Vanished Hero: The Life, War and Mysterious Disappearance of America’s WWII Strafing King

by Stout, Jay

  Klaus Hahn was one of the young Rammjäger pilots who succeeded that day. He recalled, “The feeling was that you were likely flying your last flight today and that you wouldn’t return from it. You’ll probably be dead. That thought was a part of it,” he said, “and you had to accept it and you had to deal with it.”15 It was to be Hahn’s first combat mission.

  However, it seemed that the odds were against Hahn when his aircraft developed engine trouble soon after taking off from the airfield at Sachau. He was unable to keep up with the other three aircraft that made up his flight. His flight leader dropped back to check on him but, unable to communicate, soon left Hahn on his own; the other three aircraft climbed away and were quickly out of sight. Alone, Hahn considered his options. “To return to base and land was out of the question,” he said. “That would have appeared to be cowardice, so I climbed slowly up to 10,000 meters and then even higher and waited for things to start happening. I must admit, it was an uncomfortable feeling to be flying all alone up there. My plane began running normal. I suspect that the starter gear had gotten stuck and then later freed itself.”16

  It was some time before he saw any other aircraft, but he finally spotted a four-ship of fighters winging toward him. “I almost shouted for joy as, suddenly, four single-motor aircraft approached me. For me there was no doubt—these were Me-109s, because they were flying in the standard schwarm formation. This was the greatest mistake of my life. As I came closer to them I recognized them as Mustangs. There was no escape—I had to engage in combat.”

  The P-51s immediately began shredding Hahn’s aircraft with .50 caliber machine gun rounds. His canopy and instrument panel were hit and his face was cut by shards of glass. “I started taking hits from my left rear. My arm fell off the throttle. I felt warmth on my neck and splintered pieces of the dashboard flew into my face. I did not feel any pain and in an instant I was determined to get out of there. I did a half roll to fall out of the plane.”

  “What actually happened was quite different,” he said. “I got a big shock. I looked up at my left hand that was pushing against the canopy. To be more exact, what remained of my hand slapped against the windshield. It was a clump of bloody meat mixed with a tattered leather glove.”

  His aircraft trailing smoke, Hahn spotted a formation of B-17s directly below him. Badly wounded and seriously shaken by his encounter with the American fighters, he still had the presence of mind—and sense of purpose—to push his fighter down toward the bombers. “I did not dive straight at my target,” he recorded, “but a little from the side. I pulled my machine out of the dive as steeply as I could and charged at the side of the bomber. With the high speed that I had built up in the power dive, I approached the bomber very rapidly. What actually happened during the actual ramming, I cannot tell from my own observations.”17

  In fact, Hahn had no recollection of his impact with the B-17. His next memory was of spinning through the sky. “How I escaped from my ‘Beule’ I have no idea.” Beule translates as “bulge” and referred to the many protruding fairings that covered the various equipment and ammunition bays that were added to later models of the Me-109. “It will be an eternal question for me, how I succeeded in escaping. I have no idea how I got rid of the canopy, how I unbuckled by seat harness and such, since my left arm was useless. I came to my senses later on and found myself spinning down. One of my first thoughts was to fall as far as possible then deploy the parachute. I estimate I deployed my parachute at about a thousand meters.” The shock of the parachute’s opening knocked Hahn unconscious. And once he hit the ground he found that he was unable to move. “Later I learned that both of my femurs were knocked out of their hip sockets, apparently from the impact of landing. Then the pain set in.”

  “Two German soldiers were the first to find me,” Hahn said. “It is an unpleasant memory. They stole everything from my cargo leg pockets and disappeared with the comment that I was a goner. Then came the local inhabitants, all older men and women and my memory of that is a pleasant one. The inhabitants who found me stopped an Army ambulance that just happened to be driving by. It drove me to several different hospitals that refused to admit me but finally I and an Army Lieutenant Colonel who had suffered a shot to the head were accepted into the German Army hospital at Munster-Lager.” Hahn’s left arm was eventually amputated, but after a painful and protracted recuperation period he made an otherwise full recovery.

