14 October 1943
Churchtime Red Two
1435 hours – End of Mission
It started not with one but with a dozen black puffs in front of the lead Bomb group. In moments it became two dozen, two score, and then hundreds of expanding black clouds bursting around and among the American B-17s.
“All flights, Greywall Lead. Climb to two-eight-thousand, keep to the east of the city.”
Captain James Heidinger had seen flak before, plenty of it in fact, but he had never seen so much at once. The sky itself looked angry, covered in the diseased pock marks of German anti-aircraft. The black clouds of bursting flak continued to multiply until the entire area over Schweinfurt was covered with hardly a gap between the bursts. As the P-38s of the 78th Fighter Group flew over the bomber stream and to the east where the bombers would turn after coming off the target, the B-17s of the 1st Air Division flew directly into the storm of shrapnel.
With all of the Lightnings beginning to converge and re-assemble into proper flights and sections without the harassment of enemy aircraft, the 78th took stock of their current condition. For risk of being overheard by the enemy none of the pilots commented on aircraft they saw go down as opposed to those which had aborted due to damage but the assembly allowed them to at least count those aircraft remaining.
Greywall organized itself first with Stone sending out the occasional command for pilots to move up in the formation where there were gaps or when a plane was left without support.
Stedman Red still had its full four aircraft, Stedman Blue had maintained its three fighters after Lt. Hearn’s abort early in the mission, but Stedman Yellow—the 20th FG boys—had taken hard hits. Of that flight, only one remained with the group, two having aborted after the first encounter and the flight lead, Lt.Col. Johnson, turning back after his engine was shot out during the last engagement. The remaining plane, Yellow Two, moved back to join the Blakehouse group in place of Cleveland Red 3 while the Blue flight, constituted of men from the 82nd Fighter Squadron, was filled out by their squadron mate from Churchtime Blue 4.
Lockyear section, the A Group from the 83rd Squadron, had been even harder hit with only eight of their original 14 planes remaining. Again, these were re-organized to fill out Red and Blue flights for the section. How many were actually lost, Heidinger did not know, but he knew they had contended with the first sweep of 190’s and probably suffered for it.
Bayland, the 84th Squadron A Group, looked better than the other sections of Greywall. Three planes in Red Flight, two in Blue, three in Yellow, and still with both spares. Ten planes of fourteen. The two spares were moved one each to Red and Yellow flights while the two remaining of Blue Flight, Blue 2 and 3, became the lone element of the flight.
For Blakehouse all of the flights looked better than they did for Greywall.
Churchtime was down by three aircraft, all from Blue Flight—Blue 1, 2, and 3—with Red and Yellow flights still at full strength. Since Churchtime Blue 4 joined up with the other 82nd Squadron flight in Stedman, Churchtime had two full flights or eight planes of the original 12.
Cleveland, 83rd B, was the hardest hit of the Blakehouse sections. Red 3 had turned back between the second and third waves of the German attack and Cleveland was also missing Yellow 1 and 2 as well as both spares. The addition of Stedman Yellow 3 filled out Cleveland Red flight back to its full four planes and Blue Flight had not lost any, leaving the two planes of Yellow Flight, Yellow 3 and 4, as a lone element.
Clinton, B Group of the 84th, had only lost three planes of their original 14. This left them with Reds 1 and 2, all of Blue flight, and Yellows 1, 3, and 4, plus the two spares. The spares joined Red Flight for the sake of cohesion but Yellow 1 was left to fly alone turning Yellow flight into a three plane element.
In all, of the 80 P-38s which left Duxford little more than two hours earlier 55 were still flying escort over the target. Greywall had a total of 26 and Blakehouse, 29.
While they worked to coordinate the group, Heidinger had was able to watch the bombers fly the gauntlet of Anti-Aircraft fire over the target. The first groups made it through relatively unscathed as far as he could tell as the German gunners on the ground worked to adjust their range and fuse timing. At 1439 he saw the first bomb fall away from the lead plane, a smoke marker to signal the group to drop. Within seconds hundreds of tons of General Purpose bombs started raining down on the factories of Schweinfurt.
Their accuracy astounded Jim. When the 321st BG B-25’s hit the Cancello marshaling yards in September they had demolished the target and impressed Heidinger; but, they had dropped from less than 10,000 feet on a lightly defended target. These 8th Air Force Heavy Bombers were dropping through a constant stream of exploding artillery, in tight formation, at altitudes ranging from about 21,000 feet to nearly 25,000 feet and their bombs were every bit as accurate as the 321st had been. Within minutes the entire target area became embroiled in thick black smoke under lit by the fires burning below.
In the last wing of bombers, the 41st Bomb Wing, he saw one B-17 take a direct hit from the flak. Its right wing folded over at the root and immediately then entire fuselage was engulfed in flame. The Fortress, Flying no more but Falling, dropped from the formation and only a few thousand feet lower started to come apart as the fires spread through it. Pieces of burning debris came off of the bomber as it fell looking like a trail of flares in its wake. He watched it disappear into the gray smoke of the growing smoke screen generated to obscure the city of Schweinfurt. He saw only one parachute.
Once they were off the target with their deliveries to “Ze Fuhrer” complete the bombers made a hard right turn. They circled east of the city, directly below the waiting escorts, and made their way south to escape the ever increasing flak.
