In their own words...

[bobbysocks]

lastly for the week...

Interview with Captain Eric 'Winkle' Brown

WW2 aviator, one of the world’s greatest test pilots and holder of the record for number of different aircraft types flown. the link has couple of cool pics and video of the interview.


http://www.aerosocietychannel.com/20...own-interview/

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The secret battle: Little-known Battle of Graveney Marsh conflict - the last on British soil - finally commemorated

The little-known Battle of Graveney Marsh in the Second World War has finally been commemorated as the last military conflict to be fought on British soil. The skirmish in the Kent countryside was between the men of the London Irish Rifles and the four-man crew of a downed German bomber.
The British servicemen, billeted in a pub at Seasalter, near Whitstable, sprung into action when the Junkers 88 landed on the nearby marshland.

The Germans opened fire with a machine gun and after a 20 minute fire-fight they finally surrendered. The battle was hushed up at the time as the British didn't want word getting out that the new model Junkers plane had been captured intact for engineers to examine. Most history books have Bonnie Prince Charlie's defeat at Culloden in 1746 as the last pitched battle fought on British soil but in fact it was at Graveney Marsh 194 years later.

Yesterday - on the 70th anniversary of the event - the battle was at last commemorated during a special ceremony held on the marsh. More than 120 members of the London Irish Rifles Regimental Association marched the few hundred yards from the scene of the battle to The Sportsman - the pub where the men were billeted. They also staged a drumhead service before a plaque was presented to the owner of the pub and unveiled. Two of those present were sisters Sheila Gilham and Brenda Hitches, aged 80 and 78.
Their late father Charles Walden helped remove part of the Junkers 88 plane and store it in his garage until it was collected by the RAF. Nigel Wilkinson, vice-chairman of the association, said: 'Hardly anybody knows about what happened at Graveney Marsh, it was really only the men of the regiment and local residents.
'The Junkers 88 was a new marque and was only two weeks old. 'The matter was hushed up at the time because the Air Ministry didn't want it known that the British had recovered the plane and knew the German secrets behind it.

'Yet technically it was the last battle to take place on the British mainland involving an invading enemy.

'It remained forgotten about over the last 70 years but when we realised the 70th anniversary was coming up we decided to do something about it.

'This is the first time the battle has been officially recognised and commemorated.

'Because the men were billeted at The Sportsman, and the pub is still standing today, we thought a plaque that will serve as a permanent reminder was appropriate.'

Phil Harris, the owner of The Sportsman, said: 'I have been aware of the battle for some time.

'The plane's propeller actually stood outside the pub for many years but it was stolen and melted down some time ago.

'There wasn't any extraordinary heroism involved in the battle but what happened and why it happened makes it important to remember it.

'We are very proud to now have the plaque commemorating it up on the wall.'

The battle took place on September 27, 1940, after the Junkers 88 was shot down by two Spitfires following a raid over London Pilot Unteroffizer Fritz Ruhlandt landed the plane on Graveney Marsh, which was seen by the men of A Company of the 1st Battalion London Irish Rifles, A group went out to capture the bomber but came under fire from two machine guns. They returned fire while a smaller group crawled along a dyke to get within 50 yards of the plane before they too started shooting. There was a heavy exchange of fire before the Germans surrendered, with one of them being shot in the foot. Nobody was killed. In a dramatic twist, commanding officer Captain John Cantopher overheard one of the captured crew mention in German that the plane should 'go up' at any moment. With that, he dashed back to the aircraft, located an explosive charge under one of the wings and threw it into a dyke, saving the prized aircraft for British engineers to paw over. Incredibly, the British had a pint of beer with the German airmen back at the pub before the PoWs were picked up.

[House MD 221B]

that's a fantastic story a gentleman's war.

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Wolfgang Falck - Colin Heaton interview

Wolfgang Falck on the the early days of the Luftwaffe, Zerstörer sorties over Poland and the setting up of the Nachtjagd.

==========
Q-Wolf, when and where were you born?
A- I was born 19 August 1910 in Berlin.
Q- Tell us about your youth, and about your family.

