What was it like to be a Luftwaffe pilot in Occupied France? Below are some excerpts from transcripts of interviews done 10 years after D-Day:
The quiet months of 1944:
Thomas Beike was a Leutnant (Pilot Officer) attached to Jagdabschnittführer 5 (Leading Fighter Group 5) in the area North of Evreux, Normandy.
our section’s small airbase, which was in the Evreux-Lisieux sector was one of several in that area positioned quite near to the coast. The base was on a plain belonging to a country estate of some kind, and the chateau had been requisitioned to provide accommodation for the pilots and senior officers. So I went from bedding down in a frozen hut, as I did in my posting on the Eastern Front, to sleeping in a proper bed with a staff servant to attend to meals and the polishing of boots and other necessities. This chateau had a wine cellar which was very well stocked, and the quality of food available locally was remarkable.
As you are a man of the world, sir, you can also appreciate that we pilots were popular fellows with the French ladies. We were officially forbidden from having anything more than a passing relationship, if you understand me, with French women, but in many cases the pilots and the ground crews, the Flak crews and so on formed quite affectionate bonds with some of these girls. The ladies were extremely astute, I remember, and in many ways they ran the local villages and towns in the absence of their menfolk, who were often in the labour force or the internment system.
The effects of Allied bombing and blockades:
To keep a fighter aircraft in service, you need a great deal of spare parts, oil, coolant, lubricants and so on, and all of these were in short supply in 1944. It was quite common for a fighter to be waiting in its hangar, fully armed, pilot ready, fuelled, but unable to take off because coolant could not be found for the engine. Or, when the coolant arrived, the special air filters could not be replaced, and so on, with endless combinations of things that were missing or could not be repaired. This meant that units took off below strength, meaning that yet more planes were lost when they ran up against the big Allied formations. As for the pilots, we simply did not have enough good quality, fresh pilots to replace those lost in the air. … our units were under strength and each individual man was badly over-stretched, with all the mental stress that is a result. So each Luftwaffe pilot, living in his chateau with his polished boots and so on, was under the surface a somewhat tormented individual.
D-Day:
On the 5th, it was the birthday of one of the other pilots, and we had a small gathering at the farmhouse to mark this event.
Well, there were six of us pilot officers, and two senior officers, one of whom attended with his wife, who was visiting the base from Germany. You may look surprised, Herr Eckhertz, but this was quite acceptable in our section. At about nine pm, the senior attendees departed, leaving only us pilots. We were joined after that by several French ladies, who were well-connected locally and were excellent company. In what role did the French ladies attend this gathering? In what role? As guests. I am sure you can understand that if one is in France, it is inevitable that such ladies will find their way into the company of pilots.
The ladies, I must say, were very upset at this display of air power that the Allies were making over France. We could tell that these were Allied aircraft from their engine tone, which was level, whereas our large aircraft had a rise-and-fall tone to the engines. We stood in the darkness listening to all this going on in the air. The ladies made remarks such as ‘You must save us from those salauds Anglaises’ (English bastards) and similar things. For them, it was very upsetting, this threatening force, and we sent a squadron car to return them to their homes.
In the end, in the mid-morning, three of us were ordered to take off and fly to the coast near Caen as an armed reconnaissance patrol. … Was the Messerschmitt suitable as a reconnaissance plane? No, it was completely unsuitable. Visibility was very limited forward, because the engine cowling was right here, under your chin. You were meant to dive on things to be able to see them. We could see nothing behind, with no bubble canopy, and even to the sides the wings obstructed the view. … our planes had no radio connection to our base . . . in the air, we could only speak to each other. So we would have to observe, see what we could, and then return to base at speed without being shot down, to make our report.
The Allies own the air:
As my ground crew were closing my canopy, my commander stepped up on the ladder and shouted to me that this was a vital mission, that the aerial information we could bring back was essential to the task of driving the enemy back to the sea. He gave me his personal Leica aviation camera, … As soon as we levelled out, we were hit by a pair of Mustangs that came down from the 120 degree point, on our rear quadrant. They tore right through us before we got our wits together . . . damn, I blush with shame when I remember that, to be attacked so quickly and in such a basic fashion.
I wasn’t hit, but one of my comrades was, . . . and then he was simply lost in all the flames. This was the pilot whose birthday we celebrated the night before; he was twenty-five years old. I doubt if he has a grave or a headstone of any sort in France.
[on returning] I saw on the runway the burning outline of our third Messerschmitt. I found out later that he had returned with an engine fire, and blown up as he came in. I was the only one to survive of us three, you see.
Friendly fire was a problem:
Flak tracer was coming up as well, which must have been German fire, as we were still inland. Those Flak gunners were in a panic and shooting at anything, it seemed.
(The book also contains stories of Allied planes strafing Allied soldiers.)
He was able to contribute to the German defense effort:
I am not proud of it, but I personally shot up a row of Churchill tank men in that week after the invasion. … We got this information about their position from a local French civilian, in fact, who was passing us intelligence about the Allied locations. You see, we couldn’t go up, patrol around for targets and then attack them, as the Allied pilots did. We were so outnumbered that we would have been brought down immediately. But if we had reliable, specific information that a certain target was at a certain location, we could race over in one pass and hit them and then go for home, with no need for a second run at them. The French who sympathised with us, and there were many, often gave us this kind of target information, through channels that our people had set up as we retreated.
Why would French citizens be helping the Germans?
In the first days and weeks, it was by no means certain that the landings were a permanent lodgement, or that they would develop into a full invasion even if they were. Everyone remembered the peculiar attack on Dieppe, when the Canadians invaded but then left after a few hours. Was this going to be a repeat of that, but on a bigger scale? So, because of this uncertainty, many of the French in the Allied zone put their bets on both horses, if you see what I mean, and they played up to the Allied invaders while secretly passing information to us. A certain contact gave us excellent information, and this particular alert about a group of the Churchill tanks came from her. I went up and set myself on a direct course for the location, knowing I would only have one pass before having to break for my base again. As soon as I saw the copse of trees, I saw the outline of the Churchills, which were stationary with no attempt to break up their outlines with foliage or nets. I also saw the crews assembled in a large group, in a meadow to the rear. Perhaps they were having some kind of briefing there.
The fact was that quite a number of the French followed us out of France, rather than be paraded as ‘collaborators’ and the like by the Allies and the French patriots who sprang up all over the place after the invasion. Such French helpers were welcomed into the Reich, even though they gave us more mouths to feed.
From a German military police officer:
I am pointing out that from July 1940 to August 1944, which is almost the entire war, really, the French government supported and cooperated with Germany in all areas. And not just the French government, but the French state: the police, the civil service, the factories, the transports and all the rest of it.
From “static infantry” private Marten Eineg:
Our life, by the standards of what most German soldiers experienced, was frankly very soft. Our military rations were basic, but these were amply supplemented by produce from local farmers and retailers, … When I read today about the French Resistance, I am impressed at their tenacity, but if the readers of such books could see the trading that went on between us and the local French, they might form a different view of life in France at that time. Well, but this is perhaps a case of history being written by victors.
I would like to be able to boast that I was the first to sight the allied ships, …, but in fact I was not on observation duty at the time. On the Monday evening, I had accompanied two of my comrades to a small bar in the nearby town, which was friendly to Germans, and we had stayed there for several hours. They served a very light red wine which we were very fond of, and there were young ladies who would sit at our tables and speak with us.
I was astonished at the number of craft; … These craft included destroyer-type warships, tugs, and numerous low vessels which seemed to be invasion barges. There was a great variety of other boats. I was struck speechless at this sight, which I had never imagined possible. The sheer volume of craft was what amazed me. Even as I stared, more ships came into view, endlessly filling the sea.
I thought that this bombardment would be over soon, but I found that it continued on and on. It became impossible to react, or even to think clearly, because there was no pause between the explosions,… I assure you that I was not afraid to fight, but to be subjected to these colossal, ceaseless explosions was not the same as fighting. The man who was the gun loader reacted even worse than me, and he began to scream and bang his hands on the concrete wall; I could not hear his voice, but I could see his mouth and fists moving.
The other Germans interviewed in the book tell a similar story of sudden transition from a comfortable quiet life to absolute hell. Here’s a “concrete Panzer” (static gun) private soldier’s version:
Apart from the uncertainty, we in the infantry had a comfortable life before the invasion came. The local French people were not supposed to come close to the bunkers, but in reality they would come and trade with us, offering food. They had bread, milk, cider, eggs and even fresh meat, which was unavailable to Wehrmacht lower ranks. In return we exchanged things like cigarettes, bootlaces and lamp oil, which the French couldn’t get hold of at all.
The relationship was generally friendly. The French would complain bitterly about the Allied bombing, which was ruining their little towns and villages, especially around the transport routes. Many of us had lost relatives in the city bombing in Germany, so we sympathised. Some of the French also hated General De Gaulle, who they described as a traitor and a coward. De Gaulle and his gang were our enemy too, so we had that in common. After the war, I was amazed that De Gaulle became the president of France!
