Powder Rocket Branch:
Nebelwerfer 41 (Smoke Thrower, Model 1941). The well-known six-barreled rocket mortar. In two sizes: 150 mm and 210 mm. The projectiles are between four and five feet long and come in many shapes and manners of manufacture. The range is around six thousand yards, the tubes are fired electrically around the circle, with one-second intervals between rockets. The range of the large type seems to be up to nine thousand yards. When fired an enormous flash and backflash is produced. Tactical employment is the same as that of field howitzers, but the Nebelwerfer is far inferior in accuracy. The name implies that it was originally developed as a chemical mortar.
Schweres Wurfgerat (“Heavy Throwing Engine”). This also comes in two sizes, the 3zo mm incendiary rocket and the z8o mm high-explosive. Each type was used at first singly, with the shipping crate doubling as a launching rack when propped up and then in units of six, two rows of threes banked together on an artillery carriage. The projectiles for the smaller size weigh about one hundred eighty pounds, the larger size over two hundred thirty pounds. The large type always holds about eleven gallons of incendiary fluid—oil and gasoline—the smaller one always high-explosive, even though some were found marked with a yellow cross, the German marking for mustard gas. Employment is similar to that of the Nebelwerfer, but the range is not over two thousand yards. The rocket proper of the Schweres Wurfgerat seems to be the same as that of the larger variety of the Nebelwerfer, being also 210 mm in diameter.
Airplane rockets. First encountered in quantities over Schweinfurt by Flying Fortresses. The range which can be utilized seems to be well over one thousand yards, the caliber of the rockets around 80 mm. The Focke-Wulfs carry only two, one under each wing, while Allied rocket-equipped fighters carry up to eight.
A.A. rockets. Antiaircraft rockets, similar to the Z-guns of the British, were first used in quantities in the defense of Berlin. They seem to be able to attain a maximum altitude of around twenty thousand feet. Not much is known about their size and construction. But calculations of probable size and resulting performance, published by Ley and Schaefer in the July, 1944, issue of The Military Engineer led to the following results, with assumptions based on the known data of high-compression powder rockets built by F. W. Sander:
Takeoff Weight Mass-Peak Total Time
weight empty ratio velocity altitude required
(lbs.) (lbs.) (ft./sec.) (ft.) (sec.)
Type I. 176 66 1:1.6 1270 29,000 48.4 Type II.207 97 1:2.14 1170 27,000 49.1
The column “weight empty” is understood to include a projectile of about twenty-six pounds. The figures of twenty-nine thousand and twenty-seven thousand feet respectively refer to the altitude where a rocket the projectile of which did not explode would begin to fall back. Naturally this peak altitude cannot be utilized for A.A. fire. The peak velocity occurs in both cases twenty seconds after leaving the launching rack, and in both cases around thirteen thousand feet.
These, then, are the known results of the work of the Powder Rocket Section of the German research laboratory. That section also produced a German bazooka, patterned after the American rocket launcher but much heavier and more cumbersome, and a rocket-accelerated bomb, patterned after those used by the Russian Shturmovik planes.
Going over to the work of the Flying Bomb Section, it may be useful to switch viewpoints and tell the story as it unfolded to the Allies.
As early as 1942 the Allies, and more particularly the British, knew that the Germans were concentrating on a new weapon. Suspicion quickly centered on Peenemunde which was already marked in the files of the Allies as the development center of German rocket weapons. R.A.F. reconnaissance planes, ranging all along the Baltic seashore, took photographs of many places, among them Peenemunde. Much of the photographing was done rather openly, so that the Germans would get used to photographic reconnaissance over the Baltic. Sometimes the R.A.F. came mine-laying, which furnished a reason for all the photographing.
As a matter of fact it is said that the Germans in Peenemunde, standing behind the lines of electrically charged barbed wire which kept visitors away, became careless and just glanced at the British planes. The British planes took pictures of them, mapping the whole layout in the process so that there was little doubt what each building represented. Some were dwelling places, some were administration buildings where plans and blueprints were kept. Still others were storage buildings and workshops.
