Mosquito: Menacing the Reich: Combat Action in the Twin-engine Wooden Wonder of World War II (17 page)

The German night fighter force was far from defeated and the
Nachtjagd
remained a constant threat.

CHAPTER FOUR

Berlin or Bust

H
ad it been introduced in quantity a new night-fighter, the He 219A-0, might have turned the tide for the German night-fighter force but like the Me 262 jet fighter in the day-fighter arm the
Uhu
(‘Owl’) was never available in sufficient numbers significantly to effect the course of the air war. Fast, manoeuvrable and with devastating firepower of six cannon the ‘Owl’ was equipped with SN-2 radar and the world’s first operational nosewheel undercarriage and ejection seats operated by compressed air for the two crew. At Venlo, Holland, I./NJG1 had been equipped with the anti-Mosquito version of the
Uhu
, a modified version of the He 219A-2, which was lightened by the reduction in armament from six to four 20mm MG 151/20 cannon. It had FuG 2205-N26 airborne radar system, a service ceiling of 37,000ft and the installation of a nitrous oxide (better known as ‘laughing gas’) fuel injection system to its engines made it one of the few German night fighters fast enough to catch the Mosquito.
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In late May 1944 the
Uhu
was abandoned in favour of the Ju 88G series, an aircraft that had sufficient performance to take on four-engined bombers but incapable of combating the ‘Wooden Wonder’. A
Uhu
in the right hands was a different proposition. During the period 12 June 1943 to 2 July 1944, twenty
Uhu
pilots destroyed 111 Bomber Command aircraft including seven Mosquitoes.

On the night of 10/11 June
Oberleutnant
Josef Nabrich of 3./NJG1 began his patrol high above the Zuider Zee in a cleaned-up He 219
Uhu
with the armour plating and four of the cannons removed especially for hunting Mosquitoes. Nabrich and his
Bordfunker, Unteroffizier
Fritz ‘Pitt’ Habicht were looking to add to the four bombers they had claimed destroyed during May, including two in one night (on 24 May). Suddenly, ground controllers reported the approach of a formation of Mosquitoes at a slightly lower altitude. Thirty-two of the Wooden Wonders were
en route
to Berlin. One of these was a 692 Squadron Mosquito B.IV
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flown by Flying Officer I.S.H. MacDonald
RAAF
and Flying Officer E.B. Chatfield
DFC
. Habicht looked at his SN-2 radar display and directed Nabrich to reverse course towards the Mosquito flying east at high speed. Over Osnabrück the He 219 crew obtained visual contact and Nabrich closed to within firing range. He opened up with a short burst from the He 219’s wing cannon. The starboard engine of MacDonald and Chatfield’s Mosquito immediately burst into flames and started down in a spiral, out of control. Before Nabrich could attack again the Mosquito’s bomb load exploded and the blast caused the
Uhu
to stall. Nabrich finally managed to recover just above the cloud layer. Only pieces of the Mosquito were found but MacDonald and Chatfield had baled out immediately after the first attack, convinced that a new anti-aircraft weapon and not a night-fighter had shot them down. Both men survived and they were taken prisoner.

Hauptmann
Ernst-Wilhelm Modrow of I./NJG1, a pre-war Lufthansa pilot who joined the night-fighter arm in October 1943, was also airborne in an He 219
Uhu
on the night of 22/23 April, when the target for 596 heavies was Düsseldorf. He had previously destroyed three
Viermots
, (four-engined heavy bombers) and now he was looking for his 19th victory. Modrow’s
Bordfunker
scanned his SN-2 radar display and picked up a homeward bound aircraft, which was approaching the Dutch Coast at 27,000ft. Their quarry was a Mosquito B.XVI flown by Flight Lieutenant Joe Downey
DFM
and Pilot Officer Ronald Arthur Wellington of 571 Squadron, who were on their first Mosquito operation. Downey, who was approaching his 26th birthday, was like Modrow, something of an old hand too, having flown fifty-seven ops on bombers.
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Arthur Wellington recalls:

