Stuka Pilot

On one of the following days a Rata dives from above into our formation and rams Bauer; the Rata crashes and Bauer flies home with a severely damaged aircraft. That evening the Moscow radio sings a hymn of praise for the Soviet pilot officer who “rammed and brought down a Stuka swine.” The radio must be right and we since childhood have always enjoyed listening to fairy stories.

About two miles away from us the army is preparing a new major operation. So quite unexpectedly we receive orders to move to another area. Our new station is called Rehilbitzy and lies some ninety miles west of Lake Ilmen. From dawn till dusk we support the army to the East and to the North.

3. BAD WEATHER FLYING

At Rehilbitzy the summer months are very hot; the minute we come off duty we lie down on our camp beds in the coolness of our tents. Our skipper is living with us under canvas. We have not much to say to each other, but we have a feeling of mutual understanding. We must be essentially alike in character. In the evenings after ops, he strolls off into the forest or across the steppe, and if I do not accompany him I am pretty sure to be either putting the weight or throwing the discus or taking a long distance run round the airfield. These are the ways in which each of us finds recreation after a hard day’s flying and is fresh for the next day. Afterwards we sit about in our tent. He is not much of a drinker, and does not hold it against me that I do not drink at all. After reading a book for a while he will look up at someone in the circle and remark: “Well, Weinicke, you must be pretty well fagged out?” And before one can deny it: “All right, then, let’s turn in.”

So we always go to bed early, and that suits me. “Live and let live” is his motto. Steen’s previous experiences have been much the same as mine; he has profited by them and is determined to be a better C.O. than those he served under. On operations he exerts a peculiar influence over us. He dislikes heavy flak just as much as the rest of us, but no defense can be so strong as to make him drop his bombs from a greater altitude. He is a grand fellow, an exceptionally good officer and a first rate airman, a combination of virtues which makes him a very rare bird. Steen has the oldest rear-gunner in our formation, W. O. Lehmann. I have the youngest. Corporal Alfred Scharnovski. Alfred is the thirteenth child of a simple East Prussian family; he seldom speaks and perhaps for that reason nothing ruffles him. With him I never have to worry about enemy fighters, for not even Ivan can be as dour as Alfred.

Here at Rehilbitzy we sometimes get storms of terrific violence. Over vast areas Russia has a continental climate, and the blessing of cooler weather has to be paid for by thunderstorms that are thunderstorms. It suddenly gets pitch dark in the middle of the day and the clouds hang almost on the ground; the rain comes down in sheets. Even on the ground visibility is reduced to a few yards. As a rule when in the air we give the storm centers a wide berth. It seems, however, inevitable that one day or another I shall get a close view of all this.

We are giving offensive and defensive support to me army in the Luga sector of the front. Occasionally we are also sent out on operational missions far into the interior. The objective of one of these missions is the railway station at Tschudowo, a very important junction on the Leningrad—Moscow line. We know the enemy’s flak and fighter strength from earlier missions there. The A.A. defense is heavy, but unless fresh fighter formations have recently arrived in this area we do not anticipate any particular surprises. Just before we take off a formation of Russian battle aircraft which we call “Iron Gustavs” attacks our air field. We tumble into the split trenches behind our aircraft. Pit/Off. Stahl is the last to jump in, and lands right in the small of my back. That is more uncomfortable than the Iron Gustavs’ raid. Our flak opens up on them, Gustav jettisons his bombs and makes off at low level. Then we take off, setting a N.W. vector at an attitude of 9,000 feet. Not a cloud in the sky. I am flying as No. 2 behind the skipper. During flight I bring my wing plane level with his and look straight into his cockpit. His face is calm confidence personified.

^{IL 2 “Iron Gustav”}