".... this was my first major dogfight I had in the war, in January 1945. I was flying a P-51D and
we were supposed to meet with bombers over Romania. Well, the bombers never showed up!
And we kept circling and wasting our fuel. When we were low on fuel the squadron leader orders
us back to base, with the top group at 24,000 feet and the four bait Mustangs ordered to 15,000
feet. Now you might not really think about it, but the difference in altitude, 9,000 feet, is almost
two miles, and assuming that the top flight could dive and rescue the 'bait' airplanes, it might take
a full sixty seconds or more for the top group to come to the rescue. A heck of alot can happen in
sixty seconds. Earlier, I requested to fly in the bait section believing that I'd have a better chance
to get some scores (at that time I had no victories either) and this was my seventh mission. I have
to say now that I grew up in Kansas City, Kansas, and my older brother flew a Jenny biplane in
the late 1930s, so I learned the basics of flying even before joining the Army.
So we're all heading back to Italy when, all of a sudden, a dozen or so Me109's bounce us. From
one moment it's a clear blue sky, next moment there are dozens' of tracers passing my cockpit.
I'm hit several times and I roll over to the right, and below me is an P-51, heading for the deck,
with an Me109 chasing him. I begin to chase the Me109. All this time I believe there was
another Me109 chasing me! It was a racetrack, all four of us were racing for the finish line!
Eventually I caught up with the first Me109 and I fired a long burst at about 1,000 yards, to no
effect. Then I waited until about 600 yards, I fired two very long bursts, probably five seconds
each (P-51 has ammo for about 18 seconds of continuous bursts for four machine guns, the
remaining two machine guns will shoot for about 24 seconds). I noticed that part of his engine
cowling flew off and he immediately broke off his attack on the lead P-51. I check my rear view
mirrors and there's nothing behind me now; somehow, I have managed to lose the Me109
following me, probably because the diving speed of the P-51 is sixty mph faster than the Me109.
So I pull up on the yoke and level out; suddenly a Me109 loomes about as large as a barn door
right in front of me! And he fires his guns at me, and he rolls to the right, in a Lufberry circle. I
peel off, following this Me109. I can see silver P-51s and black nosed camouflaged painted
Me109s everywhere I look, there's Me109 or P-51 everywhere! At this time I cannot get on the
transmitter and talk, everyone else in the squadron is yelling and talking, and there's nothing but
yelling, screaming, and incoherent interference as everyone presses their mike buttons at the
same time. I can smell something in the cockpit. Hydraulic fluid! I knew I got hit earlier.
.... I'm still following this Me109. I just got my first confirmed kill of my tour, and now I'm
really hot. I believe that I am the hottest pilot in the USAAF! And now I'm thinking to myself:
am I going to shoot this Me109 down too?! He rolls and we turn, and turn; somehow, I cannot
catch up with him in the Lufberry circle, we just keep circling. About the third 360 degree turn
he and I must have spotted two Mustangs flying below us, about 2,000 feet below, and he dives
for the two P-51s.
Now I'm about 150 yards from him, and I get my gunsight on his tail, but I cannot shoot, because
if I shoot wide, or my bullets pass through him, I might shoot down one or both P-51s, so I get a
front seat, watching, fearful that this guy will shoot down a P-51 we're approaching at about 390
mph. There's so much interference on the R/T I cannot warn the two Mustangs, I fire one very
long burst of about seven or eight seconds purposely wide, so it misses the Mustangs, and the
Me109 pilot can see the tracers. None of the Mustang pilots see the tracers either! I was half
hoping expecting that they'd see my tracers and turn out of the way of the diving Me109. But no
such luck. I quit firing. The Me109 still dives, and as he approaches the two P-51s he holds his
fire, and as the gap closes, two hundred yards, one hundred yards, fifty yards the Hun does not
fire a shot. No tracers, nothing! At less than ten yards, it looks like he's going to ram the lead P-
51 and the Hun fires one single shot from his 20mm cannon! And Bang! Engine parts, white
smoke, glycol, whatnot from the lead P-51 is everywhere, and that unfortunate Mustang begins a
gentle roll to the right.
