I have been chafing now for some considerable time at not being sent back to the war. I ring up the General of the Air Command in the Caucasus and offer him my Stukas as an operational unit; most of the crews are ready for the front. I point out that it will be splendid training for all of them, and that the Wing may consider itself lucky to get crews which have already had experience. First, we receive an order to move to Kertsch. It appears that Soviet supply trains often travel along the south coast. From here we would be able to attack them. But it gets no further than “would”. For hours together we stand by waiting for the supply trains, but nothing happens. Once I want to try my luck with my Messerschmitt fighter; my objective being enemy reconnaissance aircraft. But the blighters at once sheer off far out to sea setting a course for Tuapse—Suchum, and I can no longer overtake them because, naturally, I cannot take off until after I have spotted them. Soon afterwards, however, I succeed in effecting our transfer to Beloretschenkaja, near Maikop, where another wing is stationed. Here we shall get proper operational flying again, for we are to be used together in support of the advance in the direction of Tuapse.
Overnight we have now become a busy frontal formation. We are in the air from early to late in the area where the army is attacking up the Psich valley by way of Chadykenskaja-Nawaginskaja, over the Goitsch pass in the direction of Tuapse. It is not exactly easy for us because in our training unit we use only relatively old and obsolete aircraft, and the Wing operating here, with which we frequently fly together, has the very latest type. When flying in formation at high altitudes this puts us at a noticeable disadvantage.
Fighting in the narrow valleys is a thrilling experience. We are often unwarily enticed by our eagerness for a fight into a trap, if we pursue the enemy or try too persistently to discover his hiding places. If in our search we fly into one of these narrow valleys we are frequently unable to maneuver at all. Sometimes, however, a mountain suddenly looms up at the end of such a valley, rising sheer and blocking the way ahead. Then we have to make a quick reaction, and time and again we owe our escape to the good performance of our aircraft. But that is still child’s play compared with the situation we find ourselves in when 600 feet above us the mountains are wreathed in dense cloud.
The mountain crests here are between 3,500 and 4,500 feet. It is easier after we have been into every valley a few times and know which valleys have exits, and behind which mountain it is possible to get out into open country. This is all guess work in bad weather and with low lying clouds. When we make low level attacks on some valley road occasionally the defense, fires down at us from above because the mountain sides on either side of us are also occupied by the Ivans.
Our numerically weak mountain troops are putting up a stubborn fight against a far superior enemy lodged in strong mountain positions. We are in close liaison with the ground forces and do our best to answer their every call for attack and support. The battles in the mountain forests are particularly difficult; it is fighting blind-fold. If our Operations Officer gives us permission to attack a certain belt of forest we carry out his instructions even when we are unable to see it clearly. It is on such occasions as these that the Army commends our usefulness and the effectiveness of our attack.
The Geimamberg, the neighboring heights, are in German hands. By stiff fighting we are pushing forward to the south west. Less than thirteen miles separate our comrades from Tuapse. But the casualties in the mountain fighting are too high and there are practically no reserves available. So the assault on the Goitsch pass is abandoned and final success is denied us.
There is a ding-dong battle for the Goitsch railway station.
A Soviet armored train hurls its heavy stuff into our thin attacking line. This armored train is crafty. It belches fire and then, like a dragon, retires into its lair. This dragon’s lair is a mountain tunnel in the neighborhood of Tuapse. If we fly up it streaks back like lightning at our approach into the shelter of the tunnel and we only glimpse its tail. Once we catch it napping-nearly. We have “crept up on it,” but at the last minute it must have received a warning. It is hit, but the damage cannot have been serious; a couple of days later it has been repaired and re-appears. But now this steel monster is extremely wary; we never once catch sight of it again. Then we make the following decision: if we are unable to get to close quarters with this armored train we will make its guardian angel its fatality! We block the exit from the tunnel with a special bomb, thereby preventing the armored train from any excursion and giving our comrades on the ground, at least for a time, a sorely needed respite. “Give and take is the whole philosophy of life,” says my rear gunner with a grin.
We also attack the port of Tuapse, which, like all ports, is strongly defended by flak. The town and the harbour itself, behind the chain of mountains, is still in Soviet hands. If we fly at an altitude of 9,000 feet the light flak reaches us long before we approach the target. A.A. guns are sited on the mountains for the last few miles of our approach. To avoid the flak we fly at an altitude of only 2,500 feet, for the mountain ridges rise perpendicularly from the sea to a height of 4,500 to 5,000 feet. Our attacks are directed against the dock yards, port installations and ships lying in the harbour, principally tankers. Generally everything mobile starts to career in circles in order to avoid our bombs. If they were not so already, my crews are now fully fledged operational airmen. The flak over the port is not at all comparable with the defense at Kronstadt; it is nevertheless impressively heavy. It isn’t possible to fly straight back over the mountains because they are much too high. We usually dive very low on to the harbour and then sheer off seawards at our maximum ceiling and so escape relatively quickly out of the range of the defense. Out at sea, however, the Soviet pursuit aircraft are already waiting for us. We have now to climb to a good 9,000 feet in order to get back home with a margin of at least 3,000 feet above the mountain flak because in air battle it is easy to lose altitude.
The conditions under which we attack are much the same as the Gelendshik area where we also occasionally participate in attacks on airfields or naval targets in. the bay of the same name. The Soviets have soon located our station at Beloretschenskaja; at first they bomb it day and night. Small as is the material damage, they nevertheless inflict a serious blow on the wing whose guests we are. Their C.O., Squadron Leader. Orthofer, is killed in one of these raids. I choose this very moment to land and taxi in; bombs are dropping to port and starboard. My aircraft is hit by many splinters and becomes unserviceable, but I escape unhurt.
General Pflugbeil, who is in command of all the Luftwaffe formations here, is often present at our dispersal. He brings us the news that we are to move further east to an, airfield near Terek. Here another push is in progress and we are to support it. It is aimed in the direction Grosny—Caspian Sea. At the time the move takes place our tank spearhead has reached a point just short of Okshokodnice. Over Georgiewski, Piatigorsk and Mineralnya Wody where one can look down on the vast and magnificent Elbruz mountains we fly to our new base at Soldatskaja. We make a short half way landing at Mineralnya Wody and rest. Here there is a real plague of mice. In palliasses, in cupboards and crannies, in every hold and comer they patter—everywhere mice. They jump out of our haversacks, they eat up everything. It is impossible to sleep minutes quiet, but immediately the noise begins again as loud as before. At Soldatskaja we are rid of this plague of mice. Presumably Ivan’s constantly falling bombs soon frightened them away from here. We have few A.A. guns. We do not now operate, as was originally intended, in support of the tank spearhead to the east, but our first mission is in the south.