The dangers of takeoff and landing in the Me 262 are highlighted in an article by historian Jon Guttman, providing an American fighter pilot’s perspective, when on January 15, 1945, Capt. Robert P. Winks of the 357th Fighter Group engaged and scored a kill over a Me 262:
“‘We were on a sweep over southern Germany, in the Munich area,’ he recalled. ‘The 364th Squadron was over to take pictures of a 262 airfield. Pete Peterson had a camera in his P-51 and we were flying escort. The Eighth Air Force had orders not to strafe those airfields—it had incurred too many losses. I was flying along when I saw a plane doing slow rolls on the deck, over patches of snow—it was an Me 262. I was following what he was doing and called him in to Peterson, who responded with an order to “Go down and get him.” At that point the bogey was going back toward the airfield. I dropped my two tanks, cut my engine and went into a straight dive with five degrees of flaps. I was at about a sixty-degree angle when I came at the jet and fired two hundred forty rounds of fifty-caliber into his cockpit and wing root. The German flipped over, caught on fire and banged in. Pete confirmed it.’”
The identity of Winks’ quarry has only recently become known. Although Schongau was put under alert because of the Mustangs’ presence in its vicinity, Fähnrich (cadet trainee) Rudolf Rhode had either just taken off or was already airborne when Winks caught him. “We observed Me 262s taxiing toward protective abutments all over that airfield,” Winks recalled. “Whoever was piloting the Me 262 that I shot down must have had a military rank high enough to have been able to countermand the ‘alert.’ Or so I have always thought.”
Killed at age nineteen, Rhode was buried in Schwabstadl, near Lechfeld. In regard to the trainee status of his last victim, Winks remarked: “I denied the Luftwaffe an Me 262 aircraft, and a pilot from attacking our bombers. That is what I was hired and trained to do. Speaking, perhaps, for both sides of the conflict… what a terrible waste of men, and the world’s wealth.’”{7}
Such losses were all too common among the German jet pilots. This was when they were the most vulnerable. As stated, the other major concern was running out of fuel. Dorr and Jones chronicle an event that emphasizes Hohagen’s statement regarding the fuel consumption: “[Capt.] Beaudrault’s initial adversary, however, was unable to take advantage of his one hundred mile per hour speed advantage over the Thunderbolt. The Me 262 emitted white puffs of smoke from its exhausts. Its engines stopped. In midair, far from any runway, the German jet apparently had run out of fuel.
“Beaudrault pounced on the Me 262 in a three hundred mile per hour dive. He prepared to fire his Thunderbolt’s eight .50-caliber machine guns. Before he could squeeze the trigger, however, the 262 veered abruptly, its wing struck the ground, and the German jet disappeared in a tremendous explosion. Johnson wrote that ‘there was nothing left but fire and shiny pieces of metal scattered over three acres.’” Beaudrault was awarded the Silver Star for the action. This was the first Ninth Air Force jet kill.{8}
Many of these pilots undoubtedly killed themselves, when perhaps in a moment of panic, or just out of years of training and experience in conventional fighters, they threw the throttles forward to increase their speed rapidly to escape a pursuing enemy fighter. Flaming out an engine was usually the result, either allowing the enemy fighter to close the distance for the kill, or causing the jet to stall and crash. Each fighter or bomber pilot had similar, if not often unique, stories regarding their transition into the jet fight-bomber, such as Hermann Buchner:
“An engineering officer gave lessons about the powerplant, about starting up and switching off; we had to carry out the whole sequence of events blindfolded. After two days of basic instruction we began to practice starting up an Me 262 parked on a field in front of the hall. After a thorough instruction in the cabin, taxiing in the Me 262 began. Taxiing with two engines was somewhat difficult; one first had to have a good grasp of how the engines operated and the revs. A course had been built using pine trees and one had to taxi through these.
“In between a flying instructor explained again and again the starting procedures, the flight and the preparations for landing. On 19 November 1944 I had my first flight in a 262. Everything went like clockwork. It was a magnificent feeling and after twenty minutes an equally exemplary landing followed. The spell was broken—it was easier than expected. I have to say, though, that the instruction and the preparations had been logically and intensively carried out. In truth, nothing could go off the straight and narrow.”{9}
Walter Schuck also wrote of his transition period into the jet: “When I am asked today how we transitioned from the Me 109 on to the Me 262, people either find my reply unbelievable or regard all those of us who went through the process as completely crazy. But it was exactly as I describe here. JG-7 didn’t have a single Me 262 twoseater trainer on establishment, and every pilot who was to fly the jet on operations began his training by being a spectator!
“No doubt everyone can appreciate that there is a huge difference between being pulled along by a propeller and pushed along by a jetturbine. Quite apart from the sluggish reactions of the Me 262 during takeoff, when power had to be applied to the two engines carefully and evenly to avoid overheating the turbine blades, a totally different angle and method of approach had to be employed when coming in to land.
“In the air, too, a whole new book of aerodynamics came into play. In the Me 109 you could turn quickly and steeply and if you suddenly needed to slow down at high speed you merely had to pull back on the throttle to produce the desired braking effect in an instant, whereas the jet engine would still continue to produce thrust for a considerable time after the throttles had gently been eased off. Moreover, when flying the Me 262 at low speeds you had to be devilish careful not to stall, or to make any jerky throttle movements that would cause the powerplants simply to flame out altogether.”{10}
CHAPTER 10
Night and Day
I did not see the 262 as a great night fighter, as the high speeds made accuracy an issue.
One pilot who took a unique exception to the flameout problem and sensitivity of the throttles on the jets was Leutnant Jorg Czypionka, a former flight instructor who flew with 10.NJG-11 in Me 109G and later with the re-designated Kommando Welter in the Me 262, scoring one confirmed night victory in the jet, an RAF Mosquito at night on March 27, 1945, at 2050 hours (8:50 pm). All of his night missions were in day fighter variants, using the old Wilde Sau method, even his Me 262 “Red 6.” Czypionka discussed the transition he experienced from Me 109 to the Me 262, and he never had a flameout on takeoff. His insights are revealing:
“My principal was concentration. If you fly one hundred percent concentrated and do not think of anything else, concentrate on everything, watch every detail, watch everything that can happen, and treat the aircraft as the aircraft wants to be treated. If you feel that the aircraft does not want to do it easily, then do not do it. This was my principal in flying, and every pilot should think this way.”{1}
Czypionka’s introduction into the jet fighter as a night fighter was, to say the least, quite unique. When he joined 10.NJG-11, they were using Me 109s, as he explained: