Air combat tactics
Event ID: 635
04 April 1918
Source ID: 55
“Air combat in this world war is the remnant of chivalrous duelling. A hundred years ago, the leader of an army stood on a commander’s hill, directing the battle from there and, if things went wrong, riding into battle himself. Nowadays, the army commander sits at the telephone, has a map in front of him and storms English nests with paper flags. It is different in the air. There is still no general staff officer to lead the attack on the enemy squadron. The ink spies are very sorry that they had not yet theoretically invented aerial combat, but that Boelcken, the man of action, lifted this completely new and great field of combat out of its cradle. There are no comprehensive attacks, rolling up from the flank or falling into the rear. Nor is it yet possible to take up position on cumulus clouds or lie in wait for the enemy behind a thundercloud, but rather: ‘Where is the enemy?’ – ‘The enemy is here!’ ‘Point it out, we’ll hit it!’
You fly towards the English squadron, then the battle begins and ends in single combat. I don’t hold down the enemy squadron with my machine gun, but pick out individual opponents. Then it’s a case of ‘you or me!’ A chivalrous battle with equal weapons, each with a machine gun and an aircraft, a little sporting skill and, incidentally, the heart is now weighed.
Air combat is a field that can actually be summarised in a single sentence. On the other hand, many volumes could be written about the field without exhausting it. I once asked Boelcke about his tactics. I was still a complete beginner and had not yet shot anyone. He replied: ‘I just get close and aim cleanly!’ I was annoyed that he didn’t reveal his secret to me and flew back home. But now I know that Boelcke had revealed his entire tactics to me.
I myself was involved in the beginnings of aerial warfare. In the summer of 1915, when I joined the air force, I saw pictures of how our journalists imagined aerial combat. People made fun of the idea of fighting in the air, and I myself began to take an interest in it. It was clear to me from the outset that I would become a fighter pilot, and in order not to be too late for the World War in the air, I trained as an observer for eight days at home and then left. My first aerial combat was as follows: I wanted to fly a routine reconnaissance mission with a non-commissioned officer and had not been above the lines for long when I suddenly found myself face to face with a Russian Farman. I can’t even say who was more frightened, the Russian or me. We were both afraid. I had never seen an enemy aircraft before. Suddenly, this huge bird was flying straight at me. There were no machine guns yet. I had a pistol for six people, which I always carried with me. The thought that I would ever need it had never really occurred to me. It was always tucked away somewhere in the fuselage. I soon found it. The Farman was already alarmingly close. I took aim, aimed very carefully, and as I pulled the trigger, I realised that I had no cartridges in it. On closer inspection, it turned out that I had always flown without cartridges, only with the empty pistol. I told this to my brave pilot, and good advice was hard to come by. Thank God everything happens so quickly in the air that you can’t hold a council of war beforehand. The Farman seemed to be in a similar situation. At first he hadn’t seen me, then he got a colossal fright, which manifested itself in a powerful dive. Now he too took out his murder weapon, but he did have cartridges in it, because he fired at least ten shots at me. That settled the matter for him too. He continued to fly reconnaissance with us, and I flew on towards Russia. When I got home, I dreamed many nights about the nerve-wracking air battle. Other aircraft had similar experiences. In some cases, they even waved to each other in a friendly manner and flew past each other.
