Shadow over the Atlantic

by Robert Forsyth

  At 1054 hrs, 9V+DK spotted the first ships in 24° West 9585. Littek described the events that followed:

  And then it was business. In Grid 9427/24 West we saw a cargo steamer. We knew all freighters were now equipped with Flak and so we remained at a distance. From the bridge of the freighter, a signal flashed at us; it was the same letter continually. Willi, our other radio operator, was well aware what these signals meant, and later it would be very important.

  The clouds hung low over the Atlantic, a deep, thick grey. That was to our advantage. We flew further and then after the next bank of clouds we discovered, just south of us, a cruiser. Using our flash-signaller as a safety ruse, Willi sent the letters used by the freighter to the cruiser, and this was replied to promptly with specific letters. So that was the daily watchword for the convoy.

  However, the crew of the cruiser must eventually have recognized our [wing and fuselage] Balkenkreuze and now opened up on us with all barrels. But their range fell short, and Oberleutnant Kremser applied full throttle to get us out of the danger area.

  Robert Stein handed me a piece of paper with details of the identified freighter, some destroyers, one cruiser and an aircraft carrier. I encrypted the information and sent the report to Quickborn and Mont de Marsan on the shortwave.

  But we weren’t able to celebrate for long, because suddenly the clouds parted and we were in blue sky. Then our hearts began to beat quickly, because our tail-gunner, Hans Roth, had made out three dots behind us which, as they came closer, turned out to be fighters. We called them bumblebees, because they were so small and quick.

  Oberleutnant Kremser went pale. There was only one possibility, if we did not want to go swimming in the Atlantic: escape at full power. In the meantime, the three fighters had drawn nearer and opened fire on us. Our three gunners, and Willi in the turret, answered them with the 2-cm cannon … Still blue sky all around us. Where was the cloud cover?

  But the sky was merciful. To the north-west we plunged into a real pea-souper. Rescue when we needed it. We immersed ourselves into it, and I brushed the sweat from my forehead. My God, we were nervous. Some would have said ‘lucky’. Following us must have been too risky for our pursuers and they left us alone.

  Indeed, shortly after having sighted the convoy, British carrier-borne aircraft reported ‘having driven off the Ju 290.’17 Littek continued:

  Breathing sighs of relief, we hear the voice of our commander: ‘Müller, how much fuel have we left?’

  ‘It’ll get us to Mont de Marsan,’ replied our flight engineer, Fietje Müller. ‘And now we could all use a cup of coffee! That is, if things are OK.’ I agreed and went to make some coffee. The job of on-board cook was entrusted to me. Water and coffee were available and our electric stove with two rings was still working. As I served coffee, Sbresny drank his cup empty and said, ‘Man, what a pig of a mission.’

  At 1210 hrs, the Fliegerführer Atlantik ordered 9V+DK to act as a shadower for an air-striking force and to expect a relief at 1730 hrs. At 1536 hrs, the aircraft signalled the convoy’s position as still being 24° West 9427 as well as the presence of more enemy fighters. This warning was, in turn, relayed to the Condors and He 177s which, by this time, were airborne. At 1800 hrs, it was decided to break off:

  Now we flew an eastwards course home. This time Hans Roth played his harmonica: ‘One Day You’ll be with Me!’

  It was already getting dark, as we made our way across the Bay of Biscay. Otto-Karl Kremser admonished us: ‘Boys, watch out and don’t fall asleep – we’re not safe yet!’ I was damned tired and took a Pervitin tablet.

  When we landed at 2247 hrs at Mont de Marsan, all was forgotten. The technical personnel patched up a few hits in our dear old Ju 290 9V+DK. We hadn’t noticed them. That mission lasted 17 hr and 36 min.18

  Significantly, 9V+DK’s relief did not locate the convoy until 2020 hrs in 24° West 8457, by which time darkness had very much fallen and the KG 40 strike force had already been in the area for some eight minutes. The strike force was now down to just the He 177s of II.Gruppe, four Fw 200s having also been despatched, but one of which was shot down en route to OS.67/KMS.41, while the other three were unable to locate it and aborted.