A- My family came from West Prussia in Danzig, which is now Gdansk, Poland. My mother was from Bremen and she married my father who was from Prussia, and he was a pastor. My sister Ilsa was born there on 7 February 1898. My sister Irmgard was born on 19 July 1904. They both married officers and had children, but they have both been deceased for many years.
Q- How about your education Wolfgang; what was it like?
A- From 1917 to 1931 I was educated in the Realgymnasium at Berlin-Teptow and I passed the Abitur. I became a member of a flying group; some of us students who, under the watchful eye and control of a teacher built and flew models of gliders. Since we were living in Berlin I visited all of the air shows in the area, including airports where I admired and studied the different types of aircraft.
Q- How did you become a pilot?
A- That is quite a long story. On 1 April 1931 to March 1932 I was at the German Commercial Flight School in Schleisseim, near Munich where I finished training. I then went on to Infantry School at the training regiment in Dresden for two courses. This was due to the fact that the Versailles Treaty limited Germany to a 100,000 man army, the Navy allowed only 15,000 men and the air force was totally banned. This was called the Reichswehr, and each year the army took about 225 volunteers as cadets to be educated as officers.
Q- How difficult was it to get accepted?
A- Thousands applied each year and it was considered great luck if you were accepted. My unit, the 2nd Rifle Battalion, 7th Infantry Regiment ‘Hirschberg-Silesia’ decided to take me as one of the five men accepted each year. Since the German government decided to establish its own air force, the Ministry of Defence selected thirty young men each year, previously enlisted by the regiments to receive the education that was necessary to become pilots. This would go on in secret for one year, and the camouflage was excellent. I was so lucky to be one of the thirty who was selected, which then sent me to Schleissheim at the Deutsche Verkehrsfliegerschule (previously mentioned). We were ‘civilian’ students of the school where we were officially trained as the pilots of the airliners. After the one-year training period twenty were sent back to their regiments, while ten were selected to spend about half a year in Lipetzk, Russia. The trip took twenty-four hours by train with our destination being just south of Moscow, where we were to be trained as fighter pilots.
Q- How was this organised?
A- At that time there existed a Top Secret arrangement between the Reichswehr and the Red Army, and Germany was allowed to operate this school away from the eyes of the western governments. There was also a camp farther to the north for making and training with chemical weapons, with another training camp close to the Ural Mountains for tanks. At this time Germany was not even allowed tanks or U-boats! This was how I spent the summer of 1932, from April to September in Russia. It was a wonderful time for me and for the ‘Black Air Force’. On 1 October 1932 I rejoined my regiment, yet no one but the regimental commanding officer knew that I was a qualified fighter pilot. Now to be a recruit was a hard time for me, then I graduated and we received the regular education as all the other
aspirants in the regiment and throughout the Infantry School. This was the academy for future officers in Dresden until September 1934, with one exception. During this time when the normal cadets trained at a camp proving ground, I was sent with the other pilots for refresher training at Schleissheim. On 1 October 1934 I was promoted to lieutenant and simultaneously eliminated, or ‘retired’ from the army. I then joined the Deutsche Luftfahrtverbände officially, and in this organisation I earned the title of Kettenführer, or ‘section leader’. This organisation was the camouflage for the future Luftwaffe, and I later became the chief instructor. In 1935 Hitler terminated all the restrictions placed on Germany and we were officially designated the Fighter Pilots School, and it was then that we were again officially re-admitted into the German armed forces, in this case the Luftwaffe. I was again reinstated as a lieutenant.
Q- Where did you go after that, Wolfgang?
A- In April 1936 I was assigned to JG-2 ‘Richthofen’ and I was assigned to the fifth Staffel, or 5./JG-2 located at Juterborg-Damm. My primary job while there was to train the young new pilots who came to us from the fighter school. In 1937 I was promoted to first lieutenant. Since the squadron leader was given a command at the academy I became the commanding officer of that squadron at the age of twenty-seven. Later that year I became the adjutant to the group commander and was stationed at Doeberitz, not far from Berlin. In 1938 the third Gruppe of JG-2 was stationed at Fuerstenwalde to the east, and it was there that I became a Staffelkapitän, holding the position but not the rank. Later in 1938 we were given a new name and refitted as 2. Staffel ZG-76, a heavy fighter Geschwader. We received our new aircraft and from this point on we no longer operated in single engine fighters; now we had a rear gunner, two engines and greater range. It was with this unit that I my first missions of World War II.
Q- What was your first combat?
A- On 1 September 1939 we invaded Poland and I flew early morning operations to Krakau in the south. On this mission we escorted a bomber group which flew a raid on an enemy airfield, and we encountered no opposition. No Polish aircraft were to be seen. During the next few days I scored my first three victories, obsolete Polish aircraft. After the Polish campaign was finished we were transferred to the Western Front to protect Germany against possible French air raids, but we never had any. On 17 December 1939 we flew to Northern Germany to our new base at Jever, close to the North Sea west of Wilhelmshaven. I was involved in the 18 December battle, now referred to as ‘The Battle of the German Bight’, or ‘Bay’ where the Royal Air Force tried to bomb German ships in the harbour at Wilhelmshaven with twenty-four Wellington bombers. We managed to shoot down twelve of them. In January 1940 I was promoted to Hauptmann a and made CO of I./ZG 76. While with this wing I participated in the campaigns against Denmark and Norway, which were launched on 9 April 1940. My later operations started on 10 May with the invasions of Holland, Belgium and France, and also operations on the English Channel coast against the RAF.
Q- How did you become the ‘Father of the Night Fighters?’
A- I first began thinking about the night fighter idea after we relocated to Aalborg in Northern Denmark. Every evening the RAF bombers flew over us on their way to bomb Germany, and us as well on their return trip. They would bomb our airfield or machine gun our aircraft during low level attacks, and here we were, the fighter pilots sitting in a trench! This was a very demoralising situation for us. I thought; ‘If the RAF can fly at night, so could we’, and I checked out three other crews as well as myself about the possibility of flying at night, and the results were positive. It was possible, but there would be necessary modifications implemented, as well as making the necessary arrangements with the local anti-aircraft battery commander concerning search lights and later the only radar station which was located not far from us. One night, or rather very early in the morning the RAF returned from a raid into Germany, and as usual dropped a few bombs on our airfield. I ordered the flight to take off with four aircraft where we hoped to meet them. Three of us saw an enemy bomber and we went in to attack, but it disappeared into the fog just over the sea. However, from this we learned that it was possible with a certain amount of organisation, modified aircraft and special ammunition to use at night which would not blind us, we knew that we could fight the bombers. My group commander asked me to write a report about the experiences, including all of my proposals for such missions. I completed the report and I believe that this particular report was more or less the only one read by the higher authorities, including Göring and Hitler.
Q- What was the result of this review?
A- Well, the birthday of the Nachtjagdfliegerdienst was 26 June 1940, when I was made Kommodore of the new outfit. This was after I received a call from General Ernst Udet, asking me to come to Berlin. I ordered two Ju-88 medium bombers to Berlin-Schoenefeld to take part in some tests, but I did not know what this was about at first. Udet informed me that our industry had developed some instruments, which could locate targets with distance and altitude, and this was why my crews were sent there. I met the civilian engineers, and they showed me to the station, called Wuerzburg-Geraete.
Q- How did that work?
A- There was a desk for me and another where another man sat, and he had a map, which was painted on a glass disk showing the present position of one of the Ju-88s, which was playing the ‘enemy.’ This was picked up by ‘Wuerzburg-Geraete’ (WG). The same controller guided the other Ju-88 to the target in order to come up from behind him. I watched this procedure three times. I saw the problem; these engineers were not pilots and they gave the night fighter the present position to the target, which made the fighter fly a ‘hundekurve’ and had problems arriving in the right position. I asked the people if I could take over the directional guidance by radio, and I had no problem finding the heading of the
target, and I gave the night fighter the correct orders to locate the bird, and it worked. The engineers were quite surprised that I guided the fighter to the target so quickly. I was deeply impressed and convinced that this was the way of the future for night fighting. I called Udet and gave him the full report, complete with my assignment and opinions. Udet reacted immediately and positively, and he asked me to arrange for two Fiesler ‘Storch’ aircraft, and to mark off a night fighting manoeuvre area. He believed that if it worked at high speed and high altitude, it should work at lower speeds and altitudes. Udet came in and he took off in a Storch with radio, and I flew the other without any radio communications.
I was the target and Udet was the fighter. If he located me and came in from behind he would fire a signal rocket. I would then disappear and he would do it again. So we flew at night without any position lights and he ‘killed’ me twice. After landing everyone one was happy and this assured continued development. Afterward I reported to (General Josef) Kammhuber, and he then authorised the next step, the Wuerzburg-Reise and on board radar. I then returned to my unit. That was when I was ordered