At the time when I was participating in the advance in Russia, there was already more talk of aerial combat in the West. Garros, Pegoud, and other French pilots who were already famous in peacetime had come up with the idea of carrying machine guns in their good aircraft in order to attack the unarmed Germans. Thus, at the beginning of 1915, Pegoud shot down six German aircraft in quick succession. In May 1915, the name ‘combat aircraft’ – a large, two-seater aircraft armed with a machine gun – became known on the Western Front. When I arrived in Flanders in August, there were no longer any aircraft without machine guns. Entire squadrons were set up to engage in aerial combat. The number of aircraft shot down was ridiculously low. If someone achieved an aerial victory, that man was admired and became famous. Most of the time, lucky hits were the reason for success. Soon afterwards, large aircraft with two engines were built. One machine gunner was to be positioned at the front and one at the rear. It was now believed that the right fighter planes had been found. Until then, people had been completely on the wrong track without realising it. The person to whom we owe the construction of a proper, real fighter plane, namely the single-seater, is Fokker. His aircraft were always the lightest and therefore the most manoeuvrable, and most of them were designed for only one occupant. In other words, they were pure sports machines that were completely unsuitable for military use in war. Fokker came up with the idea of designing a machine gun that fired through the propeller. The astonished authorities at home considered this a gimmick and initially wanted nothing to do with it, until Boelcken, the man who was most interested in aerial combat, heard about this interesting device and decided to shoot at an enemy with such an aircraft. I say ‘with the aircraft’ and not ‘with the machine gun’ deliberately. It is not ordinary shooting with a rifle, but aiming with the entire aircraft. At that time, no one could have guessed that the idea of this Fokker aircraft would once again be of such tremendous importance to the Luftwaffe. Now, in the great final battles of the World War, hundreds of such aircraft can be seen in a very small space on the days of major combat.
Not everyone is born to be a fighter pilot. I know a lot of dashing young people who are either unsuccessful at flying or shooting, or something else, who tried and failed, soon gave up and made themselves useful to their country in other ways. Just learning to fly, getting into a machine, seeking out the enemy and shooting them down, that’s not possible. I myself learned it in the following way: I initially fought as an observer in a so-called two-seater fighter plane on the Western Front without success, then in the spring of 1916 during the Verdun offensive as a pilot in the same type of aircraft. There I had at least one hundred to one hundred and fifty air battles. In these air battles, I got to know both the characteristics of the enemy and those of our own aircraft. In the two-seater, I learned in particular how to fight defensively in order not to be shot down. In addition, I occasionally flew a Fokker, in which you cannot fly defensively, but only offensively. For this reason, even a cautious fighter pilot can never be a combat pilot. The cautious pilot will always fight defensively, meaning he will never shoot anyone down, whereas in a two-seater with a machine gunner behind me, I am very well positioned to shoot down an enemy.
The fighter pilot normally goes through the following phases: he arrives as a young pilot, usually with the intention of fighting, shooting down and achieving success. He approaches the task with great enthusiasm and very soon gets shot down by an experienced Englishman. This is repeated several times until his initial bravado has evaporated and he realises the danger of his undertaking. Now comes the first critical moment: he has realised that the task is life-threatening and not so easy after all. And now he has to fight his fear in order to attack and shoot down the enemy with the same daring with which he started.
One can observe how a beginner struggles with himself and very often fails to overcome his inner demons, and how the honest one finally comes forward and says that he can’t go on any longer, that his nerves are shot. Boelcke once said, ‘You can excuse anything with nerves.’ If someone is not honest with himself, he doesn’t come forward, but continues to fly along with the others. He pretends that he is doing his duty and fulfilling his obligations. He never shoots anyone down, but participates half-heartedly in the air battle. He is cunning, never putting himself in real danger, for example, to shoot down another pilot. Very skilful people endure this for years, eventually even adding this or that English bunny to their kill list, but ultimately having to return home because their nerves are shot. A tiny percentage overcome this stage, which every fighter pilot goes through, and are ultimately consciously dashing. These men are the truly good, useful fighter pilots, of whom we thankfully still have many in the German army.
Ambition plays a major role for many people. Everyone must have a certain amount of ambition. It just must not become unhealthy ambition. Air combat is always a one-on-one battle. Even though fighter pilots can no longer fly alone these days, the end result is still that the situation develops and unfolds, and then it comes down to a one-on-one battle. One can also speak of a squadron battle. By this I mean a battle between squadrons. For example, I have shot down and destroyed entire enemy squadrons several times with my squadron. This can only be achieved with very well-trained comrades, where each individual is a cannon and knows the others like his brother. With poorly trained squadrons, you generally can’t shoot down any Englishmen at all; you usually find yourself alone among a bunch of enemies and have to make sure you get out with your skin intact.
