sent to Pau for training in an
Me-262. The aircraft was made for him. He loved the speed, and the sense that
only the best of the best could fly this entirely new and superior type of
fighter.
After he took command, the unit was officially dubbed Kommando
Nowotny and moved to two airfields in northern Germany. One was at Achmer, the
other at nearby Hesepe. Nowotny immediately set about expanding his outfit into
a complete fighter gruppe. When at full strength, the gruppe would have three
staffeln of 16 aircraft each. There would also be a Stabschwarm, or
headquarters flight, consisting of four more. Thus Kommando Nowotny would
eventually comprise 52 jet fighters.
Like a good commander, the major listened carefully as his
pilots expressed their views. They said that because Me-262s needed a long
takeoff run, the runways at Achmer and Hesepe were barely acceptable. Nowotny
had them lengthened. Next, the pilots complained about inadequate camouflage.
The major saw to it that new, better designed nets holding clumps of brush were
made up. He had the nets arranged so that they could be positioned quickly over
the airfields, including the runways when they were not in use. Then there was
the problem of vulnerability when taking off and landing. Nowotny petitioned
General Galland to send piston fighters, so there would be top cover for the
jets over both fields. Galland transferred a gruppe of Fw-190s to Achmer. This
was III/JG54, commanded by Hauptmann Robert Weiss.
There were four staffeln under Weiss. They were led by
Hauptmann Karl Bottlander and Oberleutnants Willy Heilmann, Peter Crump, and
Hans Dortenmann. All had extensive combat experience.
Their Focke-Wulf fighter was the D model. Pilots called it
the Longnose Dora because it mounted a liquid-cooled 2100 hp Jumo 213A V-12
engine, rather than the air-cooled radial BMW. Armament was two 13mm MG131
machine guns and two 20mm MG151/20E cannons.
Finally, there was the need for more flak batteries. Nowotny
applied pressure, and they were installed. The batteries were the latest type,
which had been expanded from four 88mm cannons to eight. Each gun would fire
120 rounds per minute, lofting 10 kg shells as high as 10,600 meters, where
they would explode in a burst of steel splinters.
The major drilled his pilots hard. He had them fly several
times a day, practicing combat maneuvers. The sessions were not without
misfortune, however. On 4 October, the Kapitan of 2 Staffel, Hauptmann Alfred
Teumer, was on final approach when both his engines failed. The Me-262 slammed
to earth, killing him. Nowotny replaced him with Oberleutnant Franz Schall, who
had scored 117 kills while serving with I/JG52 in Russia.
The Kommando was still nowhere near full strength, when on 7
October, Nowotny led 11 of his charges to intercept American bombers attacking
Magdeburg. The target was an aircraft production plant. When the Me-262s
arrived, Nowotny saw that the oncoming bombers were B-24 Liberators. He
estimated there were 300 of them, and probably more. They were flying at 6,500
meters, and escorted by P-47s that were apparently equipped with extra fuel
tanks to increase their range.
The jets were the first on the scene, though the major knew
from radio transmissions that controllers were sending squadrons of piston
fighters as well. He could hear the excitement in the pilots’ voices. As he
gained altitude in readiness to lead an attack, his flight was seen by the
Thunderbolts. The American fighters came up to do battle, but were unable to
climb as fast as the jets. Nowotny picked out a P-47, rolled over and dove on
it.
The enemy pilot’s wingman must have warned him, because the
P-47 broke left in a tight turn and Nowotny was unable to line up for a shot.
As he flashed through the swirl of enemy aircraft, he was careful not to handle
his Me-262 as roughly as he would an Fw-190, instead recovering gracefully and
climbing once more. At that point, a flight of Bf-109s showed up, and the
fighting immediately became a series of dogfights. Nowotny and the others in
his Kommando tried to break through the P-47s, so as to get at the bombers.
Oberleutnant Franz Schall succeeded. He attacked a
Liberator, making the type of shallow dive his fellow airmen felt would be most
effective. When he fired his cannons he was only about two hundred meters above
the B-24, and the shells hit the cockpit. Apparently the strikes killed the
pilot and copilot, because the bomber flipped over and went into an inverted
spin, out of control. Schall knew better than to watch it go down. Instead, he
pursued another B-24, but had to break off because of machine-gun fire from the
bomber and from others in the box.
