Posted on Nov 17, 2020
Ernst Udet: The Rise and Fall of a German World War I Ace
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On November 17, 1941, Ernst Udet, German WWI pilot and notable flying ace who helped develop the Luftwaffe under the Nazi Party, committed suicide at the age of 45. From the article:
"Ernst Udet: The Rise and Fall of a German World War I Ace
Germany’s second-highest-scoring ace of World War I, the colorful and boisterous Ernst Udet, had one of the most remarkable flying careers of the first half of the 20th century.
On a pale December morning in 1915 a lone Fokker Eindecker monoplane sailed high above the clouds, hunting for prey over the Vosges sector of the Western Front. Its young, inexperienced German pilot, his face greased for protection from the cold, felt snug in his thick flight suit and sheepskin-lined boots. Eyes alert, he carefully scanned the vast expanse of seemingly empty blue sky. Suddenly, a glint of silver caught the pilot’s eye, moving toward him from the west. It was the enemy.
Instead of maneuvering above and behind his opponent, the novice pilot forgot all his combat training and simply flew head-on at the oncoming aircraft. As the enemy neared, the German recognized it as a French Caudron G.IV, a queer-looking machine with a twin-boom lattice tail section and a truncated tub between the plane’s two engines carrying the pilot and observer.
As the German pilot reached for the firing button on the joystick, his mouth became dry at the prospect of his first aerial battle. The Frenchmen flew directly at him, looming so close that the observer’s head was clearly visible. The German pilot poised his thumb over the firing button, muscles tense. The moment of truth: kill or be killed.
In December 1915, a young Udet experienced his first one-on-one combat while flying this Fokker Eindecker E.I monoplane—the results of which were humiliating. (O’Brien Browne)
In December 1915, a young Udet experienced his first one-on-one combat while flying this Fokker Eindecker E.I monoplane—the results of which were humiliating. (O’Brien Browne)
But as the two planes came within point-blank range of each other, paralyzing fear gripped the young German and he froze. He stared at his opponent, helpless. A second later, he heard popping noises and felt his Fokker shudder. Something slapped hard against his cheek and his goggles flew off. His face was sprayed with broken glass, and blood trickled down his cheek. With the French observer still firing, the German dived into a nearby cloud and limped back to his airfield. Once his wounds had been dressed, he secluded himself in his room and spent a sleepless night berating himself for cowardice and stupidity.
Such was the inauspicious beginning of one of the most remarkable flying careers of the first half of the 20th century. The young pilot’s name was Ernst Udet, and he would later become Germany’s second-highest-scoring ace of World War I, a gifted and celebrated stunt flier between the wars and a general in Adolf Hitler’s Luftwaffe. His was a boisterous and colorful life, an adventurous span of decades that would ultimately end in tragedy.
On an April Sunday in 1896, Paula Udet gave birth to a son, Ernst. He was what the Germans call a Sonntagskind (‘Sunday’s Child’)–lucky, happy and carefree. When Udet was still a baby, his family moved to the Bavarian city of Munich, where the inhabitants loved to eat, swill mugs of beer, sing and dance–a perfect place for a Sonntagskind to grow up.
In school, Udet displayed a quick, agile mind. But his eyes glazed over when he was confronted with detail and routine. He loved to talk and got along with everyone despite a dislike of authority.
From early on Udet was fascinated with flying machines. With his school friends, he built and flew model airplanes and helped to found the Munich Aero-Club in 1909. The boys sometimes gathered around the nearby Otto Flying Machine Works to watch airplanes being built and tested, and visited an army balloon unit to gawk at training flights. Finally, Udet’s burning desire to fly drove him to construct a full-size glider with a friend. It was an ungainly contraption of bamboo and canvas, and when Udet attempted to fly it off a hilltop, he merely succeeded in smashing it to pieces. He finally got into the sky in 1913 when a test pilot working for the Otto Works took him up in a Taube monoplane. Udet was ecstatic.
By 1909 a fascination with flight led a 13 year old Udet to experiment with his own home-made glider, the results were less than stellar. (Ullstein Bild via Getty Images)
By 1909 a fascination with flight led a 13 year old Udet to experiment with his own home-made glider, the results were less than stellar. (Ullstein Bild via Getty Images)
But any dreams Udet may have entertained about a flying career were all but swept away by a rush of events. In July 1914, Gavrilo Princip, a Serbian nationalist, shot and killed Austria’s Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife in Sarajevo, resulting in Austria’s invasion of Serbia, which triggered World War I. On August 2, 1914, Udet tried to enlist in the army, but he was turned away because, at just over 5 feet tall, he was too short.
Undaunted, Udet decided to join the 26th Württenberg Reserve Regiment as a dispatch rider. The regiment let him in because he could furnish his own motorcycle. During his runs, Udet often rubbed elbows with pilots, which helped to respark his interest in flying. When the army ended its volunteer motorcyclist program, Udet decided to try to make it as a pilot. He paid 2,000 marks for flying lessons at the Otto Works and received his license in April 1915.
Udet was posted to Flieger Abteilung (A) 206, a two-seater artillery observation unit, where his aggressive style and eagerness for battle resulted in his quickly being promoted to Unteroffizier (staff sergeant) and transferred to Flieger Abteilung 68 (Fl. Abt. 68), flying the new Fokker E.III Eindecker fighter. Although deployed in small numbers, the E.III was at that time the deadliest airplane in the skies. It was slow and not particularly nimble, but it had one vital feature that Allied planes lacked–a machine gun synchronized to fire through the propeller. The E.III produced terror among Allied pilots out of all proportion to its capabilities, creating what was known as the ‘Fokker Scourge,’ until more advanced Allied fighters, such as the agile French Nieuport 11 and Britain’s Airco DH.2, tipped the scales in the Allies’ favor.
It was with Fl. Abt. 68 that Udet experienced his first humiliating one-on-one combat with the French Caudron. But after a period of intense soul-searching, Udet determined that he would succeed as a fighter pilot. He had his squadron’s mechanics construct a model of a French plane against which Udet could fly practice attacks, honing both his shooting and combat flying skills. The additional training soon paid off.
On March 18, 1916, Udet received a report of two French airplanes flying near Mülhausen. He climbed into the cockpit of Fokker’s latest fighter–the D.III, a biplane–and began searching for the enemy. He soon found them–not just two as reported, but 22 machines of various makes.
This time Udet kept his head, positioned himself above and behind his targets and carefully selected a victim. Then he dived to the attack, the wind humming through the bracing wires as he gave the engine full throttle. His target, a Farman F.40 bomber, grew large in his gunsight, but Udet held his fire. When he was only a few meters away, he pumped a short burst into the French plane, which began to spit fire. As he climbed, Udet watched the Farman falling, a ball of flame and smoke. To his horror, the observer tumbled out, a tiny black object hurtling earthward.
Newly promoted Leutnant der Reserve Udet waits for his mechanics to pour boiling water into the radiator of his Albatros D.III, 1941/16, before taking off from Jasta 15’s airfield at Habsheim in January 1917. After landing the radiator was drained to keep it from freezing in the radiator. (Roger Viollet via Getty Images)
Newly promoted Leutnant der Reserve Udet waits for his mechanics to pour boiling water into the radiator of his Albatros D.III, 1941/16, before taking off from Jasta 15’s airfield at Habsheim in January 1917. After landing the radiator was drained to keep it from freezing in the radiator. (Roger Viollet via Getty Images)
That March 18 confrontation was Udet’s first confirmed victory, sweetened by the award of the Iron Cross, First Class. The fighter flight of Fl. Abt. 68 was redesignated Kampf Einsitzer Kommando Habsheim, and on September 28 it was reorganized as Jagdstaffel 15.
Udet’s second victory was a Bréguet-Michelin bomber, brought down during a massive bombing raid on Oberndorf by French and British units, escorted by four Nieuports of the American volunteer Escadrille N.124, on October 12. He finished his score for 1916 with a Caudron G.IV on December 24.
In January 1917, Udet was promoted to Leutnant der Reserve. Then he and his squadron received the latest fighter hot off the production lines, the Albatros D.III. With its sleek and sturdy plywood fuselage, powerful 160-hp Mercedes engine and twin Spandau machine guns firing through the propeller arc, the D.III was the ultimate fighter at this stage of the war. Along with this new fighter came orders for a new home for Jasta 15 in a more active sector of the front, in the Champagne. Stationed across the lines opposite Udet’s squadron was one of the most famous French fighter squadrons of the entire war, Escadrille N.3, Les Cicognes (‘Storks’), which boasted France’s leading ace, Georges Guynemer.
The combination of a new fighter and a new posting to a part of the line offering more targets resulted in Udet’s steadily increasing his score. On February 20, he forced down a Nieuport 17 into the French lines. Its pilot, Sergeant Pierre Cazenove de Pradines of N.81, survived to eventually become a seven-victory ace. On April 24, Udet shot down a Nieuport fighter, which burst into flames after a short dogfight, and he destroyed one of the new Spad VII fighters on May 5.
Personal gain, however, came at personal loss. Six of the original pilots who had been there at the formation of Jasta 15–Udet’s closest comrades, plus the commanding officer Oberleutnant (1st Lt.) Max Reinhold–were killed either in combat or in crashes. Udet often had the sad task of sending letters of condolence to the family members. ‘I’m the last of Jagdstaffel 15,’ Udet wrote to Oberleutnant Kurt Grasshoff, a friend who was commanding officer of Jagdstaffel 37, ‘the last of those who used to be together at Habsheim. I should like to move to another front, to come to you.’ Clearly, for the 21-year-old ace, the war was becoming a grim affair.