Air combat tactics in single combat have been discussed and explained countless times, both on and off duty. Every experienced fighter pilot is believed to have a special tactic. In addition, many fighter pilots themselves believe that they have a special tactic. I dispute this. This view is probably based mostly on isolated, random air battles. Someone once shot down an English Bristol fighter in a different way than usual. Since he succeeded, he believes that his fighting style is now the right one. If the person in question then has many successes, he finally admits that he shot most of them down using a boot, namely: he approaches the enemy from behind as closely as possible, aims cleanly, and then the enemy is sure to fall. Most Englishmen now know as well as the Germans that this is the fighter pilot’s combat tactic. A countermeasure is theoretically very simple. You just have to make sure that no enemy aircraft gets stuck behind the tail of your own aircraft. This sounds so terribly simple, but it is actually extremely difficult. Most fighter pilots are ultimately surprised from behind and shot down. Humans only have two eyes, and they look forward, of all places. Now you have to steer your aircraft, throttle the engine, watch where you are, stay close to your own aircraft that you are flying with, and also watch where the many enemy aircraft are buzzing around. All of this together is rarely successful for beginners. Keeping an eye on the air combat situation at all times, standing above the fray, so to speak, is the most difficult thing and must be practised. This cannot be done in the staging park, it cannot be done at a flying school or fighter squadron school, or whatever else the schools are called: it can only be done against the enemy. I always say, thank God it can only be done against the enemy. Poor beginners, how they would suffer if they had to learn this at home! In addition to courage and the unconditional will to destroy the enemy, a fighter pilot must above all have a good eye. He can therefore wear pince-nez or a monocle. Wintgens, for example, was very short-sighted and still shot down twenty Englishmen. In this case, by a good eye I mean the eye of the hunter, the ability to quickly assess the situation with the face. When I go stalking, for example, I usually see more than the hunter who is guiding me or the friend who is accompanying me and knows the area well. Closely linked to the eye of the hunter is attention.
In my opinion, mastering one’s aircraft is only secondary. This assertion of mine has puzzled many people, including experts. I myself am no flying ace, but I know a great many successful fighter pilots who found tight turns extremely unpleasant, and yet they shot down many an enemy aircraft. For example, the successful Bavarian First Lieutenant Kirmeyer, Boelcke’s successor, is said to have been able to fly only in a straight line. In an official letter, I once wrote the following: I prefer a beginner who can only fly to the left – flying to the left is easier than flying to the right, due to the rotation of the propeller – but who attacks the enemy. I have always preferred such people to dive and curve pilots who are cautious and weigh up the pros and cons of every attack. Of course, it doesn’t hurt if someone can fly well. This sometimes comes in handy, especially when fighting against single-seat, manoeuvrable, fast aircraft, but it is not absolutely necessary for a fighter pilot.
Now comes the shooting. When I ask a fighter pilot who has been flying for a long time why he hasn’t shot anything down yet, I often hear the answer: “Yes, I don’t know. I never hit anything, I must be such a bad shot!” That’s not true. Boelcke was no shooting expert. I hunted partridges with him, and he never hit one. And yet the Englishmen he shot down were riddled with machine gun fire! When I approach the enemy at fifty metres and then aim through the sights, the opponent has to be hit. There’s no such thing as bad shooting. Most people have a flexible concept of fifty metres. I’ve spoken to young people with whom I flew myself, observing them. They told me afterwards that we had approached to within ten metres. I’m not exaggerating when I say that you can easily add two zeros to ten. That’s how these good people misjudged the situation in the heat of battle. If they can estimate well and they really did get to ten metres, they forget to aim through the sights and get excited, pressing the machine gun buttons and firing into the blue. Not everyone is capable of maintaining their composure at the last moment, calmly aiming through the sights and keeping their head down. This kind of manhunt really has to be practised.”
Comments (0)