  The aircraft that Hahn had hit was most probably flown by Budd Wentz of the 487th Bomb Group. “Suddenly,” Wentz said, “while on route to the IP [Initial Point], we received a terrific jolt and bang. I tightened up on the wheel to prevent it from swerving. The waist gunner reported over the intercom that our plane had been hit in the tail by an Me-109 diving down from four o’clock high.”18

  The rudder of Wentz’s B-17 was torn completely away and parts of the vertical stabilizer and both horizontal stabilizers were also shredded or otherwise ripped off. Consequently, he found that adding or pulling power to the engines on one side or the other was the only means by which he could exercise even minimal control over the aircraft. After coaxing the shuddering aircraft westward he spotted an airfield to the north and expertly brought the ship down without crashing.

  The airfield—Wernershöhe—was dotted with Me-262s and Wentz and his crew were certain they were about to be made POWs. He was startled then, to see American troops running toward his aircraft as he shut the engines down. An officer stood up in his jeep and shouted, “What the hell are you doing? You aren’t supposed to land here!” The airfield had been captured just hours earlier.

  Wentz and his crew were astounded to discover several captured B-17s at Wernershöhe that had been maintained in working order. Since soon after the Americans started flying against the Nazis in 1942, the Germans had scavenged wrecked aircraft and in some cases returned them to flying condition. These aircraft were used for training and, occasionally, clandestine missions. Exhibiting remarkable resourcefulness, Wentz and his men used a jeep generator for electrical power and started the engines of one of the captured bombers. “Then we took off and flew back to our air base [Lavenham] in England,” Wentz said.

  “DON’T BE A FOOL”

  Although the main body of the Luftwaffe had been rendered impotent, the speedy, jet-powered Me-262s had proved themselves virtually invulnerable to Allied piston-powered fighters. Essentially, the jet pilots went where they wanted and did what they wanted so long as they had adequate fuel. When confronted, they simply raced out of harm’s way. For the most part they were vulnerable only around their bases when they were still accelerating after takeoff, or when they were compelled to slow to landing speed. To protect them, the Luftwaffe guarded the bases with concentrated antiaircraft batteries and protective umbrellas of traditional fighters.

  Although the reality was that the Me-262s were still being operated in relatively few numbers, there was no denying the truth that the jets could pose a very real threat to the Allied strategic bombing campaign if they became more numerous before the war ended. This was articulated in a report, Allied Air Supremacy and German Jet Planes, which declared, “Maintenance of Allied Air Supremacy over Europe in 1945 is confronted by a serious threat. This threat menaces both continuance of our Strategic bombardment and the superiority, both offensively and defensively, of the fighter bomber cover under which our troops fight. This threat is the opposition of a large and increasing German jet plane fighter force …”1 Consequently, the USAAF’s leadership directed heavy bomber attacks against the Luftwaffe’s Me-262 bases.

  One of these raids was directed against the airfield at Oberweisenfeld near Munich on April 9, 1945. The 55th was assigned to protect bombers of the 3d Air Division through the target area and back out. Approaching the target, Righetti directed the 338th Fighter Squadron to stay with the bombers while he took the 38th and the 343rd to patrol south of Munich. In the vicinity of Ingolstadt, four Me-262s approached the bomber stream and the 338th moved to block them.
Although the P-51s were unable to stop the German fighters from diving through the bombers, none of the ships were hit and the jets did not return for another attack.

  At the same time, Ed Giller—leading the 343rd Fighter Squadron—spotted a single Me-262 descending through twenty thousand feet in a gentle turn with two P-51s from another fighter group in hot pursuit. The German jet was outdistancing the two American fighters, but Giller had an altitude advantage and released his external fuel tanks before diving down to join the chase. Close behind him were Red Flight and the other three pilots of his own White Flight. He closed the distance to 1,500 yards but was unable to get any closer. “I followed him for ten minutes with the 262 doing a very gentle turn to the left and losing altitude. We were now over the southern edge of Munich with the German jet at 1,000 feet and me still at 7,000 feet.”