Shortly after writing that, Udet was involved in one of the most famous air duels of World War I. While balloon hunting on a solo patrol, he watched as a small, rapidly moving dot approached him. Seconds later Udet recognized the stub nose of a Spad VII and hunched down in his seat, readying himself for a fight. The two enemy pilots dashed head-on at each other, then banked, each trying to get onto his opponent’s tail. The planes twisted and turned, neither pilot at first able to get off a good burst. Soon Udet realized that this Frenchman was no novice but a skilled pilot, for with every trick Udet tried–half loops, slip-sideslips, sharp banks–the surprising Spad stuck determinedly to him, getting off short, well-aimed bursts in the process.
During one pass, Udet glanced at his enemy and saw a pale, drawn face and the word Vieux written in black on the fuselage. Udet’s heart rose into his throat. Vieux Charles was the name given to all of Georges Guynemer’s aircraft–Udet was seemingly locked in a duel-to-the-death with the famed French pilot. Suddenly, a stream of bullets ripped into Udet’s top wing, but he cut away and after a few more turns had the French ace in his sights. Udet squeezed the firing button, but his guns remained silent. They were jammed. Frantically, he pounded them with his fist just as Guynemer flew by overhead. Guynemer came on again, almost upside down now, but instead of sending a blast of lead into his helpless opponent, he stuck out a gloved hand, waved and then disappeared to the west. To the end of his life, Udet never forgot that act of chivalry.
At the beginning of summer 1917, Udet was scoreless so far for that year, despite flying almost daily patrols. But on June 19 his long-awaited transfer came, removing him from the unit in which he had lost so many friends and moving him to Jasta 37, several miles behind the lines. This fresh location did him good, and he brought his score up to nine by the end of August. In November, more honors came to him: On the 7th, he was made commander of Jasta 37 when Grasshoff was transferred to command Jasta 38 in Macedonia, and Udet received the coveted Knight’s Cross of the Order of Hohenzollern.
Udet proved to be a good leader. He spent long hours training novice pilots in the art of air fighting and, like many successful aces, emphasized good marksmanship over flashy stunt flying. He was easygoing, boisterous and loved drinking until late at night and chasing women. He enjoyed the star status that came with being a pilot and often dressed in a dapper style, a cigarette usually poised carefully in one hand. He still displayed the disdain for authority and routine that had characterized him as a child. And he enjoyed being curt and cheeky to pompous officers, his ranking position and success as a fighter pilot usually saving him from reprimand. By year’s end, he was a 16-victory ace and a highly decorated pilot.
In early 1918, Udet was visited by a small, slim man with a delicate face and soft voice, Manfred Freiherr von Richthofen, Germany’s ace of aces–known to later generations as the ‘Red Baron.’ Richthofen, always on the lookout for bright and aggressive pilots, asked Udet if he would like to join his Jagdgeschwader I (JG.I). Without a moment’s thought Udet said, ‘Ja, Herr Rittmeister.’ The great ace shook his hand and left. In a later meeting with Richthofen, Udet learned that he was to take command of Jasta 11–Richthofen’s old command. Flabbergasted, Udet again accepted.
As Udet settled into his new post, the air service was gearing up for the German army’s last great offensive of the war. Code-named ‘Operation Michael,’ it was a desperate attempt to defeat Britain and France before the arrival en masse of the Americans, who had declared war on Germany in April 1917. Jasta 11 was equipped with the latest from the Fokker factories, the highly maneuverable, rapid-climbing triplane. Udet immediately liked this fighter, sensing that its lightning-quick turns would be indispensable in a tight dogfight.
After joining Jasta 11, Udet began flying multiple patrols daily, although he was increasingly troubled by an intense pain in his ears. Nevertheless, he pushed his victory score up to 23 before the pain became so intolerable that Richthofen ordered him to take sick leave. This time off was vital for Udet’s war-shattered nerves. Despite a doctor’s warning that he would never fly again, Udet’s ears began to improve. In addition, he received news that he had been awarded one of Germany’s highest military awards, the Ordre Pour le Mérite, generally referred to by its nickname, the ‘Blue Max.’ That honor was marred, though, by word that Richthofen had been lost in combat on April 21. Shaken by the death of the man whom he later described as ‘the greatest of soldiers’–a man many had believed was indestructible–Udet returned to the front on May 20, taking command of Jasta 4 of JG.I.
Despite the remarkable early successes of Operation Michael, which had seen German storm troopers advance up to 40 miles against the British and French, the war was still far from won. When Udet returned to his unit, the conflict was entering its last, dreadful months, which would see some of the most intense fighting of the entire war. His unit was now equipped with the formidable Fokker D.VII, the plane generally considered the finest fighter of WWI.
During the spring and early summer, Udet’s score rose to 35. The charmed life of this Sunday’s Child was again apparent when he took off on the morning of June 29 to intercept a French Bréguet two-seater, which was directing artillery fire over the lines. A few days before, in a fit of arrogance and impertinence, Udet had had his Fokker painted with a candy-striped upper wing and a red fuselage with ‘Lo’–the nickname of his girlfriend Lola Zink–written on it in big white letters. On the tail was the phrase, ‘Du doch nicht!‘ (‘Certainly not you!’), a taunt and challenge to Allied pilots.
Udet approached the Bréguet with great skill and precision. He fired at the observer, who sank into his cockpit. Now Udet casually swung around for a side shot at the helpless Bréguet, targeting the engine and pilot. Suddenly the observer sprang up and manned his machine gun, sending a blistering spray of bullets into Udet’s Fokker, slugs slamming into his machine gun and gas tank and shredding the controls. Udet reared away but soon found that his plane was crippled–it would only fly in circles. By accelerating whenever he pointed eastward, Udet slowly began working his way back to the German lines.
Suddenly the Fokker nosed down into a spin from which Udet could not pull out. He was wearing one of the new Heinecke parachutes that German pilots were just being equipped with, and he stood up in the cockpit to jump. As he did so, a rush of wind knocked him backward. But instead of tumbling into the wide-open sky, Udet to his horror realized that his parachute harness was caught on the rudder. Frantically, he struggled with the harness as the earth spun closer. With a final superhuman effort he yanked himself free and floated down into no man’s land. He quickly scrambled back to the German lines and, taking his harrowing experience in stride, was flying again that same afternoon. The next day he shot down a Spad fighter for his 36th victory.
On July 2, JG.I had its first encounter with the U.S. Army Air Service and shot down two Nieuport 28s of the 27th Aero Squadron. One of the pilots, 2nd Lt. Walter B. Wanamaker, was brought down injured by Udet, who gave him a cigarette and chatted with him until the medics arrived. On a whim, Udet cut the serial number, N6347, from the rudder of Wanamaker’s plane. When the two met again at the Cleveland Air Races on September 6, 1931, Udet returned the trophy to his former opponent. It can still be seen at the U.S. Air Force Museum in Dayton, Ohio.
On July 2, 1917 Udet brought down a Nieuport 28 flown by 2nd Lt. Walter B. Wanamaker. Fourteen years later at the 1931 Cleveland Air Races they met again, Udet returning the fabric trophy he had taken from Wanamaker’s fighter. (National Museum of the U.S. Air Force)
On July 2, 1917 Udet brought down a Nieuport 28 flown by 2nd Lt. Walter B. Wanamaker. Fourteen years later at the 1931 Cleveland Air Races they met again, Udet returning the fabric trophy he had taken from Wanamaker’s fighter. (National Museum of the U.S. Air Force)
Udet was one of the lucky ones. Hauptmann (Captain) Wilhelm Reinhard, commander of JG.I after Richthofen’s death, was killed on July 3 when the wing of a Dornier D.I parasol monoplane he was test-flying collapsed. Udet’s new commander was the 21-victory ace and Ordre Pour le Mérite recipient Oberleutnant Hermann Göring.
By this time the war was going badly for the Germans. Due to the British naval blockade, Germany was suffering from food and raw material shortages. The German air force was hampered by a lack of fuel, equipment and new recruits. The Allies, on the other hand, bolstered by Britain’s wealthy colonies and America’s industrial might, were sending ever greater numbers of airplanes into the skies. ‘The war gets tougher by the day,’ Udet wrote. ‘When one of our aircraft rises, five go up on the other side.’ If an Allied plane fell behind the German lines, it was immediately pounced upon by mechanics who would strip away its shiny brass and steel instruments.
These difficulties seemed to spur Udet on to new heights of achievement. Between July 1 and September 26, he downed 26 Allied aircraft, bringing his total to 62. During his last air battle, in which he brought down two Airco DH.9 bombers, he was hit in the thigh. He was still recovering from that wound when the war came to an end on November 11, 1918.
The pace of Udet’s life did not let up with the war’s end. He married his girlfriend Lola Zink in 1920 and continued to fly as often as he could, usually as a barnstormer and stunt flier. Eager to make money and never at a loss for new ideas, he founded the Udet-Flugzeugbau in 1922, a company that produced streamlined racers and stunt aircraft.
During the ’20s Udet flew in airshows and races, performing throughout Latin America and Europe. Given its founder’s flying skills and flair for publicity, Udet-Flugzeugbau experienced modest growth–but during that same period Udet’s flamboyant lifestyle flourished. He became a well-known womanizer and a hard drinker, a party boy who loved to dine and share a laugh with an international group of friends. He spent money as quickly as it came in. He enjoyed the company of movie stars, film producers and other public figures. Flying always remained his greatest passion, but his independent nature and disdain for routine led to the breakup of his marriage in 1923 and his leaving the company to become a professional stunt flier.
In a Germany wracked by depression and the ignominy of defeat, torn between Communists and the rising Nazi party, Udet was a bright star and a war hero. He was also an extraordinarily gifted pilot, possessing a marvelous sense of touch. One of his favorite crowd-pleasing stunts was to fly very close to the ground, dipping one wing low and snatching a handkerchief from the ground with his wingtip. He also excelled at corkscrew spins, breakneck dives and flying under bridges.