by Göring to form Nachtjagdgeschwader 1. I was with my wing stationed in France on the North Channel coast, just west of Le Havre, and it was just before the beginning of the Battle of Britain. All of a sudden I received special orders to Duesseldorf in order to fly against the British bombers at night. The RAF was attacking the Ruhrgebiet, Cologne, etc. I was very angry about the order because we had no experience; the crews did not possess the necessary knowledge to accomplish this task, and we did not have all the necessary equipment, all of which I had expressly requested in my report. Two days later I was summoned to Wassenaar in Holland to meet with Field Marshal Hermann Göring, and during this meeting he ordered m to establish the first night fighter group, which I did with the help of Johannes Steinhoff, and it became NJG 1, and Göring made me Kommodore. On 19 July 1940 I was promoted to Major and I was the first Geschwaderkommodore of the new generation, and the youngest. Not long after this I received another wing which became NJG 2. I very soon had crews fresh from Destroyer School as well as a flood of volunteers ad complete groups which we converted to night fighting. Since I was the ‘Old Man’ and the inventor of this idea, the men named me the ‘Father of the Night Fighters’, which has followed me ever since. As you know several books have been written about that over the years.
Q- How long did you remain Kommodore of these groups?
A- About three years, and in 1943 I transferred to the General Staff where I became 1A, which is Chief of Operations in the Staff of Air Fleet Reich at Wansee, west of Berlin. We were responsible for the defence of Germany both night and day, and it was a job full of problems I can tell you. In August I asked my friend and superior, Adolf Galland, who was General of Fighters to give me a command somewhere at the front; I could not take Hitler and Göring anymore. Galland understood. In September 1944 I became Fighter Pilot Leader-Balkans which included Greece, Romania, Bulgaria and Yugoslavia. The radar systems in Greece to the Peloponnesus were within my ‘empire’ as well. I was situated at Pancevo, near Belgrade, and this meant that I was responsible for the defence of these countries night and day against hostile air raids. This job was important but it did not last long. In October 1944 we corrected our positions because all for the fighter units were withdrawn to the Home Defence of Germany proper, and all during this short period we had constant trouble with partisans and the Russians. As the war closed in on us we retreated towards Vienna, and thus ended my command of the Balkans.
Q- When were you awarded your Knight’s Cross?
A- Göring awarded me the Ritterkreuz on 1 October 1940.
Q- How were the night fighters chosen?
A- In the beginning I visited the Destroyer School. There I created a report for the standards for the foundation of the night fighters, and several pilots came forward. We gave volunteer notifications later. Also from the bomber units and later even from the fighter units came the best men, including Hajo Herrmann and the Wild Boars to take their shot. Returning to the previous question, our night fighter force was impressive, working through intelligence, radar and flak commands; we had our intercept monitors and search reporting service with radar for all of them. That was never at any time any mention of the high frequency war, it was all too knew. That was when I was transferred to the Luftwaffenbefehlshaber Mitte in Berlin.
Q- You knew men such as Prince Heinrich zu Sayn-Wittgenstein, Helmut Lent, Hans-Joachim jabs and Heinz-Wolfgang Schnauffer. What was your opinion of them?
A- Well, you mentioned the best pilots in the world when it came to night fighting. Prince Wittgenstein was a nobleman, not a National Socialist. He fought for Germany as had his family for five hundred years, and he was quite successful and a true gentleman, as were all of them. He was killed in the war, as was Helmut Lent, who won the Diamonds and had over a hundred victories. Hans Jabs is still a good friend of mine
who finished the war with the Oak Leaves and fifty victories, and the best was Schnauffer with 128 kills, all at night. Schnauffer died in France after the war in an automobile accident, a tragic way to go. He also held the Diamonds. These were extraordinarily brave men. All of these men were under my command and all were outstanding persons; full of idealism and first rate hunters and great pilots. They were very distinguishable people, strong willed and very ambitious, but in a good sense. They were highly intelligent with immediate responses to crises, untiring and happiest when they were on flight operations. Each in is own way was a unique character, but very reliable and I was proud to have known them.
Q- Describe the average night fighter mission; what were the hazards a man faced while fighting at night?
A- Many dangers faced the night fighter, which the day fighter was fortunate not to have to experience. We did not have to with escort fighters until later in the war as did the day fighter force, but we had the worry of our own flak, collision with our own aircraft as well as the enemy bombers, the flares dropped by the British planes to blind us, which would also illuminate your plane allowing the enemy gunners to shoot you
down, the possibility of your on board radar not working, leaving you blind, and flying across the sky locating black painted aircraft, it goes on. The fighting at night I think worked on the nerves more than
fighting during the day; all of these unknowns would mentally wear you down.
Q- How did the war effect the people as you saw it, and how did their attitude change as the war dragged on?
A- After the First World War time were very hard; inflation was outrageous, no work, it was terrible. When the Nazis came to power suddenly there were jobs, industry increased, building of homes and cities
were undertaken, and the armaments industry created millions of jobs, and of course the resurgence of the military improved life as well. What we know today about the concentration camps and such were unknown to most of us, even those in high military positions. That does not excuse what happened, but it should be mentioned that it was not a well known, collective operation. These terrible events were undertaken by men who abused their power in the name of the German people, and this led to our
destruction, and had nothing to do with the true soldiers, the professionals.
Q- What were some of your most interesting combat missions, Wolf?
A- My most interesting and dangerous missions were of course against the RAF. Later on I was given the order by my boss that I was not to fly combat any longer because I was needed for the planning and development of the defence organisation.
Q- How many victories did you have during the war?
A- I had seven confirmed victories, with a few more unconfirmed.
Q- How many combat missions did you fly, including day and night?
A- Altogether I flew ninety combat missions.
Q- How did the war end for you, Wolfgang?
A- To begin with, bad! No one dared ire a war criminal, as all of us were labeled. Later I tried to become a night guard in a factory to make enough money to survive, but I did not get that job. They did not dare employ men, even with all of my certificates, qualifications and curriculum vitae, etc., I tried here and
there to find work to earn money, but the British Army of the Rhine must have certain information about
me. They hired me as a ‘Civil Officer’ in 1946 for a series of forty-seven stores not far from Bielefeld. I asked the major, ‘Do you know who I am?’ and he answered ‘yes’, that he knew I had been a colonel in the Air Force and had the Knight’s Cross. He said that they were looking for people they could trust and were reliable. So I became the boss of 145 German labour employees and my boss was a Captain ‘R.E.’, and after some time we became good friends. In the evenings I attended a school for tradesmen
and after some time I passed the examination. In 1948 I joined a German company which was a branch of the medical and pharmaceutical industry, and after some further education I became a businessman.
After that I changed over to a large printing press company, which had started to produce playing cards. I started out as a lowly office employee, being promoted year after year until I finally became the
manager of that company. In 1961 a high level employer with North American Aircraft Company in Los Angeles asked me during an international fighter pilots’ meeting to join his company as a consultant in Germany. That was my chance to return to my old world, and I did this for six years until McDonnell Douglas asked me to join them in the same capacity. So I was very busy in Bonn for the next twenty years working for MDC. I worked for them until I was seventy-five years old! It was a wonderful and most interesting time, and MDC in its policies towards its employees is to say the very least unique. Since my retirement in 1986 I have been living here in Tyrol and I enjoy life in this beautiful countryside. This is the most beautiful part of Austria.
Q- What do you think of the new technology of today’s night fighting aircraft?
A- Today there is no difference between night and day fighter aircraft anymore. They see each other via radar and thermal imagery; they can engage each other without a pilot seeing his target. Because of the
new technologies you cannot compare the aerial warfare of today with the primitive methods we used in the Second World War.
Q- From my first marriage I have a son named Klaus, born in 1937 and today he manages a firm and forests of his mother’s lands in southern Bavaria. He has a daughter himself who is a manager of a large
storehouse in Cologne. My daughter Irmgard was born in 1940; she’s married and lives in Munich and has two sons who are students at the University of Munich. My second wife died in 1982 and she had two sons, both of whom I educated and prepared their careers. One is a banker and married with a son
and a daughter; the other was in the Merchant Marine and then served twenty years with Lufthansa as an instructor in their emergency division, and he also has a son and daughter. My third wife Gisela also has three sons; the eldest is a doctor in Hamburg. Her second son lives in Finland and is an artist, while the youngest owns his own company where he develops and constructs buildings, installations and such all over the world for all kinds of fairs concerning German industry. None of them are married! My wife Gisela is the widow of Hans ‘Assi’ Hahn, a well known fighter pilot who served with JG2 during the Battle of Britain, and during the war he achieved 108 victories, but was shot down and captured over the Soviet Union in 1943 after making a forced landing. He spent over seven years in Russian labour camps until he was released. He wrote his autobiography title "I Tell the Truth". I first met him in 1937 when I joined JG 2 and we, including our wives became good friends. Assi died five weeks after my second wife in 1982, and late 1983 Gisela moved from Southern France where she and Assi had their home, to St. Ulrich in Tyrol, Austria.
Q- Wolf, what advice would you give the young people of today, given the world situation?
A- Be grateful that we are living in relative peace; that you have a home and do not suffer from hunger.
Take over the responsibility for your family and your country, be tolerant of everyone, stay honest and busy, and look forward to what you intend do with your life. Always have a target and make sure that what you are fighting for is worth while. Life is short!

