Eagles of the Third Reich: Men of the Luftwaffe in WWII (Stackpole Military History Series) (2 page)

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re wars fought by men and machines, or are they fought by men with machines? Since history is truly argument without end, this question is somewhat moot, but for purposes of this book I adopt the second premise, since the machines themselves were (and are) the products of men. In other words, I believe that the Luftwaffe lost the war because of human failure, rather than because of technological failure. This is not to say that the technological failure did not occur—quite the opposite. I in no way intend to minimize the contributions of those who study the technological aspects of the air war in Europe; I very much respect and admire them. However, it is my opinion that the human factor was (and is) primary in war—just as war itself, in the larger sense, must be regarded as a human failure. For example, the technical reasons why the British Spitfires and Hurricanes were superior to the Heinkel 111s and Messerschmitt 110s during the Battle of Britain are significant questions, but perhaps a more significant question might be: “Why were the German combat pilots still saddled with obsolete He-111s and Me-110s as late as 1940?”

The purpose of this book is to look at the men behind the airplanes, i.e., to examine the fundamental causes of the Luftwaffe’s demise. The war has now been over for more than sixty years. The technology of the 1940s has been relegated to museums for decades, but the causes of the Luftwaffe’s defeat are still with us. One only has to listen to a debate in the American Congress to understand that. If those who do not study the past are indeed condemned to relive it, then this book should serve as a warning to the leaders, strategists, and technicians of today.

Acknowledgments

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irst and foremost, I wish to thank Mr. Harry R. Fletcher and the staff of the Albert F. Simpson Historical Research Center, Air University, Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama, for all their kind and very professional help.

Thanks also go to the staff of the United States National Archives, Washington, D.C., for providing photographs; to Paula Leming, Professor of Foreign Languages at Henderson State University, for help in translating; and to Dr. Claude Sumerlin of H.S.U. for proofreading and advice. Appreciation is also extended to Drs. Charles D. Dunn and Joe T. Clark for their support, and to Dr. Gene Mueller for assisting in the acquisition of material on the Condor Legion. Gratitude is also extended to the staff of Huie Library, H.S.U., and most especially to Mrs. Barbara Roberts, who has for years been plagued by my insatiable demands for interlibrary loans.

CHAPTER 1

The Secret Air Force

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lthough it would not officially exist for more than two years, the Luftwaffe can trace its birth to 11
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.
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. on January 30, 1933, when Adolf Hitler was sworn in as chancellor of Germany. Later that day he appointed Hermann Goering, the number two man in the Nazi party, as minister without portfolio and Reich commissioner of aviation (
Reichskommissariat für die Luftfahrt
) in the new government. Actually Goering was minister of aviation and commander-in-chief of the secret German air force. In many ways his personality dominated the Luftwaffe throughout its existence.

Hermann Goering, author Matthew Cooper later wrote, “was an enigma. He was as much the stuff of which heroes are made as are villains. He was a remarkable combination of contradictions . . . He was both energetic and lazy; realistic and romantic; brutal and kind; brave and cowardly; refined and coarse; intelligent, vain, humourous and ruthless . . . [an] inspiration to some, an object of ridicule and detestation to others.”
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Hermann was born in Marienbad Sanitarium at Rosenheim, Bavaria, on January 12, 1893, the fourth son of Heinrich Ernst and Franiszha “Fanny” Goering. His middle name was Wilhelm, after Kaiser Wilhelm II, whom he was destined to serve in World War I. Hermann grew up in Bavaria. A head-strong and rebellious youth, he was educated at various boarding schools: the Karlsruhe Military Academy and the prestigious Gross-Lichterfelde Cadet Academy near Berlin, where he underwent officer training. He was gazetted
Leutnant
(second lieutenant) in the Prince Wilhelm (112th Infantry) Regiment at Muelhausen in March 1912.
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When World War I broke out in the fall of 1914, young Goering’s regiment was sent to the western front, where he was commended for initiative and daring. He soon fell ill, however, and was recovering in the military hospital at Freiburg when a visit from Lt. Bruno Loerzer changed his entire life.

Young Loerzer, who had formerly served in the 112th Infantry, had left the Muelhausen regiment to become a pilot trainee at Freiburg and was now scheduled to join an air force unit at Ostend, Belgium. Loerzer’s adventurous tales so excited Hermann Goering that he decided to apply for a transfer and join his friend there as an aerial observer. When the transfer was refused and he was ordered to rejoin his regiment, Goering headed for Ostend anyway—in direct disobedience of orders. Naturally the commander of the Muelhausen regiment demanded his immediate court-martial.

Fortunately for Goering, he had friends in high places. His godfather (and his mother’s lover) was Ritter (“Knight,” or “Sir”) Hermann von Epenstein, a rich half-Jewish aristocrat who had received his knighthood title from Kaiser Wilhelm II. Ritter von Epenstein used his influence at court to intercede in Hermann’s behalf. The court-martial proceedings were quietly dropped, and he was soon officially transferred to the air service.

