--ik--'s 109 Tactics

[vadr]

Graber of JG77 was kind enough to forward me some of --ik--'s articles on flying the 109 series in Warbirds. I've posted these on the JG2 website.

They are an excellent resource for anyone who wants to learn to fly the 109 series effectively in hi-fidelity combat flightsims.

 http://www.jg2.org/

The link is on the home page.

Please excuse the mess on the site, it's sort of in the middle of rewrite.  

------------------
Vadr
Kommandeur, III/JG 2 'Richthofen'
CM, S3 Team/Parser
    vadr@jg2.org    
Combat Flightsim Business Forum      

[Westy]

 Anyone have Pongo's email addy?

 -PotStirrer (@work)

[-ammo-]

I have been visiting --ik--'s page for a long time. I love teh recount from that P-51 pilot of his encounter with Hartman! Ya gotta read that.

ammo

Thx vadr

[hblair]

Whatever happened to --ik-- anyway? He dissapeared almost a year ago, and I haven't heard what happened to him.

I had heard he discovered women.  

Anybody know?

[Hristo]

The best advice a 109 pilot can get.

Too bad he did not fly in AH. I always wanted to meet the guy.

[gatt]

-ammo-, are you talking about this encounter? I like it very much  

 

Lawrence  Thompson: " .... this  was  my  first  major  dogfight  I  had  in  the  war,  in  January  1945.  I  was  flying a P-51D  and  we  were  supposed to  meet  with  bombers  over  Romania.  Well, the bombers  never  showed  up! and  we  kept  circling  and  wasting  our  fuel.  When  we  were  low  on  fuel the  squadron  leader  or-ders  us  back  to  base,  with  the  top  group  at  24,000  feet and  the  four  bait  Mustangs ordered  to  15,000  feet.
Now  you  might  not  really  think  about  it,  but  the  difference  in  altitude,  9,000  feet,  is  almost  two  miles,  and  assuming  that  the  top  flight  could  dive  and  rescue  the  'bait'  airplanes,  it  might  take  a  full  sixty  seconds  or  more  for  the  top  group  to  come  to  the  rescue.  A  heck  of  alot  can  happen  in  sixty  seconds.  Earlier, I  requested  to  fly  in  the  bait  section believing  that  I'd  have  a  better  chance  to  get  some  scores (at  that  time  I  had  no  victories  either) and this  was  my  seventh  mission.  I  have  to  say  now that  I  grew  up  in  Kansas  City,  Kansas,  and  my  older  brother  flew  a  Jenny  biplane  in  the  late  1930s,  so  I  learned  the  basics  of  flying  even  before  joining  the  Army.
So  we're  all  heading  back  to  Italy when,  all  of  a  sudden,  a  dozen  or  so  Me109's  bounce  us. From  one  mo-ment  it's  a  clear  blue  sky,  next  moment there  are  dozens'  of  tracers  passing  my  cockpit.  I'm  hit  several  times and  I  roll  over  to  the  right,  and  below  me  is  an  P-51,  heading  for  the  deck,  with  an  Me109  chasing  him.  I  begin  to  chase  the  Me109.  All  this  time  I  believe  there  was  another  Me109  chasing  me!  It  was  a  racetrack,  all  four  of  us were  racing  for  the  finish  line!  Eventually  I  caught  up  with  the  first  Me109  and  I  fired  a  long  burst  at  about  1,000  yards,  to  no  effect.  Then  I  waited  until  about  600  yards,  I  fired  two  very  long  bursts,  prob-ably  five  seconds  each (P-51  has  ammo  for  about  18  sec-onds  of  continuous  bursts  for  four  machine  guns,  the  remain-ing  two  machine  guns  will  shoot  for  about  24  sec-onds).  I  no-ticed  that  part  of  his  engine  cowling  flew  off  and  he  immedi-ately  broke  off  his  attack  on  the  lead  P-51.  I  check  my  rear  view  mirrors  and  there's  nothing  be-hind  me  now; somehow, I have  managed  to  lose  the  Me109  following  me,  proba-bly  be-cause  the  diving  speed  of  the  P-51  is  sixty  mph  faster  than  the  Me109.