[bobbysocks]

Living History Project Interview:
P-38 Pilot John Taylor

a 4 part video interview with a former p-38 pilot.

http://flightlinefabrications.com/bl...-pilot-series/

[bobbysocks]

an interview with tuskegee airman charles mcgee

Eugene Jacques Bullard, a former infantryman of the French Foreign Legion, set a precedent when he obtained his flying certificate on May 5, 1917, for it qualified him as the first black airman in American history. Significantly, however, the volunteer from Columbus, Georgia, had earned his flying status from the French Air Service, which he served as a fighter pilot in Escadrilles N.93 and Spa.85 from August 27 to November 11, 1917. Bullard's native United States would not allow black airmen to fight for their country until 1943, when the first of a contingent trained at Tuskegee, Alabama, were formed as the 99th Fighter Squadron and shipped out to North Africa. That unit and the 332nd Fighter Group that followed would prove their worth in the last two years of World War II.

Besides establishing an outstanding record for not losing a single bomber they escorted to enemy fighters, several of the Tuskegee Airmen went on to distinguished postwar careers in the U.S. Air Force. One of them was Colonel Charles Edward McGee, who shared highlights of his long career with Aviation History senior editor Jon Guttman.

Aviation History: Could you tell us something of your childhood and education?

McGee: I was born in Cleveland, Ohio, on December 7, 1919. My mother passed away at my sister's birth, when I was little over a year old. We spent time in Cleveland and with grandparents who were in Morgantown and Charleston, West Virginia. When I was in third grade, my father was teaching at Edward Waters College in Jacksonville, Florida. We spent a year there, then back to Cleveland until 1929, when he moved to Chicago, Illinois, where he was doing social work.

AH: Your father seems to have been a fairly prominent citizen.

McGee: Yes. In addition, he was an African Methodist Episcopal Church minister. We never had a lot, but I never remember being hungry or not being clean. I don't have any recollections of specific actions of bigotry, except that schools were segregated, and when we were in Florida, we lived in a small house that was out on the edge of town. Also, because of the level of schooling for blacks in the South, when we returned to Cleveland, I had to repeat third grade. I became a Boy Scout in Illinois, and when my father's ministry took him to Keokuk, Iowa, in the mid-1930s, I spent my second through senior years of high school there. In the fall of my senior year, he returned to south Chicago and I graduated from Du Sable High School in 1938. My family didn't have the money to send me to college then, so I worked for a year with the Civilian Conservation Corps in northern Illinois, where I learned engineering and contour farming. I was then able to attend the University of Illinois in 1940. I took engineering and was also in the Reserve Officer Training Corps (ROTC) program and a member of the Pershing Rifles.

AH: What were your feelings when the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor–on your birthday–brought the United States into the war?

McGee: My father was preaching in a church in Gary, Indiana, in 1941, and I had taken a summer job in the steel mill there. I was also in the Coleridge Taylor Glee Club. We were driving to sing at a church in south Chicago at 4 that Sunday afternoon when we heard the news of the attack on Pearl Harbor. We went on with the show, but I knew that one way or another we were going to be involved in the war.

AH: When did you first become interested in flying?

McGee: I don't recall even seeing an airplane when I was young. It was about the time I was in college that the Army was beginning to recruit nonflying personnel–communications, engineering, armament and mechanics–for a one-squadron black experiment at Chanute Field. Word of that was spreading through the black community. Well, I already had a draft card, so I filled in that pilot's application. I was sent over to a couple of places in Indiana to take the examination, and when I passed that, in April 1942, I had to take a physical. I'd also been going with a girl from Champaign, Illinois, Frances E. Nelson, and that summer we became engaged. In my expectation of the call to arms, I did not go back to school in September–I continued working. Frances and I were married on Saturday, October 17, and Monday morning's mail had that letter I knew was going to come. On October 27, I was sworn into the enlisted reserve, and a few weeks later, I got the call to go to Tuskegee.

AH: What were some of your first impressions of Alabama?

McGee: The trip down was my first real experience of the South. As the train left southern Illinois, you had to change your location in the car. We knew there were certain barber shops or restaurants to go to in Chicago, but you could feel the change in atmosphere and approach as you entered the Deep South–you knew that whatever happened, the law was not going to uphold whatever your position was. When you were a black man from the North, you especially had to be careful what you said and did. You learned to be extra careful when stopping to fill up your car, and even avoid some filling stations. To a degree, the southern blacks were concerned about how a northern Negro was going to act, and a lot of conversations dealt with what you needed to know and where to go to keep out of trouble. One of my classmates happened to be from a well-to-do family who owned a drug store in Montgomery, Alabama, and he helped steer me into the black community, because you didn't go into the downtown area very much.

AH: Why did the Army choose that location?

McGee: In those days, there was a great fear around the country that when you get large groups of blacks together, there's got to be trouble. There were places in the North, like Colorado, California and Illinois, that were turned down for the location. On the other hand, the Tuskegee Institute had already had a successful civilian pilot training program, so when the Army began its 99th Squadron experiment, Tuskegee, with flight instructors who began flying in the 1930s, got the contract.

AH: What was the Tuskegee training facility like?

McGee: By the time I got to Tuskegee in the fall of 1942, the airfield had been completed, although they had been training on it even while it was under construction. The 99th had completed its 33-pilot cadre by the time I got there. At that time, too, Colonel Noel F. Parrish was the white commander. The previous commander, Colonel Frederick Von Kimble, was not very supportive of the program, but he was relieved and replaced by Parrish, who had been directing operations. He believed in the program and the people.

AH: How did your training go?

McGee: I entered preflight training as part of Class 43-G, but I was one of several who skipped upper preflight, perhaps because of my college studies, and ended up graduating in Class 43-F. Primary training was at Moton Field, a grass strip just outside the city of Tuskegee, in the Stearman PT-17. We then went on the Army airfield, which was where our white instructors were. We did basic training in the Vultee BT-13A and advanced training in the North American AT-6. My wife came down and worked as a secretary for a Dr. Kenny in the Tuskegee Institute hospital while I was going through training, but I usually only saw her on Sunday afternoons.

AH: How did you do in training?