In the ’30s he made a host of flying films, low on plot but featuring thrilling footage showcasing his flying abilities. Udet filmed and flew in Africa and Greenland. In 1931 he thrilled crowds at the Cleveland National Air Races, where he met–and shared a shot of illegal booze with–America’s number one ace, Captain Eddie Rickenbacker. Udet’s U-12 Flamingo, a wood-body, slow-moving biplane, was no match for the sleek metal craft of his competitors, but the German pilot’s impressive flying skills stole the show.
This was probably the happiest time of Udet’s life. He was reeling in money. His autobiography, Mein Fliegerleben (English title: Ace of the Iron Cross), was a hit, selling more than 600,000 copies by the end of 1935. He was arguably the most famous stunt pilot of his day.
His own situation, however, contrasted sharply with the turn of events inside Germany. In 1933 Hitler had assumed dictatorial powers and ruthlessly began reorganizing the nation according to his National Socialist doctrines. Udet ignored politics and despised the Nazi party’s brutality, intolerance and authoritarianism, but he was proud to be a German and was proud of his war service. He listened with interest when Hermann Göring spoke to him of plans to rebuild Germany’s air force–which had been banned after World War I by the Versailles Treaty. In 1934, Udet taught Aviation Minister Erhard Milch to fly. And as the top pilot in the country, Udet’s opinion was considered quite significant when matters of aviation policy were discussed. It was flattering to be listened to by those in positions of authority.
In 1934 Udet made the difficult decision to join the new Luftwaffe. Whatever his misgivings about the Nazis, he realized that they had an iron grip on power in his country. Patriotism, the challenge of rebuilding the air force he had so loved, plus a sense of stability and security offered by the prospect of a normal job, all played a part in helping him make up his mind.
Reichsmarschall Herman Göring (left) and Udet, head of the technical office of the air ministry, observe aerial maneuvers by the new Luftwaffe on June 16, 1938. (Ullstein Bild via Getty Images)
Reichsmarschall Herman Göring (left) and Udet, head of the technical office of the air ministry, observe aerial maneuvers by the new Luftwaffe on June 16, 1938. (Ullstein Bild via Getty Images)
He was promoted rapidly from Oberstleutnant (lieutenant colonel) to Oberst (colonel) and then inspector of fighter and dive-bomber pilots. In the summer of 1936 Udet was pressured by Göring into becoming the head of the technical office of the Reich’s air ministry, a position of weighty organizational responsibilities. Despite his new duties, Udet, who had always shunned paper pushing, seemed able to find the time to test-fly the industry’s newest designs, such as the Messerschmit Bf-109, as well as the latest from Focke Wulf and Heinkel.
On the eve of World War II, Udet was again promoted, this time to Generalluftzeugmeister, or chief of armaments procurement. Now he was in control of more than 4,000 personnel and had to make a host of daily decisions regarding research and development, supply, financial matters, production of equipment and many other things–on the whole, a job for which he was temperamentally unsuited. When the war started, the strain of his office weighed heavily upon him.
Just before the German invasion of France, American reporter William Shirer interviewed Udet, finding him a likable fellow who ‘has proved a genius at his job.’ But Shirer was amazed that a party boy such as Udet had risen so high in the Luftwaffe hierarchy. The reporter astutely speculated that if American businessmen knew of Udet’s somewhat Bohemian life-style, ‘they would hesitate to trust him with responsibility.’
Udet was not adept at the political intrigue that characterizes all bureaucracies. Increasingly, he was outmaneuvered by his onetime friend Erhard Milch. Ambitious and scheming, Milch resented Udet’s special relationship with Göring and craved the power and prestige attendant on Udet’s job.
Nevertheless, Udet continued to reap honors from Hitler, who was most likely unaware of the interdepartmental in-fighting. On June 21, 1940, Udet was one of the few people who witnessed the French surrender to the Germans. A month later, he was awarded the Knight’s Cross of the Iron Cross and promoted to Generaloberst (colonel general).
But Udet apparently found little enjoyment in his new position. Friends noticed that the once jovial playboy had grown serious and thoughtful as his responsibilities increased. More and more Udet complained of sleeplessness and depression. He was also overweight, and his smoking, drinking and eating were out of control.
Following Udet’s suicide on November 17, 1941, A Luftwaffe honor guard—including ace Major Adolf Galland at left—escorted his remains to their final resting place. (Ullstein Bild via Getty Images)
Following Udet’s suicide on November 17, 1941, A Luftwaffe honor guard—including ace Major Adolf Galland at left—escorted his remains to their final resting place. (Ullstein Bild via Getty Images)
Milch continued to work behind Udet’s back, seeking to discredit him in Göring’s eyes. When the Luftwaffe failed to overwhelm the Royal Air Force during the Battle of Britain, Udet’s office was blamed. The invasion of Russia in June 1941 only added to the pressure on him, and he felt increasingly trapped in his job. At the end of August, Udet had a long, private talk with Göring in which he tried to resign. Göring refused, knowing that such a resignation from a top Luftwaffe official would create bad publicity.
Finally, on November 17, 1941, Ernst Udet put a pistol to his head and pulled the trigger. According to Nazi propagandists, the pilot had died heroically while testing a new aircraft. But in reality, life had simply lost all of its fun, adventure and charm for this Sunday’s Child."
"Ernst Udet: The Rise and Fall of a German World War I Ace
Germany’s second-highest-scoring ace of World War I, the colorful and boisterous Ernst Udet, had one of the most remarkable flying careers of the first half of the 20th century.
On a pale December morning in 1915 a lone Fokker Eindecker monoplane sailed high above the clouds, hunting for prey over the Vosges sector of the Western Front. Its young, inexperienced German pilot, his face greased for protection from the cold, felt snug in his thick flight suit and sheepskin-lined boots. Eyes alert, he carefully scanned the vast expanse of seemingly empty blue sky. Suddenly, a glint of silver caught the pilot’s eye, moving toward him from the west. It was the enemy.
Instead of maneuvering above and behind his opponent, the novice pilot forgot all his combat training and simply flew head-on at the oncoming aircraft. As the enemy neared, the German recognized it as a French Caudron G.IV, a queer-looking machine with a twin-boom lattice tail section and a truncated tub between the plane’s two engines carrying the pilot and observer.
As the German pilot reached for the firing button on the joystick, his mouth became dry at the prospect of his first aerial battle. The Frenchmen flew directly at him, looming so close that the observer’s head was clearly visible. The German pilot poised his thumb over the firing button, muscles tense. The moment of truth: kill or be killed.
In December 1915, a young Udet experienced his first one-on-one combat while flying this Fokker Eindecker E.I monoplane—the results of which were humiliating. (O’Brien Browne)
In December 1915, a young Udet experienced his first one-on-one combat while flying this Fokker Eindecker E.I monoplane—the results of which were humiliating. (O’Brien Browne)
But as the two planes came within point-blank range of each other, paralyzing fear gripped the young German and he froze. He stared at his opponent, helpless. A second later, he heard popping noises and felt his Fokker shudder. Something slapped hard against his cheek and his goggles flew off. His face was sprayed with broken glass, and blood trickled down his cheek. With the French observer still firing, the German dived into a nearby cloud and limped back to his airfield. Once his wounds had been dressed, he secluded himself in his room and spent a sleepless night berating himself for cowardice and stupidity.
Such was the inauspicious beginning of one of the most remarkable flying careers of the first half of the 20th century. The young pilot’s name was Ernst Udet, and he would later become Germany’s second-highest-scoring ace of World War I, a gifted and celebrated stunt flier between the wars and a general in Adolf Hitler’s Luftwaffe. His was a boisterous and colorful life, an adventurous span of decades that would ultimately end in tragedy.
On an April Sunday in 1896, Paula Udet gave birth to a son, Ernst. He was what the Germans call a Sonntagskind (‘Sunday’s Child’)–lucky, happy and carefree. When Udet was still a baby, his family moved to the Bavarian city of Munich, where the inhabitants loved to eat, swill mugs of beer, sing and dance–a perfect place for a Sonntagskind to grow up.
In school, Udet displayed a quick, agile mind. But his eyes glazed over when he was confronted with detail and routine. He loved to talk and got along with everyone despite a dislike of authority.
From early on Udet was fascinated with flying machines. With his school friends, he built and flew model airplanes and helped to found the Munich Aero-Club in 1909. The boys sometimes gathered around the nearby Otto Flying Machine Works to watch airplanes being built and tested, and visited an army balloon unit to gawk at training flights. Finally, Udet’s burning desire to fly drove him to construct a full-size glider with a friend. It was an ungainly contraption of bamboo and canvas, and when Udet attempted to fly it off a hilltop, he merely succeeded in smashing it to pieces. He finally got into the sky in 1913 when a test pilot working for the Otto Works took him up in a Taube monoplane. Udet was ecstatic.
By 1909 a fascination with flight led a 13 year old Udet to experiment with his own home-made glider, the results were less than stellar. (Ullstein Bild via Getty Images)
By 1909 a fascination with flight led a 13 year old Udet to experiment with his own home-made glider, the results were less than stellar. (Ullstein Bild via Getty Images)
But any dreams Udet may have entertained about a flying career were all but swept away by a rush of events. In July 1914, Gavrilo Princip, a Serbian nationalist, shot and killed Austria’s Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife in Sarajevo, resulting in Austria’s invasion of Serbia, which triggered World War I. On August 2, 1914, Udet tried to enlist in the army, but he was turned away because, at just over 5 feet tall, he was too short.
Undaunted, Udet decided to join the 26th Württenberg Reserve Regiment as a dispatch rider. The regiment let him in because he could furnish his own motorcycle. During his runs, Udet often rubbed elbows with pilots, which helped to respark his interest in flying. When the army ended its volunteer motorcyclist program, Udet decided to try to make it as a pilot. He paid 2,000 marks for flying lessons at the Otto Works and received his license in April 1915.