The attack on our aircraft consisted of a short burst of cannon fire, no more than five rounds. The starboard engine was hit and burst into flames. The aircraft immediately went into an uncontrolled dive and on receiving the order ‘Bale Out’ I made my exit from the normal escape hatch. At the time Joe was preparing to follow me. Very shortly after pulling the ripcord I saw the aircraft explode beneath me. It is therefore, very unlikely that Joe was alive when the remains of the aircraft crashed onto the dunes near Bergen, a small seaside town three miles north-west of Alkmaar.
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Airborne again in their He 219
Uhu
on the night of 11/12 June
Oberleutnant
Josef Nabrich and
Unteroffizier
Fritz Habicht of 3./NJG1 sought more victories as the LNSF sent thirty-three Mosquitoes to Berlin and the heavies bombed rail targets in northern France. West of Salzwedel Habicht was able to pick up a Mosquito, so near that he could see it clearly without radar. Nabrich had difficulty getting into a firing position because the Mosquito pilot, Flight Lieutenant O.A. Armstrong
DFM M
i
D RNZAF
of 139 Squadron, was carrying out wild evasive action. Finally, Nabrich gave the B.IV two bursts of 20mm cannon and DZ609 went down vertically and exploded seconds later killing Armstrong and his navigator, Flying Officer G.L. Woolven. Now it was time for Nabrich to have concern. He had made his pursuit at full power and seconds after the Mosquito went down the port DB603 engine of his He 219 seized. He feathered the propeller and was able to make a single-engine landing at Perleberg.
Generalleutnant
Josef ‘Beppo’ Schmid sent Nabrich and Habicht a congratulatory telegram and a gift of several bottles.
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A second 139 Squadron Mosquito piloted by Scotsman, Flying Officer J.L. Cassels
DFC
and 30-year old Londoner Alan J.A. Woollard
DFM
failed to return to Upwood when their aircraft suffered engine trouble. Woollard had survived a Mosquito crash a month earlier while returning to Upwood on 10/11 May when a flare that had failed to release ignited. The Mosquito had crashed 8 miles NNE of Cambridge killing his pilot Flying Officer G.W. Lewis. The night of 11/12 June proved slightly less turbulent, as Woollard recalls:
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We received a very rough reception. We were adopting the tactic of marking and then nosing down slightly to gain speed and get out the far side as fast as possible. As the tumult started to die down the port engine rad temperature went off the clock and my pilot had to feather it. As this engine supplied our heat (as well as powering the H
2
S), we quickly frosted up inside and couldn’t see out. We swung north, came down from 25,000ft to around 8,000ft and took stock. We were without radar, between Berlin and Stettin, flying slowly and with dawn fast approaching. Calculations showed that as things stood we were unlikely to make England with our stock of petrol and that it would be daylight before we reached the enemy coast. We decided to go to Sweden. The port engine was unfeathered several times to enable me to get the H
2
S working and cross the Baltic at a quiet spot. We reached the Swedish coast OK but low cloud prevented us from flying north to Kristianstad where we understood there was a ’drome. We therefore crossed the Swedish coast near Ystad to the accompaniment of a furious shower of Bofors flak and after much searching for a field big enough to take us, had to land using three fields. This necessitated a ‘wheels up’ landing and we proceeded to leave bits of Mosquito in two hedges. It was also very noisy. Eventually the farmer arrived and took us to his farm for coffee, saying: “Welcome to Sweden.”
¹²⁷

On 28/29 June 230 bombers hit the railway yards at Blainville and Metz for the loss of eighteen Halifaxes and two Lancasters (or 8.7 per cent of the force)
¹²⁸
while thirty-three Mosquitoes of the LNSF went to Saarbrücken and another ten were despatched to drop 4,000lb ‘Cookies’ from 32,000ft on the Scholven/Buer oil plant in the Ruhr. All the Mosquitoes returned without loss but Flight Lieutenant David ‘Russ’ Russell and his navigator Flying Officer ‘Barks’ Barker of 109 Squadron, who had completed a tour on Stirlings and who were on their third Mosquito trip,
¹²⁹
had a close shave after dropping their ‘Cookie, as Russell recalls:

Heading for home at 30,000ft it was clear and with bright moonlight. At almost one o’clock near Venlo on the German/Dutch border we were feeling relaxed and were trimmed for a gradual but fast moving descent with an hour or so return to base. Suddenly and without warning lines of orange coloured ‘blobs’ flashed past underneath, then gracefully and lazily fell away in the distance; quite fascinating. Shocked, we felt the dull thud of shells striking the Mossie. A fighter must have closed to within a hundred yards or so and attacked from below and dead astern. We must have been the perfect target, silhouetted against the light. Shells crashed between us, cold fluid from the compass got into my boots and poor Barker kicked his legs in the air. I opened up to full power and went into a tearing, climbing turn to starboard toward the attack but with the Mossie shuddering it became more of a sluggish stall turn. Looking around for some cover I could see a few wisps of cloud below us but they were so sparse that the moon shone through in a watery way. After a few more violent turns and looking around hopelessly for any sign of our attacker, who must have overshot, I levelled out hoping that we had shaken him off but the thud and clatter of shell strikes began again. This time our attacker seemed closer. He really ‘caned’ us. I responded like a scalded cat, turning toward him with full power and varying my height at the same time. After what seemed an age I levelled out cautiously, weaved and looked around, wondering if our tormentor was standing off to have another go. I was frustrated at not being able to make out any sign of him. We were still at about 23,000ft and speed was now of the essence so I stuck the nose down and scarpered at about 400mph or so. Either he had run out of ammunition or thought we had ‘had it’ and left us to our fate.

I reduced speed and we assessed our damage. The radio and compass and the gyro were out of action and the port engine felt a little rough. There was the possibly that our fuel tanks were damaged but all the gauges seemed normal and all aircraft controls appeared OK. The intercom was still functioning. No physical damage to either of us but our real annoyance was, ‘Why us?’ I tried in vain to feather the port propeller so I decided to use the power for as long as possible. A windmilling or dead propeller may well have been the worst choice, particularly in view of the distance to cover. We set course for Woodbridge and hoped that the weather had improved. A feeling of calm after the storm now set in and with it reaction to the exertion of sheer survival against an unseen enemy. Poor Barks, he just had to sit there hoping and I’d like to think, trusting in me! The adrenaline uplift and feeling of elation and achievement in beating the odds loosened our tongues on the return home.

Crossing the Dutch coast at about 20,000ft we received a farewell gesture of light flak, the tracer rising slowly and then increasing in speed as it neared us before falling away. I reduced power slightly to ease the loading on the port engine and we had a good look around. Weather conditions and visibility were good with 3-4/10ths broken cloud to the South but complete cloud cover was forecast at base. I decided therefore to head for Manston airfield in Kent, which like Woodbridge had three very long runways and grass undershoot and overshoot areas for emergencies such as ours. With some relief we made a straight-in approach in a gentle descent but at 16,000ft flames started in the port engine cowling. Again feathering proved useless so I cut the fuel and the ignition off, reduced the revs and activated the fire extinguisher, all to no avail. Ditching was a possibility and so the roof panel was jettisoned but without radio and my own firm reluctance, I assured Barks that ditching was the last thing I intended. I was confident we would make the airfield and we could always bale out over land but the fire appeared to be gaining and spreading back over the wing and the inner wing tanks and control was beginning to fall off with a tendency to increase the rate of descent. Not trusting the hydraulics and with no flaps I advised Barker that we would land wheels-up to give us a better chance of getting out through the roof and away more quickly. At about 2,000ft I told him to fire off the colours of the day. Despite a marked increase in roughness on the closed down port engine I felt confident of hitting the threshold. At around 1,000ft and having crossed the coast we could see rooftops below from the glare of our burning aircraft. Final approach was made at about 500ft with elevator control virtually non-existent and maximum trim. It was with an almost casual feeling of anti-climax that we glided, or fell the remaining few feet at about 160/170.

We must have touched down on the grass undershoot area. Skidding and bumping along, our speed carried us to the threshold of the tarmac runway where the Mossie stopped suddenly, broke up and jack-knifed with the tail end of the fuselage folding forward, the tail-plane ending up against the trailing edge of the mainplane. Although my straps were secure they were not locked and I pitched forward, pranging my forehead on the screen frame. We appeared to be engulfed in fire and Barks left through the roof hatch. Dazed and my left foot jammed by the rudder, I thought about my new escape boots and was determined not to leave without them. Eventually I freed my foot and I clambered through the roof onto the starboard wing. It was hot and surrounded by glaring fire. I turned and escaped through a gap between the nose and the starboard engine. Jumping off the wing into darkness as the fire and ambulance crews ran toward me, all I could see behind was the huge bonfire of the poor old Mossie.’
¹³⁰