McGee: I remember having a queasy stomach in the first few flights and talking to the flight surgeon, who just said, 'Quit eating fried foods for breakfast.' I did, and I never had another problem. My first check was on February 11, 1943, and the lieutenant said it was unsatisfactory. I had two more flights with an instructor, then tried again on February 14 and passed the check. We used Eglin Army Air Field in Florida for gunnery training. I finished my last flying in the AT-6 on June 25, graduated on June 30, and on July 6 I had my first Curtiss P-40 ride. I also took blind flying in the AT-6, to improve my instrument proficiency. I qualified as expert in gunnery but not nearly as well with handguns.

AH: Where did you go from Tuskegee?

McGee: I left Tuskegee in August for squadron and group formation flying and aerobatics at Selfridge Field, Michigan, where the 100th, 301st and 302nd squadrons of the 332nd Fighter Group were being formed. We were fully combat ready in the P-40L and P-40N by October–and that's when the decision was made that the group was going to fly the Bell P-39Q. It had the engine in the back and had less horsepower than the P-40, but we young pilots just used to say, 'If the crew chief can start it, then I can fly it.' We trained on P-39s through November, and in early December we left Selfridge Field by train under classified orders, arriving at Newport News, Virginia. We left Newport News on a big convoy that zigzagged across the Atlantic and into the Mediterranean. My ship, with the 302nd Squadron, went to Taranto, Italy, then we trucked over to the Naples area, where we began flying from Montecorvino.

AH: When did you begin combat flying?

McGee: We began operations on February 14, 1944, patrolling Naples Harbor to the Isle of Capri, and we also did coastal patrol. My first patrol was on February 28. We moved up to Capodichino on March 4, and did the rest of our tactical patrolling from there. The P-39Q was too slow and essentially a low-altitude aircraft–we flew at 10,000 to 15,000 feet, and by the time we reached even that altitude to intercept intruders, they were usually back in Germany. It was frustrating. Meanwhile, the men of the 99th were flying their P-40s with the 79th Fighter Group and shot down several aircraft over Anzio, earning the right to be called fighter pilots.

AH: When did that situation change for you?

McGee: In May they decided we were going to go to the Fifteenth Air Force. As the Allies advanced north, the bombers came up from Africa to bases in Italy, but they were getting their tails shot off over targets like Ploesti, so four single-engine fighter groups were picked for the escort. There were the candy-striped 31st, the yellow-tailed 52nd, the 'checker-tail clan' of the 325th and the red-tailed 332nd.

AH: How exactly did the 332nd choose red?

McGee: As I understand it, red paint was what was readily available. I think on the first couple of planes they just painted the rudder, but one of the pilots in the 332nd said, 'That's not enough.' As it turned out, the gunners on the Boeing B-17s and Consolidated B-24s loved it because they could easily tell who was friendly at high altitude over the target area.

AH: I notice that May 5 in your flight log has a star beside it.

McGee: That was the day I first flew the Republic P-47D Thunderbolt. An even bigger day was May 23, when the group moved to Ramatelli on the Adriatic side and we began long-range escort flights. They took a farmer's field, set up headquarters in the farmhouse, laid down pierced-steel planking, set up a couple of squadrons on one side of the field with their tents, and one on the other. P-47D No. 280 was assigned me for most of my flights at that time. It was just after that time that the 99th was assigned to the 332nd Fighter Group, so all four of the black squadrons were together.

AH: I understand that the 99th was not happy with that?

McGee: Well, you see, they had been in combat about a year, and we had only been there five months. They also felt that they had achieved a certain degree of integration by flying with the 33rd and 79th groups. Even though the 33rd's commander, Colonel William Momyer, didn't like them and his reports were all mediocre, the 79th's Colonel Earl E. Bates saw them as more pilots for his group and let them operate alongside the rest of his squadrons. The 332nd Group's commander, Colonel Benjamin O. Davis, Jr., had commanded the 99th, and they were pleased to be serving under him again, but there was a little resentment among their more experienced pilots over the fact that the other squadron commanders and group staff had already been picked. But B.O. [Davis] was very strong, sincere and severe–he laid down the law and things moved along.

AH: When did you fly your first escort mission into Germany?

McGee: That was a mission to Munich on June 13, and my feeling was, 'We're finally doing the job we came to do.' We were still flying the P-47, and for such long-range penetration missions, we'd usually have a group carry the bombers out and another group would take them back. The P-47 was fine with B-24s, but not so good with the B-17, which could fly higher in an attempt to avoid anti-aircraft fire. We always liked to be a couple thousand feet above the bomber stream to do our S-turning, but even when its supercharger cut in at 19,000 feet, the P-47 would become sluggish trying to get above the highest B-17s. All that changed on July 1, when I took my first flight in the North American P-51C-10. I flew my first long-range mission in the Mustang on July 4, escorting bombers to Romania. We could take a P-51 up to 35,000 feet and it would still be maneuverable.

AH: Were you assigned a particular plane?

McGee: My usual P-51C was 42-103072, which as I recall bore the 'buzz number' 78. I christened it Kitten, which was my wife's nickname, and my crew chief, Nathaniel Wilson, kept it purring, too.

AH: What was the squadron's makeup?

McGee: Usually, each squadron would have 18 aircraft take off–16 and two spares. If everything went well as we climbed and formed up, the group leader would tell the spares to go on back to base. But if anyone was having engine trouble, then the spares would go wherever needed. The commander of the 302nd was Captain Edward C. Gleed. After he became group operations officer, the squadron was led by 1st Lt. Melvin T. 'Red' Jackson, then V.V. Haywood. In September 1944, I was promoted to first lieutenant and became a flight leader.

AH: Who led the missions?

McGee: Sometimes the squadron commander or operations officer led the formations, sometimes the group operations officer, and when the leader had a problem, someone next in line would be designated to assume the lead.

AH: Do any particular missions stick out in your memory?

McGee: They were all long flights, usually five hours and at least one I recall that was six hours. On those flights, you find that the cockpit really gets small and you can sweat through a leather flight jacket sitting up there under the sun. We were glad when we got off the target and we could be less rigid in keeping formation with one another. Fighter sweeps were great fun.

AH: When did you initially encounter aerial opposition?

McGee: I first saw Messerschmitt Me-109s over Markersdorf, Austria, on July 26, 1944. In his briefings, B.O. was very explicit about the way we operated. If enemy planes appeared to attack, the flight commander would designate who would go after them. The rest of us stayed with the bombers, doing S-maneuvers, and we were glad that we weren't bomber pilots, who had to hold a tight formation as they made their final runs over the target, through enemy flak and fighters. On this occasion, the Germans didn't attack the formation. In another sighting, 2nd Lt. Roger Romine was told to get them and got a kill.

AH: What about your aerial victory?