  At 1857 hrs, Pursuer scrambled four Martlets from 881 Naval Air Squadron (NAS) to intercept the seven Hs 293-carrying He 177s, and they engaged the bombers close to the convoy, 650 km west of Cape Finisterre. By the end of the attack, II./KG 40 had lost the aircraft of its Kommandeur, Hauptmann Walter Rieder, which plunged into the sea some three kilometres from the ships. Another Heinkel had been attacked by nightfighters on the flight out and crashed into a forest, having glided for some four kilometres. It was destroyed. The remaining aircraft were not able to execute the attack and aborted.19 British Intelligence concluded that: ‘Owing probably to the failure of the shadower’s relief to reach the convoy at the specified time, the striking force did not arrive in the convoy area until 2012 by which time the light must have been unfavourable and no attack developed.’20

  On 14 February two Ju 290s were sent out to shadow the ONS.29 Liverpool–Halifax convoy to the west of Scotland and Ireland for the Igel group of U-boats. Commencing at 1130 hrs, Ju 290A-5 Wk-Nr 0179 9V+FK of 2./FAGr 5 was instructed to cover an area immediately to the west of the North Channel from 25° West 4666 to 25° West 1834 to 15° West 0857 to 25° West 2677, although there were problems in contacting the aircraft by radio and the instructions were delayed. Then, at 1340 hrs, in 46.40 North 09.45 West, the Ju 290 encountered a Sunderland flying boat, but after a brief engagement, both aircraft took cover in clouds without damage. The Junkers also made various weather reports from the area of 15° West. However, no sightings were made by either aircraft and both returned safely.21

  On the 15th, mechanical problems continued to plague the Gruppe: at 0821 hrs, Ju 290A-5 Wk-Nr 0176 9V+GH, flown by Leutnant Hellmut Nagel of 1./FAGr 5, took off from Mont de Marsan for the Atlantic, but was forced to return after just 31 minutes because of ‘damage to the propellers’.22

  A single Ju 290 o FAGr 5, ‘E’, was detailed to track the southbound convoy OS.68/KMS.42 of some 30 vessels, which had been first sighted by a Ju 88 the day before, although one source claims the Germans had believed it to be the New York-bound ON.224 which had departed Liverpool the day before.23 The escort for the convoy picked up a shadower by radar in 55° 07´ North 12° 15´ West at 1515 hrs at 16,000 ft. ‘E’ subsequently reported contact with the convoy at 1730 hrs in 25° West 4546. Twenty-five minutes later, radar operators on board the carrier HMS Biter, escorting OS.68/KMS.42, reported that the convoy was shadowed from 1755 hrs to 1811 hrs. At 1800 hrs, ‘E’ reported to the Fliegerführer that the convoy was making six knots and, five minutes after that, provided a weather report. At 1840 hrs, ONS.29 also reported a shadower in 54° 34´ North 13° 30´ West, but there was no report made about this convoy by the Ju 290. Possibly as a result of technical problems, the Junkers was not able to report full details until much later, and closer to home, when it advised that the convoy (OS.68/KMS.42) consisted of ‘40 motor vessels, two especially large units, several escorts, course 220°, six knots.’24 The ‘large units’ were probably the escort carriers HMS Biter and HMS Tracker, which were operating alongside the 7th and 9th Escort Groups.25

  Over the next three days FAGr 5 made all efforts to maintain a shadow over the convoys. But 16 February was to be the costliest day thus far for the Gruppe. Two aircraft were assigned to fly operations, the first being Ju 290 A-5 Wk-Nr 0175 9V+FH of 1./FAGr 5, commanded and flown by Leutnant Eberhard Elfert with Oberfeldwebel Conrad ‘Toni’ Oberhauser as second pilot, which was briefed to fly out over the coast at 0500 hrs in 14° West 5978. A second aircraft, Ju 290A-5 Wk-Nr 0177 9V+DK, flown by the Staffelkapitän of 2./FAGr 5, Hauptmann Bergen, with co-pilot Oberleutnant Kurt Baumgartner, was to fly out at 0840 hrs in 14° West 2421. A point of note here is that, as the winter weather raged in the Atlantic making conditions difficult for U-boats and aircraft, in addition to its sh
adowing and reconnaissance duties, around this time the Gruppe assumed greater responsibility for weather surveying and in this regard, from February 1944 a number of meteorological observers were assigned to FAGr 5.26 Joining the crew of Bergen’s aircraft on the 16th was Referendar (clerk) Werner Cordes from the Wetterwarte Atlantik (Atlantic Weather Station) of the Fliegerführer Atlantik, based at Angers.

  Both aircraft were assigned to relocate OS.68/KMS.42, which had last been sighted at 54° 54´ North 12° 29´ West at 1800 hrs the previous evening.27

  Hauptmann Josef Augustin, Staffelkapitän of 1./FAGr 5, recorded: ‘Both crews were tasked with finding enemy shipping west of Ireland in the Atlantic. Enemy convoys were passing regularly through the area between America and England in both directions.’28 Indeed, by the morning of the 16th, OS.68/KMS.42 and Biter were ‘zig-zagging’ southwards some 170 miles to the west of Ireland.