I try to watch the Mustang down, but cannot, Now my full attention is on the Hun! Zoom. We fly
through the two Mustangs (he was taken POW). Now the advantage of the P-51 is really
apparent, as in a dive I am catching up to the Me109 faster than a runaway freight train. I press
the trigger for only a second then I let up on the trigger, I believe at that time I was about 250
yards distant, but the Hun was really pulling lots' of negative and positive g's and pulling up to
the horizon. He levels out and then does a vertical tail stand! And next thing I know, he's using
his built up velocity from the dive to make a vertical ninety degree climb. This guy is really an
experienced pilot. I'm in a vertical climb, and my P-51 begins to roll clockwise violently, only by
pushing my left rudder almost through the floor can I stop my P-51 from turning. We climb for
altitude; in the straight climb that Me109 begins to out distance me, though my built up diving
speed makes us about equal in the climb. We climb one thousand fifteen hundred feet, and at
eighteen hundred feet, the hun levels his aircraft out. A vertical climb of 1,800 feet! I've never
heard of a piston aircraft climbing more than 1,000 feet in a tail stand. At this time we're both
down to stall speed, and he levels out. My airspeed indicator reads less than 90 mph! So we level
out. I'm really close now to the Me109, less than twenty five yards! Now if I can get my guns on
him.........
At this range, the gunsight is more of nuisance than a help. Next thing, he dumps his flaps fast
and I begin to overshoot him! That's not what I want to do, because then he can bear his guns on
me. The P-51 has good armor, but not good enough to stop 20mm cannon hits. This Luftwaffe
pilot must be one heck of a marksman, I just witnessed him shooting down a P-51 with a single
20mm cannon shot! So I do the same thing, I dump my flaps, and as I start to overshoot him, I
pull my nose up, this really slows me down; S-T-A-L-L warning comes on! and I can't see
anything ahead of me nor in the rear view mirror. Now I'm sweating everywhere. My eyes are
burning because salty sweat keeps blinding me: 'Where is He!?!' I shout to myself. I level out to
prevent from stalling. And there he is. Flying on my right side. We are flying side to side, less
than twenty feet separates our wingtips. He's smiling and laughing at himself. I notice that he has
a red heart painted on his aircraft, just below the cockpit. The nose and spinner are painted black.
It's my guess that he's a very experienced ace from the Russian front. His tail has a number
painted on it: "200". I wonder: what the "two hundred" means!? Now I began to examine his
airplane for any bullet hits, afterall, I estimate that I just fired 1,600 rounds at the hun. I cannot
see a single bullet hole in his aircraft! I could swear that I must have gotten at least a dozen hits!
I keep inspecting his aircraft for any damage. One time, he even lifts his left wing about 15
degrees, to let me see the underside, still no hits! That's impossible I tell myself. Totally
impossible. Then I turn my attention back to the "200" which is painted on the tail rudder.
German aces normally paint a marker for each victory on their tail. It dawns on me that quick:
TWO HUNDRED KILLS !! We fly side by side for five minutes. Those five minutes take
centuries to pass. Less than twenty five feet away from me is a Luftwaffe ace, with over two
hundred kills. We had been in a slow gradual dive now, and my altitude indicates 8,000 feet. I'm
panicking now, even my socks are soaked in sweat. The German pilot points at his tail,
obviously meaning the "200" victories, and then very slowly and dramatically makes a knifecutting
motion across his throat, and points at me. He's telling me in sign language that I'm going
to be his 201 kill! Panic! I'm breathing so hard, it sounds like a wind tunnel with my mask on.
My heart rate must have doubled to 170 beats per minute; I can feel my chest, thump-thump and
so.
This goes on for centuries, and centuries. The two of us flying at stall speed, wingtip to wingtip. I
think more than once of simply ramming him. He keeps watching my ailerons, maybe that's what
he expects me to do. We had heard of desperate pilots who, after running out of ammunition,
would commit suicide by ramming an enemy plane. Then I decide that I can Immelmann out of
the situation, and I began to climb, but because my flaps are down, my Mustang only climbs
about one hundred feet, pitches over violently to the right and stalls. The next instant I'm
dangerously spinning, heading ninety degrees vertically down! And the IAS reads 300 mph! My
P-51 just falls like a rock to the earth! I hold the yoke in the lower left corner and sit on the left
rudder, flaps up, and apply FULL POWER! I pull out of the dive at about 500 feet, level out, (I
began to black out so with my left hand I pinch my veins in my neck to stop blackout). I scan the
sky for anything! There's not a plane in the sky, I dive to about fifty feet elevation, heading
towards Italy. I fly at maximum power for about ten minutes, and then reduce my rpm (to save
gasoline), otherwise the P-51 has very limited range at full power. I fly like this for maybe an
hour, no planes in the vicinity; all the time I scan the sky, check my rear view mirrors.
