To further hinder the reconnaissance efforts of the German Army, the Tenth Corps operations plan called for the bulk of the corps' movement to take place during periods of limited visibility. Since the son set in central Germany before five in the afternoon during January and didn't come up again until after seven in the morning, the corps had plenty of darkness to operate with. Use of multiple routes, including countless logging and farm trails that ran through Germany like tiny capillaries through the human body, aided in confusing the Germans.
Darkness and fog, however, could not hide radio signals. In an effort similar to that of the Valkyrie informers, dummy headquarters were set up to simulate radio traffic of real headquarters. Consisting of three or four vehicles equipped with the same type of radios used by the real headquarters, these dummy headquarters moved about the Tenth Corps area in accordance with the Tenth Corps deception plan, the same used by the Valkyrie. While the real headquarters continued to move in radio-listening silence, using messengers or the German telephone system for communications, their dummy counterparts operated radio nets that normally would be used by the real headquarters. As they passed information back and forth, German signal intelligence units would track the dummy units, feeding that information into the German intelligence system. Of course, eventually most dummy headquarters were discovered for what they were. When the Americans were able to detect that a dummy headquarters had been compromised, those dummy headquarters were shut down and sent elsewhere to assume the identity of another headquarters, but not always. As an added twist, when everyone at Tenth Corps was sure that a dummy headquarters was in fact identified as one, the dummy headquarters was co-located with the real one. In this way, information provided by the German Army signal intelligence units claiming that a unit was a dummy actually discredited good solid information from other sources that identified the real headquarters and its associated units.
This war for information and intelligence that was being waged on the ground and in the airwaves over central Germany was not without its risks and costs. While flying back from the 14th Armored Cavalry Regiment's forward command post in Fulda to the air squadron's command post, Major Bob Messinger, the squadron operations officer, noticed movement that he thought was a helicopter off to his left. He ordered his pilot, Warrant Officer Three Larry Perkins, to come around so that he could get a better look. After searching the area for several seconds, Messinger saw what he was looking for. "See 'em? Do you see them over there to the left?"
Perkins, watching his altitude and speed with one eye, glanced over to where Messinger was pointing. Finally, in the failing late-afternoon light, Perkins caught a glimpse of two German scout helicopters flying low and slow toward the west, side by side. "Oh, yeah. I see." Then as an afterthought he added, "Tryin' to be sneaky little devils, aren't they?"
Without taking his eyes from the German helicopters, Messinger mused, "Well, they're not being very good at it, are they? Look at 'em. Damn. There isn't more than a hundred meters between them. And I don't think they've seen us."
While bringing their helicopter around in a circle behind the German helicopters, Perkins continued to watch his instruments, where he was going, and the Germans. "Bad case of tunnel vision. You don't suppose they have someone flying cover, do you?"
Understanding Perkins's comment for the warning it was, Messinger began to look about for any sign of other German helicopters or aircraft. When he was sure there weren't any, he turned back to the two German helicopters. By this time Perkins had brought their own helicopter behind the Germans, slowing almost to a hover. Deciding that this was a good time to report, Messinger submitted a sighting report, called a spot report, back to the squadron command post. After providing his assistant operations officer at the command post with the location, number of helicopters sighted, their type, and their activity, Messinger turned to Perkins. "You feel like having a little fun?"
Knowing what Messinger was hinting at, Perkins looked at his fuel gauge, his other instruments, and the amount of daylight left, and thought for a second. When he was sure that they could afford to deviate from their flight plan, Perkins turned to Messinger and smiled. "Sure. You're the boss. Do we sneak up or dig our spurs in and charge home?"
"Let's shake these guys' trees a little. Kick her in the ass and overfly 'em. And, Larry, I want to see what color eyes the pilot of the right helicopter has."
Lining up his ancient OH-58 with the Germans, Perkins set himself like a sprinter in the starting blocks. Messinger, taking one last glance around to make sure there weren't any other Germans trailing or covering the two German scouts that they were about to pounce on, called out that the coast was clear. When all was ready, Perkins simply said, "Here we go," and began their run in.
Easing the joy stick forward with his right hand, Perkins tilted the main rotor forward by twisting the collective on his side with his left hand while manipulating the pedals with his feet to keep the tail boom straight. All these actions, done with the ease and grace of an experienced aviator who flew almost exclusively by feel and touch, put the helicopter in a nose-down position as the main rotor bit into the air and pulled the helicopter forward at ever increasing speeds.
By the time they were within one hundred meters of the two German scouts, Perkins and Messinger's helicopter had just about maxed out their airspeed. With a final quick jerk up on the cyclic, Perkins pulled their helicopter up and over the two Germans. Once he was sure that they had cleared the German helicopters, Perkins eased the collective down, causing the helicopter to drop right in front of the Germans. After holding this for a couple of seconds to ensure that the Germans got a chance to see who he was, Perkins made a hard left bank in order to get out of the Germans' line of fire.
Shooting, however, was the last thing the two German pilots were thinking of at that moment. They had been, as Messinger observed, totally oblivious to everything except where they were going. The sudden appearance of another helicopter overflying them at a high rate of speed and then dropping right in front of them just meters away caused both pilots to panic and overreact. The German to the left pulled up and made a sharp bank to the left in order to avoid a collision with the unknown intruder. He sought safety in altitude and speed. The other German attempted to do the same, but didn't quite gain enough altitude before he began his bank to the right. The result was that as his helicopter began to tilt to the right its rotors bit into the branches of a pine tree off to his side. Though the branches didn't shatter or break the rotors, the sudden blade strike, coupled with the shock of Perkins's overflight, totally unnerved the German pilot. At a loss as to what to do and unable to comprehend everything that was happening, the German flared out and crash-landed his helicopter.
While they were still coming around and slowing some, Messinger saw the effects of their maneuver. When he saw the blade strike and the crash landing of the German helicopter that had been on the right, he held his breath as he waited to see if the German helicopter caught fire. Perkins, also watching, said nothing. Instead he brought his own helicopter around in a tighter bank and headed for the crashed helicopter. As they approached, both men experienced a sinking feeling while they watched to see if their fellow aviators were able to make it clear of the wreckage. When they saw one, then the other, free himself from the downed aircraft, both men felt great relief. Messinger broke the silence by instructing Perkins to set down near the two downed aviators.