In the meantime, the Canberra PR9 would fly twice daily missions over the Dutch and Danish coastlines to try and identify the home bases for the Messerschmitts. The plan was set, and the first sorties would be flown the next day – the fourth of August.
40
Over the North Sea
4 August 1940
The morning of the pro-active mission brought fair weather. This was bad news for team 1992, but they were determined to put the plan into action. Some hi-level cirrus between twenty five and thirty thousand feet might give some protection for the modern aircraft – but not much. They would have to be very careful indeed not to be spotted by any eagle-eyed enemy pilot. Todd prayed that the two ADV Tornados would soon be repaired – as it was unnatural for a bomber crew to operate at this height. Low level was his natural environment, and being at thirty thousand feet or more was alien to him and the other bomber crews – unless of course, they were transitting to a distant airbase or refuelling.
The Canberra got airborne at 1000 hours. The first German attacks usually came about mid-morning, so the ECM jet would be on station at around 1020. It would sit as high as necessary, using the cloud for cover, but careful not to produce a condensation trail – which would advertise their presence to all and sundry. When the crew spotted the incoming attacks, they would inform ground control who would scramble the fighters from RAF stations around Kent well in time to meet them. This early warning gave the pilots enough time to gain height advantage, and also prevent Luftwaffe aircraft from breaking through to attack airfields or shipping.
And so it was on this occasion. The two sets of fighters met well out to sea and the German crews were taken mostly by surprise. The ensuing dogfights went mostly the way of the RAF but, as usual, both sides began to run out of fuel. A second wave of Spitfires were launched to combat the German bombers that got through, but as the returning first wave fighters prepared to land, the Me 262s came into action. A flight of eight German jet fighters swept over the French coast and chased the recovering RAF planes as they dispersed towards their home bases. The Luftwaffe crews were confident and cocksure. There had been no further mystery attacks since that fateful Sunday, so once again they relished the prospect of easy pickings. However, they had no idea what was waiting for them.
The two Tornados were launched with perfect timing. They zoom-climbed to thirty thousand feet and set up a Combat Air Patrol going north to south. Almost immediately they received the radio call they were waiting for. The ECM Canberra had picked up some chatter in German on one of the frequencies they had been monitoring. It was clear that the Me 262s were just coasting out and levelling at around twenty-four thousand feet. It was easy to look down and see the eight aircraft formation which stood out nicely against the calm sea. Immediately, the Canberra started to jam the German frequency. However, the Germans were sharp and cleared to another, stand-by frequency. The Canberra picked it up almost immediately and promptly jammed that. You could almost see the ‘thinks-bubble’ coming from the German cockpits. Nevertheless, being highly trained the Luftwaffe continued on course – rapidly closing on their prey. However, they were forced to turn the volume to minimum on their radios, as the white noise originating from the British ECM Canberra was ear-splitting and ruined concentration.
It was now that the two Tornados sprang into action.
They both rolled to starboard and vectored themselves to intercept the Me 262s at about ten miles from the English coast. They picked up the formation easily – even amongst the chaos of scattered aircraft returning to airfields in both France and England. It was clear that the Germans were aiming for two main areas. They had split into two four-ships – one heading for Sheerness and one towards Folkestone. Todd and Stumpy took the southern group, whilst Steve Worthington and Bill Earle in the other Tornado took the northern group. The Germans never knew what hit them. Complacent to the end and probably confused and irritated by the deafening white-noise transmitted by the Canberra, the Germans just didn’t expect to be attacked by a technologically superior force.
Stumpy was in his element. It wasn’t often that bomber pilots got to fire air to air missiles in anger – and he was itching for action. As the Americans say – it was a turkey shoot. Stumpy lined up to the rear of the German formation and closed to about three kilometres. He picked the aircraft at the rear, switched on the AIM-9 missile heat seeker, pointed his nose at the jet pipe, waited for the growl indicating lock-on and fired.
The missile flew off the rail and sped towards its target. Stumpy reacted immediately, by targetting the next jet and completing the firing sequence even before the first missile hit. The second AIM-9 was speeding towards it's victim as the first missile hit the rear of the trailing German jet. A ball of fire engulfed the rear of the Me 262 and it immediately flipped onto its back and started tumbling towards the sea. Almost at the same instant, the second German suffered the same fate, except this time it exploded into a million pieces. Neither pilot had a chance.
Todd was sure that the remaining German pilots would hear the explosions and react but they did neither. Both aircraft continued heading west towards the English coast. Stumpy couldn’t believe his luck. He trained his third missile onto the third Me 262 and went through the firing sequence. The missile sped away and as it did so the lead German aircraft pulled up sharply. The game was up. However, it was too late for his pal. The missile slammed into the side of the engine and the aircraft plummeted seawards.