Udet was posted to Flieger Abteilung (A) 206, a two-seater artillery observation unit, where his aggressive style and eagerness for battle resulted in his quickly being promoted to Unteroffizier (staff sergeant) and transferred to Flieger Abteilung 68 (Fl. Abt. 68), flying the new Fokker E.III Eindecker fighter. Although deployed in small numbers, the E.III was at that time the deadliest airplane in the skies. It was slow and not particularly nimble, but it had one vital feature that Allied planes lacked–a machine gun synchronized to fire through the propeller. The E.III produced terror among Allied pilots out of all proportion to its capabilities, creating what was known as the ‘Fokker Scourge,’ until more advanced Allied fighters, such as the agile French Nieuport 11 and Britain’s Airco DH.2, tipped the scales in the Allies’ favor.
It was with Fl. Abt. 68 that Udet experienced his first humiliating one-on-one combat with the French Caudron. But after a period of intense soul-searching, Udet determined that he would succeed as a fighter pilot. He had his squadron’s mechanics construct a model of a French plane against which Udet could fly practice attacks, honing both his shooting and combat flying skills. The additional training soon paid off.
On March 18, 1916, Udet received a report of two French airplanes flying near Mülhausen. He climbed into the cockpit of Fokker’s latest fighter–the D.III, a biplane–and began searching for the enemy. He soon found them–not just two as reported, but 22 machines of various makes.
This time Udet kept his head, positioned himself above and behind his targets and carefully selected a victim. Then he dived to the attack, the wind humming through the bracing wires as he gave the engine full throttle. His target, a Farman F.40 bomber, grew large in his gunsight, but Udet held his fire. When he was only a few meters away, he pumped a short burst into the French plane, which began to spit fire. As he climbed, Udet watched the Farman falling, a ball of flame and smoke. To his horror, the observer tumbled out, a tiny black object hurtling earthward.
Newly promoted Leutnant der Reserve Udet waits for his mechanics to pour boiling water into the radiator of his Albatros D.III, 1941/16, before taking off from Jasta 15’s airfield at Habsheim in January 1917. After landing the radiator was drained to keep it from freezing in the radiator. (Roger Viollet via Getty Images)
Newly promoted Leutnant der Reserve Udet waits for his mechanics to pour boiling water into the radiator of his Albatros D.III, 1941/16, before taking off from Jasta 15’s airfield at Habsheim in January 1917. After landing the radiator was drained to keep it from freezing in the radiator. (Roger Viollet via Getty Images)
That March 18 confrontation was Udet’s first confirmed victory, sweetened by the award of the Iron Cross, First Class. The fighter flight of Fl. Abt. 68 was redesignated Kampf Einsitzer Kommando Habsheim, and on September 28 it was reorganized as Jagdstaffel 15.
Udet’s second victory was a Bréguet-Michelin bomber, brought down during a massive bombing raid on Oberndorf by French and British units, escorted by four Nieuports of the American volunteer Escadrille N.124, on October 12. He finished his score for 1916 with a Caudron G.IV on December 24.
In January 1917, Udet was promoted to Leutnant der Reserve. Then he and his squadron received the latest fighter hot off the production lines, the Albatros D.III. With its sleek and sturdy plywood fuselage, powerful 160-hp Mercedes engine and twin Spandau machine guns firing through the propeller arc, the D.III was the ultimate fighter at this stage of the war. Along with this new fighter came orders for a new home for Jasta 15 in a more active sector of the front, in the Champagne. Stationed across the lines opposite Udet’s squadron was one of the most famous French fighter squadrons of the entire war, Escadrille N.3, Les Cicognes (‘Storks’), which boasted France’s leading ace, Georges Guynemer.
The combination of a new fighter and a new posting to a part of the line offering more targets resulted in Udet’s steadily increasing his score. On February 20, he forced down a Nieuport 17 into the French lines. Its pilot, Sergeant Pierre Cazenove de Pradines of N.81, survived to eventually become a seven-victory ace. On April 24, Udet shot down a Nieuport fighter, which burst into flames after a short dogfight, and he destroyed one of the new Spad VII fighters on May 5.
Personal gain, however, came at personal loss. Six of the original pilots who had been there at the formation of Jasta 15–Udet’s closest comrades, plus the commanding officer Oberleutnant (1st Lt.) Max Reinhold–were killed either in combat or in crashes. Udet often had the sad task of sending letters of condolence to the family members. ‘I’m the last of Jagdstaffel 15,’ Udet wrote to Oberleutnant Kurt Grasshoff, a friend who was commanding officer of Jagdstaffel 37, ‘the last of those who used to be together at Habsheim. I should like to move to another front, to come to you.’ Clearly, for the 21-year-old ace, the war was becoming a grim affair.
Shortly after writing that, Udet was involved in one of the most famous air duels of World War I. While balloon hunting on a solo patrol, he watched as a small, rapidly moving dot approached him. Seconds later Udet recognized the stub nose of a Spad VII and hunched down in his seat, readying himself for a fight. The two enemy pilots dashed head-on at each other, then banked, each trying to get onto his opponent’s tail. The planes twisted and turned, neither pilot at first able to get off a good burst. Soon Udet realized that this Frenchman was no novice but a skilled pilot, for with every trick Udet tried–half loops, slip-sideslips, sharp banks–the surprising Spad stuck determinedly to him, getting off short, well-aimed bursts in the process.
During one pass, Udet glanced at his enemy and saw a pale, drawn face and the word Vieux written in black on the fuselage. Udet’s heart rose into his throat. Vieux Charles was the name given to all of Georges Guynemer’s aircraft–Udet was seemingly locked in a duel-to-the-death with the famed French pilot. Suddenly, a stream of bullets ripped into Udet’s top wing, but he cut away and after a few more turns had the French ace in his sights. Udet squeezed the firing button, but his guns remained silent. They were jammed. Frantically, he pounded them with his fist just as Guynemer flew by overhead. Guynemer came on again, almost upside down now, but instead of sending a blast of lead into his helpless opponent, he stuck out a gloved hand, waved and then disappeared to the west. To the end of his life, Udet never forgot that act of chivalry.
At the beginning of summer 1917, Udet was scoreless so far for that year, despite flying almost daily patrols. But on June 19 his long-awaited transfer came, removing him from the unit in which he had lost so many friends and moving him to Jasta 37, several miles behind the lines. This fresh location did him good, and he brought his score up to nine by the end of August. In November, more honors came to him: On the 7th, he was made commander of Jasta 37 when Grasshoff was transferred to command Jasta 38 in Macedonia, and Udet received the coveted Knight’s Cross of the Order of Hohenzollern.
Udet proved to be a good leader. He spent long hours training novice pilots in the art of air fighting and, like many successful aces, emphasized good marksmanship over flashy stunt flying. He was easygoing, boisterous and loved drinking until late at night and chasing women. He enjoyed the star status that came with being a pilot and often dressed in a dapper style, a cigarette usually poised carefully in one hand. He still displayed the disdain for authority and routine that had characterized him as a child. And he enjoyed being curt and cheeky to pompous officers, his ranking position and success as a fighter pilot usually saving him from reprimand. By year’s end, he was a 16-victory ace and a highly decorated pilot.
In early 1918, Udet was visited by a small, slim man with a delicate face and soft voice, Manfred Freiherr von Richthofen, Germany’s ace of aces–known to later generations as the ‘Red Baron.’ Richthofen, always on the lookout for bright and aggressive pilots, asked Udet if he would like to join his Jagdgeschwader I (JG.I). Without a moment’s thought Udet said, ‘Ja, Herr Rittmeister.’ The great ace shook his hand and left. In a later meeting with Richthofen, Udet learned that he was to take command of Jasta 11–Richthofen’s old command. Flabbergasted, Udet again accepted.
As Udet settled into his new post, the air service was gearing up for the German army’s last great offensive of the war. Code-named ‘Operation Michael,’ it was a desperate attempt to defeat Britain and France before the arrival en masse of the Americans, who had declared war on Germany in April 1917. Jasta 11 was equipped with the latest from the Fokker factories, the highly maneuverable, rapid-climbing triplane. Udet immediately liked this fighter, sensing that its lightning-quick turns would be indispensable in a tight dogfight.
After joining Jasta 11, Udet began flying multiple patrols daily, although he was increasingly troubled by an intense pain in his ears. Nevertheless, he pushed his victory score up to 23 before the pain became so intolerable that Richthofen ordered him to take sick leave. This time off was vital for Udet’s war-shattered nerves. Despite a doctor’s warning that he would never fly again, Udet’s ears began to improve. In addition, he received news that he had been awarded one of Germany’s highest military awards, the Ordre Pour le Mérite, generally referred to by its nickname, the ‘Blue Max.’ That honor was marred, though, by word that Richthofen had been lost in combat on April 21. Shaken by the death of the man whom he later described as ‘the greatest of soldiers’–a man many had believed was indestructible–Udet returned to the front on May 20, taking command of Jasta 4 of JG.I.
Despite the remarkable early successes of Operation Michael, which had seen German storm troopers advance up to 40 miles against the British and French, the war was still far from won. When Udet returned to his unit, the conflict was entering its last, dreadful months, which would see some of the most intense fighting of the entire war. His unit was now equipped with the formidable Fokker D.VII, the plane generally considered the finest fighter of WWI.
During the spring and early summer, Udet’s score rose to 35. The charmed life of this Sunday’s Child was again apparent when he took off on the morning of June 29 to intercept a French Bréguet two-seater, which was directing artillery fire over the lines. A few days before, in a fit of arrogance and impertinence, Udet had had his Fokker painted with a candy-striped upper wing and a red fuselage with ‘Lo’–the nickname of his girlfriend Lola Zink–written on it in big white letters. On the tail was the phrase, ‘Du doch nicht!‘ (‘Certainly not you!’), a taunt and challenge to Allied pilots.