One day one of the pictures showed a very small airplane on a launching ramp. A little later some stories began to leak out from the Danish islands, even though these islands were occupied by the Germans. The stories told of the crashing of small unmanned airplanes of German manufacture, obviously crewless to begin with, doing no particular damage.
The world as a whole was still unaware of Peenemunde and kept watching the Russian front and the North African campaign. But by the end of August, 1943, everybody knew that Peenemunde must be important—very important.
During the night of August 17-18, 1943, the R.A.F. sent what was then an exceptionally large force of heavy bombers to the unobtrusive northwestern tip of the island of Usedom. Two thousand tons of bombs were concentrated on that small spot. Such an expenditure of bombs was in itself a strong hint that the target must have been important before the bombs rained down upon it. What was an even stronger hint was the admitted loss of forty-one aircraft. This meant that the out-of-the-way spot was heavily defended.
The result of that heavy and costly raid was in keeping with the effort and the losses. As Prime Minister Churchill described it later —speech of July 6, 1944: “…very great damage was done to the enemy and his affairs and a number of key German scientists, including the head scientist, who were all dwelling together in a so-called Strength-through-Joy establishment, were killed.”
Churchill did not name the “head scientist” in that speech and it was generally believed that he referred to Oberth. Months later Allan A. Michie of the Reader’s Digest was permitted to reveal the name of the kommandant, he was forty-nine-year-old Luftwaffe expert Major General Wolfgang von Chamier-Gliesezenski. It was then also revealed that, for reasons of secrecy, the bomber crews of the R.A.F. had no idea what they were ordered to bomb. Only a few group leaders and Intelligence knew. Intelligence had also chosen the date, not only because of moonlight, but because it knew that at that time some seven thousand scientists, technicians and precision workers were assembled in Peenemunde.
It transpired later that five thousand of them died during that night, a good number of them from the explosion of their own stores, set off by blockbusters. The Luftwaffe’s chief of staff, General Jeschonnek, was among them, he had been visiting Peenemunde. It is likely that Ernst Udet, whose death was announced a short time afterward, was there too at that time. Half of all the buildings—there had been forty-five dwelling places before the attack and about one hundred workshops, storage buildings, et cetera—were completely destroyed, the other half badly damaged.
There is no way of telling whether the long delay in the use of V-1 and V-2 was actually due to that raid or whether the Germans planned to hold these weapons back until the Allied Invasion came. The latter is more probable, because Peenemunde, while the heart of the research work, was not the only production center. One was found near Vienna and the 15th U.S. Air Force, operating from Italy, paid several visits to it. There must have been others too.
Even Peenemunde itself had to be subjected to “touching up,” the R.A.F. went back in strength about one year after the first raid and in between the 8th U.S. Air Force, operating from England, went over more than once.
The big August raid seems to have broken the back of the research staff, but a great deal of the research had been done before the raid was made, as subsequent events showed.
The first aftermath of the August raid was—strange workings of the Nazi mind—a wave of propaganda. We have terrible secret weapons, Dr. Goebbels screeched, enorm
ous rockets of fearful power, but so far the Fuhrer has not given the word to use them. The implication, stated later on in so many words, was that the Fuhrer was too humane to use the weapons at his disposal—even though he, one may add, was losing the whole Mediterranean at the time and “disengaging” himself in Russia at a rate without parallel in military history.
In September the Goebbels Ministry “revealed” that the new weapon would be used against England, America being unfortunately out of reach. The spokesman added “for the present,” after a short pause.
On September 26th “specific” information began to come over the wires of the various press services. A Swedish journalist whose name was given as Gunnert Pihl in the dispatches from Stockholm stated that the weapon was a long-range rocket, fired from monster barrels a hundred feet long. The barrels, he stated, were installed within a fifteen-mile radius of Calais and Boulogne. The range of the rockets was given as one hundred twenty-five miles, and it was stated that the pressure in the barrel was so excessive that it would stand only twenty rounds.