Now, the 78th Fighter Group had only to await the second wave from the 3rd Air Division. A look to the southwest and Heidinger could already see them approaching, a misty cloud above the horizon.
“Stedman Lead, Blue three. I am showing less than fifty gallons each in my main tanks. Request permission to return with the lead bomber force.”
“Stedman Blue Three, Lead, go ahead.” There was a minute’s pause before Stone continued, “Greywall Lead to Group, check your fuel. All aircraft with less than two-hundred gallons total, stay with Phone Box. All others wait on station and return with Buckshot.”
Heidinger looked at his MAIN and RES tank fuel gauges: each main was showing about 63 gallons, and the reserves had about 45 gallons each. 216 gallons remaining, plus four gallons in the sumps and three gallons in the lines for a total of 223 gallons. He was staying behind for the 3rd AD, “Buckshot,” instead of going with the 1st AD, “Phone Box.”
Heidinger switched to VHS Channel D, the command channel in time to hear Stone coordinate with the Air Commander riding with the bombers using the escort call sign assigned for the mission.
“Rosebud, Haybank Lead. We are sending some escorts with Phone Box, call sign ‘Haybank one.’ Remainder will stay with Buckshot, call sign ‘Haybank two.’”
“Roger, Haybank. Haybank one will return with Phone Box; Haybank two with Buckshot.”
The P-38’s shuffled around again as most of Greywall and a few from Blakehouse turned to follow Stedman Blue 3 and the lead bombers. Over the five minutes of jostling to re-arrange the 55 Lightnings that were going to provide escort out for the 3rd Air Division were reduced to 31. The other 24 airplanes, including Stone and Hilgert, turned to stay with the 1st Air Division.
Back on the Group channel for the 78th, Heidinger helped Roberts organize the remaining escorts into Blakehouse. They decided not to re-designate any, instead issuing a command to simply join up together as best they can into two-plane elements and four-plane flights. None of the Stedman section stayed behind, leaving Churchtime as the sole lead section once again joined by Churchtime Blue 4. Joining the 83rd, Cleveland, was Lockyear Red 3 and the second Lockyear Spare but Cleveland Blue 3 went to join the Lockyear section with Greywall. The B group of the 84th, Clinton, also gained two A group planes—Bayland Red 1, the squadron C/O Maj. Price, and Bayland Blue 2—in exchange for Clinton Yellow 1 returning with Greywall.
Loitering around the target as the 3rd AD came on and made their run gave the Blakehouse P-38s plenty of time to get sorted out and gave each pilot additional time to check over his plane. Heidinger ran some numbers on his fuel and calculated he could squeeze another five minutes of combat out of his fuel and still make it to Duxford. If they had more than that…he shook his head; no use worrying until there was something to worry about.
The second wave of B-17s had a tougher time of the bomb run than the first. The flak had grown thicker and had become more accurate. Heidinger watched three B-17s go down from the formation, one spinning wildly, one went straight over on its nose, and the last drifted out of formation with its inboard left engine on fire. This last one seemed like it might recover—it was still under control and the pilot appeared to have a handle on the situation, the fire turning to a smoldering trail of smoke—until the whole airplane exploded leaving nothing but pieces falling from the sky like in what looked like an oversized flak burst.
Complicating their bomb run was the black smoke from the first wave’s damage and the increasing cover over the target from the spreading smoke screen. All of the smoke made it impossible for Heidinger to judge the effectiveness of their attack but he saw many flashes in the general vicinity of the targets.
By 1457 all the bombs had fallen.
The 3rd AD made the same hard right turn as the 1st and dropped to 20,000 feet, beneath the Lightnings. There was no sign the B-24s that were supposed to be following so Roberts made the call to head out.
“Blakehouse, Lead, come down to two-two-thousand, begin standard patrol over the bombers. Let’s bring ‘em home.”
After their hurried escape from the target area, the bombers turned west toward France. The bombers tightened their formations up with more than few starting to fall behind with dead engines from flak damage. These slower aircraft, four of them that Heidinger saw, came together in a makeshift four-plane element as they dropped away from the main formation. He was tempted to head down to fly with them but he knew there were too few escorts to spare; instead, he could only pray they made it home safely.
“One-oh-nines, ten-o’clock high. There’s a lot of them!”
He peeked over his left engine and saw them, a gaggle of enemy fighters coming to intercept the retreating bombers. Heidinger could not be sure at this distance but he estimated about sixty aircraft in all. The already exhausted Lightning pilots would be outnumbered two-to-one.
It was 1505 when he moved to AUTO RICH and increased speed for the fight.
Here we go, again.
By this time all of the P-38 pilots knew the drill and no orders needed to be given to initiate the attack. Heidinger once more followed Roberts up into the fray. They picked out the lead wave of E/A as they had done in all their previous engagements, hoping to steer the entire group of Jerrys away from the bombers.
As this distance closed Heidinger noticed that the enemy formation was actually a mix of about forty FW-190s and twenty Bf.109s. All of them had similar markings with a yellow band around the tail before the empennage. Most of the 109s had cannons mounted under the wings while many of the 190s carried the large rocket tubes that were becoming a familiar sight.