Udet approached the Bréguet with great skill and precision. He fired at the observer, who sank into his cockpit. Now Udet casually swung around for a side shot at the helpless Bréguet, targeting the engine and pilot. Suddenly the observer sprang up and manned his machine gun, sending a blistering spray of bullets into Udet’s Fokker, slugs slamming into his machine gun and gas tank and shredding the controls. Udet reared away but soon found that his plane was crippled–it would only fly in circles. By accelerating whenever he pointed eastward, Udet slowly began working his way back to the German lines.
Suddenly the Fokker nosed down into a spin from which Udet could not pull out. He was wearing one of the new Heinecke parachutes that German pilots were just being equipped with, and he stood up in the cockpit to jump. As he did so, a rush of wind knocked him backward. But instead of tumbling into the wide-open sky, Udet to his horror realized that his parachute harness was caught on the rudder. Frantically, he struggled with the harness as the earth spun closer. With a final superhuman effort he yanked himself free and floated down into no man’s land. He quickly scrambled back to the German lines and, taking his harrowing experience in stride, was flying again that same afternoon. The next day he shot down a Spad fighter for his 36th victory.
On July 2, JG.I had its first encounter with the U.S. Army Air Service and shot down two Nieuport 28s of the 27th Aero Squadron. One of the pilots, 2nd Lt. Walter B. Wanamaker, was brought down injured by Udet, who gave him a cigarette and chatted with him until the medics arrived. On a whim, Udet cut the serial number, N6347, from the rudder of Wanamaker’s plane. When the two met again at the Cleveland Air Races on September 6, 1931, Udet returned the trophy to his former opponent. It can still be seen at the U.S. Air Force Museum in Dayton, Ohio.
On July 2, 1917 Udet brought down a Nieuport 28 flown by 2nd Lt. Walter B. Wanamaker. Fourteen years later at the 1931 Cleveland Air Races they met again, Udet returning the fabric trophy he had taken from Wanamaker’s fighter. (National Museum of the U.S. Air Force)
On July 2, 1917 Udet brought down a Nieuport 28 flown by 2nd Lt. Walter B. Wanamaker. Fourteen years later at the 1931 Cleveland Air Races they met again, Udet returning the fabric trophy he had taken from Wanamaker’s fighter. (National Museum of the U.S. Air Force)
Udet was one of the lucky ones. Hauptmann (Captain) Wilhelm Reinhard, commander of JG.I after Richthofen’s death, was killed on July 3 when the wing of a Dornier D.I parasol monoplane he was test-flying collapsed. Udet’s new commander was the 21-victory ace and Ordre Pour le Mérite recipient Oberleutnant Hermann Göring.
By this time the war was going badly for the Germans. Due to the British naval blockade, Germany was suffering from food and raw material shortages. The German air force was hampered by a lack of fuel, equipment and new recruits. The Allies, on the other hand, bolstered by Britain’s wealthy colonies and America’s industrial might, were sending ever greater numbers of airplanes into the skies. ‘The war gets tougher by the day,’ Udet wrote. ‘When one of our aircraft rises, five go up on the other side.’ If an Allied plane fell behind the German lines, it was immediately pounced upon by mechanics who would strip away its shiny brass and steel instruments.
These difficulties seemed to spur Udet on to new heights of achievement. Between July 1 and September 26, he downed 26 Allied aircraft, bringing his total to 62. During his last air battle, in which he brought down two Airco DH.9 bombers, he was hit in the thigh. He was still recovering from that wound when the war came to an end on November 11, 1918.
The pace of Udet’s life did not let up with the war’s end. He married his girlfriend Lola Zink in 1920 and continued to fly as often as he could, usually as a barnstormer and stunt flier. Eager to make money and never at a loss for new ideas, he founded the Udet-Flugzeugbau in 1922, a company that produced streamlined racers and stunt aircraft.
During the ’20s Udet flew in airshows and races, performing throughout Latin America and Europe. Given its founder’s flying skills and flair for publicity, Udet-Flugzeugbau experienced modest growth–but during that same period Udet’s flamboyant lifestyle flourished. He became a well-known womanizer and a hard drinker, a party boy who loved to dine and share a laugh with an international group of friends. He spent money as quickly as it came in. He enjoyed the company of movie stars, film producers and other public figures. Flying always remained his greatest passion, but his independent nature and disdain for routine led to the breakup of his marriage in 1923 and his leaving the company to become a professional stunt flier.
In a Germany wracked by depression and the ignominy of defeat, torn between Communists and the rising Nazi party, Udet was a bright star and a war hero. He was also an extraordinarily gifted pilot, possessing a marvelous sense of touch. One of his favorite crowd-pleasing stunts was to fly very close to the ground, dipping one wing low and snatching a handkerchief from the ground with his wingtip. He also excelled at corkscrew spins, breakneck dives and flying under bridges.
In the ’30s he made a host of flying films, low on plot but featuring thrilling footage showcasing his flying abilities. Udet filmed and flew in Africa and Greenland. In 1931 he thrilled crowds at the Cleveland National Air Races, where he met–and shared a shot of illegal booze with–America’s number one ace, Captain Eddie Rickenbacker. Udet’s U-12 Flamingo, a wood-body, slow-moving biplane, was no match for the sleek metal craft of his competitors, but the German pilot’s impressive flying skills stole the show.
This was probably the happiest time of Udet’s life. He was reeling in money. His autobiography, Mein Fliegerleben (English title: Ace of the Iron Cross), was a hit, selling more than 600,000 copies by the end of 1935. He was arguably the most famous stunt pilot of his day.
His own situation, however, contrasted sharply with the turn of events inside Germany. In 1933 Hitler had assumed dictatorial powers and ruthlessly began reorganizing the nation according to his National Socialist doctrines. Udet ignored politics and despised the Nazi party’s brutality, intolerance and authoritarianism, but he was proud to be a German and was proud of his war service. He listened with interest when Hermann Göring spoke to him of plans to rebuild Germany’s air force–which had been banned after World War I by the Versailles Treaty. In 1934, Udet taught Aviation Minister Erhard Milch to fly. And as the top pilot in the country, Udet’s opinion was considered quite significant when matters of aviation policy were discussed. It was flattering to be listened to by those in positions of authority.
In 1934 Udet made the difficult decision to join the new Luftwaffe. Whatever his misgivings about the Nazis, he realized that they had an iron grip on power in his country. Patriotism, the challenge of rebuilding the air force he had so loved, plus a sense of stability and security offered by the prospect of a normal job, all played a part in helping him make up his mind.
Reichsmarschall Herman Göring (left) and Udet, head of the technical office of the air ministry, observe aerial maneuvers by the new Luftwaffe on June 16, 1938. (Ullstein Bild via Getty Images)
Reichsmarschall Herman Göring (left) and Udet, head of the technical office of the air ministry, observe aerial maneuvers by the new Luftwaffe on June 16, 1938. (Ullstein Bild via Getty Images)
He was promoted rapidly from Oberstleutnant (lieutenant colonel) to Oberst (colonel) and then inspector of fighter and dive-bomber pilots. In the summer of 1936 Udet was pressured by Göring into becoming the head of the technical office of the Reich’s air ministry, a position of weighty organizational responsibilities. Despite his new duties, Udet, who had always shunned paper pushing, seemed able to find the time to test-fly the industry’s newest designs, such as the Messerschmit Bf-109, as well as the latest from Focke Wulf and Heinkel.
On the eve of World War II, Udet was again promoted, this time to Generalluftzeugmeister, or chief of armaments procurement. Now he was in control of more than 4,000 personnel and had to make a host of daily decisions regarding research and development, supply, financial matters, production of equipment and many other things–on the whole, a job for which he was temperamentally unsuited. When the war started, the strain of his office weighed heavily upon him.
Just before the German invasion of France, American reporter William Shirer interviewed Udet, finding him a likable fellow who ‘has proved a genius at his job.’ But Shirer was amazed that a party boy such as Udet had risen so high in the Luftwaffe hierarchy. The reporter astutely speculated that if American businessmen knew of Udet’s somewhat Bohemian life-style, ‘they would hesitate to trust him with responsibility.’
Udet was not adept at the political intrigue that characterizes all bureaucracies. Increasingly, he was outmaneuvered by his onetime friend Erhard Milch. Ambitious and scheming, Milch resented Udet’s special relationship with Göring and craved the power and prestige attendant on Udet’s job.
Nevertheless, Udet continued to reap honors from Hitler, who was most likely unaware of the interdepartmental in-fighting. On June 21, 1940, Udet was one of the few people who witnessed the French surrender to the Germans. A month later, he was awarded the Knight’s Cross of the Iron Cross and promoted to Generaloberst (colonel general).
But Udet apparently found little enjoyment in his new position. Friends noticed that the once jovial playboy had grown serious and thoughtful as his responsibilities increased. More and more Udet complained of sleeplessness and depression. He was also overweight, and his smoking, drinking and eating were out of control.
Following Udet’s suicide on November 17, 1941, A Luftwaffe honor guard—including ace Major Adolf Galland at left—escorted his remains to their final resting place. (Ullstein Bild via Getty Images)
Following Udet’s suicide on November 17, 1941, A Luftwaffe honor guard—including ace Major Adolf Galland at left—escorted his remains to their final resting place. (Ullstein Bild via Getty Images)
Milch continued to work behind Udet’s back, seeking to discredit him in Göring’s eyes. When the Luftwaffe failed to overwhelm the Royal Air Force during the Battle of Britain, Udet’s office was blamed. The invasion of Russia in June 1941 only added to the pressure on him, and he felt increasingly trapped in his job. At the end of August, Udet had a long, private talk with Göring in which he tried to resign. Göring refused, knowing that such a resignation from a top Luftwaffe official would create bad publicity.
Finally, on November 17, 1941, Ernst Udet put a pistol to his head and pulled the trigger. According to Nazi propagandists, the pilot had died heroically while testing a new aircraft. But in reality, life had simply lost all of its fun, adventure and charm for this Sunday’s Child."