But now Stumpy had a fight on his hands. It was clear that the German leader knew something was amiss. He was climbing steeply and started to turn in towards the Tornado. However, it soon became clear that the German pilots did not have even a rudimentary knowledge of combat in a jet environment. Stumpy merely raised his nose, pointed at the floundering Me 262 and fired his fourth and final AIM-9 and gambled on a beam shot. The lead German pilot just didn’t know what to do. The Me 262 was hopelessly out of its depth. As the German aircraft slowed and almost entered the stall, the missile hit the fuselage at the wing root, exploded and cut the jet in half. Stumpy levelled off, throttled back and headed off towards the north to assist Steve and Bill, whilst whooping on the radio:
‘Fox-Two times four!’ the code for a missile kill.
He needn’t have bothered. The other crew had dealt almost a efficiently with his four victims as Stumpy had. The only difference was that the fourth German aircraft had evaded the last missile and was now diving towards the sea to gain speed and distance. Steve Worthington was giving chase, but it seemed that the little Me 262 was going to escape to fight another day. However, he was just unlucky. As Stumpy was climbing towards the recovery point the German pilot passed right in front of his nose at about three kilometres range. Stumpy selected guns, pulled hard right, pushed down, throttled up and gave chase. The Tornado’s power was just too much for the less powerful jet, and within twenty seconds Stumpy came within range. He lined up the Me 262 and fired a short burst from his starboard gun.
He missed. High and right. Stumpy was out of practice!
The German pilot continued to run.
Stumpy fired again.
If only the Luftwaffe pilot had slowed right down and started an s-turn the Tornado would have simply sped right past him. But he didn’t. And so the fourteen rounds from Stumpy’s second burst ripped into the fuselage and across the cockpit. The German pilot slumped forward in his seat with blood spurting from an enormous wound in the back of his neck. His head, almost severed, dangled over the control column as the small jet picked up speed on its final journey. It must have almost reached the speed of sound on its way towards the surface. However, this aircraft was never designed to stand such stresses and both wings just flew off as the aircraft passed five thousand feet. The remainder broke up as Todd and Stumpy watched. Stumpy turned for home and it was he that broke the silence.
‘Fox-One,’ he was elated – five kills in five minutes was a fighter pilot’s dream and his adrenaline was in full flow. Howe
ver, Todd was slightly more restrained.
‘I can’t say I take any joy from killing five good pilots – but it had to be done. And I suspect it may not be as easy next time.’
‘Why the hell not?’ shouted Stumpy, ‘they didn’t know what hit them. We know they didn’t get a message home because of the jamming – so the Nazis are none the wiser.’
‘Don’t be so naïve, Stumpy. Do you really think that the Germans will write this off to experience. Eight of their best aircraft and eight of their star pilots just disappeared into thin air. Of course they will know something is terribly wrong. Okay, we’ve struck a huge blow for our side today, but I really think we’ll have to be even more careful next time.’
This cautionary note was beginning to irritate Stumpy. He had just had five kills – including a guns kill – a Fox-One, and nothing was going to spoil his mood.
‘For Christ’s sake, Todd, loosen up. You’re the one who said we should make the best of this situation. Well, that’s what we’ve done today – why do have to pour cold water over it?’
Todd didn’t reply and the aircraft recovered to Middle Fleckney in silence. They followed Steve and Bill into the airfield and fifteen minutes later they were climbing out of their jet.
The reception they got was unbelievable. Almost the whole station was in the hangar There was backslapping and speeches and within two minutes the groundcrew were painting multiple swastikas on the side of the two Tornados, and groundcrews were itching to see the HUD (Head Up Display) film of destroyed German craft. It had been a fantastic day for the war effort – eleven of the Me 262s had now been destroyed and in addition, the PR9 had located one of the dispersed bases acting as a temporary airfield for the ‘Blaue-Tod’. The AVM and Sir Peter Andrews were in ebullient mood.
The Prime Minister had sent his personal congratulations, and with them immediate awards of DFCs to all four crew members.
In addition, the RAF had had a field day with the aircraft that got through to the English coast. The unprotected German bombers were repelled easily and without loss. This had been a significant day in the Battle – and it was now just over four weeks until Force ‘92 could go home. And that was what Todd wanted his men to keep uppermost in their minds. If things went wrong in September, they could be stuck here forever – and Todd certainly didn’t want to lose any more men. He felt that their contribution was almost over – but he was in for a real shock – the Prime Minister felt that it had hardly started.
41
8 August 1940
The euphoria of the fourth of August soon faded away. Their immediate elation was dampened by the suicide of one of the airmen from Todd's Squadron. He had hanged himself in his four-man room. His friends weren’t totally surprised as he had been showing signs of unhappiness all week, so Todd turned his wrath on Julie Grant, the morale officer. He made it clear that this type of incident was never to happen again. Most of the team 1992 were working under tremendous strain and he wanted a new buddy-buddy system set up for all personnel. No-one – and that included officers - was to be left alone for significant periods. Any suspicious behaviour or signs of depression was to be reported immediately, and positive action to be taken.
This suicide was to be the last.
