Shortly before the middle of January we get alarming reports that the Soviets have launched an offensive from the bridgehead at Baranov and have already made a deep penetration thrusting towards Silesia. Silesia is my home. I request an immediate transfer of my wing to this sector of the front. No definite orders come through until 15th January when I am instructed to move the unit, with the exception of 1 squadron, to Udetfeld in Upper Silesia. Being short of transport aircraft, we take the first shift and the armourer personnel with us on board our Ju 87s so as to be ready for operations the moment we arrive, landing en route at Olmütz to refuel. When we are over Vienna the skipper of the anti-tank flight comes through over the R/T: "I shall have to land . . . engine trouble."
I am very annoyed at this, not so much because I can make a shrewd guess that the fact that his fiancee lives in Vienna has contributed to the misbehaviour of his engine, as because my operations officer, Pilot Officer Weissbach, is travelling in his aircraft. This means that Weissbach will not be with me when we land on our new airfield and I shall again have to be bothered with that confounded telephone!
We approach our destination above the familiar, snow clad slopes of the Sudeten. Who would ever have thought I should one day be flying on operations over this region? When we were over the endless steppes of Russia - 1250 miles from home - and the first retreat became necessary we used to say jokingly: "If this goes on we shall soon be based on Krakau."
We regarded this town as a typical L. of C. supply base with all the amenities associated with such a town and possessing a certain attraction for some - at least for a few days. Now our jest has actually come true, even worse. Krakau now lies a long way behind the Russian lines.
We land at Udetfeld. I learn very little from the air division stationed here. The situation is confused, communications with our forward units being mostly cut. They tell me that Russian tanks are already 25 miles east of Tschenstochau, but nothing is yet known for certain as is always the case when things have got out of hand. The Panzer "fire brigade" in this sector, the 16th and 17th Armoured Divisions, is at the moment isolated and fighting desperately for its existence, unable to come to the aid of the other Divisions. The Russian drive seems again to have been mounted on a massive scale; overnight they have penetrated the defence positions of the 16th and 17th Panzer divisions and consequently our air attacks will have to be carried out with the greatest caution, for the fact that a unit is far behind the apex of the Russian drive does not guarantee its being an enemy.
They may well be units of ours trying to fight their way back. So I order all pilots to make certain by low level flying before attacking that they are really Soviet troops. We munitioned before leaving Hungary, but there is as yet no sign of our tanker lorries. I glance at my petrol gauge: we shall just have enough petrol for a short sortie. Twenty minutes after landing at Udetfeld we take off on our first sortie in this area. We are now in sight of Tschenstochau. I am searching the roads running eastward, where the Russian tanks have been reported. We fly low over the houses of the town. But what on earth is going on there? There is a tank moving along the main street, it is followed by a second and then a third. They look very like T 34s, but surely that is not possible. They must belong to the 16th and 17th Panzer divisions. I circle round once more. Now no mistake is admissible; they are T 34s sure enough with infantry perched on top of them. There is no doubt that they are Ivans. They cannot be captured enemy tanks which we are using to supplement our own, for if this were so they would identify themselves by firing Vereys or showing the swastika. My last hesitation is dispelled when I see that the snipers mounted on them are opening fire at us. I give the order to attack. We must not drop bombs inside the town; there is always the chance that the population is still there, that the people have been taken by surprise and have not been able to evacuate the town. The high trolley cables and the tall houses with wireless aerials and other obstructions make low level attack with our cannon-carrying aircraft extremely difficult. Some of the T 34s career in circles round the blocks of houses so that one is apt to lose sight of them when coming in to dive. I shoot up three of them in the centre of the town. These tanks must have come from somewhere; the first of them certainly did not enter the town alone.
We fly on eastward following a railway line and a road. Only a few miles beyond the town the next party of tanks are rolling forward in front of a convoy of lorries with infantry, supplies and A.A. guns. Here in the open country we are in our element and give the tanks an unwelcome surprise. Gradually the light begins to fail and we return to base. Eight tanks are burning. We have run out of ammunition.
We have never taken our task lightly, but we may perhaps have been inclined to regard these tank-hunts as a kind of sport; now I feel it has ceased to be a game. If ever I see another tank after I have used up all my ammunition, for two pins I would ram the thing with my aircraft. I am seized with an uncontrolled fury at the thought that this horde from the Steppes is driving into the very heart of Europe. Will anyone ever be able to drive them out again? Today they have powerful allies supporting them with material and the creation of a second front. Will not poetic justice one day bring a terrible retribution?
We are out from dawn till dusk irrespective of losses, regardless of opposition and bad weather. We are involved in a crusade. We have become very taciturn between sorties and in the evenings. Every one carries out his duty in tight-lipped silence, ready if need be to lay down his life. Officers and men are conscious of a vital current uniting them in the spirit of comradeship without distinction of rank and class. It has been that way with us always.
