Stuka Pilot

Not altogether without misgivings I first fly low along the Danube. The weather is the worst imaginable. 120 feet cloud ceiling; no take-off or landing allowed at almost every aerodrome. The Vienna woods are continuously wreathed in the densest clouds. I fly up the valley from St. Polten to Amstetten heading for Salzburg where I land. Here I am already expected and am driven to the Reichsmarschall’s country house not far from the Berghof on the Obersalzberg. He is absent in conference with the Führer and we are at table when he returns. His daughter Edda is already a big and well brought-up girl; she is allowed to sit down with us. After a short constitutional in the garden the conversation takes an official turn, and I am all agog to know what is in the wind this time. House and garden are in really good taste; nothing vulgar or ostentatious. The family leads a simple life. Now I am officially given audience in his bright and manywindowed study, with a glorious panorama of the mountains glittering in the late spring sunshine. He evidently has a certain foible for old customs and costumes. I am really at a loss to describe the garment he is wearing: it is a kind of robe or toga such as the ancient Romans wore, of a russet color and held together with a gold brooch. I cannot precisely describe it. For me at all events it is a novel rig out. He is smoking a long pipe reaching to the floor with a prettily painted porcelain bowl. I can remember my father having possessed a similar instrument; in those days the pipe was taller than I. After eyeing me in silence for a while he begins to speak. I am here again for another decoration. He pins on my chest the Golden Front Service Medal with Diamonds in recognition of my recently completed two thousand sorties. It is an absolutely new kind of medal, never before awarded to anyone, for no one but I had flown so many sorties. It is made of solid gold with, in the centre, a platinum wreath with crossed swords, beneath which is the number 2000 in tiny diamonds. I am glad that there are no unpleasant strings attached to this errand on which I have come.

Then we discuss the situation, and he thinks I ought to lose no time in returning to my base. I intended to do so in any case. He tells me that a large scale offensive is in preparation in my sector and that the balloon will go up in the next few days. He has just returned from a conference in which the whole situation has been discussed in minutest detail with the Führer. He expresses surprise that I have not noticed these preparations on the spot, as approximately three hundred tanks are to be employed in this operation. Now I prick my ears. The number three hundred flabbergasts me. This is an everyday occurrence on the Russian side, but on ours it is no longer credible. I reply that I find some difficulty in believing it. I ask if he is at liberty to divulge the names of the divisions with the number of tanks they each have at their disposal, because I am exactly in formed about most units in my sector and their complement of serviceable tanks. On the eve of my departure from the front I had spoken with General Unrein, commanding the 14th armored division. That was a fortnight ago, and he had complained bitterly to me that he had only one tank left, and even that was actually hors de combat because he had built into it all the flying control apparatus, and this was essentially more valuable to him than a serviceable tank, for with good intercommunications we Stukas were able to neutralize for him many objectives which his tanks could not put out of action. I therefore know the strength of the 14th armored division exactly. The Reichsmarschall can hardly believe me as he thinks he has heard a different figure for this division. He says to me, half in earnest, half in jest: “If I didn’t know you, for two pins I would have you put under arrest for saying such a thing. But we will soon find out.” He goes to the telephone and is connected with the Chief of the General Staff.

“You have just given the Führer the figure of three hundred tanks for Operation X.” The telephone is loud; I can overhear every word.

“Yes, I did.”

“I want to know the names of the divisions concerned with their present strength in tanks. I have somebody with me who is well acquainted with the position.”

“Who is he?” asks the Chief of the General Staff.

“He is one of my men who must know.” Now the Chief of the General Staff has the bad luck to begin with the 14th armored division. He says it has sixty tanks. Goering can hardly contain himself.

“My man reports that the 14th has one!” A lengthy silence at the other end of the line.

“When did he leave the front?”

“Four days ago.” Again silence. Then:

“Forty tanks are still on their way to the front. The rest are in repair shops on the line of communications, but will certainly reach their units by zero day, so that the figures are correct.”