***
The eighth of August was a milestone in the air battle for superiority. The British had insisted on sending twenty ships transporting coal through the Dover Straits to Swanage in Dorset. The Germans saw this as a challenge and were determined to sink all twenty. The attacks began at dawn and great numbers of Bf109s, Bf110s and Ju87s leapt airborne from France. In addition, torpedo patrol boats attacked from the surface and Stukas dove incessantly at the convoy. The weather was pretty bad but this didn’t prevent the convoy losing sixteen of the ships to enemy fire.
Despite these appalling losses, it was also a good day for the RAF, shooting down more enemy aircraft than they lost. Nonetheless, the war of attrition was having it's effect. Over two hundred experienced RAF pilots had been lost during July alone – not dog-fighting but defending convoys off Dover – and the RAF was now depending on Reserve & Auxiliary officers to man the cockpits. Although both sides celebrated great victories – but often reporting greatly inflated numbers of kills – it was clear that the RAF was under greater pressure. The government published reported kills as if they were confirmed – thus bolstering the numbers, and in turn, boosting morale. However, Dowding and Churchill realised that they would have to depend a great deal more on Force 1992.
However, the time-travellers were getting nervous. The elation of the previous successes had started to wear quite thin. The German Me 262 squadron had been given a thorough hiding by the Tornado crews, but the Germans (unbeknownst to the British) still had nineteen jets left – with many more in the pipeline - and if the RAF was to survive through to the end of September, these aircraft must be destroyed. However, the Germans had become very cautious. No jets had flown since the episode over the Kent coast and it was clear that they were re-grouping. An attack would come involving the German jets – but when? In addition, Herr Professor Messerschmitt was gearing up his production plant to produce hundreds more of these deadly futuristic aircraft.
The main concern for Todd and the executive committee was to ensure the survival of the aircraft at Middle Fleckney. The Germans must have worked out what was going on – although no Me 262 pilot had survived to tell the tale of his demise. Also, as far as they knew, no other aircraft had spotted the Tornados in flight. However, it would be naïve to expect the Luftwaffe not to try an attack on Middle Fleckney – once they had confirmed it was the correct location for the RAF jets. It was this attack that Todd was determined to prevent – and the best way that he could think of was to launch a pre-emptive strike on the Me 262 home base or bases.
However, the Prime Minister had other ideas. He was so impressed with the results of the last mission that he was determined to try his luck again. If it worked once – it should work again. The 1940s RAF were under huge amounts of stress, and they needed more victories to keep national morale as high as possible. Churchill knew that the Luftwaffe were softening Britain up in preparation for an invasion, so he was determined to give the Germans such a bloody nose that they might alter, delay or even cancel their plans.
A great deal of discussion took place that day – but in the end, as was often the case during the war, the Prime Minister ran out the winner. Purple Force 1992 would fly a similar mission on the eleventh of August and then every three days subsequently. In addition the Canberra PR9 would continue its night-time sorties to search out and find the home base of the Me 262s. The two remaining ADV Tornados were now serviceable and so the crews would be rotated as required. The three day rule was instigated because Churchill did not want to play all his cards at once. The Tornados would be used selectively even though they had already caused severe damage to the German jet force. It was possible that the German jet would not venture out again – fearing the total destruction of the ‘Blaue-Tod’. If that was the case, then Force 1992 had served its purpose, and could further assist and back-up the Spitfires and Hurricanes as required until September the eighth arrived. If the Me 262s ventured forth once again, the Tornados would be ready for them.
42
German Luftwaffe HQ
9 August 1940
Goring was at a complete loss. He could get no answers from his staff, intelligence or even his aircrews. Eight so-called ‘invincible’ Me 262s had been lost on one mission.
Disappeared!
Vanished into thin air – and no-one knew what the hell had happened to them. They had undoubtedly been shot down – but by what?
He wanted answers and he wanted them quickly. The Fuhrer had planned an invasion for the fifteenth of August but that was now looking doubtful. The RAF had not been destroyed, as Goering had promised. In addition, to compound his woes, eleven of the precious jet fighters were gone. Hitler was also demanding answers – but unfortunately Goering had
none.
Consequently, the conventional attacks continued – without jet support – but German losses were beginning to mount. The RAF pilots seemed inspired and the Spitfire was making short work of everything the Germans threw at it. They always seemed to know where and when an attack was coming. The Luftwaffe continued to attack radar sites, but had failed to put any out of action. Hitler was putting so much pressure on Goering that he was starting to panic. Tactics changed almost daily in an attempt to catch the British out – but all to no avail.
Therefore, he turned his attention back to the Me 262. Although this wonder jet clearly had an Achilles heel, he now had a crucial decision to make. Should he hold back the ‘Blaue-Tod’ until he was certain of victory, or should he throw them once more into the fight. In the end the decision was made for him.
43
Middle Fleckney
9 August 1940
The PR9 Recce Canberra descended from its operating height of nearly fifty-thousand feet, where it had been patrolling over the English Channel. The crew had been observing the battles far below for several hours, safe in the knowledge that all of the aircraft involved in the dog-fighting and bombing could only reach an altitude half that of their own operating ceiling.
JET LAG! Page 19
