Von Richthofen: The Legend Evaluated

by Richard Townsend Bickers

  VON RICHTHOFEN

  THE LEGEND EVALUATED

  RICHARD TOWNSHEND BICKERS

  © Richard Townshend Bickers 1996

  Richard Townshend Bickers has asserted his rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  First published 1996 by Airlife Publishing Ltd.

  This edition published by Endeavour Press Ltd in 2014.

  Table of Contents

  FOREWORD

  CHAPTER 1 - TWO RECORDS IN THE RICHTHOFEN TRADITION

  CHAPTER 2 - KNOW YOUR ENEMY

  CHAPTER 3 - HEREDITY AND FORMATIVE YEARS

  CHAPTER 4 - WAR IS DECLARED

  CHAPTER 5 - THE RECONNAISSANCE OBSERVER AND PILOT

  CHAPTER 6 - THE FIGHTER PILOT

  CHAPTER 7 - THE REAL START OF A FAMOUS CAREER

  CHAPTER 8 - MANFRED’S ATTITUDE TO LOTHAR

  CHAPTER 9 - THE PACE QUICKENS, THE DANGERS GROW

  CHAPTER 10 - THE LUFTSTREITKRÄFTE’S RECORD MONTH, APRIL 1917

  CHAPTER 11 - SOME BRITISH ACES

  CHAPTER 12 - FRENCH, ITALIAN AND AMERICAN ACES 1914-1918

  CHAPTER 13 - A REST, THEN MANFRED RETURNS TO THE FRONT

  CHAPTER 14 - THE FOKKER TRIPLANE ENTERS SERVICE

  CHAPTER 15 - IN ACTION AGAIN AND THE FOKKER TRIPLANE’S DEFECTS

  CHAPTER 16 - FOOTPRINTS ON THE SANDS OF TIME

  CHAPTER 17 - THE GREAT ALLIED FIGHTER LEADERS IN 1914-1918

  CHAPTER 18 - THE GREAT FIGHTER LEADERS IN 1939-1945

  CHAPTER 19 - THE KOREAN WAR

  CHAPTER 20 - CONCLUSIONS

  BIBLIOGRAPHY

  Extract from The First Great Air War by Richard Townsend Bickers

  FOREWORD

  Rittmeister Manfred Freiherr von Richthofen is a dashing and aristocratic designation that loses nothing in translation: Cavalry Captain Baron Manfred von Richthofen. It well befits the character and short but brilliant life of the man who bore it.

  His autobiography, Der Rote Kampflieger, was published in Germany in 1917, many months before his death in action the following year; in America as Red Battle Flyer in 1928 and in France as Le Corsaire Rouge in 1931. He has had German, British and American biographers. He also figures in numerous books on general air operations in the First World War or specifically about fighter aces. Several have been translated from the original languages for foreign publication.

  Despite so much attention, he remains not only a complex but also an enigmatic and controversial personality and there is still something fresh to say about him.

  He is generally viewed with respect and admiration. The most jaundiced exception is Arch Whitehouse, according to whom, ‘Aggressive though he was, von Richthofen made more than exaggerated claims and never, if he could avoid it, gave credit to a comrade for victory. He was notably jealous of his brother Lothar and disgustingly arrogant before young pilots of his Staffel.’

  But Whitehouse’s sour account of his own service on the Western Front as a cavalry trooper and Royal Flying Corps air gunner makes a heavy demand on one’s credulity and leaves an unattractive impression of the writer rather than his subject.

  This present work is an evaluation of Richthofen as a fighter pilot and leader in comparison with illustrious predecessors, contemporaries and successors of his own and other nationalities; and his influence on air fighting from his own time to the Korean War, after which homing missiles rather than guns have predominated.

  The basic principles for a fighter pilot emanate from the brief dictum of Hauptmann Oswald Boelcke, the first great fighter innovator and leader, in 1915. In answer to Richthofen’s question about what accounted for his outstanding success, he replied, ‘Well, it’s quite simple. I fly close to my man and aim well, and then of course he falls down.’ This simplistic statement might have been merely a dismissive or jocular retort, not a concise definition, but it nevertheless expresses the essence of the matter.