  At 1040 hrs, Elfert and his crew made contact with the convoy, and one minute later his aircraft was spotted by the Allied vessels in 55° 39´ North 14° 51´ West. According to a subsequent Allied report, the Ju 290 ‘crossed the convoy’s stern twice at a distance of 7–8 miles and released one glider bomb which fell into the sea between the aircraft and the convoy.’29 This is unlikely because the Ju 290 variant intended to carry the FuG 203/320 Kehl/Strassburg radio control system, and thus able to launch and control an Hs 293 glide-bomb, was the A-7, still under construction at that time (see Chapter Six).30 Most probably what the Allied crews had witnessed was the Junkers discharging a FuG 302 C Schwan-See radio buoy for homing by U-boats in the area.

  But in the first of two occasions that day, FAGr 5’s nemesis was to be the Avenger-class escort carrier (based on the US Navy Long Island class Auxiliary Aircraft Carrier) HMS Biter – formerly the 9,100-ton C3-type passenger cargo vessel the Rio Parana, which had been acquired by the US Navy in May 1941 and converted in New York. Following repairs at Rosyth Naval Dockyard on the Firth of Forth, needed as a result of damage to its rudder inflicted by a rogue torpedo carried by a ditched Swordfish biplane in November 1943, Biter had returned to duty in January 1944. On the 12th of that month, the three stubby, radial-engined Grumman Martlet IV fighters of 811 NAS, a composite squadron under Lieutenant-Commander E.B. Morgan comprising both Martlets and its main equipment of Swordfish intended for anti-submarine work, re-embarked from RNAS Inskip. A month later Biter commenced convoy support operations west of Finisterre together with HMS Tracker and the 7th and 9th Escort Groups.31

  Upon sighting Elfert’s Ju 290, 811 NAS began to warm the engines of two of its Fighter Flight’s Martlet IVs, to be flown by that morning’s duty pilots, New Zealanders Temporary Lieutenants Eric Sven Erikson and William Dimes. Shortly afterwards, the order to launch was given and Dimes powered off in Martlet IV FN252/R closely followed by Eriksen at the controls of FN168/Q.32

  The weather conditions were cloudy and bad as the two fighters left Biter, but they were ably vectored towards the Junkers by Temporary Lieutenant Francis Pagan in the carrier’s Fighter Direction Room. Indeed, so determined was Pagan to bring about success that in the ‘final stages’ of the engagement, he abandoned his radio and radar and resorted to directing the Martlets visually from Biter’s bridge. According to the citation for Acting Warrant Air Officer Stanley Brown: ‘In one case the normal channel of communication with our aircraft broke down, but by Mr Brown’s quick appreciation of the situation, and his previous foresight in preparing for such an event, this breakdown was overcome, and the action successfully completed.’

  In the Fighter Direction Room, ‘Leading Seaman (Radar) Percy Clipsham operated the Type 79 Radar with great ability and concentration, and in one case enabled an interception to be made owing to his excellent height-finding.’

  According to Erikson’s subsequent recommendation for decoration:

  On Wednesday, 16th February, Lieut. Erikson took off from HMS Biter in heavy weather and was directed onto a large enemy four-engine aircraft. He at once attacked through defensive cannon fire and shot out one engine before the enemy entered cloud. He skillfully anticipated the point where the enemy would leave cloud, attacked once again and shot down the enemy in flames.

  Meanwhile, as ‘Lieut. Erikson closed in to shoot down the enemy, Lieut. Dimes did his best to draw the enemy’s fire onto himself.’ 33 With one of its right engines shot away, the Ju 290 crashed into the sea at 1105 hrs before its crew members had time to signal their observations to the Fliegerführer Atlantik.34

  Erikson and Dimes both experienced some difficulties in landing back on the deck of Biter, but they eventually managed to get down safely and successfully. Erikson was awarded the DSC ‘for outstanding courage and skill’, while Dimes, Pagan, Brown and Clipsham were mentioned in despatches for their efforts.35

  The crew of 9V+FH comprising Elfert, Oberhauser, Leutnant Albert Pape (observer), Oberfeldwebel Albert Holzmann, Unteroffizier Rudolf Dreissig (both radio-operators), Oberfeldwebel Otto Zech (flight engineer), Oberfeldwebel Wilhelm Hausmann, Oberfeldwebel Gustav Schlatthaus, Feldwebel Erich Barlau and Obergefreiter Albert Pfeffer (all gunners) failed to return.36

  A few hours later, at 1602 hrs, Hauptmann Bergen’s 9V+DK made contact with ONS.29 but the Germans assumed the Halifax convoy was OS.68/KMS.42, although 22 minutes later that convoy did report the Ju 290 shadowing in its vicinity at 52° 55´ North 16° 46´ West. At 1610 hrs, Bergen’s crew transmitted a position report at 25° West 6336 for a course of 180°, still believing the convoy to be heading south.