As the enemy began their bomb runs, Oberfähnrich Heinz
Russel ignored warnings about attacking too closely from the rear. He slipped
in behind a B-24 and concentrated his fire on the tail. Because of his speed
there was time to fire only a few shells, but they silenced the tail gunner and
did enough damage to the aircraft to send that one down as well. Unfortunately
for Russel, a P-47 caught him just as he was pulling up after firing at the
bomber. Pieces of the jet were torn off by the Thunderbolt’s machine guns, and
both its engines quit. Russel jettisoned his canopy and bailed out. The
crippled 262 had slowed down, but it was still moving so fast that when Russel
jumped, it was as if he’d run into a brick wall. Nearly senseless, he opened
his parachute by instinct alone. When he landed he was bruised, but thankful to
be alive.
Before fuel shortages forced the jets to withdraw, Feldwebel
Lennartz again scored. The bomber he attacked had still not dropped its bombs,
and when his cannon shells struck the B-24, it exploded.
Oberleutnant Paul Bley also lost his aircraft that day, but
not to enemy gunfire. Instead he made too hasty a turn, which caused his
engines to fail, and he was unable to restart them. He too bailed out, and like
Russel, lived to rejoin the unit and fight again another day.
The P-47 that shot down Russel was flown by Col. Hubert
Zemke, commander of the 56th Fighter Group known as Zemke’s Wolf Pack. In the
confusion typical of those huge air battles, Zemke thought he had destroyed a
Bf-109. It was only when his combat film was viewed that he learned that he’d
scored one of the first aerial victories over an Me-262.
As for Nowotny, the major was more than satisfied by the way
his pilots had acquitted themselves. They’d made a few mistakes, but by and
large they were operating just as he’d hoped. And he was sure the best was yet
to come.
On the same day as the Magdeburg raid, another battle took
place near Achmer. It began when 8th Air Force Lieutenant Urban Drew of the
362st Fighter Group approached the area in his Mustang. Drew was the leader of
the 375th Fighter Squadron, and he and his pilots were returning to base after
escorting B-17s in attacks on targets in Czechoslovakia.
There had been reports of Me-262s operating in the vicinity,
and Drew was keeping a sharp eye out for them. As he looked down, he was
startled to see two twin-engine aircraft taxi onto a runway and take off. Drew
realized at once what they were. He ordered his Deputy Squadron Leader, Captain
Bruce Rowlett, to cover him.
Drew’s combat report described what happened next:
“Waited until both jets were airborne, then rolled over from
15,000 feet and caught up with one Me-262 when he was 1,000 feet off ground. I
was indicating 450 mph. Me-262 couldn’t have been going more than 200 mph. I
started firing from approximately 400 yards, 30 degrees deflection, and as I
closed, I saw hits all over the wings and fuselage. Just as I passed him I saw
a sheet of flame come out from near the right wing root, and as I glanced back
I saw gigantic explosions and a sheet of red flame over an area of 1,000 feet.
The other Me-262 was 500 yards ahead, and had started a fast climbing turn to
the left. I was still indicating 440 mph, and had to haul back to stay with
him. I started shooting from about 40 degrees deflection, and hit his tail
section. I kept horsing back, and hits crept up his fuselage to his cockpit.
Just after that I saw his canopy fly off in two sections, his plane roll over
and go into a flat spin. He hit the ground on his back at 60 degrees angle and
exploded violently. I did not see the pilot bail out. Two huge columns of smoke
came up from the Me-262s burning on the ground.”
The first aircraft Drew destroyed had been flown by Leutnant
Gerhard Kobert. The pilot of the second was Oberfeldwebel Heinz Arnold. The
action was witnessed from the ground by Hauptmann Georg-Peter Eder, who had
intended to lead the flight but was prevented from taking off because of an
engine flameout.
For unexplained reasons, Hauptmann Robert Weiss’s Fw-190s
were not in the air providing cover when Drew attacked. Also, the crews of the
flak batteries were slow in reacting; it wasn’t until the two jets were piles
of blazing wreckage that the gunners opened up.