On one of these days a wireless priority message from the Reichsmarschall summons me immediately to Karinhall; I am absolutely forbidden to fly, this is an order from the Führer. I am feverishly agitated. To have to miss a day's flying and go to Berlin with the situation what it is! Impossible. I just won't do it! At this moment I feel answerable only to myself. I ring up Berlin between two sorties with the intention of asking the Reichsmarschall to grant me a reprieve until the present crisis is past. Relying on the Führer's latest concession I must obtain leave to continue flying; I cannot look on, it is unthinkable. The Reichsmarschall is not there. I try to contact the Chief of the General Staff. They are all in conference with the Führer and so unreachable. The matter is urgent; I am anxious to leave no stone unturned before wittingly disobeying the orders. As a last resort I ring up the Führer. The switchboard operator at the Führer's headquarters does not seem to understand me and presumably jumps to the conclusion that I wish to be connected with some general or other. When I repeat that I want my call put through to the Führer the voice enquires: "What is your rank?" "Corporal I reply. Somebody at the other end of the line laughs as if he understood the joke and puts me through. Wing Commander von Below answers. "I know what you want, but I beg you not to exasperate the Führer. Hasn't the Reichsmarschall told you?"
I reply that this is the reason for my ringing up and describe the seriousness of the present situation. It is no use. He advises me at all events to come to Berlin and talk to the Reichsmarschall; he believes he has a new assignment for me. Furious because for the moment I am baffled I hang up. A hush descends upon the conversation in the mess. Everyone knows that when I am boiling over it is best to let me simmer down in silence.
Tomorrow we are to move to Klein-Eiche. I know the district well; our "tank acquaintance Count Strachwitz lives near by. The best way to forget my distress at this new move is to fly to Berlin to see the Reichsmarschall. He receives me at Karinhall; I am struck by his irritability and lack of geniality. We have our talk during a short walk in his forest. He opens up at once with his heaviest guns: "I went to see the Führer about you a week ago and this is what he said: when Rudel is here I have not the heart to tell him that he must stop flying, I just cannot do it. But what are you the C.-in-C. of the Luftwaffe for? You can tell him, I cannot. Glad as I am to see Rudel, I do not want to see him again until he has recon
ciled himself to my wishes. I am quoting the Führer's words and now I am telling you. Nor do I want to discuss the matter any further. I know all your arguments and objections!"
This is a stunning blow. I take my leave and fly back to Klein-Eiche. On the journey my mind is full of the last hours. I know now that I shall have to defy the order. I feel it my duty to Germany, to my native land, to throw into the scales my experience and my continued personal effort. Otherwise I should seem a traitor to myself. I shall go on flying whatever the consequences may be.
The Wing flies a sortie in my absence. Pilot Officer Weissbach, whom I have grounded because I need him as operations officer, goes out on a tank hunt with W.O. Ludwig, a first rate gunner and holder of the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross. They fail to return, a loss to us of two invaluable comrades. These days we must give everything we have, we cannot spare ourselves. To me these operations are a greater strain than ever before because my disobedience to an order of the Supreme Commander preys on my mind. If anything should happen to me I should be refused military honours and be disgraced; the thought often worries me. But I cannot help it, I am in the air from morning till night. All my officers have been tipped off that if I am wanted I am not flying, but "have just gone out.”
Individual claims of tanks destroyed have always to be entered on the daily returns, sent every evening to the Group and the Air Command naming the gunner in every case. Since the new order grounding me has been in force my claims are no longer included, but are credited to the unit as a whole. Hitherto claims have been entered in this category only when two separate gunners have attacked the same tank when, in order to avoid duplication, the claim was reported under the heading: "Name of gunner doubtful; success attributed to unit.” Latterly we have constant queries from higher levels pointing out that we have previously always been able to give the gunner's name, why this sudden large entry under "joint account" At first we get out of it by saying that now whenever one of us spots a tank we all dive onto it simultaneously as everyone wants to be in at the kill. One day during my absence on a sortie a spy in the person of an officer of the Luftwaffe turns up to investigate and pumps my operations officer who after exacting a promise that he will keep it under his hat lets the cat out of the bag. On top of this a general catches me once at Grottkau airfield to which we have recently been moved just as I return from a sortie. He does not believe my assurances that it was only "a short test flight but it does not matter, for he tells me “he has seen nothing ". I was soon to discover, however, that the truth had filtered through to the High Command. One day soon after the general's visit I am again credited in the war communiqué with eleven tanks destroyed and simultaneously another long distance call summons me to Karinhall. I fly there and meet with a very disagreeable reception. The Reichsmarschall’s first words are:
"The Führer knows that you are still flying. I presume you have realised that the news has reached him from yesterday's communiqué. He has told me to warn you to give it up once and for all. You are not to embarrass him by forcing him to take disciplinary action for disobedience to an order. Furthermore he is at a loss to reconcile such conduct with a man who wears the highest German decoration for gallantry. It is not necessary for me to add any comments of my own."