  In 1917, Leutnant Carl Degelow, who was to be the last recipient of Germany’s highest decoration, the Pour le Mérite, confirmed that the essence of victory was ‘To get ever closer, metre by metre — even three or four metres.’ Such proximity suggests a certain rashness: if the enemy aircraft exploded, the attacker could also be blown to bits or his own machine hurled out of control to an almost certain crash. However, caution has never been conspicuous in a fighter pilot’s nature.

  In 1939, Group Captain Sir Douglas Bader KBE, DSO, DFC, one of the greatest fighter pilots and leaders of the Second World War, based his tactics on the methods of the 1914-1918 British pilots of whom he had read as a schoolboy, and cadet at the RAF College, Cranwell. ‘Get as high above your enemy as you can, with the sun behind you, and you’ll have the advantage. Shoot from as close as possible.’

  Group Captain A.G. ‘Sailor’ Malan DSO, DFC, whom many of his most distinguished comrades have rated highest among World War Two fighter leaders, set out the following ‘Ten Commandments’ in 1940.

  1. Wait until you see the white of his eyes. Fire short bursts of one to two seconds, and only when your sights are definitely ‘on’.

  2. Whilst shooting think of nothing else. Brace the whole of the body, have both hands on the stick, concentrate on your ring sight.

  3. Always keep a sharp look-out, ‘keep your finger out’.

  4. Height gives you the initiative.

  5. Always turn and face the attack.

  6. Make your decision promptly. It is better to act quickly, even though your tactics are not of the best.

  7. Never fly straight and level for more than thirty seconds in the combat area.

  8. When diving to attack, always leave a proportion of your formation above to act as top guard.

  9. INITIATIVE, AGGRESSION, AIR DISCIPLINE and TEAM WORK are words that MEAN something in air fighting.

  10. Go in quickly — Punch hard — Get out!

  Had Richthofen been alive then, by which time weaponry had been much improved, and aircraft performance and the size of fighter and bomber formations had greatly increased, we can be sure that he would have given the same advice as Bader and Malan. He was already practising and teaching some of these principles.

  To assess his skill as a fighter pilot in comparison with his contemporaries and those of later generations, there is the evidence of his record and the types of enemy aircraft he destroyed. To gauge his influence over his comrades, the verbal comments, books, articles and letters by some of them are available. To judge his ability as a squadron or Wing leader and his influence on air fighting and leadership in later wars, he must also be examined for a more profound and rare gift. In his brilliant book, The Ace Factor, Mike Spick identifies this as ‘The ability of the pilot to keep track of events and foresee occurrences in the fast-moving, dynamic scenario of air warfare’, known now as Situational Awareness.

  This is sometimes a natural talent and sometimes the fruit of experience. Whichever way it is acquired, those who possess it have been the most effective fighter leaders: Manfred von Richthofen was one of them.

  CHAPTER 1 - TWO RECORDS IN THE RICHTHOFEN TRADITION

  On 1 September 1942, Oberleutnant Hans-Joachim Marseille, commanding a Messerschmitt 109 squadron in the North African desert, gave a fine display of the example set by Manfred von Richthofen a quarter-century earlier.

  On the night of 30 August, General Rommel, commanding the Afrika Korps, had launched the attack that he believed would finally defeat General Montgomery’s Eighth Army. The land battle was supported on both sides by bombing. At 7.30 two mornings later, Marseille, leading the fighter escort, joined a formation of Ju87 dive bombers. There were no other aircr
aft in sight until, nearly an hour later, he warned his pilots that he had spotted the enemy approaching and above. ‘Ten minute dots that swiftly grew bigger’, the official report says.

  The Messerschmitts were at 3,500 metres. As soon as the Stukas began their dive, Marseille put his machine into a climbing turn to the right and called, ‘I’m attacking.’

  The account continues, ‘In a twinkling, his No. 2 saw him swing to the left, position himself behind the last of the suddenly scattering Curtiss P40s [Kittyhawks] and shoot at a range of 100 metres. The enemy aeroplane lurched abruptly on to its left wingtip and, burning, fell like a stone vertically to the ground. The time was 8.20.’

  Like their predecessors in the First World War, German pilots’ aircraft recognition was poor. So, apparently, was this lot’s arithmetic. The aircraft were Hurricanes of No. 1 Squadron South African Air Force; and there were twelve of them.