When the 88mm shells began bursting, Drew ordered his
wingman, Lieutenant Robert McCandliss, to join him in making evasive maneuvers
at treetop level. Instead, McCandliss, who was on his sixteenth mission and had
not yet achieved a victory, disobeyed and attacked the flak batteries. That
proved to be a mistake. The gunners were only too happy to have a shot at the
American pilot who dared strafe them. There were so many batteries in the area
that all the crews had to do, was put up a barrage, and the Mustang flew
straight into it. The last Urban Drew saw of McCandliss’s Mustang, it was afire
from nose to tail and going down. There was nothing to be done for him; the
squadron leader flew on.
Drew was not aware of it, but McCandliss had just enough
altitude to bail out. He jumped clear, pulled his ripcord, and the chute
blossomed. The hard landing sprained his ankles, but otherwise he was not
seriously hurt. German troops quickly surrounded him and took him prisoner, and
he spent the rest of the war in a Stalag Luft in eastern Germany.
When Drew returned to base, he was anxious to see his combat
films, but to his irritation, the gun camera had malfunctioned and he could not
verify his claims. The others in his flight had not seen the Me-262s destroyed,
so they couldn’t back him up.
In the weeks following the attack at Achmer, the many small
plants that were constructing components of the Me-262 increased their
efficiency. As a result, the pace of assembly also improved, and the aircraft
were turned out in greater numbers. Though most of these were the pure fighter,
a few of the fighter-bombers were still being built, even though their
performance in combat continued to be less than satisfactory. Not only were
they unable to bomb with accuracy, they were also 100 kph slower than the
fighters, which made it easier for enemy pilots to shoot them down.
Nevertheless, the Air Ministry was not willing to give up on
the idea of the Sturmvogel as Hitler’s high-speed bomber. When Messerschmitt
was ordered to come up with a new version, his team designed the Me-262
A/2a/U2. In this aircraft the entire forward section was removed, including the
cannons, and a new nose made of glazed wood was fitted in its place. A
bombardier lay inside the nose and focused on the target with a Lotfe 7H
bombsight. Examples of the jet were sent to Lager Lechfeld for testing.
Flown by Gerd Lindner and Karl Baur, the Me-262 A/2a/U2
achieved good results. According to the test pilots’ reports, bombs dropped
from altitudes as high as 5,000 meters landed with acceptable accuracy. But
there were problems with the aircrafts’ aerodynamics, and the project stalled.
Another version of the Me-262 the team designed was a trainer with two seats in
tandem. This would enable instructors to fly with pilots being introduced to
the aircraft. Not many of the two-seaters were built; most pilots new to the
jet received only ground instruction, and learned by flying it.
As more Me-262s went into service, American fighter pilots
kept them busy in dogfights, which prevented many of the jets from attacking
the bombers. As a result, most of their victories, as well as their losses,
occurred in combat with Mustangs and Thunderbolts. Leutnant Schreiber also had
success in engagements with Lightning F-5s, shooting down two of them in one
battle on 29 October.
For Schreiber, the day was memorable for another reason as
well. The Lightnings belonged to the RAF 7th Photo Recon Group, and were
accompanied by Spitfires. After Schreiber got his second kill he pulled up in a
climbing right turn, and his Me-262e collided with a Spitfire. Both aircraft
burst into flames. The British pilot, Flight Lieutenant Wilkins of RAF 4
Squadron, was killed. Although singed and only halfconscious, Schreiber jumped
from the burning wreckage and popped his chute. He landed intact, and a day
later was back in the air.
Also on 29 October, Feldwebel Büttner and Oberfeldwebel
Göbel of Kommando Nowotny ran across a flight of P-47s that were shooting up a
train. The low-flying Thunderbolts made perfect targets. Each pilot chose one
and dove on it, taking care not to pick up too much speed. One quick burst of
cannon fire from the cannons was all that was needed. As the two P-47s spun in,
the others quickly rose to give chase, but all they saw were wisps of exhaust
smoke as the jets pulled away and disappeared.
