We have been out for some days over the Sytschewka—Rshew railway where the Russians are trying to effect a breakthrough. Our airfield is placed in a very similar situation to that a few weeks ago when we were at Kalinin. This time there are no battle-worthy ground forces screening our front, and one night Ivan, advancing from Sytschewka is suddenly on the outskirts of Dugino. FIg./Off. Kresken, our staff company commander, gets together a fighting party drawn from our ground personnel and those of the nearest units, and holds the airfield. Our gallant mechanics spend their nights, turn and turn about, manning trenches with rifles and hand grenades in their hands, and during the day return to their maintenance duties. Nothing can happen in daylight, for we still have a store of petrol and bombs on our airfield. For two successive days it is attacked by cavalry units and ski battalions. Then the situation becomes critical and we drop our bombs close to the perimeter of our airfield. The Soviet losses are heavy. Then Kresken, one time athlete, assumes the offensive with his combat group. We hover above him with our aircraft, shooting and bombing down all opposition to his counter-attack. So the whole fore-field of our station is cleared of the enemy again. Our Luftwaffe soldiers at the beginning of the war certainly never saw themselves being used in this way. An armored unit of the army now expands our gains, recaptures Sytschewka and establishes its H.Q. there. So the situation is more or less stabilized again and a new front built up on the line Gschatsk—Rhew covering our sector. The days of monotonous retreat are over.

The foxes stand the cold better than we do. Every time we fly back from Rhew at low level above the snow-covered plains we can see them crawling through the snow. If we whizz over them at six or ten feet they duck and blink timidly up at us. Jackel has still a few rounds left in his M.G. and takes a pot shot at one. He hits him too. Then Jackel flies back to the spot in a Storch with skis. Master Reynard’s pelt is however completely riddled with holes.

I am disagreeably surprised by the news that in view of my high total of operational nights I am to be sent home immediately. My instructions are to proceed to Graz in Steiermark at the end of a period of leave where I am to take over command of a Reserve Flight and give new crews the benefit of my most recent experiences. Repeated asseverations that I do not need a rest, that I do not want to leave the Stukas, even pulling strings, avail me nothing. My orders are final. It is hard to say goodbye to the comrades with whom chance has thrown me together. Flt./Lt. Pressler is going to ask for me back the moment I am in my new job and a little grass has grown over the incident. I clutch at every straw.

One morning I am on my way West; in a transport aircraft over Witebsk—Minsk—Warsaw to Germany. I spend my leave skiing in the Riesengebirge and in the Tyrol and try to assuage my fury by exercise and sunshine.

Gradually the peace of this mountain world which is my home and the beauty of the snow-capped peaks relaxes the tension of day-in day-out operational flying.

6. TRAINING AND PRACTICE

 Before taking over the job of training new crews I get married. My father is still Rector of his church and performs the ceremony in our little country village to which I am attached by so many happy memories of my scape-grace boyhood.

Then off to Graz, this time not as a learner but as an instructor. Formation flying, diving, bombing, gunnery. I often sit in the aircraft eight hours in the day, as for the time being I have hardly any help. In bad weather or when technical duties are on the schedule there are military exercises or sport. Crews are sent to me for further training from the Stuka schools after which they proceed to the front. When they have passed on I shall meet some of them again in days to come; perhaps have them in my own unit. If for no other reason, it pays to spare no trouble with their training. In my leisure hours I keep in training by athletics; I play tennis, swim, or spend my time in the magnificent country round Graz. After two months I get an assistant. Pilot Officer Jackel of the 3rd Flight has just been awarded the Knight’s Cross of the Iron Cross, and has at the same time been seconded for less exacting work. We carry out exercise operations against peaceful targets, as though at the front. I have two Messerschmitt aircraft on my flight strength so that we are also able to represent enemy interception. The training is stiff and arduous, but I believe the crews who stand up to it and do what is required of them are learning a lot.