  At 1634 hrs, however, the Junkers was tracked by the radars of HMS Biter as being in the area of OS.68/KMS.42 and, from that point, the German aircraft would be in trouble.

  Since October 1943, Beaufighters of No. 235 Squadron, RAF, had been detached from their main base at Portreath in Cornwall to St Angelo in County Fermanagh, Northern Ireland, from where they had been engaged in regular anti-submarine operations over the Atlantic. For most of January and February 1944, the squadron had flown anti-aircraft convoy escort missions and in mid-February it had been charged with keeping a watch over ONS.29 and OS.68/KMS.42. Like the Ju 290s of FAGr 5, the Beaufighters had on occasion struggled to find the convoys. The day before, on the 15th, one Beaufighter had searched for three hours but had been unable to locate the ships. But at 0919 hrs on the morning of the 16th, Flight Sergeants T. Shaw (pilot) and R.W. Hall (navigator) took off in aircraft ‘E’ to cover the Atlantic convoys. Theirs was the first of what would be a relay of single-aircraft sorties. At a height of 2,000 ft, they successfully met OS.68/KMS.42, and, shortly after, the Beaufighter was detailed by HMS Biter ‘to investigate a bogey’ which may well have been Eberhard Elfert’s Ju 290, but nothing was seen. Shaw and Hall were relieved by a second aircraft, ‘J’, and that machine, in turn, was relieved by ‘K’, crewed by Flying Officers J.T. Sammon (pilot) and S.S. Harris (navigator) at 1415 hrs.

  Meanwhile, the fourth and last aircraft of the relay, Beaufighter ‘N’, piloted by Belfast-born Squadron Leader Robert R. Wright, together with his navigator, Flying Officer P.J.F. Ross, from Edinburgh, had taken off from St Angelo at 1322 hrs on their first patrol from the Irish base to join ‘K’ over the convoy. Wright was an experienced pilot, already credited with the probable destructions of an He 111 and Fw 200.

  Once paired, the two Beaufighters circled the convoy, but very soon they were both detailed to investigate a ‘bogey’, which ultimately proved to be a Fleet Air Arm Fairey Albacore. Then at 1605 hrs, Sammon and Harris were vectored to investigate yet another ‘bogey’, but they returned to the convoy after losing contact. For the next 40 minutes, Biter sought to locate the enemy aircraft. At 1641 hrs a third vector was given by the carrier and both Beaufighters went to investigate once more. This time, nine minutes later, ‘an unidentified aircraft was seen flying due North at 8,000 ft, five miles distant.’37 As the two British aircraft closed, they identified the other machine as a Ju 290 flying at 6,000 ft. This was Karl-Friedrich Bergen’s 9V+DK.

  Flying Offic
er Sammon attacked the Junkers from the rear, closing to 400 yards, but the big German aircraft ‘disengaged in cloud’. Moments later Squadron Leader Wright dived to 7,000 ft, turned to port and launched a second attack, this time on the beam and out of the sun. Despite defensive fire from the Junkers at 1,500 yards out, Wright closed to 600 yards before using his guns. Once more the Junkers sought sanctuary in the cloud, but Wright did not give up. Moments later, 9V+DK again emerged from the cloud and this time ‘dense black smoke’ was seen ‘pouring’ from both starboard engines.38 Opening fire again, Wright saw strikes on the right side of the Ju 290’s fuselage and its starboard engines. After ‘losing height to 1,000 ft, the Ju 290 dived vertically into the sea. No survivors were seen.’39 According to a subsequent British report, the Junkers had impacted ‘40 miles from the nearest ship’. As the Beaufighters departed, having searched in vain for survivors, ‘the only evidence of the combat marking the spot was the tyre of a landing wheel floating in the sea.’ Throughout the whole engagement, Ross ‘gave a running commentary of the attack to the ships of the convoy over the R/T.’ He recalled, ‘I first knew we’d found the Ju. when the skipper shouted over the the inter-com: “It’s a Jerry. Here goes,” and in we went. It was all over within a couple of bursts and we did not see a single survivor.’

  ‘It was a lucky first trip,’ Wright later recounted, ‘We were flying at 10,000 feet, dived to 6,000 feet and saw sparks along Jerry’s fuselage and starboard wing as I gave him the first burst. He was lost in cloud for a second or two, but emerged with black smoke pouring from starboard engines, seemed to glide from 6,000 feet to 1,500 feet and then dived into the sea.’