Читать книгу The Great World War 1914–1945: 1. Lightning Strikes Twice - John Bourne - Страница 26

David Jordan

The first flight of an aircraft in 1903 created a new arena for warfare. In simple terms, the aircraft was another piece of machinery produced by advancing technology. Although from the perspective of the 21st century it is difficult to perceive the Wright Flyer or Blériot’s monoplane as articles of cutting-edge technology, at the time of their construction they represented the height of innovation. They were also dangerous. Their newness made them unreliable, and herein lay the difficulties. If a piece of new technology failed to function on the ground, it did not usually lead to death or injury. The person operating the machine would simply note that it was not functioning and attempt to make it work. If he failed, he would send for technical assistance, either from the machine’s inventor or the manufacturer. For a pilot this was not an option. If a piece of equipment failed, the aviator had no time for the luxury of sending out for help. Technological failure meant a rapid return to earth, with all the attendant risks. Although the knowledge existed to get a man into the air, the development of the parachute to get him down again was running some way behind. As a result, the public came to adore the ‘magnificent men in their flying machines’, ranking them as a special breed.

When the First World War broke out, their image was enhanced. The nature of warfare between 1914 and 1918 meant that the public at home could not easily find heroes from among the armies on the ground. The days of the knightly champion indulging in single combat were at an end. The great naval heroes of the 19th century were largely absent, thanks to the absence of great naval battles, leaving only the airmen. Initially, the acclaim they enjoyed related to the dangerous nature of flight rather than war, but within 12 months of the outbreak of conflict there was a new type of pilot to admire. The fighter pilot.

The need to prevent interference with operations by enemy aircraft led to the development of machines first equipped and then specifically designed for the task of fighting with other aircraft. The nature of this work provided heroes for the Home Front of every nation engaged in the conflict. Aerial combat seemed to possess the chivalry of old – man against man, machine against machine. Pilots, not just those in fighters, were eulogised as an elite band, engaged in combat that owed something to the age of chivalry. David Lloyd George informed the House of Commons:

‘The heavens are their battlefield; they are the cavalry of the clouds. High above the squalor and the mud… they fight out the eternal issues of right and wrong. Their daily, yea, their nightly struggles are like the Miltonic conflict between the winged hosts of light and darkness… They are the knighthood of this war, without fear and without reproach.’¹

Lloyd George was not altogether accurate. In fact, fighter pilots knew fear, and they soon discovered that chivalric acts were just as likely to get them killed as to be to their benefit. Nonetheless, the image held. This leaves historians with a problem. The popular perception of fighter pilots of both World Wars is one dominated by the ‘aces’ – those pilots with five or more victories against the enemy. This neatly overlooks the fact that approximately 40 per cent of aerial victories have been achieved by around 5 per cent of all fighter pilots.² This means that to understand the fighter pilots’ experience in two World Wars, we need to look beyond the aces; if we do not, we miss out of the equation large numbers of fighter pilots. They flew many hours on operations and scored only a few, if any, aerial victories. In fact, if the experience of fighter pilots, ace and non-ace, is considered, there is a remarkable seriality of experience. This applies to both conflicts and across national boundaries.

Although the popular perceptions of fighter pilots may be distorted, there are a number of truisms that can be drawn from the false imagery. Air combat is a difficult pursuit. Unlike other forms of warfare, it is fought in three dimensions, which adds to the challenge of being successful. The truly successful fighter pilot needs to possess great perception of what is happening around him; in the course of an air battle, this has proved to be extremely difficult. This ‘situational awareness’, or ‘SA’, is important to all fighter pilots. Those who possess the best SA have tended to be the high scorers. In the two World Wars pilots could not rely upon technology to guide weapons against enemy aircraft, and had to rely upon their shooting skills. For every crack shot, there were tens of others who were unable to bring a sufficient weight of fire to bear upon the enemy. This consideration applies across the board. It is notable that many aces have been described as only average pilots.

‘Billy’ Bishop was regarded as being a particularly ham-fisted pilot, but his shooting skills enabled him to become one of the leading aces. As will be discussed below, just how accurate was Bishop’s total of claims is now open to serious doubt; nonetheless, there is enough evidence to state that he destroyed enough aircraft to be considered an ‘ace’ (although the Royal Flying Corps and its successor the Royal Air Force have never officially used the term), and his shooting skills were undoubtedly important. In comparison, the New Zealander Keith Caldwell, who ended the First World War commanding 74 Squadron RAF, was noted for his skilful flying and abysmal shooting. Mike Spick regularly makes the point that the adage ‘good flying never killed anyone yet’ holds a great deal of truth.³ Spick also makes an important contribution by noting that the idea that the top-scorers were only average pilots is inherently subjective. As most, if not all, of the highest-claiming men possessed better situational awareness, they were able to use this superior judgement to avoid placing themselves in circumstances where superlative flying skill was required to save themselves.⁴

The debate over the importance of flying skill and shooting ability is not an easy one to resolve. The easiest way to score while avoiding trouble was to sneak up upon an opponent and press home an effective close-range attack before he knew what had occurred.⁵ This apparently required only competent flying, but demanded good planning and accurate shooting. Although this type of attack fell outside the bounds of chivalric behaviour, this consideration did not worry fighter pilots. One of the leading British pilots of the Great War, Philip Fullard, firmly believed that his high score of victories owed more to his ability as a pilot rather than to superior shooting skills. Fullard was not shy in his self-analysis, calling himself a ‘brilliant pilot’. He also remarked upon his penchant for getting so close to the enemy aircraft that he could see the bullets striking home.⁶ Even if pilots were excellent shots, the need to get in close to the enemy was stressed time and time again. The second highest-scoring American pilot of the Second World War, Thomas B. McGuire, told new arrivals to his unit they should ‘go in close, and then when you think you’re too close, go in closer still.’⁷