The Lightnings climbed to meet the enemy and the Messerschmitts tore away from the fighter formation directly into the Blakehouse force while the Focke-Wulfs continued their attack run on the bombers. Heidinger looked back at the rest of the P-38s spreading out behind him and noticed that none of them were turning to cut off the 190s, all intent on the 109s directly in front of them.
“Lead, Red two, the bombers.”
They were less than two miles from the diving Messerschmitts and closing at a combined 700 miles per hour or more. Soon, it would be too late to turn away and help the bombers. There was nothing more Roberts could do without putting the entire escort force at greater risk. Turning away now to chase the F-Ws would allow the M-E’s to come behind them. Splitting the force any more would leave all of them too greatly outnumbered—as it was they were going after the 109’s with a 3:2 advantage while splitting would flip that advantage and send the others to face the 190’s also outnumbered by the same.
“No time.” It was all Roberts could say before the range closed a 1000 yards. Less than two seconds later the two forces opened fire on each other and only two seconds after that the fighters had passed.
Roberts and Heidinger pulled up, trading speed for altitude in an Immelmann. The other P-38’s all made their own breaks, rolls, and loops to come around on the enemy who were doing the same. Training his neck straight up to look out of the top of his canopy as he came over, Heidinger saw one Me.109 continue on behind them, smoking. The other E/A were all making their own maneuvers to come around on the American Lightnings so to keep them occupied while the 190s hunted the Fortresses.
Heidinger had nearly completed his half-loop when a 109 caught his attention. It was nosed up directly at him, climbing for a high angle deflection shot as Heidinger brought his plane over. He pulled his throttles back hoping to stall the plane and tighten the loop before the German could shoot. Timber! III started to shudder as it quickly slowed, just as the nose and under-wing cannons of the M-E lit up with muzzle flash.
He heard a few
tings behind him as a few rounds passed through the P-38 but the rest of the fire missed as Timber! III brought her nose completely around in a near stall well short of where the Jerry had thought it would be.
Rolling out at low speed was easy and Heidinger gunned the throttles back up to 54 inches and dove to re-gain much of his lost energy.
The fight continued much as the others had—dives and zooms, turns and loops. Each plane either locked in a personal duel against one of the enemy or at times able to work together to gain position and advantage. Heidinger had only a few shooting opportunities throughout and those failed to score any good hits. Just the same, though, he also managed to avoid taking any more hits on Timber! III.
As the dogfight continued and spread out over the German countryside, Heidinger noted with sorrow some of the B-17s going down under the weight of the 190s’ attacks. He never had time to watch them go or to look for ‘chutes but he saw at least four smoke trails leading to new pyres below over the next several minutes.
The intensity of the German attack started to decrease as the Blakehouse group whittled away at the force of Messerschmitts. Messerschmitt is a fitting name for them, “knife smith.”
He knew a “Smith” back home…a few “Schmitt” families too.
His maternal grandfather had been a smith, actually a farrier but he made his own horseshoes, but was not named Smith.
There was a day when he
“…two…”
When he two? That does not make sense. Two what? He has two sisters back home. At least he thought he did. Or was it three? No, two sisters. One cousin that lived on the next homestead. He had a brother, too. Younger.
“…pete…”
No, his brother was Harry, Henry in truth but everyone called him Harry. He did not know any one named ‘Pete,’ did he?
“Red Two, do you copy?”
Heidinger was gasping for air, his heart a speeding flutter in his chest like a sparrow trying to escape.
“Repeat, Churchtime Red Two, are you receiving me?”
He shook his head and tried to focus his clouded vision. The first thing he registered was the instrument panel in front of him. That was good. That was something he knew, something familiar. There was too much to see so he focused on the Gyro Horizon. There was something wrong with it though. It was blank. No, not blank, he realized through his fog, it was indicating he was vertical.
Vertical?
Then he remembered. He was in an airplane. His hands were on the yoke, his biceps locked back to angle the control wheel the same, lifting him higher and higher. His chest was on fire, every shallow breath another desperate gasp.
Jim Heidinger shook his head again trying to clear the fog.
His eyes were getting heavy.
He fought his own muscles to relax his arm and extend them forward, unloading the airplane in a negative G nose over. The horizon came into sight on the gyro instrument as the ball rotated in the panel.
Heidinger forced himself to focus as full awareness of his situation and memory of where he was returned. Below the Gyro Horizon was his Climb Indicator with its needs slowly coming down to ‘0.’ To the left of that was the Bank and Turn Indicator showing a slight left roll. Farther left was the Airspeed Indicator which had dropped to 150 IAS but was now starting to increase again as Timber! III leveled off. Finally, he looked to his Altimeter—he was up at 31,150 feet.
How did he get here?
Fighting his continued confusion he heard a strange sound, like a rapid mechanical pump slowly failing. In-and-out. In-and-out. Repeating several times every long, long, second.
“Red Two, respond.”
It was his own breath he heard.
He squeezed his eyes to clear his vision and looked down to his left at the amber light glowing next to his oxygen pressure gauge below the engine controls. The needle was pointing just below 20 psi. Hedinger was fighting for oxygen.
“Lead, Two.” He responded between gasps. “Ohs.”