  The Me-262 pilot made for the airfield at Munich/Reim. Giller was wary of the antiaircraft fire he knew was ready to cover the German jet, but still pressed his attack as the enemy pilot slowed to landing speed. “Going balls out, I caught him at fifty feet just over the perimeter track. He was going west to east about 100 yards to the right of the runway. I fired several bursts and observed strikes on the left wing root and fuselage.”

  Still moving at 450 miles per hour, Giller blasted past the Me-262. “Looking back, I watched him crash-land on the field 100 yards to the right of the runway in a large cloud of dust and flying pieces. He didn’t burn, which I assume was due to the fact he was out of fuel.”2 Red Flight and the rest of White Flight streaked after Giller, low across the airfield which was rippled by streams of antiaircraft fire. As they did so, they flamed an Me-410 on the ground.

  Giller led the other pilots up to three thousand feet where they orbited south of the airfield. Righetti described the subsequent action in the group’s mission summary report. “Very shortly thereafter Tudor Leader [Giller] spotted an He-111 being towed south on the main autobahn just south of Munich. He dropped down, and upon investigation of the enemy aircraft’s destination, he sighted many beautifully hidden aircraft of all types, including jets, parked on the autobahn’s shoulders and backed into the woods about six miles south of Munich and surrounding Munich/Brunnthal Landing Ground.”

  The aircraft that Giller discovered numbered a hundred or more and were well camouflaged with nets, brush and other vegetation. Giller called Righetti and asked for permission to attack which was readily granted. As Giller and his accompanying flights went to work, Righetti immediately directed the 338th to continue escorting the bombers, while he kept the 38th and the remainder of the 343rd to provide top cover for the strafers.

  Noted ace Franz Stigler recalled how the “Ami Jabos,” or American fighters, made operations from many of the Luftwaffe’s fighter bases so dangerous that the Germans were compelled to turn their autobahns into makeshift airfields. “In many respects, this was an improvement over our regular bases,” he noted. “It [the autobahn] was long, its concrete strips were numerous, and during the day, two to three fighters could be hidden under its many underpasses. Furthermore, the surrounding woods made for ideal field maintenance. They usually lined the autobahn for miles and we soon found ourselves sharing these woodland hideouts with night fighters and even large, four-engine bombers such as the FW-200 Condor.”

  “Since normal civilian automobile traffic had long since ended,” Stigler said, “the highways were virtually empty. Ammunition, fuel and supplies could be quickly brought to us from nearby towns along the excellent network.” Stigler recalled that the autobahns were “particularly handy” for inexperienced pilots. “They could be seen for miles from the air, they were mainly long, straight roadbeds and there were enough of them throughout Germany to insure [sic] that a pilot running low on fuel, or, with a damaged aircraft, could find a safe, if temporary, haven.”3

  Righetti’s 55th set to work making mayhem of the “haven” that Giller had just discovered. Giller alone destroyed four aircraft to include the He-111 that initially gave the hideout away. “It was sitting on the north side of the woods. I put in a short burst and received in return a nice explosion and fire on the right wing root and engine nacelle.”4

  When Giller and his flights finished their work, Righetti dived down with the rest of the group. On his first pass he set an Me-262 afire. On his second pass he flamed two, twin-engine aircraft. He destroyed two more Me-262s on his third firing run: “One immediately exploded and as I closed on the second, it caught on fire.” He made several more passes, firing bursts as he spied new targets. “Although I scored hits on several, since it was impossible for me to determine the extent of damage, I make no claims.”

  The action quickly grew frenzied as pilots made simultaneous passes from multiple directions. Tom Welch exercised his wise-guy patter in the mission summary report:

  From then on, we are playing the hokus pokus, with Mustangs wild, and what with a few finesses and criss crosses, almost everyone is making their bid. There is only one flak passer who is slipping in a burst of 20 [millimeter antiaircraft fire] every then and now, between doing a little of the hooch kooch, and the shimmy around the slugs that are dropping in on him. Now, of course, he is being of no bother to anyone but himself, and we are leaving the area with very little flak damage, and 55 of the jobs up in smoke and flames and fire.

