Heinz Knoke developed and tested a tactic of bombing US buffs from Bf 109s with limited success. It was not adopted as doctrine though due to the difficulties involved.
Knoke and his friend Dieter Gerhard worked long and hard on the theory of air-to-air bombing. However, Gerhard was shot down & killed before they were able to test it, so Knoke tried it himself.
This is from March 22nd, 1943.
JG11 was stationed at Jever at this time.
"1424 hours: alert sounds.
Blast! Once again there is no time for our aircraft to be bombed-up. The Americans are coming in from over the sea. They have assembled as usual in the same map reference sector Dora-Dora off Great Yarmouth.
Seven minutes later we receive the orders to land. The enemy have turned about and are now heading back in a westerly direction. Well they return?
After landing, the aircraft are refuelled immediately, with the pilots standing by. Another alert must be anticipated. The intentions of the enemy are never obvious, as they are in the havit of altering course all the time.
I have a 250kg high-explosive bomb slung at top speed under my plane. But in the meantime we are ordered to take off, and I am not yet ready to go.
"Flight Sergeant Wenneckers is to take over command." I have the word passed down the line of aircraft.
Wenneckers Waves his hand. He has understood, and rolls down the runway. The others follow. The Staffel leaves the field in close formation.
Sweating mechanics work feverishly under the belly of my Gustav. I remain strapped to my seat, fuming with impatience.
"come on, come on; hurry, hurry!"
The staffel disappears, climbing in the direction of the sea. The Yanks have crossed the coast of Holland.
"Ready!"
My weighted plane rumbles awkwardly down to the far end of the runway. With the bomb I cannot take off downwind.
Turning at the perimeter of the field, my aircraft suddenly lists heavily to port.
A tire has burst.
I fire off a red signal flare. My men over at the flight dispersal point have understood. Twenty or thirty of them pile into a truck, which comes racing over to me. The left wing is lifted up on powerful backs, and the wheel is changed in a matter of seconds, with the engine still running.
"All clear!" They scatter. I open the throttle, start rolling with gathering speed, and then the crate again begins to list to port. I manage to pull it off the ground, however, after a run of some 600 feet, and clear the roof of #2 Hangar by a few inches.
I climb at full throttle up into the cloudless sky, heading out to sea. Overhead are the vapor trails left by our own aircraft and the Yanks. They are already engaged in combat.
22,000 feet: my plane reacts sluggishly under the infernally heavy load. It climbs wearily up to 30,000 feet, taking 25 minutes to do so.
The Yanks have bombed Wilhelmshaven, as I can tell from the smoke and fires below. They are over Heligoland on the return flight now.
I edge forward slowly until I am over the tip of the enemy formation, which consists entirely of Fortresses. For several minutes I am under fire from below, while I take a very rough sort of aim on my target, weaving and dipping each wing-tip alternately in order to see the formation below. Two or three holes appear in my left wing.
I fuse the bomb, take final aim, and press the release button on my stick. My bomb goes hurtling down, I watch it fall, and bank steeply as I break away.
Then it explodes, exactly in the center of a row of Fortresses. A wing breaks off one of them, and two others plunge away in alarm.
Twenty miles west of Heligoland my third heavy bomber crashes into the sea. There is no sign of fire. It is followed by the torn wing fluttering down like an autumn leaf.
The bomb has registered a hit. Not only on the Fortresses, but also, it seems, on our own higher brass.
Immediately after landing I am ordered to report to the Geschwaderkommodore. He himself was in the air at the time, and observed the crash of the Fortress.
"Good Lord, Knoke, you must do that again with your whole Staffel!"
"That is my intention, sir."
"Do you believe that it will work?"
I am not too certain. "Today could have just been a fluke, sir; but perhaps we can bring down some more of the heavy babies this way"
Then Colonel Henschel telephones. "I am delighted, my dear Knoke. That was a magnificent show. Must congratulate you." He bleats away happily and sounds quite worked up. I hope his monocle will not fall into his cup of cocoa in the excitement.
The North Sea coastal area of Germany must have its little sensation!
Least fuss is made in the Staffel. I find all this excitement over bringing down one single bomber rather absurd. Firstly, anybody could have dropped the bomb. Secondly, the original idea was not mine, but Dieter's. Thirdly, I have eight holes in my own plane where it was hit.
During the night I am awakened by the telephone ringing at my bedside. It is the station switchboard.
"sir, there is a top-priority call from you from the OKL"
"What! For me?"
A Major is at the other end, on the Staff of Reichsmarschall Goering. "You brought down an enemy aircraft today by bombing it, did you not?"
"Yes sir"
I am asked for complete details: What type of bomb? What kind of fuse? How exactly had I carried out the attack? And just what had been the result?
"Who issued the order for this bombing operation?"
"No one, sir, I acted on my own initiative."
There is a silence. For the first time it occurs to me that I was never authorized to lay so much as an egg on the head of the wretched Yank, and so they might consider that I had acted in an exceedingly high-handed manner.
Then the Major comes back on the line:
"I am putting you through to the Reichsmarschall."
This is the shock of my life!
I lie rigid, stiffening in bed to a horizontal position of attention, to report: "Leutnant Knoke here, Staffelkapitaen of 5./JG11"
" I am delighted over the initiative you have displayed. I want personally to express to you my particular appreciation."
And that is that.
So there we have a full-fledged Prussian Leutnant in the Luftwaffe talking to his Commander-in-Chief while lying in bed wearing nothing but a pajama jacket. Incredible! If the Old Man only knew! Iam not even wearing the trousers: the tight elastic irritates me. I cannot help laughing at the thought as I turn over again."
I think this is the Bf 109G-1 that Knoke was flying at the time. In this picture the bomb rack has been traded in for the new WGr 21 rockets.
The B-17 that Knoke destroyed