It was all he said and all he needed to say. Heidinger pushed Timber! III over, knowing he had only minutes before he became fully anoxic. With throttles still at Military Power he dove down from 30,000 feet at 45 degrees, having just enough presence of mind to avoid nosing straight down. He lifted in his seat as the negative G’s of the dive squeezed him against his harness. Every thousand feet brought more air pressure, more power, and more speed. The Altimeter and Airspeed Indicator next to it both spiraled, one forward, one backward. They were like fast clocks, time compressing, and Jim felt he was in an H.G. Wells novel, soon to meet the Morlocks.
No.
Focus.
He was in a P-38H-10-LO, AAF Serial Number 42-67033. It was not a time machine. He was not looking at clocks.
Timber! III was falling.
Heidinger reminded himself he was diving to thicker air. He was diving to save his life.
He was diving too fast.
The Altimeter unwound past 20,000 feet.
He was indicating almost 400 miles per hour.
Think! Reduce Throttles. He pulled the throttles back focusing on training, drill, and experience.
Look at the Manifold Pressures. The pressures dropped from 54 inches, sliding back to 47 inches…45 inches…40 inches…35 inches.
Good.
Reduce Engine Speed. RPM’s to 2300.
Slow down.
Timber! III started to shudder and shake as it passed IAS of 470.
12,000 feet.
Heidinger pulled back on the yoke. IAS 480, 11,000 feet.
He clenched his stomach as the G’s increased, the plane shaking and rattling as it whistled through the thick air. His breathing was no longer rapid gasps but now strained as he wrestled the airplane.
9,000 feet. 500 mph indicated.
The airplane started to level off, the shudder decreasing.
At 7,600 feet Timber! III came level.
Heidinger pulled the mask from his face and took a few deep breaths, each one clearing more his persistent mental haze.
The dive had lasted about one minute.
Once he felt aware enough to continue he was able to take stock of his situation and try to recall how he ended up alone at 7,500 feet.
He remembered evading the first Messerschmitt but after that everything was hazy and dreamlike in his memory. Heidinger was not even sure how long he had fought the enemy or if he had been hit again or hit any others. He faintly remembered seeing airplanes going down but he could not remember what kind of airplanes—B-17’s? P-38’s? Bf.109’s? Something else entirely?
Heidinger could still hear faint transmissions from the group, broken with static and unintelligible but present. He looked out of his canopy trying to find signs of the friendly formation and to make sure there were no enemy aircraft near him.
Looking over his instruments, he saw he was still running fairly fast but was slowing down, dropping back down to 400 mph indicated. His compass showed his heading as about 350 degrees, almost due North. Heidinger lifted the plane into a climbing left turn, bleeding off more speed as he climbed up to 9,000 feet and changed his heading to 270 degrees. He did not know where he was but figured if he could head West he would eventually get into France or—if he had come too far north—Belgium. At least until he could find a land mark and adjust accordingly.
After his turn he was able to finally spot the bombers to his 10 o’Clock high. They were still up around 20,000 feet and seven or eight miles away. He angled Timber! III to chase them, staying at 9,000 feet where he could breathe. He was making plenty of speed still, so he pulled back into AUTO LEAN and kept his engines at Max. Cruise of 2300 RPM and 35 inches Hg. manifold pressure.
When he was only a mile or two behind them, with the radio transmissions coming in more clearly, he retarded his speeds and throttles back to 1600 rpm and 30 inches to maintain a speed of 220 indicated, or about 250 true air speed.
“Churchtime Red One, Red Two.”
Roberts did not respond.
“Churchtime Red One, Red Two. Are you receiving me?”
Another half-minute and no response.
“Blakehouse Lead, Churchtime Red Two. Do you copy?”
Nothing.
“Blakehouse Group, Churchtime Red Two.”
A few seconds later a broken transmission came through, “…house…ed…sa..gain.”
“Blakehouse Lead, Churchtime Red Two. Do you copy?”
Finally, a semi-clear response came through the static, “…ed Two, Lead. What’s yo…cation?”
“Lead, Red Two, I am six-o’clock low on the Bombers, nine-thousand feet.”
“Roger Red Two. Glad you’re still with us. Are you able to re-join?”
“Negative, Lead. I will stay and look for stragglers. Two out.”
Heidinger cruised along without incident for some time. His fuel situation was adequate at these speeds so he would occasionally zip north or south of the bombers to extend his search area and keep an eye for stragglers or enemies moving to attack.
At 1542 he found a P-38 flying at 3,000 feet altitude to his 1 o’Clock low. He dropped down to check on the airplane and join up. When he got close enough he saw it was putzing along on one engine, the right propeller fully feathered and locked. The right nacelle and boom were all shot up and there were a scattering of holes in the right wing as well. The boom carried the “HL” radio code of the 83rd Fighter Squadron but Heidinger did not know who it was.
He pulled up alongside and waved at the pilot, flashing a “OK” sign to inquire as to his status. The 83rd pilot waved Heidinger off and pointed down: he was not expecting to make back to England. Heidinger made note of the plane’s ID “HL K” and tail number “267038” so the pilot could be identified back at Duxford. He flew with the stricken P-38 for another ten minutes, maintaining radio silence for fear of letting Jerry know they were hurt and alone.
At 1554 more low flying came into view at his 11 o’Clock. This time it was a B-17 at 14,000 feet trailing smoke and being hunted by a half dozen German fighters five miles away.