With the arrival of batteries of wing-mounted guns in Second World War fighters, it is noticeable that the British aces all harmonised their guns to a set point, so that the rounds would converge. In the Battle of Britain a number of pilots had the harmonisation set at 50 yards.⁸ This was in contrast to the initial alignment of the guns so that a ‘shotgun pattern’ was achieved. Although this was an admirable recognition of the lack of shooting ability of the vast majority of pilots, it did nothing to compensate, reducing the concentration of weight of fire. The same difficulty affected the Luftwaffe, where it was noted that the armament of the early versions of the Messerschmitt 109 created problems for the less experienced pilots. The Me109’s armament of two rifle-calibre machine-guns over the engine and one cannon firing through the propeller hub demanded precise shooting for full effect.⁹ The successful pilot invariably preferred to get in close. The leading ‘ace’ of the Second World War, Erich Hartmann (352 victories), remarked:

‘You can have computer sights or anything you like, but I think you have to go to the enemy on the shortest distance and knock him down from point blank range. You’ll get him from in close. At long distance it’s questionable.’¹⁰

And:

‘I liked the whole of my windscreen to be full of the enemy aircraft when I fired.’¹¹

Getting in close reduced the need to possess deadly shooting skills; the major difficulty appears to have been that of judging distance. There are countless examples of pilots opening fire beyond the range of their guns, thus alerting the enemy and reducing their ammunition before closing to an effective distance. Hence, while the ability to shoot straight was important, the ability to judge range was equally imperative, especially when shooting with any degree of deflection.

Although the majority of pilots who followed the simple dictum of getting in close could score a few victories, the high-scorers were set apart by their ability to aim accurately while compensating for angles of deflection between them and their target. It will be realised that the majority of aerial combats did not involve straight and level flight. The twists and turns seen as aircraft manoeuvred for position meant that the ability to judge an aiming point became vital. It was therefore necessary for pilots to judge where their shells and the enemy aircraft would converge. This was true in both World Wars, but, coupled with the higher speeds of the Second, it made air combat a tricky business. More than anything else, this explains why shooting skills were arguably more important than flying ability.

In the First World War the French ‘ace’ René Fonck used to spend a great deal of time while on the ground practising his shooting. Although he used a shotgun or a rifle, the principles were the same. He ended the war with an official tally of 75 victories, a total that, in fact, may have been even higher. Fonck was also renowned for his ability to dispatch an enemy aircraft using remarkably few rounds of ammunition. In the Second World War the British ‘aces’ ‘Johnnie’ Johnson and Robert Stanford Tuck, both of whom went game shooting, were able to score highly (at least 38 and 29 victories respectively) as a result of their experience of judging both distance and movement so as to bring their guns to bear on a moving target. The closer the range, the less danger of miscalculation. Even with practice, be it gained from hunting birds or in the more official surroundings of a gunnery school, the shooting ability of the top-scorers relied heavily upon developed instinct. Gunther Rail, the third-highest scoring German pilot of the Second World War, with 275 victories, noted:

‘I had no system of shooting as such. It is definitely more in the feeling side of things that these skills develop. I was at the front [for] five and a half years and you just get a feeling for the right amount of lead [ie angle of deflection].’¹²

A predecessor from the Great War, Captain Frederick Libby, was of the same opinion, claiming that, ‘Aerial gunnery is ninety per cent instinct and ten per cent aim.’¹³

The truly successful fighter pilot therefore combined situational awareness with good judgement of distance and an ability to aim his guns to best effect. Possessing above average flying ability was helpful, but not essential. No matter how skilled a shot, fighter pilots nevertheless required more than all this. Their equipment, training and tactics also had a major role to play.

The development of air fighting in the Great War naturally demanded the consideration of both strategy and tactics. On the strategic level, the policies developed by the Allies, particularly the Royal Flying Corps, have received more attention than those of the German air service, while the tactical axioms developed by men such as Manfred Von Richthofen, Oswald Boelcke and Max Immelmann have been regarded more highly than those of the Allies. This is slightly misleading, as any study of what might be generically called ‘pithy quotes by fighter pilots’ from either World War demonstrates that there were master tacticians on both sides. The crucial point to be made is that the essential rules of air fighting remained very similar in both conflicts; furthermore, there were not a great many of them. Thus from the First World War we have Manfred Von Richthofen noting ‘the aggressive spirit, the offensive, is the chief thing everywhere in war and the air is no exception’; while a whole conflict later, ‘Johnnie’ Johnson stressed that ‘the only proper defence is offence.’¹⁴ Although this gives the impression that the tactical development of the air forces progressed on similar lines, the RAF entered the Second World War at a tactical disadvantage.