So  I  pull  up  on  the  yoke and level  out; suddenly  a  Me109  loomes  about  as  large  as  a  barn  door  right  in  front  of  me!  And  he  fires  his  guns  at  me,  and  he  rolls  to  the  right,  in  a  Lufberry  circle.  I  peel  off,  following  this  Me109.
I  can  see  silver  P-51s  and  black  nosed  camouflaged  painted  Me109s every-where  I  look,  there's  Me109  or  P-51  ev-erywhere!  At  this  time I  cannot  get  on  the  transmitter  and  talk,  everyone  else  in  the  squadron  is  yelling  and  talking,  and  there's  nothing  but  yelling,  screaming,  and  incoherent  interference  as  everyone  presses  their  mike  buttons  at  the  same  time.  I  can  smell  something  in  the  cockpit.  Hydraulic  fluid!  I  knew  I  got  hit  earlier.
.... I'm  still  following  this  Me109.  I  just  got  my  first  con-firmed  kill  of  my  tour,  and  now  I'm  really  hot.  I  believe  that  I  am  the  hottest  pilot  in  the  USAAF!  And  now  I'm  thinking  to  myself:  'am  I  going  to  shoot  this  Me109  down  too?!  He  rolls  and  we  turn,  and  turn;  somehow,  I  cannot  catch  up  with  him  in  the  Lufberry  circle,  we  just  keep  circling.  About  the  third  360  degree  turn he and I must have  spotted  two  Mustangs  flying  below  us,  about  2,000  feet  below,  and  he  dives  for  the  two  P-51s.  Now  I'm  about  150  yards  from  him,  and  I  get  my  gunsight  on  his  tail, but  I  cannot  shoot,  because  if  I  shoot  wide,  or  my  bullets  pass  through  him, I  might  shoot  down  one  or  both  P-51s,  so  I  get  a  front  seat,  watching,  fearful  that  this  guy  will  shoot  down  a  P-51 we're  approaching  at  about  390  mph.  There's  so  much  interference  on  the  R/T  I  cannot  warn  the  two  Mustangs,  I  fire  one  very  long  burst  of  about  seven  or  eight  seconds  purposely  wide,  so  it  misses  the  Mustangs,  and  the  Me109  pilot  can  see  the  tracers.  None  of  the  Mustang  pilots  sees's  the  tracers  either!  I  was  half  hoping  expecting  that they'd  see  my  tracers  and  turn  out  of  the  way  of  the  diving  Me109.  But  no  such  luck.  I  quit  firing.
The  Me109  still  dives,  and  as  he  approaches  the  two  P-51s  he  holds  his  fire,  and  as  the  gap  closes,  two  hundred  yards,  one  hundred  yards,  fifty  yards  the  Hun  does  not  fire  a  shot.  No  tracers,  nothing!  At  less  than  ten  yards,  it  looks  like  he's  go-ing  to  ram  the  lead  P-51  and  the  Hun  fires  one  single  shot  from  his  20mm  cannon!  And  Bang!  Engine  parts,  white  smoke,  glycol,  whatnot from  the  lead  P-51  is  everywhere,  and  that  unfortunate  Mustang  begins  a  gentle  roll  to  the  right.  I  try  to  watch  the  Mustang  down,  but  cannot,  Now  my  full  at-tention  is  on  the  Hun!  Zoom.  We  fly  through  the  two  Mustangs  (he  was  taken  POW).  Now  the  advantage  of  the  P-51  is  really  apparent,  as  in  a  dive I  am  catching  up  to  the  Me109 faster  than  a  runaway  freight  train.  I  press  the  trigger  for  only  a  second  then  I  let  up  on  the  trigger,  I  believe  at  that  time I  was  about  250  yards  distant,  but  the  Hun  was  really  pulling  lots'  of  negative  and  positive  g's  and  pulling  up  to  the  horizon,  he  levels  out and  then  does  a  vertical  tail  stand!  and  next  thing  I  know,  he's  using  his  built  up  velocity  from  the  dive  to  make  a  vertical  ninety  degree  climb.  This  guy  is  really  an  experienced  pilot.