McGee: That was during the bombing mission to the Czechoslovakian oil refinery at Pardubice, north of Vienna. Their tactic on that occasion was to try to fly through the bomber stream and keep on going. We were pretty much over the target area when we spotted a Focke Wulf Fw-190 and I got the word, 'Go get him.' I fell in behind him, and he took all kinds of evasive action, diving for the ground. We were down over the local airfield–I remember seeing a hangar on fire out of the corner of my eye–when I got in behind him and got in a burst that must have hit something in the controls. He took a couple more hard evasive turns and then went right into the ground. I stayed low getting out, to stay out of the sights of enemy groundfire. During that time, I saw a train pulling into a little station, so I dropped my nose and made a firing pass at the engine. Then, when I thought I'd pulled away from where I thought all the ack-ack was, I began climbing back up. Romine was my wingman on that occasion, and somewhere in all that jinking he had lost me and had gone up to rejoin the formation. He saw the Fw-190 crash, though, and confirmed the victory for me. [McGee's opponent was from Jagdgeschwader 300, three of whose Pardubice-based Fw-190As attacked the 5th Bomb Division and damaged two bombers before being driven off.] The 302nd's 1st Lt. William H. Thomas got another Fw-190 and 1st Lt. John F. Briggs of the 100th Squadron downed an Me-109 on that mission. Unfortunately, Romine got killed after his 97th mission–in an on-the-ground accident in his airplane–in November 1944.

AH: Your flight log also credited you with an enemy plane on the ground at Ilandza, Yugoslavia, on September 8.

McGee: Yes, on some days, we were assigned a fighter sweep over an enemy airfield to go in and catch anything we could there. I was only credited with destroying one, but we damaged a great number of enemy aircraft on the ground.

AH: How many missions did you fly?

McGee: I flew a total of 136, of which 82 were tactical and 54 were long-range, high-altitude missions. I flew my last mission over Brux, Germany, on November 17, 1944, and it was a long one–about five hours, 45 minutes. Then, on November 23, I was shipped back to Tuskegee to replace a white twin-engine instructor. Training was now taking place for the 477th Bomb Group. I learned a number of years later that in 1945 the 302nd was disbanded; the 332nd went back to being a three-squadron group and its aircraft were assigned to the other squadrons. My Kitten went to the 301st Squadron, was renumbered 51 and flown by Lieutenant Leon Speers, who was shot down on April 24, 1945, and taken prisoner.

AH: What was it like teaching bomber pilots back at Tuskegee?

McGee: I think the first twin-engine instruction had already begun in the summer of 1943. Twin-engine pilot training started in the Beech AT-10 Wichita–what a clunker–then we switched to the North American TB-25J, a stripped-down B-25J. That was a marvelous plane, with great big radial engines, a lot more power–a wonderful training platform.

AH: What did you do later?

McGee: After Germany surrendered on May 8, 1945, the 332nd Fighter Group was disbanded and the 477th was preparing for the Pacific. At that time, the group was under a white commander, who told the black pilots that as trainees they could not use the officers club and he was designating a separate club for them. He ended up having 101 of the officers arrested for refusing to sign the paper stating that they had read and understood his directive on the use of clubs. The investigation that followed led to the commander's being relieved, and Colonel Davis was brought in. Under B.O.'s leadership, the 477th was made into a composite group, with two squadrons of B-25Js and two squadrons from the 332nd Group, the 99th and 100th, flying P-47Ns. Shortly after Davis took over the group, it was moved to Lockbourne Air Base in Ohio, but the war in the Pacific ended on September 1, 1945, before the group was deployed. As the U.S. Army Air Forces started to close the Tuskegee facility, I joined the 477th Group at Lockbourne as assistant base operations and training officer in 1946. About the time that the U.S. Army Air Forces became the U.S. Air Force in 1947, they deactivated the composite group and reactivated the 332nd Fighter Group.

AH: What were your duties after World War II?

McGee: I had gone to Atlanta, Georgia, to take the examination to become a regular officer. I never heard a thing from it, but I was enjoying the flying, so I stayed in the Air Force as a reserve officer. They told us that we couldn't fly all the time, so I picked the maintenance officer school at Chanute Air Force Base [AFB]. When I graduated, I got orders to go to my first integrated assignment–Smoky Hill AFB, at Salina, Kansas, as officer in charge of the base maintenance shops for the Boeing B-29 equipped 301st Bomb Wing of SAC [Strategic Air Command]. All the officers and technicians were white, but I got along perfectly fine with them. You wore your ribbons on your uniform in those days, and they knew I was a combat veteran.

AH: What were you doing when the Korean War broke out?

McGee: In May 1950, I got orders to go to the Philippines. I was grounded in a pilot reduction, but I had taken the flight officer's program exam and had a 'hip pocket warrant' in operations, so I ended up as a base operations officer at Clark Field. Then, on June 25, the North Koreans invaded South Korea, and anyone who had experience on the P-51–or F-51, as it had been redesignated–was put on flight status. I was assigned to the 67th Fighter Bomber Squadron [FBS] of the 18th Group, which, with the group's 12th FBS, was sent to Johnson AFB, Japan, to pick up F-51Ds without transition–because the F-51s given the Philippine air force were in such condition that it would take $1,500 each to put them in safe shape. On July 29, 1950, I took my first flight in a Mustang since November 1944. We flew to Ashiya, across Tsushima Strait from Korea, and began flying bombing and strafing missions while the Corps of Engineers built a strip for us outside Pusan. I flew to the K-9 strip to check on construction progress and spent the night under the wing of my plane.

AH: What were your combat activities once K-9 was established?

McGee: We'd be bouncing all over the place, flying interdiction missions against bridges, trains and trucks. I expended lots of bullets, napalm and rockets against supplies, troop movements, etc. The North Koreans fired as much at us as we fired at them, the heaviest fire coming from emplacements overlooking the valleys. I was the 67th's maintenance officer. Then, on August 5, 1950, our CO, Major [Louis J.] Sebille, was fatally hit by anti-aircraft fire near Hamhung and crashed his Mustang into a concentration of enemy ground troops, for which he was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor. After that, [Major Arnold] 'Moon' Mullins became CO and I became the operations officer and continued flying missions. During an attack on the Kigye Valley on September 16, I was hit in the wing. I got back to Pusan with a 1-inch hole and damage to the left wing spar–it needed major repairs.

AH: Where did you go after the United Nations counteroffensive broke out of Pusan in September 1950?

McGee: We flew out of a forward strip in Pyongyang–until the Army got to the Yalu River and the Chinese intervened in late November. We then operated out of our main strip at K-10 in Suwon, where we were joined by No. 2 Squadron, South African Air Force, also flying the Mustang. I helped give them their first theater indoctrination, then they flew their own missions. I also spent 30 days serving as air liaison for the 19th Infantry Regiment of the 24th Division.

AH: Did you have any problems with the South Africans, given their policy of apartheid?

McGee: No, I actually made some good friendships among them. We built a comradeship from the commonality of flying and fighting side by side.

AH: Did you have trouble with Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-15s?

McGee: No, we didn't think about enemy planes–most jets were flying at high altitude.

AH: How long were you in Korea?