Ernst Udet: The Rise and Fall of a German World War I Ace
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Hitler's Warriors - Udet The Devil's General
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Thank you my friend SGT (Join to see) for making us aware that on November 17, 1941 German WWI pilot and notable flying ace Ernst Udet committed suicide at the age of 45.
Hitler's Warriors - Udet The Devil's General
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=itmAdu7xsWU
Images:
1. Senior Lieutenant [oberleutnant] Ernst Udet with Pour le Mérite (for the merit), known informally as the Blue Max
2. Ernst Udet's Curtiss Hawk Export (D-IRIK) as on display in the Polish Aviation Museum.
3. Former World War I ace Ernst Udet was an early advocate of the dive bomber in the Luftwaffe
4. One of the most terrifying weapons employed by the Nazis in the early days of World War II, the Junkers Ju-87 Stuka dive bomber served as flying artillery during the Blitzkrieg in the Wes
Biography
1. sps-aviation.com/story/?id=2225&h=Ernst-Udet-1896-1941
2. warfarehistorynetwork.com/2020/01/21/junkers-ju-87-stuka-fearsome-luftwaffe-vulture
Background from {[http://www.sps-aviation.com/story/?id=2225&h=Ernst-Udet-1896-1941]}
ERNST UDET (1896-1941)
Udet’s superiors soon recognised his suitability as a fighter pilot on account of his aggressive attitude and he found himself in a fighter unit flying the new Fokker EIII.
Home In This Issue Story
HALL OF FAME
ERNST UDET (1896-1941)
Udet’s superiors soon recognised his suitability as a fighter pilot on account of his aggressive attitude and he found himself in a fighter unit flying the new Fokker EIII.
Issue: 5 / 2018By Joseph Noronha
What is it like to be in mortal air combat the first time? For Ernst Udet, it almost became his last time. The First World War was in progress in December 1915 when the 19-year-old German in a Fokker EIII Eindecker monoplane spotted and identified a French Caudron G IV. Instead of trying to manoeuvre above and behind the enemy aircraft he flew head-on towards it. The two planes came closer and closer, then into firing range, but Udet was paralysed into inaction. His more experienced enemy fired. Ernst was hit on the face and his flying goggles flew off. Fortunately he was not seriously wounded and managed to land his severely damaged machine. Following this narrow escape Udet learned to attack more aggressively and became one of the most notable fighter aces of the War. He scored 62 confirmed victories, the highest tally after Manfred von Richthofen, the famed Red Baron and the highest by a surviving German pilot.
Ernst Udet was born on April 26, 1896, in Frankfurt. As a child, he flew model aircraft and helped set up the Munich Aero-Club in 1909. But he yearned for the real thing. Together with a friend, he built a bamboo and canvas glider. He attempted to fly it off a hilltop, but merely succeeded in wrecking the contraption. In 1913, a test pilot finally took him for his first joyride.
When the First World War commenced, Udet tried to join the army, but was rejected as being too short. He was not accepted for military aviation either; but got a tip – if he possessed a pilot’s licence, they would not turn him away. So Ernst’s rich father paid for flying lessons and he gained his licence in April 1915. He was immediately accepted into the Imperial German Air Service.
Udet’s superiors soon recognised his suitability as a fighter pilot on account of his aggressive attitude and he found himself in a fighter unit flying the new Fokker EIII. The EIII was deadly because it had a machine gun synchronised to fire through the propeller, which more than compensated for its being slower and somewhat less manoeuvrable than the Allied fighters. Udet was nearly shot down in his first aerial engagement and it was only on March 18, 1916, that his first confirmed victory happened. On receiving a report that two French aircraft had been spotted nearby, he went in search of them. He soon encountered them and there were 22 instead of the reported two. He managed to shoot down one enemy fighter and then fled in haste since he was vastly outnumbered.
In May 1917, Udet encountered another French pilot in a Spad VII. By his fierce and skilful manoeuvring, the enemy was clearly an expert flier and on coming closer, Udet recognised the aircraft markings of Georges Guynemer. He was engaged in a deadly duel with France’s deadliest fighter pilot, whose very name struck terror into German hearts. Somehow he managed to manoeuvre into position behind Guynemer, but when he pressed the trigger, he found to his horror that his guns were jammed and he was defenceless! Now Guynemer gained the advantage, but just as Udet braced his body for the fatal shot, Guynemer came close, waved to him in friendly fashion and flew away. Udet never forgot Guynemer’s gallant gesture.
As a commander, Udet put in much effort training fledgling pilots. Otherwise, he was the stereotypical fighter pilot – easygoing and hard drinking. In early 1918, Udet was given command of Baron Richthofen’s old unit. However, he was increasingly troubled by intense ear pain and was grounded for some time. Against all odds he returned to flying. In June 1918, he almost perished when his damaged plane suddenly went into a spin, but he managed to bail out just in time. He thus became one of the first fighter pilots to save his life with a parachute. During his final aerial duel in September 1918, he was hit in the thigh and was still recovering when the war ended.
Udet spent the next 15 years as a stunt pilot, barnstormer, aircraft manufacturer, and playboy. He even made flying films. In 1934 he joined the new Luftwaffe. However, instead of active flying he was put in charge of aircraft production, a job he was unsuited to. He gained weight and could not control his smoking and drinking. When World War II began, the pressures on him became more intense and he began to complain of sleeplessness and depression. He tried to warn Hitler that the upcoming war with Russia would be exceedingly dangerous for Germany. But Udet’s boss Hermann Göring lied to Hitler about the true situation and finally put the blame for the resultant disaster on Udet. On November 17, 1941, General Udet shot himself dead."
2. Background from {[https://warfarehistorynetwork.com/2020/01/21/junkers-ju-87-stuka-fearsome-luftwaffe-vulture/]}
By Michael D. Hull
One of the deadliest and most effective airplanes of the Axis powers, the Junkers Ju-87 Stuka, owed its origin to a fearless World War I ace and, ironically, to innovative American aviation visionaries in the peaceful early 1930s.
After shooting down 62 planes, ranking second only to the famous “Red Baron,” Manfred von Richthofen, and surviving the 1914-1918 war, Frankfurt-born Ernst Udet became a stunt pilot and barnstormed over Africa, Greenland, the Swiss Alps, and South America. While visiting the United States in 1931, he observed dive-bombing techniques being developed by the U.S. Navy.
An ebullient, humorous man with a weakness for women and alcohol, and who made many friends in America and England, Udet returned to Germany around the time that Adolf Hitler and his National Socialists came to power. Encouraged by Hermann Göring, aviation minister of the new regime, Udet demonstrated dive bombing. While the U.S. Navy embraced the dive-bombing concept and the Royal Air Force ignored it, certain German leaders showed interest.
Udet received overtures to help recast the German air service. Though not in a hurry to join the Luftwaffe, he offered some far-sighted technical suggestions. One was that Germany should develop a dive bomber. Hitler wanted a “long-range artillery” plane that would complement the German Army for his planned blitzkrieg strategy, so design work went ahead promptly. In April 1935, the Junkers aircraft company produced and flight-tested a single-engine prototype, and thus was born the Ju-87 Stuka. The name was derived from the German word for dive bomber, sturzkampfflugzeug.
Former World War I ace Ernst Udet was an early advocate of the dive bomber in the Luftwaffe.
Followed by its rivals, the Arado 81, the Heinkel 118, and the Bloehm & Voss Ha-137, the Stuka had inverted gull-shaped wings, an in-line water-cooled, 1,100-horsepower engine, and a large, fixed undercarriage with wheel spats. Manned by a pilot and a radioman-gunner, its wingspan was 45.2 feet, it had a top speed of 232 miles an hour, it mounted three 7.9mm machine guns, and it could carry 1,100 pounds of bombs under its wings and fuselage.
It was a sinister looking aircraft, resembling a flying vulture. Aviation historian William Green called it “an evil-looking machine, with something of the predatory bird in its ugly contours—its radiator bath and fixed, spatted undercarriage resembling gaping jaws and extended talons.” Ironically, early versions of the Stuka were fitted with Pratt & Whitney Hornet and Rolls-Royce Kestrel engines.
Udet, who joined the Luftwaffe in January 1936 with the rank of brigadier, was appointed inspector of fighter and dive-bomber pilots and became director of Reichsmarshal Göring’s technical department. Playing a leading role in the Stuka’s development, the former ace even added air-driven sirens to the undercarriage legs, designed to spread fear and panic when the plane dived. These “Trumpets of Jericho” were to prove remarkably effective in combat. The Stuka was clearly ahead of its competitors, and the first of its type reached the flying units by early 1937.
Simple to maintain and operate, Udet’s dive bomber was to prove effective in the hands of expert pilots. In 80-degree dives to within 2,300 feet of the ground, they could deliver a bomb with an accuracy of less than 30 yards. Even average pilots could achieve a 25 percent success rate in hitting their targets—a far higher proportion than that attained by conventional, horizontal attack bombers.
The baptism of fire for the Luftwaffe’s Stuka squadrons came swiftly when they were deployed to Spain in late 1937 to support General Francisco Franco’s Nationalist forces in the Spanish Civil War. As part of Maj. Gen. Hugo Sperrle’s Condor Legion, which wreaked havoc on Spanish cities and towns, the Ju-87s were highly effective, despite some shortcomings, against both ground targets and shipping. They flew on every front where German planes served during the brutal war, which served as a valuable training ground for the Luftwaffe.
Stukas had proved their worth in Spain, and production was stepped up. By mid-1939, up to 60 improved “B” models per month were being turned out. They were soon to see action.
Stukas flew the first combat mission of World War II when 53 German panzer and infantry divisions, supported by 1,600 aircraft, swept into Poland on Friday, September 1, 1939. Three Ju-87B-1s led by Lieutenant Bruno Dilley took off early that day to attack the Dirschau bridge over the Vistula River, about 11 minutes before the Nazis declared war. Accompanying the German ground forces as they surged forward, more of the dive bombers proved deadly as they destroyed Polish tanks and planes on the ground, blasted airfields, bridges, highways, artillery emplacements, supply depots, and troop concentrations, and sank all but two of Poland’s warships. The Luftwaffe committed all nine of its Stuka groups, a total of 319 planes, to the offensive.