I'm  in  a  vertical  climb,  and  my  P-51  begins  to  roll  clockwise  vio-lently,  only  by  pushing  my  left  rudder  almost  through  the  floor  can  I  stop  my  P-51  from turning.  We  climb  for  altitude;  in  the  straight  climb  that  Me109  begins  to  out distance  me,  though  my  built  up  diving  speed  makes  us  about  equal  in  the  climb.  We  climb  one  thou-sand  fifteen  hundred  feet,  and  at  eighteen  hundred  feet,  the  hun  levels  his  aircraft  out.  A  vertical  climb  of  1,800  feet!  I've  never  heard  of  a  piston  aircraft  climbing  more  than  1,000  feet  in  a  tail  stand.  At  this  time  we're  both  down  to  stall  speed,  and  he  levels  out.
My  airspeed  indicator  reads  less  than  90  mph!  So  we  level  out.  I'm  really  close  now  to  the  Me109,  less  than  twenty  five  yards!  Now  if  I  can  get  my  guns  on  him.........  At  this  range,  the  gunsight  is  more  of  nuisance  than  a  help.  Next  thing,  he  dumps  his  flaps  fast  and  I  begin  to  overshoot  him!  That's  not  what  I  want  to  do,  because  then  he  can  bear  his  guns  on  me.  The  P-51  has  good  ar-mor,  but  not  good  enough  to  stop  20mm  cannon  hits.
This  Luftwaffe  pilot  must  be  one  heck  of  a  marksman,  I  just  witnessed  him  shooting  down  a  P-51  with  a  single  20mm  cannon  shot!  So  I  do  the  same  thing,  I  dump  my  flaps,  and  as  I  start  to  overshoot  him,  I  pull  my  nose  up,  this  really  slows  me  down;   S-T-A-L-L  warning  comes  on!  and  I  can't  see  anything  ahead  of  me  nor  in  the  rear  view  mirror.  Now  I'm  sweating  everywhere.  My  eyes  are  burning  because  salty  sweat  keeps  blinding  me:  'Where  is  He!?!'  I  shout  to  myself.  I  level  out  to  prevent  from  stalling. And  there  he  is.  Flying  on  my  right  side.  We  are  flying  side  to  side,  less  than  twenty  feet  separates  our  wingtips.  He's  smil-ing and laughing  at  himself.  I  notice  that  he  has  a  black  heart  painted  on  his  aircraft,  just  below  the  cockpit.  The  propeller  nose  and  spinner  are  also  painted  black.  It's  my  guess  that  he's  a  very  experienced  ace  from  the  Russian  front.
His  tail has  a  number  painted  on  it:  "200".  I  wonder:  what  the  "two  hundred"  means!?  Now  I  began  to  examine  his  airplane  for  any  bullet  hits, afterall,  I  estimate  that  I  just  fired  1,600  rounds  at  the  hun.  I  cannot  see  a  single  bullet  hole  in  his  aircraft!  I  could  swear  that  I  must  have  gotten  at  least  a  dozen  hits!  I  keep  inspecting  his  aircraft  for  any  damage.  One  time,  he  even  lifts  his  left  wing  about  15  degrees,  to  let  me  see  the  undercar-riage,  still  no  hits!  That's  impossible  I  tell  myself.  Totally  im-possible.  Then  I  turn  my  attention  back  to  the  "200"  which  is  painted  on  the  tail  rudder.
German  aces  normally  paint  a  marker  for  each  victory  on  their  tail.  It  dawns  on  me  that  quick: TWO  HUNDRED  KILLS !!  We  fly  side  by  side  for  five  minutes.  Those  five  minutes  take  centuries  to  pass.  Less  than  twenty  five  feet  away  from  me  is  a  Luftwaffe  ace,  with  over  two  hundred  kills.  We  had  been  in  a  slow  gradual  dive  now,  and  my  altitude  indicates  8,000  feet.  I'm  panicking  now,  even  my  socks  are  soaked  in  sweat.
