BOXART STORY
#8136
You won’t get me!
He’s still in bed when the phone rings. “Sir,
north of the forest at Villers-Cotterets,
a French Breguet is directing enemy artillery
fire. Its effects are devastating!” He quickly
notes the area on the map and then replies
curtly into the phone, “We’ll be there in a minute!”
Off duty, he should have been allowed to sleep, but needs must. He looks at his watch.
It’s not even 0730! But all the other pilots
have left for the morning patrol, so it’s up
to him. In five minutes, he’s ready. The mechanic is fluttering about his new Fokker
D.VII. Jasta 4, which he leads now, was the
last of the whole JG I to get these beasts on
June 13, just a fortnight ago. He picked one
of them, had its fuselage, upper wing and
elevator painted red, while the nose was
painted black and, following the example of
Kirschstein’s Fokker Dr.I, which he also used
for a short time, the upper wing was decorated with white stripes. After the letters “Lo”,
accompanied by an exclamation mark, had
been painted on the sides of the fuselage as
usual, the work was almost complete. But
something was still missing. A short message to anyone who might want to get him
down. He had already made up his mind and
the words “Du doch nicht!!” were added on
the elevator.
He jumps into the cockpit, settles in, sprays
fuel, turns on the magneto, moves the stick
to check the controls clearance. The mechanic turns the propeller twice, and by the
third time the whole plane shakes with the
February 2023
first revs of the nose engine. A minute later,
he takes off.
He heads for the front, his eyes searching for
the enemy. It doesn’t take long. There it is!
North of the forest, about 600 meters up. He
doesn’t waste time and immediately attacks
from behind. He’s got to be careful, the twin
machine-guns of the Breguet could really
mess him up. He’s keeping level and sits right behind. The French observer would shoot his own rudder off if he tried anything! He
pulls the breeches of his machine guns and
fires a short burst. The head behind the machine guns disappears. Did he hit him? Looks
like it. But the French pilot is not about to
give his skin cheap and maneuvers violently.
He takes a sharp descend turn and tries to
escape towards friendly territory.
Now, he’s attacking from the side, which
would normally be risky. But now there’s nobody behind the Breguet’s guns. He is perhaps only twenty meters from the French aircraft when suddenly the observer reappears
behind them! And it’s bad! The first flashes
come from the guns, and he can literally feel
the projectiles passing close by. Then his
Fokker jolts upwards and there is an abrupt
drop in the feedback of the control stick.
The rods, leading to the elevator, were cut
by enemy shots and the aircraft gets out of
control within second. Worse still, the rudder
was also hit and badly damaged! The Fokker
turns and circles while the Breguet escapes.
The combat took him over the enemy positions. He must make it back to friendly terri-
Text: Richard Plos
Illustration: Adam Tooby
tory! But how? An idea emerges. Whenever
the nose begins to turn in the direction of friendly positions, he pushes the throttle. More
power widens the turn and that takes him
a little bit further in the desired direction.
He repeats this over and over again. The progress is slow, but he keeps it. The German
positions are within reach already, when
suddenly the Fokker banks sharply and goes
violently into a dive. There’s no time to lose!
He crouches, pushes his feet on the edge
of the seat and hurls himself from the
cockpit.
A blast of air hits him in the chest and throws
him straight into the damaged rudder, which
catches on a loose strap of the parachute
harness. He is trapped in the wildest ride of
his life! He’s trying to get rid of the half-shot
rudder, but in vain, the ground is closing. His
beloved Lo in tears flashes through his mind
... Snap! The rudder loosens and the strap
slips from its grasp. “It’s too late,” he thinks.
But then something jerks him upwards.
The parachute has opened! A second flies
by, maybe two, and he hits the ground hard.
Pain shoots from ankle of Ernst Udet to his
entire leg. He lies there, breathing deeply.
Artillery fire rumbles around him and one
shell explodes so close that a lump of dirt
falls on him. He must get out! Struggling for
a moment with the pile of white silk, he is
finally free. His heart skipping, he makes
his way to the nearby firing positions of the
German artillery. It’s not over, he’s escaped
death again. Du doch nicht!!!
INFO Eduard
29