The prescribed methods of flying and fighting laid down by Fighter Command manuals and routine orders predicated the use of either the three-aircraft section (or ‘vic’) and the line astern of four machines, with different types of attack profile being employed against fighters and bombers. The Luftwaffe, on the other hand, utilising its experience in the Spanish Civil War, adopted the more flexible ‘schwarme’ or ‘finger four’. This formation, named in its English translation after the position of the fingers of a hand laid flat on a table to demonstrate the rough positioning of the aircraft within it, developed the notion of the ‘wingman’. The aircraft in the four could, and did, divide into two sections, with each pilot certain that he was covered by his wingman. Although the pairs of aircraft usually had a designated (or de facto) lead and wing, if the wingman found himself engaged in a fight, he could usually rely upon his section lead to follow him, watching for any enemy aircraft that might try to engage. In spite of the fact that the ‘finger four’ was rapidly proven to be more effective than either the ‘vic’ or line astern, British pilots found that it was difficult to change a tactical system that had been carefully built up and protected by the entrenched bureaucracy of the inter-war years. This caused difficulties. The two wingmen in the ‘vic’ had to spend most of their time keeping formation, giving them little time to scan the sky for enemy aircraft, while the line astern simply enabled the enemy to work their way along the line.

Most RAF units circumvented the problem of tactical ossification in high command by ignoring the official way of doing things and using the best method, although this could lead to trouble from higher authority if discovered.¹⁵ That the German method was far better is beyond doubt: the three-aircraft section left one of the aircraft without any cover for his rear quarter. When the problem of hidebound command was overcome – partly through the promotion of combat-experienced flyers to staff and command positions – the RAF was finally able to put the ‘finger four’ to good effect.

In a replication of the First World War, the Luftwaffe began to move towards defensive operations over occupied territory while the Allies took the war to them. This was, of course, first meant to be done through the use of bombers, but when it became apparent that the unescorted bomber was vulnerable, the emphasis of the offensive was transferred to the fighter arm. Thus, strategy laid down in 1916 re-emerged, putting the fighter pilot in the vanguard of aerial operations, even though pre-Second World War theory had given prominence to the bomber. The offensive use of fighters owes most to the thoughts of Marshal of the Royal Air Force Viscount Trenchard (in 1916, a Brigadier-General). Trenchard contended that:

‘The moral effect produced by a hostile aeroplane is… out of all proportion to the damage which it can inflict.

The mere presence of a hostile machine in the air inspires those on the ground with exaggerated forebodings with regard to what a machine is capable of doing.

The sound policy then which should guide all warfare in the air would seem to be this: to exploit this moral effect of the aeroplane, but not to let him exploit it on ourselves. Now this can only be done by attacking and continuing to attack.’¹⁶

Furthermore, Trenchard argued that:

‘…An aeroplane is an offensive and not a defensive weapon. Owing to the unlimited space in the air… it is impossible for aeroplanes to prevent hostile aircraft from crossing the line if they have the initiative and determination to do so.’¹⁷

For the remainder of the war, the British more than any other air service remained wedded to the doctrine of the offensive. The policy was designed to ensure that the RFC’s army co-operation machines could operate without interference from the enemy; the safest means of doing this was to keep the enemy well behind the front lines. The disparity in losses between fighters and army co-operation machines suggests that the offensive policy worked, but it was extremely costly. Additionally, there were instances of patrols sent out over enemy lines and not meeting any opposition, but suffering losses as a result of mechanical failure or anti-aircraft fire.¹⁸

Arthur Gould Lee, an RFC veteran, felt that Trenchard viewed the offensive in terms of gaining territory:

‘…for a British plane to be one mile across the trenches was offensive: for it to be ten miles across was more offensive… While we thus dissipated our strength, more often than not merely beating the empty air, the Germans… concentrated forces superior in numbers or equipment and engaged our scattered line patrols in turn, and our Distant Offensive Patrols as and when it suited them. The result was that in 1917, British air losses were at times nearly four times as great as the German.’¹⁹

The Germans appeared to remain content to engage the RFC over their own lines, and never adopted offensive operations on the same scale. Of Manfred Von Richthofen’s 80 credited victories, 62 were destroyed over German lines or No Man’s Land. RFC ‘aces’ obtained most, if not all, of their ‘kills’ well over enemy territory.

The Great War first demonstrated a point that remained true in the Second World War, namely that the defensive fighter force had a number of advantages when compared to an air force pursuing an offensive. Pilots who were shot down on the defending side were able to crash land or (in the later conflict) parachute to safety on friendly territory, while the pilot from the attacking side who was forced down could look forward only to captivity or attempts to evade – which were rarely successful. In addition, the attacking force was compelled to consider its fuel state. In the case of the Battle of Britain, the Luftwaffe’s efforts were greatly hampered by the fact that the Me109 was unable to remain over Britain for long because of lack of fuel reserves. British fighters, notably the Spitfire and the Hurricane, were similarly ‘short-legged’. Nonetheless, this did not prevent the British from employing the fighter offensive after the threat of a German invasion of Britain had reduced. ‘Johnnie’ Johnson, as has been mentioned, was emphatic upon the value of offensive action, but he was talking about air combat. His views on the RAF’s offensive against German-occupied territory in 1941 and 1942 were less than enthusiastic:

‘We began to carry out low-level flights over France. These operations were known by the code name Rhubarb. The idea was to take full advantage of low cloud and poor visibility and slip sections of Spitfires across the coast and then let down below the cloud to search for opportunity targets, rolling stock, locomotives, aircraft on the ground, staff cars, enemy troops and the like…

…I loathed these Rhubarbs with a dark hatred. Apart from the flak, the hazards of making a let-down over unknown territory and with no accurate knowledge of the cloud base seemed far too great a risk for the damage we inflicted.’²⁰

It is hard to disagree with Johnson, since the effect of the operations was relatively small, and did nothing to compensate for the losses of experienced pilots. The famed Robert Stanford Tuck and Douglas Bader were both shot down and captured during the course of the offensive, while slightly less well-known ‘aces’ such as Howard Blatchford, John Gillan, Eric Lock and Paddy Finucane were all killed.²¹ This is not to say that the use of fighters in an offensive role was without any value. Once the United States Army Air Force (USAAF) was equipped with long-range fighter aircraft, it was able to carry the war deep into Germany itself, escorting bombers and inflicting attrition upon the enemy fighter force. Among other things, this prevented the Luftwaffe from opposing the D-Day landings in great force, and began to remove experienced pilots from the fray. Indeed, Noble Frankland suggests that the use of long-range fighters over Germany was vital in winning the air war in Europe.²²

Even though such strategic developments were of obvious importance, the tactical application of fighters in attempting to achieve these aims remained vital. Although the RAF had learned much about the use of the ‘finger four’ from encountering the Germans, this only applied to small groups of aircraft. Again, in a direct parallel with the First World War (although on a larger scale), pilots found that they were engaged in air battles involving increasing numbers of machines. The RAF had made attempts to use large formations during the Battle of Britain, most notably the famous ‘Big Wing’ led by Douglas Bader. This was a novelty for the RAF, for it had never previously attempted to use large formations of aircraft in a defensive situation. Although the German Spring Offensives of March-June 1918 had suffered greatly from air attack, actual air combat operations had been a secondary concern for the defenders. A further difference was the manner in which defensive air-to-air operations were conducted: in the Great War, the majority of combats were over enemy lines. During the Battle of Britain, then later the Battle for Malta, fighters worked almost exclusively over their own territory, without attempting to carry the war to the enemy.

While the gaining of air superiority was crucial, once won, the fighter force could have found itself with little to do. This was not the case, as fighter pilots found themselves engaged in ground-attack operations. The qualities of the fighter aircraft – speed, manoeuvrability and firepower – made it admirably suitable for the risky work of attacking ground forces. The RFC was arguably the first air service to make major use of its fighter aircraft for ground-attack, preferring them to developing machines specifically designed for such a role. Initially, pilots indulged in freelance operations as they were returning from patrols, but at the Battle of Arras in April 1917 the first co-ordinated operational orders for air support were issued. A combination of bad weather and inexperience meant that the missions did not achieve all that they might have done, but they showed great promise. At Third Ypres in July, the concept was proven to be effective, and came to the fore at the Battle of Cambrai at the end of the year. This had implications for a number of fighter pilots, who found themselves training for operations quite unlike any they had conducted before. Notable amongst them was Arthur Gould Lee of Number 46 Squadron. On 9 November, Gould Lee recorded his flying for that day:

‘My other flying was a low cross-country and bomb-dropping practice. We were actually ordered to do the low-level flight, which normally is officially frowned on. Our machines have been fitted with racks under the fuselage to carry four 20lb bombs, and a target has been laid out… I wonder what’s afoot?’²³

This practice continued, until on 17 November he wrote home:

‘Over the past four days we’ve been hard at it practising bomb-dropping… I found it surprisingly easy to get close results [with bombs], in fact mine were the best in the squadron… I hope this unexpected skill doesn’t land me any awkward jobs!’

This cheerfulness masked his real concerns:

‘Something unpleasant is certainly brewing. We all feel it. First 3 and 46 [Squadrons] both getting Camels in such a hurry. Then this intensive practice in low bombing and low… flying… Another squadron, 84, with SE 5a’s under Major [Sholto] Douglas has arrived at the other end of the aerodrome… Every village in the forward zone is crowded with troops… obviously a big push is coming any time now.’²⁴

The attack at Cambrai was launched on 20 November. Gould Lee was sent to attack enemy artillery batteries in Lateau Wood. His recollections of the incident were understandably vivid:

‘The batteries below are firing producing more smoke… there we are, the three of us whirling blindly around at 50–100 feet, all but colliding, being shot at from below and trying to place bombs accurately… In a sharp turn, I saw a bunch of guns right in line for attack, so dived at 45 degrees and released all four bombs… One fell between two guns, the rest a few yards away… I dive at another group of guns, giving them 100 rounds. See a machine-gun blazing at me, swing on to that, one short burst and he stops firing… A long column of artillery limbers… I zoom [climb] then switchback along the column spraying short bursts in each little dive.’

Gould Lee then became hopelessly lost, and landed alongside some men in a field, hoping to discover his location. Unfortunately, the men were German. He took off swiftly, and machine-gunned them:

‘I swung over, dived and let them have it. Some horses and men tumbled, the rest scarpered. I went down the sunken road they’d come from. It was full of horsed traffic. I dived on them and let them have it too, and saw men falling off stampeding horses. My dive carried me on to another road, with a column of marching troops. As I fired, they bumped into one another, then broke into the side fields.’²⁵

Gould Lee recorded that the latter part of his attacks were easy, as there was no ground fire. This was unusual, and was a significant difference from the experiences of pilots in the Second World War, when there almost always seemed to be some retaliation from the ground. Gould Lee in fact found returning to base most difficult, as his compass failed and he could not navigate in the appalling weather. As a result he had to forced-land. The strain of ground-attack began to tell on his nerves. By 28 November his strain showed in his reference to the work as a ‘gardening spree’. His diary entry for the next day recorded:

‘This trench-strafing is all becoming rather a strain. In air fighting, chance is only one of the factors. But trench-strafing is all chance, no matter how skilled you are. To make sure of your target you have to expose yourself to the concentrated fire of dozens of machine-guns and hundreds of rifles… Of course, strafing behind the lines is different, the odds against you aren’t nearly so great.’