  The Ju87s had bombed, so the escort went down to stay with them. At 8.30, according to his No. 2, Marseille shot down another alleged Kittyhawk in flames. Three minutes later, by the No. 2’s timekeeping, his leader despatched a third and ‘the flames from burning wreckage lit the desert’.

  While Marseille and his wing man had broken off to deal with the intruders, the rest of the escort had stayed with the bombers. One of them now gave another alarm: ‘Spitfires!’ This time the identification was correct. Six, belonging to 92 Squadron, swept down on the two 109s from above and astern. One Spitfire opened fire with cannon and machine-guns and tracer glittered past Marseille. He turned tightly, climbing; his opponent overshot and he was now on its tail. At 80 metres’ range he shot it down. The time, said his winger, was 8.39.

  What the German report omitted was that six Messerschmitts were damaged in this fight.

  Allied documents show that twelve Hurricanes of 238 Squadron also took part in this action. Major Metelerkamp and Lieutenant Bailey of 1 Squadron SAAF were wounded and crash-landed their severely damaged aircraft. Flying Officer Matthews of 238 Squadron also crash-landed. Pilot Officer Bradley-Smith of 92 Squadron baled out. So five victories was the correct score.

  Marseille’s marksmanship was such that when he landed at 9.14 his armourer found that he had used only 80 rounds of cannon and 240 of machine-gun ammunition.

  At 10.24 am he took off with two others to escort another Stuka raid. (The German records emphasise that there were only three and not the twelve attributed in some accounts.) When nearing the target, Marseille saw two Allied formations, each of fifteen to eighteen bombers and twenty-five to thirty Kittyhawks. Twelve of the latter belonged to No. 3 Squadron, Royal Australian Air Force.

  The account of this operation superfluously informs us that ‘He had never been a man to be impressed by superior numbers of the enemy.’ There was not much point in being a fighter pilot if one were, as even the least experienced in RAF squadrons had demonstrated over southern England in the summer of 1940.

  When eight Kittyhawks peeled off to attack the Stukas, Marseille turned his section of three towards them. The Kittyhawks formed a defensive circle. The German chronicler wrote, ‘This tactic was effective in normal circumstances, but not against Marseille.’ He positioned himself in the middle of the circle and picked off a Kittyhawk at 50 yards’ range. His wing man noted that the time was 10.55. Half a minute later, he sent another down.

  ‘Suddenly the circle fell apart. The leader lost his nerve and they all broke away to the north-west.’ It should not have been taken for granted that the Kittyhawks’ leader had been frightened off; it was part of his duty to protect his pilots’ lives so that they could fight another day.

  This was a futile move, however, for in two minutes Marseille overtook them and shot another down. The five survivors flew eastward with Marseille in pursuit. He soon scored again. The remaining four now headed north-west, found themselves over the sea, so returned landward. Two minutes elapsed before one of these was despatched. One minute later the sixth, and within three more minutes the last two, were shot down. His eight victories had taken ten minutes.

  Generalfeldmarschall Kesselring, commanding Luftflotte (Air Fleet) 2, had come to visit the Geschwader (Wing) which comprised three Staffeln. When Marseille landed at 11.35 he informed Kesselring that his Staffel had shot down twelve aircraft that morning.

  ‘How many did you get?’

  ‘Twelve, Herr Feldmarschall’

  Eyewitnesses relate that ‘The Generalfeldmarschall shook the officer by the hand, then sat down lost for words’.

  At 5 pm Marseille took off with his Staffel to escort Ju88 bombers. The Luftwaffe account of what happened on this operation alleges that fifteen fighters, which Marseille again misidentified as Kittyhawks, attacked. They were actually twelve Hurricanes of 213 Squadron.

  The narrative goes on to state: ‘… at heights between 1,500 and 100 metres, Marseille’s first four victims fell at roughly one-minute intervals between 5.45 and 5.30, the fifth at 5.53. The places where they went down were 7km south, 8km south-east, 6km south-east, 9km south-south-east and 7km south-south-west of Imayid.’

  Marseille’s claims for the day therefore totalled seventeen.