The loud sirens of the diving Ju-87s spread terror among the hapless Polish troops and citizens. Outnumbered and hampered by outdated weapons, the Poles fought gallantly until their government capitulated on September 27. The Stukas gained glowing endorsements for their first major test while helping to speed the German victory, and Propaganda Minister Josef Goebbels boasted that the Junkers dive bomber was invincible. Like the panzer, the Stuka quickly emerged as a highly visible symbol of Nazi aggression as it spread destruction and terror.
During the 1939-1940 “Phoney War,” a relatively calm period followed the fall of Poland. That ended with a bang on Friday, May 10, 1940, when Nazi Germany launched blitzkrieg (lightning war), with panzer, infantry, and airborne forces of Army Groups A and B, led by Generals Gerd von Rundstedt and Fedor von Bock, respectively, smashing their way westward into Holland, Belgium, and Luxembourg. Almost all of the 380 available Stukas were initially concentrated against Holland and Belgium. The planes provided close air support for airborne troops landing at several points. It was not the most effective way to use the Ju-87s, but there was no alternative. The lightly armed paratroopers relied on the dive bombers for their heavy punch.
Some of the planes took part that fateful day in one of the most spectacular operations of World War II. When specially trained German glider-borne infantry landed atop the fortress of Eben Emael, at the confluence of the Albert Canal and the Maas River in Belgium, and seized it, nine Stukas of Lieutenant Otto Schmidt’s Geschwader 77 lent support by hitting a Belgian Army position near the canal.
In France, as in Poland, the screaming Stukas had a terrifying effect on both troops and civilians. A French general reported that his men simply froze in place as waves of Ju-87s plummeted toward them. “The gunners stopped firing and went to ground, the infantry cowered in their trenches, dazed by the crash of bombs and the shriek of the dive-bombers,” he said. “They had not developed the instinctive reaction of running to their antiaircraft guns and firing back…. Five hours of this nightmare was enough to shatter their nerves.”
In the following weeks, as the German forces ground on westward, the Stukas reverted to their more usual targets in rear areas. They were in action constantly when the weather permitted, and the crews sometimes flew as many as four sorties a day.
By the final week of May, the Allied troops in northern France were falling back on the Channel port of Dunkirk, where an evacuation operation was started on May 27. The enemy bombers and Stukas managed to cause severe damage to ships and harbor installations.
When the evacuation ended at dawn on June 4, 1940, almost 340,000 British and French troops had been rescued by Royal Navy destroyers and a motley fleet of civilian launches, motorboats, ferries, and yachts. The Stuka squadrons had again proved their worth, and now they prepared to assist in Operation Sealion, Hitler’s planned invasion of England. But their fortunes were about to be dramatically reversed when they faced strong fighter opposition during the Battle of Britain.
History’s first great aerial campaign opened in July 1940, with small-scale German attacks on coastal shipping in the English Channel. On the afternoon of July 13, half a dozen Stukas of Geschwader 1 pounced on a convoy off Dover. Eleven RAF Hurricanes broke up the attack and damaged two Ju-87s, and no ships were hit. But escorting Messerschmitt Me-109 fighters intervened and shot down two Hurricanes.
The pace of the air fighting gradually accelerated, and the Luftwaffe mounted its heaviest convoy attack on August 8. That morning, a few Stukas tried to reach the 18 freighters and naval escort of Convoy CW-9 as it headed west toward Weymouth, but they were driven away by patrolling Spitfires and Hurricanes. At midday, however, the Luftwaffe launched a heavier assault, with 57 Stukas diving on the convoy as it passed off the Isle of Wight.
While the Me-109 escorts tangled with RAF fighters, the Stukas fell upon the slow-moving ships. Several were damaged and two sunk. During the afternoon, 82 more Ju-87s went in to finish off the surviving vessels. The convoy was almost annihilated, and only four ships reached Weymouth without damage. But the Germans had lost 28 aircraft, including nine Stukas downed. Ten others were damaged. The RAF lost 19 fighters that day.
The largest Ju-87 attack during the Battle of Britain came on August 18, which went down in history as “The Hardest Day.” Early that sunny afternoon, 109 Stukas drawn from three groups of Geschwader 77 set out to bomb the radar station at Poling and airfields at Gosport, Ford, and Thorney Island in southeastern England. Fifty Me-109s provided protection. As usual, the raiders hit their targets with precision, but scrambling Hurricanes from the RAF’s No. 43 and 601 Squadrons charged into the German formations with their machine guns belching fire.
Lieutenant Frank Carey, who led the Hurricanes of No. 43 Squadron, reported later, “In the dive, they [Stukas] were very difficult to hit, because in a fighter, one’s speed built up so rapidly that one went screaming past him. But he couldn’t dive for ever.” One by one, flaming Stukas went down. As the surviving Ju-87s headed south for their French bases 70 miles distant, the Hurricanes ran out of ammunition and broke off the chase.
It was a black day for the Junkers dive bombers. Sixteen were shot down, and seven limped home with damage. The first real setback suffered by the Stuka groups highlighted the plane’s major weakness, which would be demonstrated repeatedly as the war progressed. While it was a deadly attack weapon, it could operate only when escorted, when there was no interference from enemy fighters, and when its targets were not well protected by antiaircraft guns.
At the height of the Battle of Britain on August 13-18, a total of 41 Stukas were shot down by Spitfires and Hurricanes, and the losses were regarded by the Luftwaffe high command as unacceptable. The planes were needed to counter the might of the Royal Navy during the imminent invasion of England, so it was decided to preserve the dive-bomber force. The Ju-87s were withdrawn from the Battle of Britain and played little further part in it. RAF Fighter Command’s eventual triumph over the Luftwaffe in September 1940 forced Hitler to shelve Operation Sealion, but the Ju-87’s career was far from over. Vital roles awaited it the following spring and summer in the Mediterranean, the Balkans, and Russia.
During the bitter campaign on Crete in April-May 1941, when British and Greek troops were forced to evacuate after failing to dislodge the Germans, Stukas caused heavy losses to Royal Navy ships. Three cruisers and six destroyers were sunk, and 13 other vessels were severely damaged, including the 23,000-ton carrier HMS Formidable.In the Western Desert, meanwhile, Ju-87s flew numerous sorties in close support of General Erwin Rommel’s Afrika Korps during its long, seesaw struggle with British and Commonwealth forces. The planes destroyed many British strongpoints with incredible accuracy.
By 1941, however, the Stuka was virtually obsolete. It had an unfortunate tendency to disintegrate when struck by Hurricane machine guns, and its 120-mph climbing speed was too slow to qualify for escort by fast fighters such as the Me-109. RAF pilots breezily relished “Stuka parties” as a form of risk-free recreation, while the Stuka crews joked wryly that their planes were so sluggish that survival depended on their British opponents overshooting.
Nevertheless, the Ju-87s continued in their role of attacking Allied land and sea targets and as “flying artillery” spearheads wherever German forces launched offensives. When three powerful German army groups smashed their way into the Soviet Union on Sunday, June 22, 1941, eight Stuka groups with a total of 324 planes flew in close support. They bombed Russian installations and towns as the panzer and infantry columns raced forward against sparse opposition.
“At first, things were easy in Russia, and we had few losses to either flak or fighters,” reported Hauptmann Schmidt of Geschwader 77. “Gradually, however, the Russian gunners gained experience in dealing with our diving tactics. They learned to stand their ground and fire back at us, instead of running for cover as others had done before…. A further strain was caused by the knowledge that if one was shot down on the enemy side of the lines and captured, the chances of survival were minimal.”
As the grinding war of attrition continued across the vast Russian steppes, modified versions of the Stuka were rushed into frontline service. They included the Ju-87 “Dora” and the Ju-87G “Gustav.” Filling the desperate need for a tank-busting airplane, the Gustav carried a 550-pound high-explosive bomb and mounted two 37mm high-velocity cannons under the wings. The guns proved highly effective in piercing the relatively thin armor on the rear of Red Army tanks. The Gustavs made a timely appearance in the spring of 1943, shortly before the main German offensive, Operation Citadel, aimed at the central front near Kursk.
All available Stuka units, with a total of about 360 Doras and a dozen Gustavs, were positioned to support the offensive. What developed into the biggest tank battle in history commenced on July 5, 1943. With their crews flying up to six sorties a day, bomb-carrying Doras attacked targets in the Soviet rear areas while the Gustavs went after enemy tanks caught in the open. Despite powerful air support, however, the German armored thrusts became bogged down in the Soviet defenses. With the last reserves fully committed, Hitler ordered his army to move to the defensive on July 23. At Kursk, the German Army failed to produce a decisive victory, and it never regained the strategic initiative.
On the Eastern Front, a Stuka pilot emerged as the leading combat ace of World War II. He was Oberst Hans-Ulrich Rudel, a once timid minister’s son who flew an incredible 2,530 sorties, dived lower than anyone, and pioneered a ground attack technique. Like a one-man air force, he destroyed 519 tanks, more than 2,000 vehicles, many artillery positions, and even a Soviet battleship, the Marat, and a cruiser. Rudel was the sole recipient of Germany’s highest decoration, the Gold Oak Leaves with Swords and Diamonds to the Knight’s Cross. After losing a leg, he disobeyed orders from Hitler and Göring and continued to fly until the last day of the war. Rudel was reported to be Hitler’s choice to succeed him as führer.
In the autumn of 1943, the Luftwaffe reshuffled the tactical support units, with ground-attack Focke-Wulf 190Fs beginning to replace the Ju-87 Doras. Arguably the best German fighter of the war, the FW-190 mounted four 20mm cannons and two machine guns, carried up to 1,100 pounds of bombs, and was twice as fast as the Stuka.