Although trench-strafing of German troops may have enhanced the morale of British infantry, it did nothing for the morale of the pilots. Attacks behind the lines, on the other hand, were usually a complete success, causing panic and confusion, even if they did not cause any injury to the enemy. The emphasis on trench-strafing saw aircraft casualties at Cambrai average 30 per cent. This could not be sustained, but did not dissuade the RFC from continuing such operations, which, in fact, made a substantial contribution to halting the German Spring Offensives of 1918, and in battles during the Hundred Days that brought the war to an end. By this time, air superiority was largely in the hand of the Allies, with the exception of a final German challenge in September. As a result, more ground attack work was carried out, and RAF fighter squadrons became highly proficient in the role. Number 73 Squadron, equipped with Sopwith Camels, specialised in attacking anti-tank guns, and did much to reduce the effectiveness of German field artillery pieces, which otherwise caused the advancing armour considerable difficulties.²⁶

Having seen the effectiveness of ground-attack operations, the German armed services perfected air-ground co-operation after the Luftwaffe was formed, while the Royal Air Force forgot all the lessons learned. It was compelled to re-learn them in the Western Desert in 1941, again resorting to the use of fighter aircraft. The capability of virtually all fighters to carry bombs and later rocket projectiles was exploited to the full, and by 1945 the Spitfires of 2nd Tactical Air Force were being used as dive-bombers. The most famous ground-attack aircraft in British service at this time, the Hawker Typhoon, originated as a fighter, and was re-roled when it proved inadequate at higher altitudes. Its qualities of speed, firepower and toughness meant that it proved almost ideal for the job. The fame that the type won perhaps disguises the fact that, by 1945, the gaining of air superiority by the Allies meant that virtually all fighter types could be spared for ground-support operations and armed reconnaissance. Such work, however, was made extremely dangerous by the likelihood of liberal amounts of flak.

This is vividly recalled by many RAF fighter pilots, especially those who flew the Hawker Tempest. A development of the Typhoon, the little-known Tempest was one of the best fighter aircraft of the war at medium to low altitudes, and was a stable gun-platform. Although it did not normally carry bombs or rocket projectiles, it was still an ideal tool for ground-attack operations. This meant that the pilots regularly encountered heavy flak, as the former commanding officer of 486 Squadron, C. J. ‘Jimmy’ Sheddan, noted when recalling an incident early in 1945:

‘Towards the end of the war trains often had flak carriages spaced throughout their entire length and it does nothing for your nerves when your aircraft seems surrounded by tracer and you know that for every one you can see there is at least four that are invisible. The Germans also used heavily armed trains as flak traps. One of my worst moments was when [Squadron Leader Warren] “Smokey” Schrader drew my attention to a train which I was trying hard not to see, as I knew in my heart that it was a plant – too much smoke, too little movement… I was between the devil and the deep blue sea. I had been at this game for longer than I cared to remember and knew that this was one train that I should keep away from, but with Smokey… watching and waiting for my decision, I just had to take the risk and attack.

No sooner had I committed myself then all hell broke loose as the flak came showering up in waves. Crunch! About a foot of the end of my port wing folded over. Now I was in real trouble! Any sudden change of direction and that wing would stall, causing a spin. Down below was what looked like a train full of guns and all firing at a single aircraft… There was no way that my plane should have passed through the wall of lead without receiving further damage. However, I survived – just!’²⁷

It was not only RAF pilots who suffered from this. One of the leading exponents of the P-47 Thunderbolt, Francis Gabreski (28 victories), was shot down when attacking ground targets, as were a number of other highly experienced men. Just as in the First World War, skill and experience could do little to save them from a well-aimed – or even a lucky – burst of flak. The random nature of ground-attack operations meant that they were often disliked intensely by fighter pilots. Pilots knew that, in aerial combat, skill, judgement and experience could greatly increase their chances of survival, whereas flak did not discriminate between good or bad flying. By 1945 all sides had the ability to make ground-attack a decidedly hazardous mission for participants. The most obvious example of this occurred on New Year’s Day 1945 with ‘Operation Bodenplatte’, the Luftwaffe’s attempt to cripple the Allied air forces on the ground. The operation saw the use of a large number of fighters, with somewhere between 700 and 800 aircraft being used. Although the mission saw the destruction of nearly 200 Allied aircraft, ‘Bodenplatte’ was a disaster for the Luftwaffe. Unbriefed German flak gunners shot down a number of their own aircraft as they headed to and from the lines, and the Allies were not caught totally by surprise, as some aircraft were already airborne. At the end of the operation, an estimated 300 German aircraft had been lost, along with over 230 of the pilots.²⁸

This was perhaps the most extreme example of a fighter force suffering from its employment for ground-attack. The Luftwaffe especially was unable to sustain such losses since its fighter pilots were in almost constant action. Unlike the Allies, where pilots served an operational tour and were then sent to a second-line posting, German fighter pilots continued to fly until they were shot down and either killed or wounded badly enough to ground them. While this system meant that German pilots gained immense amounts of operational experience and scored enormous victory tallies, it also ensured that they became fatigued and less effective. Furthermore, they were generally unable to pass their experience on to new pilots at training schools. Although Allied pilots frequently felt that teaching new recruits how to fly and fight could hardly be described as a ‘rest tour’, they were at least able to pass on some of their experience (even if ‘Johnnie’ Johnson was moved to note that ‘the right senior officer was not present’ to explain how to win at air combat²⁹). Thus the Germans were forced to throw inexperienced pilots into battle, where they proved to be hugely vulnerable to marauding American escort fighters. The pilots of the latter were becoming progressively more experienced, and as the quality of their opponents decreased, they were less likely to be shot down themselves. As Adolf Galland was moved to remark. ‘A steadily increasing percentage of the young and inexperienced pilots were shot down before they reached their tenth operational flight.’³⁰