I never saw the Me109 with the red heart again. At the mess I mention the Me109 with the red
heart and "200" written on the tail. That's when the whole room, I mean everybody, gets instantly
quiet. Like you could hear a pin drop. Two weeks later the base commander shows me a telex:
"....according to intelligence, the German pilot with a red heart is Eric Hartmann who has
downed 250 aircraft and there is a reward of fifty thousand dollars offered by Stalin for shooting
him down. I’ve never before heard of a cash reward for shooting down an enemy ace ... "
Dobre cteni Horrido
Hartmann musel bejt fakt neskutecne rizek
Nedavno jsem cetl rozhovor s nejakym pilotem, kterej nastoupit jako novacek, tusim na konci roku 44, k JG52 a potkal se tam s Hartmannanem.
Vzpominal mimo jine na to, jak Harmann, vykropenej uplne na srot, projizdi s kattenkardem skrz stan a nejakou drevenou boudu...
Nejak to nezapada do predstav panu Tolivera a Constabla...
[img]http://i74.photobucket.com/albums/i255/xHorst/Avatar/founder_gold_en_zps81618c02.png[/img] is not a valid Image.
40.StL_Horst
Vždyť i v Sundejte Hartmanna je napsáno, jak Bubi s Graf Punskim jdou na předávání nějakých dubových ratolestí či čeho přímo za Führerem - je tam popisovaný, jak je tam nějakej starej prušák nechal cvičit ve sněhu, aby to trochu rozdejchali a mohli vůbec před Hitlera nastoupit . Nebo si to už nepamatuju?
Nowi s Quaxem taky chlastali jak duhy..a Lipfert .
E CL_Punkey napsal:
Pravdu díš veliteli. Ještě je také polívali vodou, když si Hartmann v sídle nasadil jednu z Hitlerových čepic a začal tam s ni tančit.
The German pilot points at his tail,
obviously meaning the "200" victories, and then very slowly and dramatically makes a knifecutting
motion across his throat, and points at me. He's telling me in sign language that I'm going
to be his 201 kill! Panic! I'm breathing so hard, it sounds like a wind tunnel with my mask on.
My heart rate must have doubled to 170 beats per minute; I can feel my chest, thump-thump and
so.
E CL_Punkey napsal:
Pravdu díš veliteli. Ještě je také polívali vodou, když si Hartmann v sídle nasadil jednu z Hitlerových čepic a začal tam s ni tančit.
když si to přečteš v angl tak je tokrásný, ja bych to podelal kdybych to mel preložit, ztratilo by to tu autenticitu, krasný je to líčení toho strachu pilota p-51 jak vidí ty streaky, tep...a pak si me vykuchá :-)
Teď si tak říkám - srdce ano, černý nos ano, ale 200 na směrovce? Nebo jakékoliv symboly sestřelů? Hartmann přece na svých strojích z tohoto období symboly sestřelů nenosil, ne? Ať jsem kouknul na jakýkoliv obrázek na netu, tak to bylo bez sestřelů (od poloviny roku 44)..
Ale jinak k ty opilosti Hartmanna a spol. tak si to pamatujete krapet blbe panove. Tehdy to vyresili tak ze udelali z auta kabriolet a nechali je pekne je(k)t nalehko v tom...
Ale jinak k ty opilosti Hartmanna a spol. tak si to pamatujete krapet blbe panove. Tehdy to vyresili tak ze udelali z auta kabriolet a nechali je pekne je(k)t nalehko v tom...
ve zkratce: Hartmann byl borec, sundal tam P-51 jediným výstřelem z 20ctky, a poté po souboji nechal žít "nováčka" bez sestřelu. Moc napínavě napsané, odkud je ten článek? Není celá knížka
Co obou pilotům běželo v tou dobou v hlavě a co je vedlo tohle udělat by bylo zajimavé vědět.
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. Nebo si to už nepamatuju? 