To any expert it was clear that the report was either straight German propaganda or a badly garbled version of the real thing. While it did seem likely that a rocket large enough to travel one hundred twenty-five miles would require a hundred-foot launching tube, the statement about the short life of these tubes was obviously wrong. Either the projectiles were rocket propelled, in which case the strain on the launching tubes could not be too excessive, or else the launching tubes were actually long-range guns and in that case there was no need to call them rocket guns.
Whether Pihl’s tale was Nazi-inspired or not, the German Propaganda Ministry observed the large amount of publicity it received everywhere and on December 13, 1943, some more material flashed over the press wires, originating this time from “diplomatic sources” in Zurich. The report, as received in this country, read as follows:
Zurich, December 13 [1943]—UP—Germany has been conducting tests with a rocket shell forty-five feet long, weighing twelve tons. Thirty feet of the shell’s capacity, it was said, is needed for the driving apparatus and fuel. The rocket allegedly is effective over an area of twenty square miles because of the explosive force generated by its charge of compressed nitric acid. It was said that the shell has a theoretical range of one hundred sixty miles although in tests thus far it has been confined to thirty-five and forty-mile distances.
These sources said the Nazis have begun the assembly of rocket catapults on the French Channel Coast despite the fact that tests of the projectile are not yet complete.
It was claimed that the Germans have been experimenting with steam-driven catapults. These reportedly would enable the rockets to be launched with an extremely low initial velocity. The projectile is driven by compressed Diesel oil which lends its propulsive force immediately after the rocket leaves the catapult …
All this sounded like so much hogwash. Just what was meant by an “effectiveness over twenty square miles” remained a mystery which nobody could clear up. It was obviously meant to imply that the area of destruction would be twenty square miles large, but it could also be construed as dispersion or, if you stretched things, even range. It remained mysterious why nitric acid was used as an explosive, not to mention the minor fact that nitric acid as well as Diesel oil, both being liquids, are incompressible to all intents and purposes.
It is now clear that the dimensions given were correct for V-2, while the range is that of V-1, but there was no way of telling then.
At the same time, however, reports came more and more often that heavy Allied bombing formations had dropped the biggest possible tonnage of bombs on mysterious targets in the Pas-de-Calais area which was quickly christened Rocket Gun Coast. I figured out at that time that a rocket, fired from the so-called Rocket Gun Coast, and supposed to hit London, would have to have a mass-ratio of 7:1. Since I was assuming powder as a fuel I doubted the tales of long-range rockets, writing: “… . it boils down to the question whether we want to believe that the Germans can build such rockets. If we do believe it we still have to ask ourselves what good such rockets, being inaccurate, could do.” I suggested then, in December 1943, that the weapon might be a crewless plane, stuffed with TNT and guided by a radio beam.
That article had just been published—in PM—when other papers published a report that the Germans had used their giant rocket guns for the first time. The story was retracted the following day, it had been an almost ridiculous error. The Germans had stated that they had used Leuchtgranaten—flare shells—during a minor naval action in the British Channel, an attack on a British coastwide convoy. The translator had confused Leuchtgranaten and Leuchtraketen which latter word means “distress rockets.” Apparently that did not make enough sense to him, so he dropped the inconvenient “distress,” thus making big headlines.
The latter part of December was filled up with reports on an actual weapon: the German glider bomb, launched against Allied shipping from various types of German bombers, Dornier 217, Heinkel 177, Junkers 290 and Focke-Wulf 200. These glider bombs, weighing about seventeen hundred pounds, were some ten feet long and had ten-foot wings. They had a rocket propulsion unit—it is not known whether powder or liquid fuel—and could be directed by radio-control from the plane which had launched it. The glider bombs were as a rule not too accurate, but did sink a few vessels. It is said that the sinking of the Italian battleship Roma, during its last voyage to surrender at Malta, was accomplished by such a bomb, but other sources state that this was done by a torpedo plane.