From the beginning, Hermann Goering proved himself to be an incredibly brave airman. “Goering’s belief . . .,” Manvill and Fraenkel wrote, “was that nothing could happen to harm him. He was, quite literally, insensitive to physical danger.”
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As an aerial observer with the 25th Air Detachment during the Battle of Verdun in 1915, Goering and his pilot, Loerzer, both won the Iron Cross, 1st Class, and were personally decorated by Crown Prince Friedrich Wilhelm. In June, Lieutenant Goering returned to Freiburg as a pilot-trainee and in October was posted to the 5th Jagdstaffel (Fighter Squad -ron) as a fighter pilot. Three weeks later, he was shot down by a British Sop-with. Had he not been fortunate enough to crash-land next to a German field hospital, he would have bled to death. Observers later counted sixty bullet holes in his airplane. It took months for his shattered thigh to heal.

Goering spent his convalescent leave at his godfather’s Mauterdorf Castle in the summer of 1916, where he fell in love with Marianne Mauser, the daughter of a local landowner, and proposed marriage to her. Their engagement remained unofficial, however, because of her parents’ objections. Herr Mauser looked upon Goering as a man without any prospects except an early death, and it appeared he was right: Hermann returned to the western front in late 1916.

His new unit was the 26th Fighter Squadron, which was commanded by Bruno Loerzer and was headquartered at their old regimental station of Muelhausen. Here Goering came into his own. By mid-1917 he had shot down seventeen enemy airplanes and had been named commander of the 27th Fighter Squadron at Yseghem, in the Flanders sector. In recognition of his leadership, Kaiser Wilhelm decorated him with the
Pour le Merite
after only fifteen victories, instead of the normal twenty-five. Goering had already been awarded the Zaehring Lion with Swords, the Karl Friedrich Order with Swords, and the Hohenzollern House Order with Swords, 3rd Class.
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The leading German ace, of course, was Baron Manfred von Richthofen, the commander of the 1st Jagdgeschwader (Fighter Wing), who scored eighty victories. The “Red Baron” was killed on April 21, 1918, by a lucky machine-gun burst from Roy Brown, an unassuming Canadian ace with a nervous stomach.
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Richthofen was replaced as wing leader by Capt. Wilhelm Reinhardt, who was killed in a flying accident on July 3. Most people expected the new commander to be Ernst Udet, a member of the squadron who had over fifty kills and was Germany’s leading surviving air ace. Everyone was surprised when Hermann Goering was given the prestigious command.
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Goering (by now a captain) led Jagdgeschwader Richthofen Number 1 very well. Although at first resented by some of the pilots, he soon gained their confidence and made lifelong contacts. Among his subordinates were four of his future generals: Wolfram von Richthofen, a future field marshal and a cousin of the Red Baron; Ernst Udet; and lieutenants Karl Bodenschatz and Kurt von Doering. All except Doering played significant roles in the future Luftwaffe. Goering ran his victory total to twenty-two before the armistice was signed. On Goering’s orders the wing smashed their aircraft at Darmstadt, rather than surrender them intact to the Allies as they had been ordered to do.

In December, Goering rejoined his mother in Munich. Here his unofficial engagement to Fräulein Mauser quietly came to an end. “What have you got now to offer my daughter?” Herr Mauser wrote to Hermann.

“Nothing,” the unemployed Goering telegraphed back.
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And that was the end of that.

Like many ex-officers, Goering was embittered by the Treaty of Versailles, which the victorious Allies forced Germany to sign. Among other things, the “Versailles Dikta” (dictate) limited the size of the German Army to 100,000 men (of which 4,000 could be officers) and completely outlawed military aviation and the elite General Staff. The former commander of the Richthofen wing briefly joined the Freikorps in 1919, before leaving war-torn and revolutionary Germany in disgust. He began a career as a barnstormer in Denmark and Sweden. It was here he met and fell in love with Karin von Kantzow (nee von Fock), the beautiful wife of a Swedish army captain. She soon left her husband for Goering, and they lived together for several months before her divorce was secured. They were finally married in Munich on February 3, 1923.

Hermann Goering returned to Germany in 1922 and enrolled in the University of Munich as a history and political science student. Here he met the second and last hero of his life. The first had been his half-Jewish godfather; the second was Adolf Hitler, head of the infant
Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiter Partei
(the National Socialist German Workers’ Party, also known as the NSDAP or Nazi party).

Goering’s career in the rise of the Nazi party (1922–32) is fascinating, but beyond the scope of this book. One incident is germane, however: on November 9, 1923, during Hitler’s attempt to seize power in Bavaria during the so-called Beer Hall Putsch, Goering took part in the march in Munich and, in front of the Feldennhalle, was shot by the police, who were firing high-velocity 7.9mm slugs. The bullet struck him in the upper right thigh, just inches from the groin. He fell to the pavement and got dirt in the wound, causing further medical problems.
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Given morphine to relieve the terrible pain, he soon became a drug addict. He was also never able to control his weight after this.

When Goering took office in early 1933, the Treaty of Versailles was still in effect. It had never been scrupulously observed, however. Gen. Hans von Seeckt, the creator of the Reichsheer (as the 100,000-man army was called), had insisted that 180 of the 4,000-man officer corps be chosen from the former air service. Under his tutelage Germany made a covert agreement with the Soviet Union and set up a secret air training base at Lipetsk, Russia. He also set up secret air organizations and an air training office in the
Truppen -amt
(troop office), as the clandestine General Staff was called, and placed Maj. Helmut Wilberg in charge of it. By the time Adolf Hitler and Hermann Goering rose to power, there were a number of undercover aviation squad -rons in Germany. They did not amount to much and would not have lasted a week in a war with a major power, such as France, but they could be used to form the nucleus of an air force and provided a reservoir of trained personnel from which the Luftwaffe could draw.
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