The truth is that sometimes the French ladies in our sector would get pregnant by German soldiers, and when that happened they went to a house in the inland zone, a house that was run by Catholic nuns, to have the babies. This house, which was known to everyone as ‘The Children’s House,’ became a kind of orphanage for French-German children; there were many of them being looked after there. If you can imagine the situation, we Germans in 1944 had been in France for four years, almost exactly four years, and so the orphanage was much needed.
What a foolish thing that war was, when you think about it. The Americans had so much space in their prairies and mountains, and the English had India and all those places in Africa. And yet they wanted to take France from us, and stop us fighting the Reds. All of us there on that area of sand dunes, me in my concrete panzer, and the PAK gun, and the little two-man bunkers, we all should really have been in the East, fighting the real enemy of Europe over there. But the Western Allies insisted on threatening us in France.
The intensity of that bombardment was more than anything I had known on the Eastern Front. When one of these naval shells exploded near us, the shock wave came through the ground and travelled through the panzer, which felt like a punch in the stomach. These blows came again and again, every time a kick in the belly, and making my ears ring horribly. The Czechoslovakian lad who was my loader got down on the floor of the panzer and began sobbing, the poor idiot. He was not very bright, as I told you. I told him to shut up, but he was only seventeen, and had not been in action before. What a way to start!
the horizon was like a solid wall of ships. As if someone had put a steel curtain across the horizon, that’s how many there were. The warships that were firing on us were lighting up the whole array of ships with the flash of their guns. I looked up out of the hatch, and saw that overhead there were vast numbers of planes, which I couldn’t hear because my ears were deafened, but I could feel the vibrations of their engines in the air
I tried to fire again, but with our damage there was no way to aim our gun. We were hit again, and this round came into the turret itself. It was a nightmarish moment, because the Sherman’s warhead came through the turret front plate, and hit my loader fully in the chest where he stood. It shattered his whole chest at once, and passed straight through him, and ricocheted around on the floor of the hull without hitting me. The bulk of his body had slowed the shell down, just enough to stop it bouncing off the walls and hitting me, I think. So this poor boy, who barely needed to shave his chin, saved my life in that way. He died instantly, standing next to me. That was the end of the concrete panzer as far as I was concerned.
I wish I could say that I was a hero, but I was drained and finished by all of this. I remained crouching behind the concrete panzer turret, and when those American soldiers began running past me towards the inland area, I didn’t do anything to attract attention. … I ran to the beach, and other Americans halted me and put me in handcuffs under the edge of the dunes.
A lot of the Germans interviewed realize that the war is over when they see that the Allies have an infinite supply of machines and fuel. The German army still depended on horses to pull a lot of supply wagons.
There are always drugs:
By that stage, in the night of the 6th June, we were all exhausted, and we had to take amphetamines to keep us awake and energetic. This was the ‘panzer chocolate’ amphetamine? … It was fantastic stuff at first, because it made you feel like new for three or four hours. But after that, my God! You had to take more of it, and then more, and it affected your judgement, by making you reckless or uncaring.
One peculiar aspect of humanity is that people can transition quickly from deadly enemies to fellow citizens. From a rifleman taken prisoner during D-Day:
I remember that near my camp in the North of England, there were huge camps of Italian prisoners who had surrendered in North Africa in 1941 . . . these Italians were now very comfortable in England, working on farms and speaking English. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them are still there.
From Martin Eineg:
I recall that the character of the English seemed to change very quickly. When they attacked us, they were very ferocious, eager to use their bayonets. But after we were taken away to the square, we were well treated; our handcuffs were removed, we were given water, the wounded were allocated a medic who in turn asked for German volunteers to assist him. Our treatment was very humane in that respect. Having said that, many of the local French people emerged from their houses and looked through the railings of the square at us, and made insulting remarks; but of course, these were the same people we had been bartering and trading with twenty-four hours beforehand.
More: Read
War is a terrible thing. But, in many ways, it is best that it be as terrible as it can be. The more terrible it is, the sooner it is done and over with. The more terrible it is the longer we remember its horrors and avoid repeating them. We will be wise to remember that.
The low intensity, white gloves on, drawn out conflicts we engaged in today is the worst form of cruelty. You can bomb Japan or Germany into smithereens and 25 years later the had recovered and were doing pretty good. On the other hand, you can be as sensitive to collateral damage as you want and keep war as low intensity as you want, but keep a perpetual conflict going for decades and you’ll always have a shit hole. You cannot have decent life without economic development. You cannot have economic development without stability and security. You don’t have either whether it is TOTAL WAR or two Hezbollah fucks showing up once a week to lob a half dozen improvised rockets.
