BOB User Stories: Attack Height 50 Meters Final Episode

Attack Height 50 Meters Final Episode

Read Attack Height 50 Meters Episode I and Episode II here.

One could see the place where the rudder had touched first. There was a skid mark stretching out from that point and some tiny fragments, some glinting, some with the camouflage paint still on them. The driver kept to right side of the runway and accelerated further. Sometimes the skid mark was almost invisible; sometimes it was all too clearly visible. Always it was just superficial – the tarmac was stronger than the either Me 109 or … I did not dare think further upon that grizzly picture. There were some additional small marks besides the main one now and more debris.

Suddenly he let go of the accelerator and I was swung forward and around in front of the co-drivers window. I had to use all my strength just to hold on. Then I saw it! Whether I could hold on was completely forgotten in an instant. If ever in my life I got sick in a hundredth of a second, it was at that moment. We clearly saw the reddish streak on the tarmac. It was almost fluid in appearance. I wanted to retch. In it floated several small, soft wet pieces. The bloody streak went on and on…. and on.
It is unbelievable today to think just how much of Gert there was strung out across that rough, unforgiving tarmac. It was all there but in thin slices. The driver crossed the streak and I nearly vomited. The 109 had snapped a wing and rolled onto one side at the last moment before stopping in a cloud of dust. The car stopped and while the other two disembarked, I was the first to approach the 109. Why I did this I simply do not know. The car stood in such a position that we approached the crash from a direction which allowed you to see partly into the cockpit of the wrecked fighter as it lay there on its back, or maybe 30 degrees rolled over from that.

I could see poor Gert. What was left of him was still strapped in the cockpit. It looked like his head was lying in a hole in the ground, but of coarse I knew that the head and the shoulders up to almost the armpits were actually missing. Of the arms, only very small parts were left and still hanging down. Gert’s bloody rump was resting in shreds on the tarmac. I turned away and vomited. When it was my turn later that day, I flew like a robot, not caring whether I would survive or meet my end.

I shook my head and managed to get back into the present where I saw how the Spitfire now settled onto its back. Away from here! We have to get away from here as fast as possible! I rammed the throttles forward, but they are already at the stop. A slight turn to the right – slight so as not to lose too much speed – and we fly towards the coast. What shall I do? Was this the penance for what I did? Rather, is the penance still to come? Did I shout or cry and show to Rudi how sensible I am? I know that I must never show my emotions to Rudi. My world is dead quiet now. I no longer am aware of the sound of the engines, although I know they are there.

Where are the others? I have to get some height; height is half your life! Did Rudi think of Gert? Was this all by chance? For some time now I had not thought of God and ignored all the crosses in my mother’s home. But now, where are the others? Maybe I shot the Spitfire pilot before his plane burned and went down? No, there is FLAK about that can get you when you are not down low. Which direction am I flying? Rudi still says nothing.
I have to shed this confusion and concentrate on living! Does God want me to live? Does He want me to kill? Everyone I know says it is our honorable duty to kill. Do they all believe this? Are they right? What have I done? I want to live! Think clearly! Ok, I am on the Eastern coast of GB now. I fly about 1300 meters. There are some clouds ahead that I can hide in, but there are only a few. This is definitely not an altitude where I am safe from FLAK! Oh well, at least I can parachute out when I need to. The FLAK is already zeroing in on me. There is the cloud.

Well, I am through already, that will not have helped much. Maybe I should fly over water, where there is no FLAK. Why does the Me list to the right? Damn, I have some hits in the right wing. I did not even hear them! I fight it and have to use almost full left ailerons and lose a bit of height until I have her flying fairly straight and level again. I am flying South, which is the direct route home. I even manage to get her to climb again just a bit. I use full power but do not care; I just want to get altitude so I can jump out when I have to. At last we are over water. Jumping out will be more difficult now, but at least the FLAK stops. Maybe – if the engines hold, if no one attacks us, if no gust destroys the delicate balance I’ve found, we can make it back.

We are still in sight of the land when Rudi calls out that he’s seen a Spitfire. There is not much I can do – we already fly at full power towards home. I do not dare to use the height I have and I must not climb or he will reach us even more quickly. Our only slim hope is that he runs out of fuel. But somehow I know that God does not want me to come back in one piece. Why did I stop going to church after I joined the Hitler HJ? Rudi tells the range and finally tells me to slightly pull up to give him a better field of fire. I hear his MG barking. I say “I will pull” and then I set the engines to idle. Next I pull the yoke with all my might in the hope of making the enemy pilot overshoot. I hear his hits cracking all around the plane.

Our MG is quiet and so is Rudi. He does not answer me on the intercom. The Spitfire must have expected my move. Certainly there were few choices for me. The Spitfire is still behind us. I can not maintain control after that last violent maneuver. I can barely maintain control when flying straight and level. After a last, fruitless “Rudi, jump out”, I jump out myself.

Afterword by Osram

Some Words about my story: First of all, much thanks to JRT for helping. He was able to make the read much smoother and to fill in the gaps where my words failed me.

He kept my style. He also took the hard work of subdividing each of my Germanic long sentences into three new Anglophone understandable ones .

Looking back it is interesting, even to myself, where all the ideas came from:

All thet happened above england is told like it happened in the game. Actually some things were quite surprising to me: That I at first missjudged the direction the first Spitfire was flying; That I could shoot at all six Spitfires, although they flew roughly 90 degrees towards me; that the Spitfire I shot down rotated almost exactly 180 degrees and its trajectory was very straight and very shallow. The religious things are because I thought back to the mother of my three uncle pilots. The whole family is quite religious and there were crucifixes in her house etc. How could the children (and probably her as well) be seduced by the “anti religious” nazis? I do not know. The accident of Gert did happen in RL; but it was not a Me109 but a F100 and it was not in Germany but on, IIRC Edwards airforce base and I do not remember the cause. That the best or most sporty or most daring pilots fly first is something I saw hanggliding. I saw the sweating fire men when I myself was a conscript in the Lufwaffe 15 years ago. There were there every day during operations and at least one always had to had the clothing on. There had not been an accident for 14 years. I think it must have been one of the worst jobs I saw. The bit about the Sanka driver and flooring the pedal and holding onto the exteriour to get to the crash site of a comrade is similar to one or even several epsiodes from Manfred Zieglers “Raketenj�ger”. The “fly after seeing the comrade die” happened to Knocke.
The title is similar to “Angriffsh�he 4000”, a book by a Me 110 pilot about the eastern front. I have read several times of pilots in combat or on the ground watching combat wishing for the kill of the enemy airplane but not the pilot. The SG33 versus SG38 collision took place, I recently saw pictures. Also, I read about a Habicht pilot totalling his glider and walking away laughing. “Fate” is supposed to be “Vorsehung” – something the nazis and espceially Hitler spoke off a lot.