Heidinger looked at his fuel: about 18 gallons in each of his Main tanks and his Reserves still sitting good at 45 gallons each. He estimated he still had about an hour and half of flying time to Duxford and would need at least 100 gallons to make it. He had about 130 gallons.
Taking a deep breath, he moved his engine controls back into fighting place for what he hoped would be the last time of the day. Timber! III advanced passed the 83rd airplane and Heidinger gave his a wave of the wings before he peeled away to catch the fight and hopefully rescue the bomber.
He made a shallow climb so he could accelerate and catch the attackers from underneath. His engines were still in Rated Power so he could save his limited Military Power time for the actual fight but it was enough to get up to 290 IAS, or about 350 TAS. Since they were so much higher than him, he needed to take his time to slowly climb up while maintaining his airspeed. This was made easier by the very slow speed of the bomber and her attackers which allowed Heidinger to turn partially away from the fight and circle back in without falling too far behind.
The German fighters, Me.109s, were coming up on the rear of the bomber with their gear down. Heidinger watched their attack pattern—come in slow, raise gear, shoot, accelerate out of range, come around again, and repeat in rapid succession. The bomber was already shot-to-hell. One engine was smoking and wind milling, another dead and feathered, both on the right side. Yet, even as he watched, he saw the ball-turret on the ‘Fort nail a 109 and send it spiraling to ground in smoke.
As Heidinger snuck Timber! III on the 6 o’Clock low to the rear most 109, he took his time to fully aim his shot and plan his attack. Instead of dropping flaps to slow down and stay behind the E/A he decided to take the risk and climb through them to get their attention and draw them away from the bomber using his superior climb to get safely past them and hopefully draw them back down to lower altitudes where his poor oxygen supply would not pose a problem.
When he was only 500 yards away, he gunned the engines and throttles up to Military Power. Second later he unleashed a torrent of .50 caliber API into the belly of the 109. The tight concentration of Heidinger’s fire turned the center or the little flying coffin into shreds of scrap duralumin, the angle of his denying the pilot any chance of survival. The German plane did not even roll but simply nosed over in a thick cloud of black and brown smoke.
Accelerating up under full power now, he had only moments to slide over and line up on the next aircraft. He sent a short half-second burst through its right wing and had the satisfaction of seeing the wing tip come clean off as he buzzed past it. He was not able to watch it to see the effect of this damage because he needed to pull up, hard, so as to pass behind the American bomber.
Heidinger rolled Timber! III into a left hand chandelle from his climb, so as to circle over the bomber and find the remaining E/A. Two of the enemy who had been coming around for another pass on the bomber aborted their attacks, raised their gear, and rolled away. The others were all scattering, looking around for the other American fighters that had to be with this P-38. He saw one, without its right wingtip, dropping away from the fight and wobbling badly as it fought against a spin. None of the Jerrys were preparing passes on the B-17 any longer.
Another Messerschmitt was already coming around to line up on Heidinger.
Lightheaded from the thin air, Heidinger rolled away from the German fighter and pulled his throttles back to get into a low-speed dive. He needed to be careful with his speed—he wanted to go fast enough to keep the German from getting a close shot but he also needed to go slow enough that the German was baited to follow him down instead of going after the bomber again.
He turned as he dove to regulate his speed and to keep in the same vicinity as the bomber and all the other German fighters. This also had the benefit of drawing his tailing 109 in as it rolled inside him and started to line up a deflection. Confident the German fighter was now committed to pursuing him, Heidinger leveled his wings pushed full forward in an unloaded extension. The sudden acceleration was more than the 109 expected and his shots dropped behind Timber! III.
Heidinger held the dive to 10,000 feet. He wanted to get back up to the bomber but knew it was impossible with the Jerry on his tail. If he pulled up now he would be giving the German the perfect shot. Instead, he dropped his maneuver flaps and gave a hard right roll with full rudder—wishing he knew the trick he had watched Hilgert pull a few hours earlier—then pulled back on the wheel to put his plane into a tight right circle.
At these low altitudes the Messerschmitt was far more agile than the Lightning but Heidinger was counting on just that, hoping to draw the E/A closer and force it to overshoot. To encourage this, adjusted his turn it into a Yo-yo. As he neared the top of the first loop, he pulled his throttles back to tighten it and drop his speed as quickly as possible.
The German let off a burst of fire which passed inside of Heidinger as Timber! III fell away.
Once over the top, Heidinger gunned the throttles again and was greeted by the glow of his low fuel warning lamps. He pulled away from his attacker at a 45 degree angle and started opening the distance. Once he felt secure, he switched over to his reserve tanks then dropped down to 8,000 feet and kept up his speed until he was sure the 109 was too far back to gain a good angle on him, then he pulled back up to come around on the bomber once more.
Two of the Germans were circling around, out of the bomber gunners’ range but close enough that Heidinger knew they were just waiting for another opportunity to attack. The 109 he had maneuvered against was also coming back up but Heidinger could not see any of the others.
This time, Jerry was ready when Heidinger came up to them. Instead of going after the bomber, the fighters instead turned directly toward his P-38—intent of getting rid of the pesky lone American escort before picking away at the sitting duck of a bomber.
Heidinger was not alone, though.