The  German  pilot  points  at  his  tail,  obviously  meaning  the "200" victories,  and  then  very  slowly  and  dramatically  makes  a  knife-cutting  mo-tion  across  his  throat,  and  points  at  me.
   He's  telling  me  in  sign  language  that  I'm  going  to  be  his  201  kill!  Panic!  I'm  breathing  so  hard,  it  sounds  like  a  wind  tunnel  with  my  mask  on. My heart rate must have  doubled  to 170  beats  per  minute; I can feel my chest, thump-thump  and  so.  This  goes  on  for  centuries,  and  centuries.  The  two  of  us  flying  at  stall  speed,  wingtip  to  wingtip.  I  think  more  than  once  of  simply  ramming  him.  He  keeps  watching  my  ailerons,  maybe  that's  what  he  expects  me  to  do.  We  had  heard  of  desperate  pilots  who,  after  running  out  of  ammunition, would  commit  suicide  by  ramming  an  enemy  plane.
Then  I  decide  that  I  can  Immelmann  out  of  the  situation,  as  I  began  to  climb,  but  because  my  flaps  are  down,  my  Mustang  only  climbs  about  one  hundred  feet,  pitches  over  violently  to  the  right  and  stalls.  The  next  instant I'm  dangerously  spinning,  heading ninety  degrees  ver-tically  down!  And  the  IAS  reads  300  mph!  My  P-51  just  falls  like  a  rock  to  the  earth!  I  hold  the  yoke  in  the  lower  left  corner and  sit  on  the  left  rudder,  flaps  up,  and  apply  FULL  POWER!  I  pull  out  of  the  dive  at  about  500  feet,  level  out,  (I  be-gan  to  black  out  so  with  my  left  hand  I  pinched  my  veins  in  my  neck  to  stop  from  los-ing  blood).
I  scan  the  sky for anything!  There's  not  a  plane  in  the  sky,  I  dive  to  about  fifty  feet  elevation,  heading to-wards  Italy.  I  fly  at  maximum  power  for  about  ten  minutes,  and  then  reduce  my  rpm  (to  save  gasoline),  otherwise the  P-51  has  very  lim-ited  range  at  full  power.  I  fly  like  this  for  maybe  an  hour,  no  planes  in  the  vicinity;  all  the  time  I  scan  the  sky,  check  my  rear  view  mirrors. I  never  saw  the  Me109  with  the  black  heart  again.
I  mention  the  Me109  with  the  black  heart  and  "200"  writ-ten  on  the  tail.  That's  when  the  whole  room,  I  mean  everybody,  gets  instantly  quiet.  Like  you  could  hear  a  pin  drop.
Two  weeks  later  the  base  commander  shows  me  a  telex: "....according  to  intelligence,  the  German  pilot  with  a  black  heart  is  Eric  Hartmann  who  has  downed  250  aircraft  and  there is  a  reward  of  fifty  thousand  dollars  offered  by  Stalin  for  shooting  down  him.  I  never  heard  of  a  cash  re-ward  for  shooting  down  an  enemy  ace ... " .
 
Eric  Hartmann, called "the Blond Knight of Germany", survived  the  war  with  352  victories.

[Nath-BDP]

haha yea right, that story is fiction.

[Eagler]

Who cares Nath, that was a great story! I could read 500 pages of stuff like that in a single sitting  

 Gatt, was that out of a book, if so title and author please.

   

Eagler

[-ammo-]

yup Gatt, that is the one Absoluttely great story. --ik-- had it up on his website however the link is no longer any good. --ik--'s data though is now on JG2's page.

Thanx for posting it Gatt!

ammo

[gatt]

I know -ammo-, probably ik got it when I first posted the story on AGW some years ago.

Eagler, sorry, I got it from a text file posted some years ago on the web. I dont know where it comes from.

Anyway, fiction or not ... great story   ... even in 1944 there were run-stangs (sorry couldnt resist  )

[Nath-BDP]

I didn't like the story, that P51 pilot was a gimp. ;/