The small platform was brimming with townsfolk, a sea of expectant faces shouting out the names of their relatives into the small crowd of newly arrived former POWs. Some simply held signs above their heads, with photographs attached. Hermann Schmitt, born 1920. Brown hair; blue eyes. Army Group Center, Company… Taken prisoner in 1943. Do you know him?
Johann pushed his way through the crowd, not recognizing a single face. Suddenly, a young man grabbed him by the sleeve and threw himself around his neck. Through a film of tears, Johann barely recognized Harald, his little brother who stood taller than him now. A young woman stood shyly behind his back, holding a little blonde girl’s hand.
“My wife, Irma. And this is Geli, our daughter.”
Johann shook the pretty brunette’s outstretched hand.
“What on earth are you doing here? I thought you’d go straight to Berlin to Mina!” Harald wouldn’t stop hugging him and patting him, relief and concern written all over his face at the sight of his brother.
Johann parted his lips as though to say something but then suddenly couldn’t speak a word.
“How is she?” He finally forced himself to utter at least something.
“She’s all right, considering. She has a good position in a bank, and Frau von Sielaff is taking care of the children.”
Johann held his breath, searching his brother’s face for clues.
“And what about Karl? Doesn’t he work?”
“Who’s Karl?” Harald seemed genuinely confused.
Johann released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding all these months.
“Is there a phone nearby? I need to make a call.”
“Over there, at the post office. It’s five minutes away.”
Johann had never been so nervous in his life, not even during the worst of the attacks, as he was now, with the black phone pressed to his ear.
“Hello?” A little voice answered, clearly belonging to a child.
For a moment, Johann didn’t know what to say.
“Hello?” The voice repeated.
Johann swallowed a lump in his throat. “Wilhelm? Is that you?”
“No, it’s Gerd. Who’s calling?”
“It’s…” Johann rubbed his face ferociously, collecting himself into something that could think rationally again. “Is your mother home?”
“No, Mama’s at work. Only my grandmother and my brother are here.”
“Could you call your grandmother to the phone, please? Tell her, it’s Johann. She’ll know.”
Silence. Then, a soft, “Papa, is that you?”
Johann slid down the wall, hiding his face in his hands, sobbing openly for the first time in years. Harald quickly burst inside and picked up the phone.
“Gerd, is that you, my little fellow? It’s your uncle, Harald. Be a good lad and call your grandmother to the phone, will you? Yes, Bubi, it was your Papa. He’s coming home soon.”
Note to the Reader
Despite this novel being a work of fiction, the two central characters◦– Johann and Willi◦– are based on two actual Luftwaffe fighter aces, Erich Hartmann and Hans Joachim Marseille, respectively. The two never served together, as Marseille, nicknamed The Star of Africa for his brilliant performance during the African campaign, died before Erich Hartmann began scoring his victories on the Eastern Front. I’ve studied both extensively, for quite some time and the idea of what could have been if the two had met in real life or◦– even better◦– had a chance to serve together, wouldn’t leave me in peace until I started outlining, Of Knights and Dogfights.
Both Erich Hartmann and Jochen (as he was called by his comrades) Marseille were not only extremely gifted fighter aces but incredibly kind and liberal young men, who resented the Nazi Party and everything it stood for. Both were known for their gallant and respectful treatment of their prisoners of war and their chivalrous attitude to their downed counterparts. Many instances, described in the novel, such as them inviting their downed POWs into their tents and striking a friendship with them, or aiming exclusively at the engine in order to cripple the aircraft and leave the pilot uninjured, as well as delivering notes about the fate of captured airmen, to the enemy airbase, are based on true events. Marseille was particularly famous◦– or infamous◦– for it, trying his utmost to inform the enemy of their comrades’ fates whenever the occasion presented itself, causing the wrath of his superiors for risking his life each time he set out on such a dangerous enterprise, during which he could have easily been shot down by enemy flak.
The episode with the SS and the Staffel’s Senegalese crew chief, Henry, even though dramatized, is also based on true fact. After his Corps took one Senegalese soldier prisoner, Marseille virtually “adopted” him and the two became the closest of friends, which also caused the disapproval of Berlin and the Office of Race.
Johann’s capture and further incarceration in the Soviet Gulag and the treatment he had to endure is based on Erich Hartmann’s incarceration and his recollections of the Soviet POW camps and the NKVD commissars.
Flying techniques and dogfights described in the novel are also based on both fighter aces’ service records. If you would like to continue with further reading or have any questions concerning the authenticity of certain events, feel free to contact the author◦– I’m always more than happy to provide my readers with useful links or further reading material.
Erich Alfred Hartmann (19 April, 1922◦– 20 September, 1993), nicknamed “Bubi” (“The Kid”) by his German comrades and the “Black Devil” by his Soviet adversaries, was a German fighter pilot during World War II and the most successful fighter ace in the history of aerial warfare. He flew 1,404 combat missions and participated in aerial combat on 825 separate occasions. He was credited with shooting down 352 Allied aircraft◦– 345 Soviet and 7 American◦– while serving with the Luftwaffe. During the course of his career, Hartmann was forced to crash-land his fighter fourteen times due to damage received from flying parts of enemy aircraft he had just shot down, or from mechanical failure. He was never shot down or forced to land due to enemy fire.
Hartmann scored his 352nd and last aerial victory at midday on May 8th 1945, just hours before the war ended. Along with the remainder of JG 52, he surrendered to United States Army forces and was turned over to the Red Army. In an attempt to pressure him into service with the Soviet-friendly East German Volksarmee, he was tried on fabricated charges of war crimes and convicted; his conviction was posthumously voided by a Russian court as a malicious prosecution. He was sentenced to 25 years of hard labor and spent 10 years in various Soviet prison camps and gulags until he was released in 1955.
In 1956, Hartmann joined the newly established West German Air Force in the Bundeswehr and became the first Geschwaderkommodore of Jagdgeschwader 71 “Richthofen”. In his later years, after his military career had ended, he became a civilian flight instructor. He died on 20 September 1993 aged 71.