Stuka Pilot

I have decided to lead the column which is going back by road. It will be a very long column because all formations under my command including the flak are to march with the ground personnel. Everything will be ready by 6 o’clock and then we shall make a start. The squadron leader of the 2nd Squadron has instructions to fly all his aircraft west. When the commodore hears of my intention to lead the ground column he orders me because of my wound to fly while Fridolin is to lead the march. There is a formation under my command on the airfield at Reichenberg. I can no longer reach it by telephone, so I fly there with Niermann to inform it of the new situation. On the way the cockpit hood of my Storch flies off, its climbing performance is bad; I need it, however, because Reichenberg lies on the other side of the mountains. I approach the airfield cautiously through a valley; it already presents an appearance of desolation. At first I see nobody and taxi the aircraft into a hangar with the intention of using the telephone in the flying control room. I am just in the act of getting out of the Storch when there is a terrific explosion and a hangar goes up in the air before my eyes. Instinctively we fall flat on our stomachs and wait for the hail of stones which tear a few holes in our aerofoil, but we are unscathed. Next to the flying control but a lorry loaded with flares has caught fire and the flares explode all around up in a harlequinade of colors. A symbol of the debacle. My heart bleeds—only to think of it. Here at all events no one has waited for my news that the end has come; seemingly it has arrived considerably earlier from another quarter.

We climb back into the crippled Storch and with an interminably long take-off she lifts herself wearily from the airfield. Following the same valley route by which we came we get back to Kummer. Everybody is busily packing his things; the order of march is arranged in a way that seems tactically most convenient. The A.A. guns are parceled up through the length of the column so that they may be able to put up a defense against attack, should the need arise, if anyone tries to hinder our westward march. Our destination is the American-occupied southern part of Germany.

After the column has started all the rest, except those who want to wait until I take off, will fly away; many of them will have a chance to escape capture if they can land somewhere near their homes. This being out of the question for me, I intend to land on an airfield occupied by the Americans as I need immediate medical attention for my leg; therefore the idea of my going into hiding is not to be considered. Besides, too many people would recognize me. I see no reason either why I should not land on a normal aerodrome, believing that the allied soldiers will treat me with the chivalry due even to a defeated enemy. The war is over, and so I do not expect to be detained or held prisoner for long; I think that in a very short time everyone will be allowed to go home.

I am standing by, watching the column loading up when I hear a droning high above; there are fifty or sixty Russian bombers, Bostons. I have barely time to give warning before the bombs come whistling down. I lie flat on the road with my crutches and think that if those beggars’ aim is good there will be appalling casualties with us all so close together. Already the crash of the bombs as they make impact with the earth, a little carpet of bombs in the middle of the town, a thousand yards from the road where we were drawn up. The poor people of Niemes!

The Russians come in twice to drop their bombs. Even at the second attempt they do no damage to our column. Now we are in column of route and make a start. I take a last comprehensive look at my unit which has been for seven years my world and all that means anything to me. How much blood shed in a common cause cements our fellowship! For the last time I salute them.

Northwest of Prague, near Kladno, the column runs into Russian tanks and a very strong enemy force. According to the terms of the armistice arms must be surrendered and laid down. A free passage is guaranteed to unarmed soldiers. It is not long after this that armed Czechs fall upon our now defenseless men. Bestially, with outrageous brutality, they butcher German soldiers. Only a few are able to fight their way through to the West, among them my young intelligence officer, Pilot Officer Haufe. The rest fall into the hands of the Czechs and the Russians. One of those who fall victim to the Czech terrorism is my best friend, Fridolin. It is infinitely tragic that he should meet with such an end after the war is over. Like their comrades who have laid down their lives in this war, they too are martyrs for German liberty.