Instead of risking a head on against two 109’s with a third on his tail, Heidinger turned west, forcing them to do the same. The chase up to 14,000 feet took a few minutes as he fought to keep ahead of them and looked to confirm all three were on his tail, jockeying for position. He then banked and slid north-west, to parallel the bomber a few hundred yards to its left as he slowed and drifted back down to its altitude at 13,500 feet.
With the Germans coming hot on his tail he brought them directly past the bomber’s left side, as soon as he was clear of the bomber’s nose he pulled up hard and pulled his throttles again. He looked up, seeing the three Messerschmitts behind him suddenly realize their plight. The lead aircraft lifted to follow his climb, catching a burst of fire in its tail from the bomber’s top turret and dorsal gun. The second 109 rolled left, away from the Fortress, and was peppered by the left waist while the third nosed down to dive clear of all the defensive fire.
Timber! III once more started to shake as Heidinger stalled it out at the top of his climb before kicking the rudder and rolling left to wing-over. With his nose pointed down, he hit the throttles again, bringing them up slowly to 50 inches has he dove on the German aircraft. The one damaged by the top gunners, streaming glycol from its radiator, was now also rolling out of its climb and Heidinger adjusted his fall to bring drag his gunsight past it. A burst of fire scattered short of the M-E and it flicked over to shake Heidinger.
The P-38 could not quite roll fast enough to match and his second burst missed by an even greater margin. Instead of tangling with the enemy in a close quarters gun fight, Heidinger pushed his throttles all the way to the stop and accelerated almost straight down to clear the enemy fighter and ward off any chance of pursuit.
Back down to 7,000 feet he leveled off and circled around to check for the enemy. He saw one parachute and two airplanes, one leaking coolant and the other apparently un-damaged but leaving the battle area. The bomber was still limping along, now down to about 13,000 feet, but Heidinger did not see any immediate threats to it.
He was drenched in sweat and still struggling to catch his breath from the time fighting in the thin air above 12,000 feet without the benefit of supplementary oxygen as he continued to scan the sky and kept his engines on ready for action. He recounted the recent action and numbered off the enemy aircraft: six or seven were making the initial attacks on the bomber; one was knocked down by the ball turret; he got one and knocked the wingtip from another on his first pass; then there were the last three that he led past the bomber. That would be all six; but, was there a seventh or were there only six?
With a sinking feeling in his stomach he put his gloved left thumb against the cold canopy so it would just barely cover the sun and he looked through the glare.
The thin line of a wing appeared from behind his thumb.
Seven.
Heidinger rolled hard left and stomped his rudder, hoping to skid and force the diving 109 to overshoot. Tracers flashed toward him and slammed directly into Timber! III’s nose before passing into the right propeller cone.
He pushed the throttles forward as the German passed directly over top him and instantly heard a loud
POP from the left front of the cockpit. The airplane started to yaw right and he saw the right propeller was starting to runaway in low-pitch. Giving left rudder to counter act the yaw, he moved to manually adjust the propeller control but noticed the right propeller circuit breaker to the front of the mixture levers was popped out so he instead went to re-set it. It was too far forward, though, he could not reach it while his harness was tight so he had to first reach down to unlock the harness then lean forward to set the breaker. As soon has he pushed it back in the right prop started to slow as it adjusted pitch to match the engine speed but again, when he released, it immediately popped, and the propeller stopped adjusting.
He looked behind him again and saw the Bf.109 had completed its turn and was now tailing him.
Heidinger held down the circuit breaker long enough for the propeller find its correct pitch then let it be. His initial plan was to outrun the German but it was already too close and coming down with an altitude advantage. With his propeller stuck where it was he could not risk messing his throttles or engine speeds too much so he was stuck at 49 inches and 2800 rpm. He would have to fight with the engine at its current power unless he wanted to go through the propeller reset process again and risk burning out the electrics or worse.
With outrunning the enemy no longer an option he would have to out maneuver him, something likely impossible at high speed and low altitude. He could gain altitude and reduce speed by pulling up, but with the 109 on his six high and closing doing so would leave him a perfect target for the German’s guns.
Instead, he dropped his flaps to MANEU and starting taking a guns defense in a series evasive maneuvers. Rolling and skidding right and left and un-even intervals accompanied by random changes in pitch, all in an effort to throw Jerry’s aim off.
It worked well enough as the German drew closer but Heidinger knew it would not work forever.
On a right slide the German’s shots came too close to Timber! III for comfort and a look behind told him the Messerschmitt was only 150 yards or less behind him. Heidinger would have only one more chance to escape this hunter.
The sliding had continued to slow him down and now he felt comfortable enough to reverse the roll to the left and pull his flaps all the way back to fully extend them. The increase in drag was like getting stuck in the mud but it also provided a sudden burst of lift under the entire center of the P-38, with a hard mash of the rudder causing it to dramatically tighten the left turn and convert it from a slight left skid into an under-side high-G barrel roll.
Timber! III was slow enough that he was able to roll in only a few seconds, by which time the Bf.109 was 100 yards in front of him and going in to an emergency over-the-top left roll. This time, Heidinger had position on the Jerry and he pressed the left trigger on his yoke.
Only three shots went out before the firing solenoid breaker popped.
Damn!
The German was now passing directly in front Heidinger at a near 90 degree deflection. Heidinger rolled right to scissor after the tightly maneuvering Messerschmitt. He would only have until the Nazi counter-scissored to get another shot off, after that he would be out of room and loose the slight advantage his roll had gained him.