  With his ammunition nearly depleted, Righetti hauled Katydid through a turn back toward the autobahn, leveled the aircraft’s wings and started one more strafing run. “On my final pass I attacked two enemy aircraft, a long-nose FW-190 and an unidentified twin-engine aircraft parked at the northeast end of the field, on a head-on pass from west to east. The FW-190 caught on fire and I therefore declare it as destroyed, while the unidentified, twin-engine, enemy aircraft suffered considerable damage.”5 Righetti’s bag for the day was six aircraft, three of them Me-262s.

  In the mission summary report he characterized the group’s work that day as “the finest mass of burning destruction ever seen by the undersigned.” In fact, the 55th’s pilots were eventually awarded credit for an ironic total of 55 enemy aircraft destroyed. Righetti also offered the following observation, perhaps in order to preempt any skeptics. “Each pilot fired most of his ammunition, and there were so many targets that it is sincerely felt that personal claims are accurate and very conservative. There were no less than one hundred aircraft in the immediate area, and flak was limited to three or four light, inaccurate guns.”

  To add personal context—and even more credibility—he declared, “I made eight-to-ten passes and had one or more aircraft as targets each time; and each of the approximately 35 aircraft [pilots] involved had the same opportunity.” Finally, the claims of each pilot included signed, corroborating witness statements from other pilots.

  Righetti’s letter home that night reflected his excitement at his group’s success. “Flew uneventfully yesterday but had good hunch on mission to Munich today, so led again. No interception of bombers [by enemy aircraft] so dropped down and found the woods full of them. My group got 56. I got six destroyed and two damaged—total now twenty. Three were jets for which I get special credit.”

  That Righetti declared a total of 56 enemy aircraft destroyed by the group rather than the 55 that were later credited officially and recorded in the mission summary report, indicated that the claims had not yet been vetted by the Victory Credit Board. It also showed—with a discrepancy of only one—how carefully Righetti’s men managed their claims. Righetti also declared that he was due special acknowledgment for the Me-262s he had destroyed. Certainly the Eighth’s leadership made the jets a top priority, but they were still counted the same as any other destroyed aircraft.

  Righetti knew that his letter had a certain raggedness to it. His weariness after a very long day and more than five months of combat during the coldest months of the year showed. “If this whole letter seems slightly garbled, it’s just that I’ve had a busy day. I’ll do better tomorrow when my head clears—love to all.”

&
nbsp; The Righetti family knew that men like Elwyn were dying over Europe but there was no way for them or anyone else that wasn’t a participant to understand it. They simply prayed for him and continued their life on the ranch. This was underscored in a letter from Pop which he scratched out on the kitchen table of the old ranch house on April 2.

  Not much to tell you. Been fixing or rebuilding fences and farming for Sudan [grass] at the Lewis place. Was to a Holstein cow meeting and learned how a good cow should look. Well, we only have one that would score 10%. The rest, zero or under. The cattle are getting fat. Dairy still doing fine. Hogs getting ready for L.A. [market in Los Angeles]. Even the fatted calf is getting better and better. Your gals are fine. The family is going to the swim club dance April 7th….

  Sister Betty likewise kept Righetti abreast of doings on the ranch. “We’re certainly enjoying having your two girls here. Some days they’re both darlings. Some days just one is. Some days neither is. Aren’t we all? Hurry home and kick a few holes in their heads….” It is evident from Betty’s words that although the two young women enjoyed living together and helping Righetti’s mother run the house, Cathryn’s strong will occasionally clashed with her new family’s equally willful disposition.

  But Betty also reassured her brother with a note of fondness and admiration for his little family: “You’d be so proud of your daughter. She’s the smartest little gal. So’s your wife. She refuses to go to S.F. [San Francisco] with Jennebell Leach and me. Says she’s tired of going places sans escort. She’s waiting ’till you get home to take her out.”

  “We’re all fine here, tho’ saddened by FDR’s sudden death. He was a very great man, I think.” Her feelings were shared by a majority of Americans and it would be some time before the Righettis and the rest of the nation got used to the notion of a leader other than Roosevelt.