This meant that the Luftwaffe was always struggling to keep up. As its pilots were outnumbered, even the huge experience levels of the experten were not enough to prevent them from being defeated. The lack of numbers became significant. In certain instances history had demonstrated that if an outnumbered air force possessed aircraft as good as or better than the enemy, it could at the very least cause serious problems for the enemy. By both 1918 and 1945 the Germans were in possession of splendid fighters, but the Allied aircraft were good enough to enable their pilots to defeat less-experienced opponents in a better machine. Von Richthofen rightly argued that the quality of the aircraft mattered less than the quality of the man who flew it, although if pilots of equal ability were in aircraft of differing quality, the one in the better machine was likely to win.

The Fokker D VII may have been the best aircraft of the Great War, but it was overcome by a combination of factors. The Allies had greater numbers of aircraft, and the fighters were of a nearly similar qualitative level. This was enough to minimise the effect of the Fokker. The same occurred in 1945. While the FW190D, Ta152 and Me262 could all claim to be superior in some way to their opponents, this was offset by the pilots of these types being outnumbered by aircraft that could at least match them if well flown. This applied even to the Me262, which although 100mph faster than any Allied fighter available, was shot down frequently by Mustang, Spitfire and Tempest pilots. This was in direct contrast to the experience of German and British pilots in 1941 and early 1942 when the first versions of the FW190 had been introduced. The Luftwaffe then possessed an aircraft that was superior to any in British service (until the Spitfire Mark IX arrived) and large numbers of experienced pilots. Although the RAF was able to give a good account of itself generally against the FW190, the problems it faced were serious. They were further intensified by the fact that the RAF was operating over enemy-held territory, thus ensuring that it was unlikely that pilots of shot-down aircraft would be able to return to battle.

The same could be said of the RFC’s experience in early 1917, culminating in ‘Bloody April’. Although the RFC possessed many highly proficient pilots, its equipment was simply not good enough to deal with the fighters in German service. This saw the loss of many experienced men, who had to be replaced by aircrew fresh out of training schools. This created a vicious cycle of losses, where newcomers to fighter squadrons were unable to remain alive for long enough to gain knowledge of how to fight, to be replaced by men who, as a result of the demand for them, had even less training, being even more vulnerable as a result. Once the Sopwith Camel, SE 5a and Bristol Fighter arrived in service by June 1917, the situation changed dramatically, and the Germans found it almost impossible to gain anything other than local air superiority for the remainder of the war.

This was not a phenomenon confined to the Western Front; the Soviet air force was virtually annihilated in the first weeks of the war by experienced pilots in better aircraft, and it took considerable time for the Russians to be able to make their numbers and manufacturing superiority show. In the Pacific the RAF was surprised to discover how proficient the Japanese were, with the result that the hopelessly outclassed Brewster Buffalo could do nothing to contain the Japanese advance. The Americans also found their aircraft were outclassed by the A6M Zero-sen, but found ways to overcome the difficulties. American fighters carried a far heavier armament than Japanese aircraft and were better armoured. This meant that if American pilots could at least get a shot in at the Japanese they stood a good chance of seriously damaging or destroying their opponent. As a result, the US air services sought to develop suitable tactics to force the Japanese to fight on terms that gave American pilots the opportunity to exploit these advantages in their equipment. This did much to rectify the problem initially, until new aircraft types entered service. Once the Vought F4U Corsair, Grumman F6F Hellcat and Lockheed P-38 Lightning arrived, the Japanese found that they were outnumbered and facing aircraft that were in many ways (if not absolutely) superior to theirs. Once again the Japanese began to haemorrhage experienced pilots as a result of this, creating what might be termed the qualitative-quantitative cycle of aerial attrition.

This applied in both World Wars. It was all very well having more experienced pilots, but if they were hopelessly outnumbered there was little they could do. If they flew machines that were clearly inferior to those of their enemies, the situation was the same. Alternatively, possessing an aircraft that was clearly superior to the opposing air force was of little use if the pilots were not experienced enough to exploit the advantages their machines possessed. However, where numerical and qualitative variables were more closely matched, the results of aerial combat (and the campaigns of which they were part) were less easy to predict. A smaller number of superior aircraft, coupled with well-trained pilots, could tilt the balance, even when numerical superiority lay in the hands of the enemy. A classic case in point may be said to have been the Battle of Britain. Although the RAF was outnumbered, it had two splendid fighter aircraft in the Spitfire and the Hurricane, which were able to deal with the German attacks. Had the RAF settled in the 1930s for vast numbers of the Gloster Gladiator, even if this type had outnumbered the Me109 and Me110, it is hard to perceive a positive outcome for the RAF in the summer of 1940. Although a slightly different case, the possession of large numbers of Fairey Battle bombers did little for the RAF’s efforts in France in 1940 – a smaller number of Hurricanes equipped for the fighter-bomber role would perhaps have been better, though not sufficiently so to have changed the overall outcome of the German campaign against France and the Low Countries. As ‘Johnnie’ Johnson noted, ‘Good aeroplanes are more important than superiority in numbers’.³¹

Air forces were of course not slow to recognise the importance of having machines that could match those in enemy service, and to have pilots capable of matching their opponents. Although the leading ‘aces’, as noted, possessed certain personal qualities that other pilots lacked, such as enhanced Situational Awareness, training organisations understood that fighter pilots tended to be slightly different. It was all very well possessing superior aircraft, but if their pilots were inferior they would lose. Von Richthofen argued that ‘the quality of the box matters little. Success depends upon the man who sits in it’.³² This was recognised by all air forces in both wars, although the losing side in each conflict suffered from an inability to obtain enough men with ‘the right stuff’.