  Apparently the other pilots took little or no part in the fight. Whether Marseille ordered them to leave all the destruction to him while they guarded him, as he usually did, or whether he was so brilliant a shot and so fast in manoeuvre that he beat his comrades to the kill every time, is not revealed. A wing man’s job was to protect his leader’s tail and attack only when necessary, but with so many adversaries in so small a compass one would have expected him to do some shooting.

  Even if none of them engaged the RAF fighters, they must all have been taking evasive action while the dogfight was going on. It therefore seems incredible that in the turmoil such accurate observation and timing could have been made of where and when victims fell, at five widely scattered pinpoints. If Marseille’s wing man memorised them, he must have been unusually gifted; and, with one hand on the throttle and the other on the stick, busy keeping station on his leader, how could he have made written notes?

  In the apposite words of Sir Boyle Roche in the House of Commons in the late Eighteenth Century: ‘Mr Speaker, I smell a rat; I see him forming in the air and darkening the sky; but I’ll nip him in the bud.’

  The RAF archives confirm that 213 Squadron did lose five aeroplanes in this encounter, Flying Officer Wollaston was killed and Sergeant Potter was missing, presumed dead, Sergeant Garrod baled out, Flying Officer Avise and Flight Sergeant Ross crash-landed; all three unhurt.

  Leutnant Stahlschmidt, flying in the Staffel, claimed two of them; so perhaps Marseille’s tally was really 15.

  The total Allied fighter losses over the desert that day were twenty, but the Germans claimed twenty-six. There is no implication of deliberate falsification. It is well known that accurate reckoning of aircraft shot down in an air battle between large numbers has always been difficult.

  Asked, forty-six years later, for his evaluation of Marseille, Generalleutnant Adolf Galland, who commanded the Luftwaffe fighter force from November 1941 until two months before the war ended, replied without hesitation, ‘He was the best.’

  Nonetheless, although he was an inspiring Staffel commander and a miraculous shot, he was hardly the quintessential great fighter leader. Like many fighter pilots in all the air forces that fought in both world wars, he was more interested in adding to his score than in the worth of the aircraft he destroyed. In that characteristic he resembled Richthofen. Marseille tried to shoot down escorting fighters rather than cut through to the bombers, which should have been the priority targets for every conscientious fighter pilot: because in both wars the bomber was the prime instrument of aerial warfare and did the greatest damage.

  There was a difference, however, in their attitude to achieving a high score. Fighter pilots of every generation have, according to their nature, fallen into two categories: hunters and shooters. The definition of this distinction is commonly attribu
ted to Manfred, but it was actually his father who originated the terms in this context. By nature, Manfred was a hunter. Totally committed to the stalking and shooting down of an enemy aircraft when he saw one, until half-way through his career in fighters he was usually satisfied when he had done so. The shooters, such as his younger brother Lothar, whom he chided for this characteristic, rushed into an attack and were not content with the result of a sortie if they gained one victory and had enough fuel and ammunition left to do some more execution. But such is the insidious, heady effect of accumulating success on a grand scale, that by the time Manfred had destroyed forty British aircraft he had, he admitted, become as eager a shooter as Lothar, who started later than he and whose score was mounting rapidly; and sibling rivalry no doubt added to the elder’s lust to kill.

  Marseille had many opportunities to attack bomber formations escorted by fighters. Richthofen had as many to attack escorted reconnaissance machines; but from what can be deduced about his character it seems probable that he would also have gone for quantity rather than quality in the circumstances common in the Second World War.

  There were two basic differences between outstandingly successful fighter pilots, both hunters and destroyers; naturally gifted and therefore exceptional pilots who learned to shoot accurately, and born marksmen who learned to fly adequately. This distinction, however, has to be qualified. Throughout his career a military pilot is assessed from time to time in one of four categories, starting at elementary flying training school; below average, average, above average and exceptional. However, as his flying hours and operational experience increase, an average pilot might well earn higher assessments. Group Captain Sir Hugh ‘Cocky’ Dundas KBE, DSO and bar, DFC, described all the pilots on No. 56 Squadron when he commanded it in 1942, as above average.

  *

  On 11 December 1940, a pilot of No. 33 Squadron, RAF, flying a Hurricane, performed a feat that neither Marseille nor anyone else equalled in either world war. He shot down seven enemy aeroplanes in under fifteen seconds.