Leaving his flaps out, with his airspeed continuing to drop and getting frighteningly close to stall, he dragged his right hand over the round circuit breaker buttons in front of the flap lever. Feeling for the one farthest rear, he pressed it in and held it down, just as the M-E started his roll. The German airplane turned straight across Heidinger’s nose and he pressed the left trigger on his yoke.
Only one of his guns fired, the inboard gun on the left side, but for two seconds he sent a steady stream of fire out at German aircraft as he forced Timber! III into a stall and rolled down with it. The German was soon out of line and too far away, but the damage had been done—its canopy had shattered and later strikes had shredded its rudder and right stabilizer.
The 109’s rolling dive became a tumble.
Heidinger raised his flaps and straightened the airplane to recover speed but he kept it in a broad left hand descending circle as he watched the Messerschmitt’s tumble become worse until the entire empennage came off and the wreckage soon impacted into a heap on the French countryside below.
Leveling off, his immediate need was to get a handle on his shot up propeller and reduce his fuel consumption. He pulled his throttles back to 27 inches. Un-locking his harness again so he could lean forward he reached over the yoke with his right arm, holding the airplane as steady as he could with the wheel almost in his armpit, and held in the right prop circuit breaker with his right hand as he pulled slowed the engines to 1600 RPM.
Timber! III waggled a little bit as the right propeller caught up with the left but after a few dozen seconds the instruments looked good and the plane felt steady. Heidinger sat back again and was finally able to move his mixtures back into AUTO LEAN.
The fight took longer than he had hoped and he used about twice as much fuel as he had initially allowed—his Main tanks only had a few gallons each and he was now operating on his Reserve tanks. The Reserves were showing just over 30 gallons each.
He climbed slowly to catch up with the lone bomber once more to check on it. It was at about 12,000 when he passed alongside of it getting a wave from the waist gunner and a “Victory” sign from the pilot. The bomber was unnamed but Heidinger noted the fuselage code, “OR F,” and the tail markings—a triangle “A” with tail number 25714*—and marked the time, 1606.
He would have preferred to stay with the bomber, more so the bomber could protect him than the other way around since he only had one fully functioning propeller and apparently the hits in nose fried his guns, but he knew his fuel situation was critical so he gave the bomber a wave and drifted away to lower altitude, hoping the crippled heavy could make it home to England on its own.
There was a small city a few miles to the north—a crossing of roads and rails on the banks of a roughly north-south running river. He checked his map and scanned northeast France for any cities that seemed to match what we saw and the best he could figure was that it was the town of Metz on the Moselle River. Some rough-in Navigation plotting told him he was about 350 miles from Duxford at 310 degrees. A direct route would take him just twenty miles north of Dover and only a few miles from the emergency strip at Manston. His briefing notes indicated it was about 75 miles from Manston to Duxford, so it should only be about 275 miles from his current location.
He was indicating about 220 mph, which he corrected for altitude and speed to about 240 mph true airspeed. At that speed he should make Duxford in about an hour and half but at his current engine settings and altitude—27”Hg M.P. at 1600 RPM and 6,000 feet—Timber! III should be sipping down about 66 gallons per hour, total; meaning he only had about 50 minutes of fuel. He quickly plotted 200 miles on the map and saw it ended just past Lille, about 35 miles inland from French coast.
Then he remembered he still had about 3 or 4 gallons of fuel in each of his Leading Edge and Main tanks based on when the low level warning lamps turned on, plus the unmeasured four gallons in the sump and the three gallons in the lines. In total, with the 55 gallons he was still showing in his Reserve tanks he actually had about 75 gallons. That could get him another 20 minutes, or 75 miles, just enough to reach Manston. He would likely be making a dead stick landing and any wind, weather, or maneuvers would end up dropping him mid-Channel.
Heidinger looked over his notes and flight charts again. If he could drop M.P. to 22 inches and maintain 188 IAS, for about 204 TAS, he could reduce total consumption to 47 gallons per hour. Running the numbers quick he calculated that would get him about 300 miles in an hour and half. That was better, but still not quite enough for comfort.
He considered killing the right engine and limping back on the left, cross-suctioning fuel from the right tanks. His flight charts showed single-engine operation for best range at 6,000 feet to be 2100 RPM at 34”Hg. M.P. That would increase his total consumption
and reduce his speed, so that was not an option.
The final option was to drop to the deck, keeping only a hundred feet or so above the ground, where he could reduce his throttles almost back to Idle but keep his RPMs at 1600. That would slow him down to 185 mph but his consumption should also fall to about 42 gallons per hour, total. With that he could make 310 miles, giving him enough to reach Manston without having to pray he could drain the lines and sumps. At that speed he should pass south of Lille in less than hour, hit the Channel about 17 minutes later, and reach Manston just 12 minutes after that: one hour, twenty minutes to get on the ground.
Once more going through the rigmarole of holding the yoke with his arm and the prop circuit with his right hand, he pulled the throttle levers back to 21 inches. Once the right prop stabilized he gently angled downward to bring the plane to about 150 feet.
He checked the time, 1616.