The confusion was miraculous to behold: Churchill’s disclosures about the rocket glider bomb—a Peenemunde product, no doubt German-inspired stories about super rockets, daily bombings of the “mystery targets” of the Rocket Gun Coast all arrived together, were garbled with each other and discussed with the most appalling lack of technical knowledge by newspaper commentators, especially the air-power branch.
On January 16, 1944, a rocket story to end all rocket stories came from Stockholm. The super rocket was, according to that story, carried aloft by a bomber and then ignited. After ignition it would rise to a thirty-mile altitude and hit targets sixty miles away. It consisted of three compartments inside:
“One compartment contains a charge of eight hundred eighty pounds of liquid air and Uranium salt solution, the second holds the four hundred fifty to six hundred fifty pound propulsion charge consisting of coal oxide and picric acid, and the third contains the ignition mechanism believed to comprise radioactive salt solution and quicksilver.”
Goebbels’ Ministry, shouting nonsense at the top of its lungs, added a few days later: “Such rockets will cause artificial icebergs in the Channel in case the Allies try a suicidal invasion of the mainland of Europe where they will smash their heads against the Atlantic Wall.”
By the end of January a correct-sounding report came, sent by wireless to the New York Times by C. L. Sulzberger, then with the Fifth Army in Italy. The Nazi secret, he wrote, is a crewless plane. “Flying at high speed it would be extraordinarily difficult to stop with either fighter aircraft, air mines or balloon barrages… .” And, Mr. Sulzberger added: “It was only after Allied bombing began wrecking the takeoff points that the Germans, realizing the Allies were in on their secret, began to brag about its terrific potentialities.”
Goebbels then spoke of the Wunderwaffe, the “miracle weapon,” which would win the war for Germany quickly, once the Fuhrer makes the decision to use it. Berliners, of course, abbreviated Wunderwaffe to Wuwa—which sounds as funny to a German as it does to an American—and every once in a while would ask “Wo bleibt die Wuwa?” (“What happened to the Wuwa?”) But the Wuwa did not appear. Eisenhower and Montgomery invaded France. For a few days things hung in a balance. But no Wuwa.
One week after D-Day the first robot bomb appeared over England’s southern shore. The Wuwa—meanwhile re-christened Vergel tungswalfe or weapon of re
taliation and specifically designated as V-1 —had made its appearance. It was a pilotless plane, 25.4 feet long, with a wingspread of 17.67 feet, carrying a warhead with one thousand kilograms—twenty-two hundred pounds—of high explosive, propelled by an intermittent jet engine, flying at a top speed of about 360 m.p.h. and using one of its one hundred fifty gallons of low-grade aviation gasoline for every mile of flight.
A few weeks later the Berlin radio told that during the early experiments in 1942 the flying bombs had had a tendency to shed their wings and that the trouble could not be found until Anna Reisch, a German woman pilot, had made several flights in one, observing her own vehicle through a periscope. She got the Iron Cross, First Class, for her feat, having been “not dangerously injured” in the experiment.
And British Intelligence had a report on hand stating that Hitler himself had watched a demonstration, seeing a robot bomb chased by a captured Spitfire and smiling with satisfaction when the Spitfire was slowly left behind. The real Spitfire pilots quickly learned that they could make up for the difference by diving on the flying bomb. “After the bomb had been in the air for a certain number of minutes,” to quote from the official history of the “robot blitz,” written by the British war historian Hilary St. George Saunders, “a clockwork mechanism locked the elevators so that they dived into the ground. When the bomb tilted, any gasoline remaining in the tank flowed away from the propulsion unit, cutting off the engine. In several cases the engine stopped before the dive, which gave rise to the belief that there were two kinds of bombs, one which stopped and fell steeply and another which stopped and glided. Actually it was the same bomb—”
Adventures in Time and Space Page 47