I have heard him out in silence. After briefly asking me about the situation in Silesia he dismisses me and I fly back the same day. Obviously I have now reached the end of my tether. I am clear in my own mind that I must go on flying if I am to keep my mental balance in my country's present predicament. Regardless of the consequences, I still feel that I am answerable only to myself. I shall continue to fly.
We hunt for tanks in the industrial and woodland region of Upper Silesia, where it is comparatively easy for the enemy to camouflage himself and difficult for us to spot him. Our attacking Ju 87s dodge in between the chimney stacks of the Upper Silesian industrial towns. At Kiefernstädtel we meet some of our own shock artillery whom we have not seen for a long time, and help them liquidate the numerically greatly superior Soviets and their T 34s. Gradually a new line is being established on the Oder. To build up a new front out of nothing, that is something only Field Marshal Schoerner can do! We often see him now when he visits our base to confer with me on the momentary situation and to discuss possible operations. The results of our reconnaissance, especially, are of the greatest value to him. At this time Squadron Leader Lau is reported missing with his crew; he is hit by flak and has to force land in the Gross-Wartenberg area and is captured by the Russians. He comes down right in the midst of a Soviet force after an attempt to land nearby has proved impossible.
Slowly the Oder front is established a little. I receive an order by telephone to move the Wing immediately to Märkisch Friedland in Pommerania and the 2nd squadron to Frankfurt, the situation there being more dangerous than it is in Silesia. Thick driving snow prevents our moving in close formation, so we take off at intervals in threes heading for Märkisch Friedland over Frankfurt. Some of our aircraft come down at the intermediate airfields at Sagan and Sorau. The weather is abominable. At Frankfurt they are already waiting for me to land; I am to ring up my old base at Grottkau without delay. When my call has been put through I learn that soon after my departure Field Marshal Schoerner had been over to see me and had raised Cain. Banging his fist on the table he had asked who had given the order for me to leave his sector. Flight Lieutenant Niermann, my operations officer, had told him that the order came from the Group and the Air Command. "Group and Air Command indeed! All window dressing! I want to know who took Rudel away from here. Ring him up at Frankfurt and tell him to wait there. I am taking the matter up with the Führer himself. I insist on his staying here. Am I supposed to hold the front with nothing but rifles?"
I learn all this over the telephone. If I am to reach Märkisch Friedland before dark I have no time to waste. I ring up the Führer's H.Q. to ask whether I am now to continue or return to Silesia. In the first case, Field Marshal Schoerner must release my personnel at present detained by him at Grottkau so that I may have my full complement of staff and material when I arrive. I am informed that a decision has just been reached: my wing has definitely been transferred to the North as the situation in that sector which has recently been put under the command of S.S. Reichsführer Himmler is indeed more serious. I land at Märkisch Friedland with the first few aircraft in a dense snow storm and complete darkness; the rest of the unit is due to arrive tomorrow, the 2nd squadron will remain at Frankfurt and operate from there. When we have found makeshift quarters for the night I ring up Himmler at Ordensburg Krössinsee to report my arrival in his sector. He is pleased that I am here and that he has won the duel with Field Marshal Schoerner. He asks me what I would like to do now. The time is 11 p.m., so I reply: "Go to sleep " - for I want to be out early to get a general picture of the situation. He thinks differently. "I can't sleep", he says.
I tell him that he has not got to fly tomorrow morning, and that when one is flying without intermission sleep is indispensible. After much palaver he tells me that he is sending over a car to fetch me as soon as possible. As in any case I am short of fuel and ammunition, an introduction to the new sector by its commander may at least simplify a number of organisation problems. On the drive to Ordensburg we are stuck in a snow drift. When I get there at last it is 2 a.m. I first see his Chief of Staff with whom I have a long talk about the situation and general matters. I am particularly curious to hear from him how Himmler is squaring up to his new task seeing that he lacks the necessary training and experience. The Chief of Staff is an army officer, not a member of any S.S. unit. He tells me that it is a pleasure to work with Himmler because he is not opinionated and does not seek to impose his authority. Instead of thinking that he knows better than the experts on his staff, he readily falls in with their suggestions and then lends the full weight of his authority to implement them in every way. And so everything goes smoothly. "Only one thing will strike you. You will always have the feeling that H
immler never says what he really thinks."
A few minutes later I am discussing the situation and my task in this sector with Himmler. I notice at once that he looks worried. The Soviets have by-passed Schneidemühl on both sides, pushing on into East Pommerania towards the Oder, partly along the Netze valley and partly to the North and South of it. There are very few of our formations in the area which can be described as effective. A battle group is being formed in the neighbourhood of Märkisch Friedland to hold up the enemy forces which have broken through and to prevent their further advance to the Oder. No one can yet foresee to what extent our units in the Posen-Graudenz area will be able to fight their way back; in any case they would not immediately recover their full fighting strength. The present reconnaissance leaves much to be desired so that it is not possible to take stock of the position comprehensively. This will therefore be one of our tasks, besides attacking the enemy at points which he is known to have reached, chiefly his mechanised and armoured forces.
Stuka Pilot Page 24