* * *
Heidinger was nearly to Lille when he hit the rain and wind. The same western European crud they left earlier in the day was still hanging over the Channel and had meandered its way forty or fifty miles inland. The weather front slowed Timber! III by about 15 miles per hour and the jostling turbulence forced Heidinger to climb up to 1,000 feet to avoid getting thrown down into trees or power lines.
The good thing about the rain is that it kept the German soldiers’ heads down. On the first leg of his flight back he had a few sentries and random ground units take shots at him as he passed. Now, the rain helped keep them under cover and covered the sound of his already quiet approach.
Lille was a worry but as it came is sight he made a slight southward course adjustment to stay clear of its gun towers and anti-aircraft. He passed south of it at 1718, right on track but about two and half minutes behind schedule.
He was indicating about 165, for about 160 TAS and his fuel consumption was holding steady at about 42 gallons per hour. His fuel gauges showed he still had about 10 gallons between both of in his Reserve tanks—the low level warnings should be coming on any minute now. The headwind and turbulence from the weather system was costing him dearly. He expected his Reserves to run dry just before the coast, now, leaving him with only whatever was still left in his Mains and Leading Edge tanks to get to Manston.
* * *
His right engine fuel pressure dropped, threatening to kill the engine. His Reserve tanks were dry.
Capt. Heidinger turned the electric fuel selection dial from RES back one click to MAIN. His right engine smoothed out and continued running well. It was 1729 and he could not yet see the French coast through the rain ahead.
10 minutes later, Timber! III threaded between Calais and Dunkirk, nearly equidistant from each, and crossed out of Occupied Europe. Less than a minute after that, his right engine once again threatened to quit, indicating his Main Tanks were now also dry. He switched to his Leading Edge tanks, hoping he left the fuel in them he would need to cross the Channel.
The White Cliffs slowly materialized from the rainy haze to his left some 8 minutes later. Only a few minutes after that the low beach of Ramsgate rose from the Channel directly before him. Heidinger started preparing the plane for landing, ready to make the final turn to 280 degrees once he crossed the beach.
The P-38’s right engine sputtered a few times…then stopped. The airplane almost immediately started to drop and Heidinger was forced to throttle up the left engine to compensate. He was over Ramsgate and had to make his turn to Manston Field, now only a few miles out from the airstrip he had no time to mess around with feathering the dead engine. His focus was better spent on getting his gear down.
He started to let-down from 1000 feet and he lifted the landing gear handle. He did not hear the gear unlock and nothing seemed to happen. The gear position indicator did not light up and he could see in the oval reflectors on his nacelles that the nose wheel did not come down.
Heidinger tried the emergency hand pump to get enough hydraulic pressure in the landing gear system to drop them, but it was no good. The hits he took through the nose must have completely drained the nose gear and bled the gear lines of pressure. Luckily, the landing gear was on its own hydraulic system so he still had flaps and was able to pull the flaps back to Maneuver position.
Memories of the close-call that ended the fighting career of the first Timber!, Heidinger had no desire to force another gear-up landing. Instead, he would try to use gravity to extend and lock the gear.
He looked at the emergency hydraulic pump source selector valve and broke the emergency wire, allowing him to force the valve all the way down. He heard the re-assuring
Clunk of the gear unlocking. Then, using the drag of the dead engine to his benefit his slid and yawed the airplane left-and-right, trying to make the maneuver as violent and abrupt as possible.
Timber! III was at 100 feet and almost to the fence when she jerked forward as her center of gravity shifted and Heidinger felt the plane dip and slow. Looking out, he was happy to discover his gear was down. The gear position light was on, indicating they were locked in place.
Passing the fence at 50 feet, he pulled the flaps all the way down just as his left engine cut out.
He drifted on a silent cushion of air about 1/3 of the way down the runway before Timber! III finally set down on the wet pavement. Without hydraulics in the gear, there was also no pressure in the brakes, so Heidinger and his P-38 sped down the runway, past four other P-38s, bleeding speed at an excruciatingly slow pace. Nearing the end of runway, at still going a good 30 or 35 miles per hour over the ground, Heidinger was left with no option but turn hard left and ground loop onto the grass apron.
Timber! III slid at first, continuing straight even as the nose turned to the left before the tires caught enough traction to lead off the bitumen and hit the water-soaked sod. Its wheels dug three shallow trenches through the grass as Heidinger turned it around a full 200 degrees before it stopped.
A Jeep and an Ambulance were both speeding down the airfield toward him. By the time they arrived, he had slid his canopy back and was sitting with his head back, face turned up to the rainy sky letting the English weather wash his sweat away.
“Jim!”
Heidinger looked out to see Hilgert launching off of the Jeep and jogging to him. He gave a wave and un-enthusiastic, “I’m fine, Hil.”
He unbuckled his harness and tried to stand but his legs would not cooperate—the five-and-half hours of flying had taken their toll and the four hours of adrenaline was wearing off. Instead, he pulled himself up by the forward frame of the canopy and dragged his legs up to the wing. Not bothering with the ladder, he instead just slid down, past the ticking engines and turbos, and dropped the few feet to the ground.
His legs buckled under him and he just sat in a heap on the wet earth.
Hilgert and the medics ran up to check him, asking if he was hit. He shook his and asked, “Do you have the time?”
Helping him up with a chuckle, Hilgert told him it was 1754.
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*
The true story of #714