McGee: On February 20, 1951, I flew my 100th mission, then went back to the Philippines for assignment to the 44th FBS as operations officer. There, I checked out in Lockheed F-80s. I loved jets from the first roll–I'd just read the tech order and was ready to go flying after 13 landings. After a couple months of flying, I became the CO and my wife was on her way. During that time, too, we had a West Pointer from the Thirteenth Air Force assigned to my squadron, 2nd Lt. Frank Borman. A nasal problem had grounded him, and the flight surgeon was reluctant to release him. I bootlegged some time for him and got the flight surgeon to put him back on flight status. Borman worked out all right and later became one of the early astronauts.

AH: Did you still fly missions?

McGee: We flew air defense missions for Formosa in our F-80s in 1951 and 1952. They used to love us to fly up and down over the rooftops of the capital city of Taipei–it showed our presence. They had an airstrip where we'd land to refuel. We'd stay three days, then fly back to the Philippines. The 44th did a lot of transition and theater training for recalled pilots on their way to Korea. I came home in May 1953, went to staff school and served in the United States, flying Northrop F-89 interceptors and Lockheed T-33s. In 1959, the exams I took back in 1945 finally caught up with me, when I got a letter saying, 'Would you like to accept a Regular commission?' I was then a colonel in the reserve, but I so enjoyed flying that I accepted the Regular USAF rank of lieutenant colonel and went to Italy to assist in Jupiter missile deployment. After two years commanding the 7230th Support Squadron at Gioia del Colle Airbase near Taranto, I came home again, to Minot, North Dakota. A significant sign that times were changing was the assignments I received. They were based on background experience. In 1964, I was assigned to Tenth Air Force headquarters at Richards-Gebauer AFB near Kansas City, Missouri, and my wife and I received on-base housing more openly than the first time. Then, in 1967, I got an assignment to the Pentagon, but those orders were changed to Vietnam. It involved training for two complete squadrons in the McDonnell RF-4C. I ended up commanding the 16th Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron [TRS] at Tan Son Nhut AFB, near Saigon. The other, the 12th TRS, went to Udorn, Thailand.

AH: How long did you fly recon missions over Vietnam?

McGee: One year and 173 missions, predominantly over the northern part of South Vietnam. Some were over Laos and North Vietnam, but we didn't get to MiG Alley–the folks from Thailand got that run.

AH: What were the greatest dangers for an unarmed reconnaissance plane?

McGee: The worst place was Mu Gia Pass when it was raining and foggy, and you relied strictly on your radar operator in those mountains. In the RF-4C, speed was our only protection when the Viet Cong or North Vietnamese threw groundfire at us. During night flights we'd see the tracers coming up behind us. Often, too, we'd get to the target area at high altitude, then we'd go down and fly at 360 knots at low altitude, in patterns to photograph the area. We'd raise that speed to 420 or 460 knots over a highly defended area.

AH: Were you ever hit?

McGee: Late in 1967, I was flying a day recon mission over one of the roads in Laos. It was a suspected infiltration route, but I'd received no intelligence of heavy defenses. As I was letting down, however, I took a high-caliber hit in my left wing, which left a big hole. I was losing fluids, though I couldn't tell which ones. I had to divert to the nearest base on the coast, Da Nang, and it was the only time I had to make a front-end engagement landing, using my tail hook to make sure we wouldn't run off the runway. It turned out we needed major repairs. I took the film out of the plane and hitched a ride with a general who happened to be going to Saigon in a twin-engine North American Rockwell T-39. When I got back, I turned in the film and resumed flying the next day.

AH: Were you concerned about your plane going down?

McGee: Well, the shooting got your adrenaline up–you'd put on more speed, which was about all you could do. Was I scared? Our military training set us up with the idea that you're trained to do a job. You were too busy to dwell on the danger while you performed. Hopefully, you would get home in one piece.

AH: Were you at Tan Son Nhut when the Communist Tet Offensive broke out on January 31, 1968?

McGee: When the Tet Offensive broke out, most of the squadron pilots were at our walled compound off base. There were only six of us on base, and for three days we flew all of the squadron's missions, since there was no movement allowed off base. We didn't lose a mission. Soon hutches were built for us to live in on the base. At one point, the VC started mortaring the place. We had foxholes, but I'd just put my helmet over my head and stay in bed. Who knew where a round would land? Six or seven of the 16th's planes were hit in revetments–some burned, some sustained shrapnel damage.

AH: When did you leave Vietnam?

McGee: My tour was up in May 1968, and after being given the choice, I went on a wonderful year's tour in Heidelberg, Germany, as air liaison officer to Seventh Army Headquarters. I was promoted to colonel and became chief of maintenance for the 50th Tactical Fighter Wing. I got to fly F-4C Wild Weasels, F-4E air defense fighters and the F-4D, which I flew at Mach 2. Eventually, back in the States, Maj. Gen. Paul Stoney, commander of Air Force Communications Service, asked me if I'd like to take command of Richards-Gebauer AFB. I'd always wanted this administrative task, so on June 24, 1972, I got my opportunity, and with it came getting a 'key to the city of Belton.' It ended too soon, though. Due to a mandatory retirement policy based on 30 years unless you were made a general officer, I retired on January 31, 1973.

AH: What did you do as a civilian?

McGee: I spent 8 1/2 years in business and became vice president of real estate for the Interstate Securities Company, where my administrative training in the military fit in perfectly. After the corporation was sold, I got a degree in business administration; then I became director of Kansas City Downtown Airport. After a second retirement, I was selected as a member of the Aviation Advisory Commission. After my wife passed away in 1994, I moved east to live with my daughter, who is a television editor, here in Maryland.

AH: I presume you've kept in touch with fellow Tuskegee Airmen?

McGee: I was national president of the association from 1983 to 1985, and was a charter board member when Tuskegee Airmen, Inc., was established in Washington, D.C., in 1972. I've attended all but two annual conventions since then. I also do church work and participate in the Air Force association. My approach to life was, and still is, 'Do while you can.'

[bobbysocks]

and lastly a video interview with another tuskegee pilot herbert e. carter

http://www.knowitall.org/tuskegeeair...y/hcarter.html

[bobbysocks]

an extremely "colorful" recounting story of ju 87 pilot Hans-Ulrich Rudel.

http://www.badassoftheweek.com/rudel.html

actually their are a ton of these on the main site....if you like the guy's writing style..lol

http://www.badassoftheweek.com/list.html

[bobbysocks]

now this is pretty cool!! a site called EyeWitnessToHistory. gives first hand..."in their own words" accounts of all kinds of events in history from the ancient world to the middle ages to the us civil war...ww1 and 2.

http://www.eyewitnesstohistory.com/index.html

[bobbysocks]

Hermann Graf: World War II Luftwaffe Ace Pilot

German Luftwaffe members Erich Hartmann, Adolf Galland and Johannes Steinhoff achieved a measure of immortality for their flying and fighting prowess during World War II. A name missing from many histories of that conflict, however, is Hermann Graf — with 212 confirmed victories, one of the most decorated aces in the Luftwaffe.

Born on October 12, 1912, in Engen im Hegau, Germany, Hermann was the youngest of three sons. Aviation fascinated him from his youth; he was only 12 when he made his first glider flight. While still in school, Graf earned his 'A,' 'B' and 'C' glider certificates. According to Christer Bergström, author of Graf & Grislawski: A Pair of Aces, young Graf first worked as a locksmith apprentice, then later as a public assistance clerk apprentice. Many accounts incorrectly report he apprenticed as a blacksmith, emulating his father.