“this is perhaps a case of history being written by victors.” In the context of the citations, does this stement imply that French ladies are the victors? based on statement that they had contributed much more than French resistance to low morale of German troops in France.
> low intensity, white gloves on, drawn out conflicts we engaged in today is the worst form of cruelty. […] You cannot have decent life without economic development.
This is the whole point of our low intensity conflicts, which have been a great success. Few get this. Look at the oil consumption stats for the nations blessed by recent western intervention. We get to drive because they aren’t driving anymore.
On my last vacation in France, I talked to my parents’ 90-year old neighbor. Her high school in St Germain-en-Laye had been requisitioned to be the German HQ and she recalled getting in trouble for cutting off all the lilies in the school garden so von Stulpagel wouldn’t enjoy them. She also remembered her best friend, whose mother was English, and required to check in with the Germans every week, while the father was interned by the Germans. The friend died of TB, weakened by wartime food shortages, and her mother soon after.
She also recounted witnessing the bombing of the bridge on the Seine in Montesson with her WWI veteran father (it still hasn’t been rebuilt 70 years later). The RAF bombers actually flew under the bridge after their dive-bombing run. When French people heard bombers coming, they would pray “please, please let it be the RAF” as the British pilots would fly low to maximize accuracy and minimize civilian casualties. The USAAF, on the other hand, would carpet-bomb from higher altitude, taking less risk and cared little about the waste of munitions as the entire might of US industry provided them with ample supplies thereof.
Fazal – generally speaking you have this exactly backward. In WWII, the British did most of their bombing of Germany at night, when they were less visible and vulnerable to enemy fire while the Americans bombed during the day. Given the technology of the time, night bombing was even less accurate than day bombing which was not very accurate either. So the British preferred “area bombing’ where they would blanket a whole city (Hamburg, Dresden, etc.) with incendiary bombs until the entire place went up in a huge firestorm – that way you didn’t have to worry about hitting individual targets. If the British has lost the war, then “Bomber Harris” would have had a war crimes trial waiting for him.
I love the German soldier’s idea – you Americans have the Great Plains – is it too much to ask to let us have France (and Belgium and the Netherlands and Denmark and Norway, etc.?) The French LOVE being occupied by the Germans – there is nothing they like better.
I for one disagree with him. My concentration camp prisoner father was down to 98 lbs. by then and a few more weeks delay in the Allied landing in Normandy would have been the end of him (and therefore of me).
Hitler himself was actually sort of fond of the British (if not the Americans) and was, at the beginning of the war, hoping for some sort of deal like that – the Germans would be the continental power and the British the maritime power. But the British were not interested in living in a Nazi dominated world where it was only a matter of time for them to get eaten next. Given what Hitler did to his “ally” Stalin their judgment was correct.
Dwight – the Israelis have had low level conflict going for decades and this has not prevented them from having economic development. Even Lebanon has done OK economically. Economic hell holes are not the result of low level conflict but of corruption, lack of rule of law, low intelligence populations, etc. The reason Japan and Germany recovered so quickly is that they had good human capital to begin with – if your human capital is good then physical capital will be rebuilt in short order (but vice versa and you’ll have nothing to begin with). Also, I would rather have Hezbollah shooting off occasional rockets for 100 years than endure 1 week of Dresden style bombing.
US achieved some bombing accuracy from high altitude due to https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Norden_bombsight DIving for bombing raides is feasible only on soft targets, German Nazis did leveled many civilian districts in Eastern Europe with their diving bombers, not just London. Dive bombing is not effective on hard targets as planes are relatively easily hit from the ground during dive, either by machine guns or volley repeating fire. And if not hit they are forced off target, which in battlefield conditions often means that they bomb their own troops.
Philip,
I recommend Stuka Pilot – Rudel’s memoirs. He goes through his entire career, starting from the pilot school till the end of war.
In the books the author’s father “Dieter Eckhertz” was said to be a journalist for German military publications. I found no evidence of that in Google. When I googled “Eckhertz” I didn’t notice anything of significance aside from those particular books. It would be nice to see some independent evidence for the authenticity of the interviews.
Sorry, Dieter Eckhertz was said to be the author’s grandfather.
The magazines for which he is said to have written do seem to exist. See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Signal_(magazine) and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Die_Wehrmacht
So it should be easy to verify if there is a good archive of these. Maybe these are not on the list of stuff that Google wants to scan and make available!
Someone skeptical about the books that claims to have researched it a bit further:
https://www.reddit.com/r/AskHistorians/comments/6r3s0g/what_is_the_opinion_on_the_last_panther_and_dday/