As I come down to land all the men are gesticulating violently and pointing up into the sky. I look up and through the gaps in the ragged cloud cover I can see American fighters and Jabos, Mustangs and Thunderbolts circling above. They are flying at 4800 to 5400 feet above a layer of mist. They have not yet caught sight of me alone up there, otherwise I should have observed them while in the air. The Thunderbolts carry bombs and seem to be searching for a target, so our airfield is presumably their objective. Quickly, as far as one can use the word of a one-legged man in plaster, I hop over to where the others are standing by. They must all be got under cover. I hustle the children into the cellar where they will at least be safe from splinters but no more, for the house which we use as our operations room being the only one on the airfield is pretty certain to tempt one of those chaps up there. I enter last to pacify the children just as the first bombs drop, one of them close to the building; the blast smashes the window panes and sweeps away the roof. Our aircraft defense is too feeble to drive the bombers off, but enough to prevent low level attack. Fortunately we have no casualties among the children. I am sorry that their innocent, romantic ideas of aviation should have thus been brutally converted into grim reality. They soon quiet down again and the school-teacher marshals her little flock into a crocodile and shepherds them towards the village.
Flight Lt. Niermaun is radiant, he hopes he has got a film of the whole attack. Throughout the performance he has been standing in a foxhole, filming the falling bombs from the moment of their release to their impact with the ground and the fountains of earth they spout into the air. This is a tid-bit for the expert photographer from Spitzbergen, where he has also succeeded in taking some unique pictures.
Fresh met. reports from the Görlitz—Bautzen area forecast a gradual clearing-up of the weather, so we take off. The Soviets have by-passed Görlitz and pushed on beyond Bautzen, which is encircled with its German garrison, in the hope of reaching Dresden by way of Bischofswerda. Continual counter-attacks are launched against these spearheads trying to effect the collapse of Field Marshal Schörner’s front, and with our support Bautzen is relieved and we destroy a large number of vehicles and tanks. This flying takes a lot out of me, I must have lost much blood and my apparently inexhaustible stamina has its limitations after all. Our successes are shared by battle and fighter formations placed under my command and stationed on our airfield and in the vicinity.
In the first fortnight of April a wireless signal summons me to the Reichskanzlei. The Führer tells me that I am to take over the command of all jet units and with them clear the air space above General Wenk’s new army now being assembled in the region of Hamburg. This army’s first objective will be to strike from the neighborhood of this city into the Harz, in order to cut the supply lines of the allied armies already established further east. The success of the operation at this critical juncture depends on the preliminary clearance of the air space above our own lines, otherwise it is doomed to failure; the Führer is convinced of this and General Wenk who is to conduct the operation agrees with him. I beg the Führer to relieve me of this assignment because I feel that I am at the moment indispensable in Field Marshal Schörner’s sector, his army being engaged in a most arduous defensive battle. I recommend him to choose for the task someone from jet command who will not be so out of his depth as I should. I point out to him that my experience is limited to dive-bombing and tank combat, and that I have always made a point of never giving an order which I could not assist in carrying out myself. With jet air craft I could not do this, and should therefore feel ill at ease with the formation leaders and crews. I must always be able to show my subordinates the way.
“You have not got to fly at all, you have only to organize. If any one questions your bravery because you are on the ground I will have him hanged.”
A trifle drastic, I reflect, but probably he only wishes to dispel my scruples.
“There are plenty of people with experience, that alone is not enough. I must have somebody who can organize and carry out the operation energetically.”
A final decision is not reached that day. I fly back, only to be recalled a few days later to the Reichsmarschall who passes on to me the order to undertake this task. Meanwhile the situation at the front has so far deteriorated that Germany threatens to be divided into two pockets, and the conduct of the operation would hardly be possible. For this reason and those already mentioned I refuse. As the Reichsmarschall lets me guess, this is no surprise to him as since my flat refusal to accept the combat bomber command he knows my attitude exactly. This time, however, the principal motive of my refusal is that I cannot accept the responsibility for something which I am no longer convinced in my own mind is feasible. I very soon perceive how gravely the Reichsmarschall views the situation. As we are discussing the position at the front, bending over a table spread with maps, he mutters to himself:
“I wonder when we shall have to set fire to this shack”—he means Karinhall. He advises me to go to the Führer’s headquarters and personally inform him of my refusal. As, however, I have received no orders to this effect I fly back immediately to my Wing where I am urgently awaited. But this is not to be my last flight to Berlin.
A wireless signal on the 19th April summons me once again to the Reichskanzlei. To reach Berlin from Czechoslovakia in an unescorted aircraft is at this time no longer a simple matter; at more than one place the Russian and the American fronts are very close to one another. The air space is alive with aircraft, but none of them are German. I arrive at the Reichskanzlei and am admitted to the anteroom of the Führer’s bunker. There is an atmosphere of calm and confidence, those present are mainly army officers taking part in present or contemplated operations. From outside one can hear the thump of the two thousand pounders which Mosquitos are dropping in the centre of the city.
It is nearly 11 P.M. when I stand in the presence of the Supreme Commander. I have foreseen the object of this interview: the definite acceptance of the assignment previously discussed. It is an idiosyncrasy of the Führer to beat about the bush and never to come directly to the point. So on this evening he begins with a half-hour lecture explaining the decisiveness in the course of the centuries of technical developments in which we have always led the field, an advantage which we must also now exploit to the limit and so positively turn the tide of victory in our favour. He tells me that the whole world is afraid of German science and technology, and shows me some intelligence reports which indicate the steps the Allies are already taking to rob us of our technical achievements and our scientists. Every time I listen to him I am astounded at his memory for figures and his specialized knowledge of all things technical. At this time I have about six thousand flying hours behind me and with my extensive practical experience there is very little I do not know about the various types of aircraft he refers to, but there is nothing on which he cannot expatiate with an incomparable ease and on which he does not make apt suggestions for modifications. His physical condition is not as good as it was perhaps three or four months ago. There is a perceptible glitter in his eyes. Wing Commander von Below tells me that for the last eight weeks Hitler has had virtually no sleep; one conference after another. His hand trembles, this dates from the attempt on his life on the 20th July. During the long discussion that evening I notice moreover that he is apt to repeat certain trains of thought, which he never used to, though his words are clearly thought out, and full of determination.