With additional Me-262s becoming available, General Galland
was eager to establish more units with them. In the first of these, KG54 was
given the new designation KG(J)54, and received its jets at the beginning of
November. I Group of this unit was established at Giebelstadt, and a second
part of it, designated IIKG(J)54, was sent to Neuburg. A training unit was also
formed, and stationed at Lechfeld, with Hauptmann Eder appointed commander. The
pilots assigned to the unit were all veterans, so instruction simply covered
the characteristics of the aircraft. Eder would lead them in combat when he
thought they were ready.
A major problem was the growing shortage of J2 jet fuel.
Pilots were limited to one hour of flying circuits of the field, two hours of
aerobatics, one hour of cross-country, one hour of flying at high altitude, and
two hours of practicing formation flight. Many accidents occurred, most of them
fatal.
By then American pilots were encountering Me-262s with
increasing frequency. On 1 November, three wings of 8th Air Force bombers were
en route to bomb Gelsenkirchen, a city on the Rhine, when they were attacked by
four jets of Kommando Nowotny. The B-17s and B-24s were escorted by Mustangs of
the 20th and 352nd Fighter Groups, as well as Thunderbolts of the 56th Group.
The bombers were flying at 8,500 meters, a higher altitude
than usual. But the Me-262s were still higher, and despite the enormous
disparity in numbers, the jets dove in with cannons blazing. Oberfeldwebel
Willy Banzhaff sent his shells into a Mustang of the 77th Fighter Squadron,
killing the pilot, Lt. Dennis Allison. Other Mustangs gave chase, but they had
no hope of catching the Me-262. Banzhaff could have escaped altogether, but he
committed a tactical error. Instead of continuing his dive, he pulled up. A P-47
pilot, W.L. Groce, shouted into his mike: “Spread out, and we’ll get him if he
turns!”
Banzhaff did, climbing and swinging left. Groce and
Lieutenant W.T. Gerb of the 352nd poured machine gun and cannon fire into the
jet, and its port engine became wreathed in flames. The aircraft went into a
spin, and Banzhaff bailed out.
Groce then followed an order that had recently been issued
by the USAAF High Command. He came about and fired at the German who was
hanging defenseless in his parachute harness. This was a practice Luftwaffe
pilots could not believe was happening, but it was. Many Americans as well
could hardly believe the order, and refused to carry it out. Fortunately for
Banzhaff, Groce missed.
But Banzhaff’s good luck was not to last much longer. On 3
November, he and another member of Kommando Nowotny were flying near Hesepe
when they were spotted by the pilot of a Hawker Tempest Mk. V. One of the most
powerful piston-engine fighters of the war, the Tempest mounted a 2,400 hp
Napier Sabre engine and was armed with four 20mm Hispano cannons. RAF Wing
Commander J.B. Wray was at the controls, and reported:
“I was flying at about 18,000 feet when I sighted two
Me-262s. They were camouflaged blue-grey and were flying in a southwesterly
direction. They saw me and turned in a wide arc to port. I had already launched
an attack, opening to full throttle and diving. My speed was in the region of
500 mph. I closed to about three hundred yards on the starboard aircraft and
opened fire with a four-second burst, hitting the tailplane. The Me-262
continued on course and started to pull away, but before he got out of range I
fired again. Suddenly a large piece flew off the aircraft and he flicked over
onto his back and disappeared downwards into cloud in an inverted position. I
followed, but the thickness of the cloud made it impossible for me to maintain contact.”
Wing Commander Wray did not learn until after the war that
the jet had sustained fatal damage. It crashed at Hitfeld, and its pilot, Willy
Banzhaff, was killed.
On 5 November, Me-262s of Kommando Nowotny attacked another
fleet of 8th Air Force bombers. Feldwebel Büttner shot down a Mustang and a
Thunderbolt, and Oberfeldwebel Baudach also destroyed a Thunderbolt.
Nevertheless, they were unable to penetrate the fighter screen and get at the
heavies.
By then a few more American fliers were learning the best
way to engage the jets. Among them was a pilot who in later years would become
one of the world’s most famous airmen. He was Charles E. Yeager.
