Messerschmitt Night-Fighter COMBAT

Flight Journal, Jun 2003 by Ebhardt, Rolf, Stuart, Christopher L

My goal was to attack and survive

Standing before a screaming Maj. Prinz Egmont zur Lippe Weissenfeld (Kommandeur of III./NJG 1) was the last thing Lt. Rolf Ebhardt wanted to do before he took off to evade a USAAF bomber attack in the afternoon. But that's exactly where he was, and the Prinz let him know in no uncertain terms that he wasn't happy with the young Leutnant's flying skills. Within months, the events of that morning-and a few others that followed-were forgotten as Lt. Ebhardt learned to master the Bf 110 and became an ace in the Luftwaffe night-fighter arm known as the Nachtjagd.

When most of us think of the vast WW II European air war, we conjure images of the great aces who flew P-SIs and Bf 109s, jousting with one another in the heavens. Seldom do we think about the day-to-day challenges of simply surviving to fight a frequently unseen enemy against impossible odds.

Dr. Rolf Ebhardt takes us on a journey that's seldom talked about, but one that was experienced by many.

BAUCHLANDUNG [BELLY LANDING]

"As a German night-fighter pilot, I became operational with Nachtjagdgeschwader 1./NJG 1 in October 1943 after I had completed training. I was 20 years old and had about 300 hours of flying experience. I had flown several types of aircraft but not the Bf 110-the primary fighter used by NJG 1.

"At this stage of the War, the Allies were well on their way to gaining complete air superiority over Germany and the occupied countries. By night, the RAF practiced area bombing, whereas during the day, the USAAF attacked strategic targets such as marshalling yards, airfields, factories and oil refineries. To avoid the destruction of our machines on the ground, we often took off when an attack was anticipated. We traveled to remote areas and loitered at 600 feet until the area was 'clean' again, and then returned to base. This particular sortie was called Blindschleiche, or 'blind worm.' We did this at 1448 hours on December 13, 1943, and returned at 1538 hours because our airfield had not been attacked.

"Before I continue, I will briefly describe the necessary steps a pilot must take when approaching the runway while flying the Bf 110: flaps 20 degrees, reduce air-speed to approximately 110mph, then landing gear down. To lower and raise the landing gear, there were two buttons on the 110; these buttons were placed very close to each other on the instrument panel; directly beneath them where two similar buttons for the flaps. What we never practiced during our training was landing in close formation with other aircraft. As a matter of fact, it was strongly forbidden. In the operational units, however, it was quite common.

"As we approached the airfield, I flew fairly close to my Staffelkapitan [squadron leader], concentrating on keeping my 110 in the correct position. When it came time to lower the flaps fully, I pressed the button at 150 feet as we crossed the border of the airfield. The Staffelkapitan landed safely; then, suddenly, a red flare flew into the sky-a distinct signal to go to full power and go around again.

"What had happened was this: being unfamiliar with all the Bf 110's cockpit handles and buttons, I had pressed the wrong button. Instead of lowering the flaps, I had raised the landing gear! The controllers in the tower saw this and immediately fired the red flare. When I saw the flare, however, I thought of flying school and remembered that 'Landing in close formation, strongly forbidden, but permitted in operational units.' I saw no point in going around, so I continued my approach, and after a few seconds, landed on my belly!

"When I reported the mishap to the group commander at the Operations theater, he jumped up from his chair and shouted 'What the hell have you done!? 1 shall give you a scooter for Christmas; then you can roll all over the airfield!'

"All this happened in front of the radar girls in the Operations theater. Naturally, I was embarrassed; and, blushing, I wished the earth would open up so 1 could sink into it! To add insult to injury, a piece of the right propeller had broken off and hit my foot during the crash landing. So I had to stay in bed for two days and could only hobble around with a walking stick and a dressing on my foot. This was my fourth (and last) belly landing: two in an Arado 96 and one in a Do 217-all of them due to technical defects, I must add!"

FRIENDLY FIRE

"It is February 13, 1944. The controller at Divisional Operation Theater at Stade [Higher Command, 60 miles west of Hamburg] who is following the bomber stream along the North Sea over Holland and the Frisian Islands expects air raids against northern German cities or Berlin. We get the order to move from our home base of Twente [Holland] to Wittmundhaven, a night-fighter airfield near the coast. This is necessary to intercept the bombers.

"We arrive at 1700 hours; after we eat, we attend a briefing with our night-fighter comrades who are based here at Wittmundhaven. For the time being, the weather is acceptable, but it's deteriorating, with thick clouds from 300 to 6,000 feet and heavy rains. Now the waiting begins; meanwhile, the weather is getting worse! To pass the time, we play cards, read, talk of the upcoming mission and try to get some sleep.