By 1936, Hermann Graf had applied for and was accepted as a reservist in the Wehrmacht. His dream was to qualify for the new Luftwaffe, which Adolf Hitler defiantly resurrected despite the strict military restrictions that the Treaty of Versailles imposed on Germany at the end of World War I. In 1939 Graf took the Luftwaffe NCO course, thus becoming a reserve officer candidate. He joined the Aibling Fighter Wing one month before the outbreak of World War II.

As a member of the Aibling Wing, Graf saw little action. He flew 21 missions over France without a single shot being fired, then was transferred to the 9th Staffel (Squadron) of Jagdgeschwader 52, or 9/JG.52, on October 6, 1940. His combat debut came in 1941 on the Eastern Front. On August 4, he shot down a Russian Polikarpov I-16 fighter for his first confirmed victory.

Graf went on to be the first fighter pilot to score 200 official victories — a feat he accomplished within the span of just 13 months. To put that into perspective, William Nagle, curator of the Commemorative Air Force in Mesa, Ariz., explained: 'Most American pilots would have fewer than 30 kills in their careers. The German pilots would fly morning, noon and night for five years accumulating numbers in the hundreds. These pilots were absolutely courageous. With that many kills, I'd brand [Hermann Graf] top drawer.'

By January 24, 1942, Graf had scored his 41st victory and earned the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross. Four months later, on May 17, the Oak Leaves to the Knight's Cross were bestowed on him when he achieved his 104th victory. The Swords to his Cross came two days later.

That fall, Graf dominated the air over Stalingrad in his Messerschmitt Me-109. In 30 days, he shot down 62 Soviet aircraft. After his tally reached 172, Graf was awarded the Diamonds to the Knight's Cross on September 16, 1942. One of only nine pilots to receive this enviable decoration, Graf was reportedly proud that every one of his kills, in the course of more than 830 missions, was in air-to-air combat.

As standard procedure, Luftwaffe commander Hermann Göring banned Graf from flying combat missions after the pilot had received the Knight's Cross with Diamonds. Early in 1943, Graf was assigned to France to head the Ergänzungs-Jagdgruppe Ost (Fighter Replacement Group East), an advanced training unit for novice pilots as well as a refresher school for veterans grounded due to injuries.

In July 1943, Göring asked Graf to set up a special high-altitude fighter unit to contend with British de Havilland Mosquito light bombers. Geschwaderkommodore Graf was granted the authority to select any member he wished for the new Jagdgruppe 50, which would operate out of Wiesbaden-Erbenheim Airdrome. Graf chose close friend and wingman Alfred Grislawski, as well as Ernst Sss and Heinrich Fullgrabe, to form the 'Karaya Quartet.'

In addition to his love of flying, Graf harbored a passion for playing soccer. He was reportedly the best goalie in the Luftwaffe but could not be recruited into the German National Soccer Team because of a broken thumb. Thanks to his connections, Graf was able to arrange for the transfer of several drafted GNST players to JGr.50. From this group, he formed his own soccer team, the Red Fighters, to raise morale. Later on, when he became a Soviet POW, Graf's soccer prowess may even have been a factor in saving his life.

JGr.50 started out with eight Messerschmitt Me-109Gs that were rumored to be equipped with specially boosted engines. In actuality, the aircraft were Me-109G-5s and Me-109G-6s modified for maximum speed and equipped with fuel tanks capable of using GM1 mixture (nitrous oxide), thereby increasing horsepower. Graf set a world record in high altitude flight — 46,885 feet — in one of the modified 109Gs.

At the time JGr.50 was deemed ready for combat, the focus was changed from hunting Mosquitoes to intercepting American heavy bombers. On August 12, 1943, 183 Boeing B-17 Flying Fortresses were sent over Germany's Ruhr industrial valley, and Graf's men rallied to meet the threat.

Five days later, JGr.50 was again dispatched on interception missions against American bombers. On September 6, the unit's pilots shot down four Flying Fortresses over Stuttgart, two of them claimed by Graf, who was subsequently shot down and survived a forced landing.

The following month, JGr.50 was disbanded and merged with I Gruppe, JG.301. Graf was appointed commander of JG.11 on November 1. Although he spent less time flying Reich defense than touring Luftwaffe units, he managed to shoot down three bombers and a North American P-51 Mustang by March 8, 1944.

He took to the air again on March 29, and after shooting down a Mustang, he was severely injured after ramming another and having to bail out of his Me-109G-6 at low altitude. Göring then reassigned him to command his former unit, JG.52. He would complete his military tenure in that outfit.

By spring 1945 the war was all but over. When confronted by General George Patton's Third Army, Graf surrendered. The Americans turned the POWs over to Soviet forces. It appeared Graf accepted his fate and because he cooperated with the Russians, he was labeled a traitor by the Germans.

In the early 1960s, Graf shared his POW experience with James Gniewkowski, who had married one of Graf's relatives. Graf explained that he had been captured by American forces on the outskirts of Berlin, where he had landed his Me-109, the third Messerschmitt he had piloted in five years of combat. His fighter had just enough fuel to reach Berlin, and he had been told there would be more fuel and a plane awaiting him there.

Once in Berlin, Graf was supposed to fly Hitler to the Eagle's Nest in the German Alps. Graf admitted he had no idea what the plan was after that, but it never came to fruition, as Hitler was already dead. Once he landed on the autobahn that night near his destination, the war ended for him.

Though he had no proof, Graf told Gniewkowski he believed that he had been traded by the Americans to the Russians in exchange for other imprisoned Germans. The Russians thought he was an engineer with significant aviation expertise.

He was held captive for four years after V-E Day — a period that took a great psychological and physical toll on him. While in captivity, Graf agreed to play soccer for the Russians, who promised he would be fed if he played for them. At that time, many in the Luftwaffe fraternity who heard about this viewed it as betrayal.

Graf was turned over to German authorities on December 25, 1949 — five years before most of his JG.52 comrades in Soviet captivity. Used as a bargaining chip for several Soviet prisoners the Russians wanted, he reentered a postwar Germany radically different from the fatherland he had left. He arrived at his late mother's house only to find it had been ransacked by French liberation forces that had stolen many of his possessions, including his military medals and decorations. The death of his grieving mother shortly before his return left a huge void in his life.

While Germany was trying to bury its past and rebuild its future, Graf reportedly felt adrift, but with the guidance of fellow soldier Sepp Herberger, he managed to focus his considerable energies and enthusiasm on forging a new career for himself in the burgeoning electronics industry. With the help of former JG.11 pilot Berthold Jochim, he also penned an autobiography, 200 Luftsiege in 13 Monaten (200 Victories in 13 Months), which has never been translated to English.

Hermann Graf died on November 4, 1988, of Parkinson's disease. He is buried in Engen, Germany, where his life began. In the postwar years, his brothers in the Fighter Pilot's Association decided to make amends and accepted him back as a full-fledged, loyal countryman