The term ‘right stuff’ has now entered the realms of cliché, but was applicable. In the case of the First World War, the pilots were regarded as ‘intrepid aviators’, who required great courage and fortitude to leave the safety of the ground in their potentially dangerous machines. This meant that many of the first men to enter into air combat were of a notably strong character, which in some cases manifested itself in eccentricity. Perhaps the most notable example here was the inimitable Louis Strange, who as well as being probably the first British pilot to conduct a ground-attack mission, survived falling out of his aircraft and hanging inverted on to the ammunition drum of his Lewis gun before managing to swing himself back into the cockpit. Strange ended the First World War commanding 80 Wing, RAF, flying Sopwith Camels, and then distinguished himself in the Second World War.

He managed to persuade the authorities that he was still capable of flying, and in June 1940 he found himself at Merville airfield commanding the efforts to transport men and equipment away from the advancing Germans. A number of serviceable Hawker Hurricanes were on the airfield, and Strange decided to fly one back to England. Although he had never flown a Hurricane before, he successfully took off, only to be ‘bounced’ by a flight of Me109s. Although the Hurricane was not carrying any ammunition, Strange simply outmanoeuvred the enemy fighters, including some hair-raising low-level flying. He returned safely to Britain, and was awarded a bar to the Distinguished Flying Cross, 20 years after he had first won that award.³³

The RFC produced a number of pilots whose behaviour was extremely unusual during the Great War, but this was more by virtue of circumstances at the commencement of the conflict than by design. As the war went on, it was neither possible nor desirable to track down men who were noticeably unusual in their general behaviour in order to train them for air fighting. Instead, pilots were asked if they had experience of riding horses, or motor vehicles. The employment of the former question by recruiting officers has been ridiculed, but made perfect sense.³⁴ A man who could control a horse probably had the necessary reflexes and dexterity to control an aircraft. An interest in motor vehicles (which, by virtue of being considered more plebeian, does not receive the same level of amusement) was of use, and remained so. Robert Stanford Tuck, upon applying to join the RAF in 1935, was asked of his knowledge of ‘ICE’. Tuck had no idea what his inquisitor was talking about, but managed to bluff an answer in general terms. Upon leaving the interview, he suddenly realised that ‘ICE’ stood for ‘Internal Combustion Engines’.³⁵

Technical aptitude was important, but was not the only factor. Even if fighter pilots did not need to be brilliantly adept at flying, they needed to be competent. The demands of air combat placed heavy psychological and physiological demands upon pilots. Not only did pilots have to cope with the violence, speed and ferocity of air fighting, they had to sustain heavy g-loadings, cold, and changes in air pressure, all of which had a cumulatively fatiguing effect. In the First World War pilots rarely had the benefits of oxygen supply, and the majority flew for their entire careers without it. At heights above 10,000 feet, the thinner air combined with the cold to make air fighting a difficult task. The effort required to change the ammunition drum on a machine-gun was substantial, as the thinner air made exertion more taxing. The lack of oxygen also had the effect of dulling mental agility, crucial to air fighting, which demanded swiftness of thought. The Second World War at least saw the use of oxygen, but sub-zero temperatures remained a challenge, even with the provision of heating systems in the enclosed cockpits. The physical stresses of flying in both wars meant that pilots became fatigued. This, coupled with psychological fatigue, created dangerous and often fatal circumstances.

The fighter pilot was invariably on his own in combat.³⁶ This required a certain type of person. Research conducted after the Second World War suggests that a combination of physical and psychological factors were important in selection of pilots. Good pilots were not anxious types and had good psychomotor adaptation and co-ordination. In addition, they tended towards introversion, but – crucially – had the ability to get on well with others when they wished.³⁷ The top-scoring ‘ace’ Erich Hartmann noted this, and contended, with the benefit of empirical observation rather than science, that fighter pilots tended towards individualism. This is supported by the historical examples of Billy Bishop, Georges Guynemer and Albert Ball from the First World War, and George ‘Screwball’ Beurling from the Second, all of whom preferred to operate alone.³⁸ This did not mean that they were anti-social on the ground, although Ball was famed for his solitary lifestyle, which included wandering outside his self-built cabin playing the violin.

In contrast to Ball and others, ‘Mick’ Mannock believed in teamwork, often ‘setting up’ kills for new pilots to give them confidence. Boelcke and Immelmann formulated their tactics together, and experience in the Second World War demonstrated the importance of fighting as a pair. The trust between pilots was important, since it was comforting to know that there was someone watching out for attack by the enemy. The nature of air combat demanded qualities that were apart from those required in other forms of fighting. Hugh Dundas noted this after his first combat in 1940:

‘From the leading Messerschmitt came thin trails of grey smoke as the pilot fired his guns. The group faded into specks which, in an instant, disappeared beneath the thick black smoke cloud rising from Dunkirk…

Perhaps this little cameo lasted before my eyes for about five seconds; it was a lightning personal introduction to the use of guns in earnest and to the terrifying quality of air fighting. But I did not at that time have so much as one second to reflect upon it, for I was suddenly aware that the formation in which I was flying… was breaking up in violent manoeuvre.’³⁹

This marked the start of Dundas’s first ‘dog-fight’. He found it a terrifying and confusing affair:

‘…when, at last, I felt it safe to straighten out, I was amazed to find that the sky which only moments before had been full of whirling, firing fighters was now empty. It was my first experience of this curious phenomenon, which continually amazed all fighter pilots. At one moment it was all you could do to avoid collision… the next moment you were on your own.’⁴⁰

The rapid nature of air combat – which could be made all the more sudden by a surprise attack from the enemy – was not the only confusing matter for pilots. In both World Wars, the fighter pilot could return from a particularly arduous mission feeling lucky to have survived, then find himself going out for a pleasant evening’s relaxation before having to face the prospect of being heavily engaged the following morning. This imposed great levels of stress upon pilots, particularly for the Germans with their policy of not rotating men to training units. Unlike many other combatants, fighter pilots faced dramatic contrasts in their living conditions day after day. Coupled with the physical stresses of air fighting, this meant that even the most experienced pilots became heavily fatigued. Hugh Dundas, after scoring his first victory, noted a worrying ‘inner voice’ that urged him not to take risks. Although he heard this voice regularly, he was able to ignore it–to the extent of becoming a willing wingman to the aggressive Douglas Bader – until he approached the end of his tour. By mid-1941, he was in need of a rest, but:

‘It did not occur to me to ask for a rest. Bader’s influence had taught me that this was not an acceptable course. Indeed, I felt more strongly than ever that I must stick with the Squadron, continuing to fight… and helping to pass on to the new pilots the experience and knowledge I had gained…

At the same time, I subconsciously shrank from battle. The instinct for survival, the inner urge to rest on my laurels, was very strong. I know there were a couple of occasions when I shirked from the clash of combat at the critical moment. Looking back on it later, I recognised that this was a time of extreme danger for me and also to some extent for the men I was leading. It was the stage of fatigue when many experienced fighter pilots have fallen as a result of misjudgement or a momentary holding back from combat.’⁴¹

Fatigue and misjudgement applied to all fighter pilots, and could not be avoided by the end of a tour of operations. For the Luftwaffe this meant either death or wounds that prevented flying, which was hardly the best fashion in which to husband experience. By the time of their deaths in action, both Albert Ball and Georges Guynemer were displaying signs of fatigue that may have contributed to their loss. Fatigue could affect pilots in other ways too – Philip Fullard fought with considerable aggression until November 1917, when he was injured in a football match at his aerodrome. Fullard informed Peter Liddle that he did not suffer from stress or nerves, but after his enforced removal from the front, his efforts to repress this caught up with him, and his nerves gave way, preventing him from returning to light duties until September 1918.⁴²

It is clear that the personal qualities of fighter pilots were important. Although recruiting officers could never be sure, they attempted – usually successfully – to find men who could ignore or suppress their anxieties for considerable periods. The ability to be both introverted and personable suggests that perhaps the pilots were able to compartmentalise aspects of their lives, ensuring that they could cope with the stresses imposed upon them. Although individualism was important, it is worth noting that most memoirs by fighter pilots stress the importance to them of at least one other colleague, often their wingman. This was rarely so great as to cause breakdowns if that close friend was lost, and again suggests an ability to maintain professional detachment to a greater degree than others. This mix of individualism and teamwork was vitally important, along with the third major quality of aggression. In 1917, Trenchard noted:

‘The battle in the air can only be won by taking the offensive and persevering in it… victory over [enemy] low-flying aircraft [will come] through offensive superiority [emphasis in original]… The aeroplane is a weapon that has no exact counterpart… but the principles which guide it in warfare, in order for it to be successful, are those which guide all other arms in all other elements of warfare, and the most important of these is the will and power to attack the enemy, to force him to fight, and to defeat him.’⁴³

To do this an air force required pilots who were prepared to take risks and to operate in an offensive manner. The canard ‘the best form of defence is attack’ was expected to be an unconscious part of a fighter pilot’s character. This applied across national boundaries in both World Wars; fighter pilots were required to be aggressive to be successful – and that success might be measured on occasion by whether they lived or died. Aggression could, and did, bring casualties when applied recklessly. Pilots also needed to judge when to be aggressive and when not to be. There was little room for men who were unable to think quickly and press home the advantage when they had it. This did not preclude some degree of fellow-feeling for enemy pilots. Most preferred it when the pilot of an aircraft they destroyed escaped alive. Arthur Rhys-Davids, the conqueror of Werner Voss, was heard to express his dismay that he was unable to have brought him down alive. Mannock, on the other hand, was a notable exception to the vague bonds of comradeship that fighter pilots had towards one another, and was not the only one. Pilots with these sentiments tended to be exceptions: even though the Vietnam war ‘ace’ Randall Cunningham argued that it was better to go into battle with some ‘hate in your heart’, this did not extend in either war to attacking a defeated opponent on the ground or in a parachute. Although this did happen, pilots from both sides on the Western front (in both wars) generally regarded such actions as unacceptable.

Whether an ‘ace’ or simply a regular squadron flyer, the fighter pilot has always been slightly apart from other warriors. Aggression, teamwork, popular recognition and adulation combined with danger, fear and the random nature of simple fate to make the fighter pilot’s task demanding and different. Whether German, American or British, whether fighting in the First or Second World War, or whether flying a Fokker Triplane or Supermarine Spitfire, the fighter pilot’s experience was remarkably similar. The nature of their task made it so.