Elsewhere, from Athens to Corinth and Malta to Tobruk, Stuka squadrons continued to give sterling service. They escorted convoys, raided Allied bases and shipping in the Mediterranean area, and harassed British Eighth Army troops and installations during the long war in the Western Desert. After Operation Torch, when U.S. forces invaded North Africa to join the British, inexperienced GIs felt the wrath of Ju-87s, particularly during the rout of the U.S. II Corps at Kasserine Pass.
The last of more than 5,700 Ju-87s came off the production lines in September 1944, but the type continued in service. Some were modified as night raiders, many were employed as glider tugs, trainers, and transports, and the Ju-87C, equipped with folding wings and a tail hook, was developed to operate from the German aircraft carrier Graf Zeppelin. The ship was never commissioned.
But the heyday of the Stuka, which had been supplanted by faster and more powerful planes, was over. By April 1945, the last month of the European war, only 125 Ju-87 Doras and Gustavs remained with frontline units. Besides the Luftwaffe, Stukas flew during the war with the air forces of Italy, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, and Croatia.
The plane that had spread so much terror and destruction from Warsaw to Crete to Stalingrad, symbolizing Nazi might and ruthlessness, outlived the man who masterminded it. Ernst Udet, one of the most important planners of the Luftwaffe, along with Göring and the stocky, able Erhard Milch, was appointed chief air inspector-general of the Reich Air Ministry in February 1938. He was in charge of aircraft design, production, and procurement.
But his career in preparing the Luftwaffe for the coming war was stormy. He drove himself to the limit as chief of supply, but he became a shadow of his former self, and his buoyant personality cracked under the strain. Udet overindulged in cognac and turned to drugs. On November 17, 1941, he committed suicide.
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Hitler's Warriors - Udet The Devil's General
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=itmAdu7xsWU
Images:
1. Senior Lieutenant [oberleutnant] Ernst Udet with Pour le Mérite (for the merit), known informally as the Blue Max
2. Ernst Udet's Curtiss Hawk Export (D-IRIK) as on display in the Polish Aviation Museum.
3. Former World War I ace Ernst Udet was an early advocate of the dive bomber in the Luftwaffe
4. One of the most terrifying weapons employed by the Nazis in the early days of World War II, the Junkers Ju-87 Stuka dive bomber served as flying artillery during the Blitzkrieg in the Wes
Biography
1. sps-aviation.com/story/?id=2225&h=Ernst-Udet-1896-1941
2. warfarehistorynetwork.com/2020/01/21/junkers-ju-87-stuka-fearsome-luftwaffe-vulture
Background from {[http://www.sps-aviation.com/story/?id=2225&h=Ernst-Udet-1896-1941]}
ERNST UDET (1896-1941)
Udet’s superiors soon recognised his suitability as a fighter pilot on account of his aggressive attitude and he found himself in a fighter unit flying the new Fokker EIII.
Home In This Issue Story
HALL OF FAME
ERNST UDET (1896-1941)
Udet’s superiors soon recognised his suitability as a fighter pilot on account of his aggressive attitude and he found himself in a fighter unit flying the new Fokker EIII.
Issue: 5 / 2018By Joseph Noronha
What is it like to be in mortal air combat the first time? For Ernst Udet, it almost became his last time. The First World War was in progress in December 1915 when the 19-year-old German in a Fokker EIII Eindecker monoplane spotted and identified a French Caudron G IV. Instead of trying to manoeuvre above and behind the enemy aircraft he flew head-on towards it. The two planes came closer and closer, then into firing range, but Udet was paralysed into inaction. His more experienced enemy fired. Ernst was hit on the face and his flying goggles flew off. Fortunately he was not seriously wounded and managed to land his severely damaged machine. Following this narrow escape Udet learned to attack more aggressively and became one of the most notable fighter aces of the War. He scored 62 confirmed victories, the highest tally after Manfred von Richthofen, the famed Red Baron and the highest by a surviving German pilot.
Ernst Udet was born on April 26, 1896, in Frankfurt. As a child, he flew model aircraft and helped set up the Munich Aero-Club in 1909. But he yearned for the real thing. Together with a friend, he built a bamboo and canvas glider. He attempted to fly it off a hilltop, but merely succeeded in wrecking the contraption. In 1913, a test pilot finally took him for his first joyride.
When the First World War commenced, Udet tried to join the army, but was rejected as being too short. He was not accepted for military aviation either; but got a tip – if he possessed a pilot’s licence, they would not turn him away. So Ernst’s rich father paid for flying lessons and he gained his licence in April 1915. He was immediately accepted into the Imperial German Air Service.
Udet’s superiors soon recognised his suitability as a fighter pilot on account of his aggressive attitude and he found himself in a fighter unit flying the new Fokker EIII. The EIII was deadly because it had a machine gun synchronised to fire through the propeller, which more than compensated for its being slower and somewhat less manoeuvrable than the Allied fighters. Udet was nearly shot down in his first aerial engagement and it was only on March 18, 1916, that his first confirmed victory happened. On receiving a report that two French aircraft had been spotted nearby, he went in search of them. He soon encountered them and there were 22 instead of the reported two. He managed to shoot down one enemy fighter and then fled in haste since he was vastly outnumbered.
In May 1917, Udet encountered another French pilot in a Spad VII. By his fierce and skilful manoeuvring, the enemy was clearly an expert flier and on coming closer, Udet recognised the aircraft markings of Georges Guynemer. He was engaged in a deadly duel with France’s deadliest fighter pilot, whose very name struck terror into German hearts. Somehow he managed to manoeuvre into position behind Guynemer, but when he pressed the trigger, he found to his horror that his guns were jammed and he was defenceless! Now Guynemer gained the advantage, but just as Udet braced his body for the fatal shot, Guynemer came close, waved to him in friendly fashion and flew away. Udet never forgot Guynemer’s gallant gesture.
As a commander, Udet put in much effort training fledgling pilots. Otherwise, he was the stereotypical fighter pilot – easygoing and hard drinking. In early 1918, Udet was given command of Baron Richthofen’s old unit. However, he was increasingly troubled by intense ear pain and was grounded for some time. Against all odds he returned to flying. In June 1918, he almost perished when his damaged plane suddenly went into a spin, but he managed to bail out just in time. He thus became one of the first fighter pilots to save his life with a parachute. During his final aerial duel in September 1918, he was hit in the thigh and was still recovering when the war ended.
Udet spent the next 15 years as a stunt pilot, barnstormer, aircraft manufacturer, and playboy. He even made flying films. In 1934 he joined the new Luftwaffe. However, instead of active flying he was put in charge of aircraft production, a job he was unsuited to. He gained weight and could not control his smoking and drinking. When World War II began, the pressures on him became more intense and he began to complain of sleeplessness and depression. He tried to warn Hitler that the upcoming war with Russia would be exceedingly dangerous for Germany. But Udet’s boss Hermann Göring lied to Hitler about the true situation and finally put the blame for the resultant disaster on Udet. On November 17, 1941, General Udet shot himself dead."
2. Background from {[https://warfarehistorynetwork.com/2020/01/21/junkers-ju-87-stuka-fearsome-luftwaffe-vulture/]}
By Michael D. Hull
One of the deadliest and most effective airplanes of the Axis powers, the Junkers Ju-87 Stuka, owed its origin to a fearless World War I ace and, ironically, to innovative American aviation visionaries in the peaceful early 1930s.
After shooting down 62 planes, ranking second only to the famous “Red Baron,” Manfred von Richthofen, and surviving the 1914-1918 war, Frankfurt-born Ernst Udet became a stunt pilot and barnstormed over Africa, Greenland, the Swiss Alps, and South America. While visiting the United States in 1931, he observed dive-bombing techniques being developed by the U.S. Navy.
An ebullient, humorous man with a weakness for women and alcohol, and who made many friends in America and England, Udet returned to Germany around the time that Adolf Hitler and his National Socialists came to power. Encouraged by Hermann Göring, aviation minister of the new regime, Udet demonstrated dive bombing. While the U.S. Navy embraced the dive-bombing concept and the Royal Air Force ignored it, certain German leaders showed interest.
Udet received overtures to help recast the German air service. Though not in a hurry to join the Luftwaffe, he offered some far-sighted technical suggestions. One was that Germany should develop a dive bomber. Hitler wanted a “long-range artillery” plane that would complement the German Army for his planned blitzkrieg strategy, so design work went ahead promptly. In April 1935, the Junkers aircraft company produced and flight-tested a single-engine prototype, and thus was born the Ju-87 Stuka. The name was derived from the German word for dive bomber, sturzkampfflugzeug.
Former World War I ace Ernst Udet was an early advocate of the dive bomber in the Luftwaffe.
Followed by its rivals, the Arado 81, the Heinkel 118, and the Bloehm & Voss Ha-137, the Stuka had inverted gull-shaped wings, an in-line water-cooled, 1,100-horsepower engine, and a large, fixed undercarriage with wheel spats. Manned by a pilot and a radioman-gunner, its wingspan was 45.2 feet, it had a top speed of 232 miles an hour, it mounted three 7.9mm machine guns, and it could carry 1,100 pounds of bombs under its wings and fuselage.
It was a sinister looking aircraft, resembling a flying vulture. Aviation historian William Green called it “an evil-looking machine, with something of the predatory bird in its ugly contours—its radiator bath and fixed, spatted undercarriage resembling gaping jaws and extended talons.” Ironically, early versions of the Stuka were fitted with Pratt & Whitney Hornet and Rolls-Royce Kestrel engines.
Udet, who joined the Luftwaffe in January 1936 with the rank of brigadier, was appointed inspector of fighter and dive-bomber pilots and became director of Reichsmarshal Göring’s technical department. Playing a leading role in the Stuka’s development, the former ace even added air-driven sirens to the undercarriage legs, designed to spread fear and panic when the plane dived. These “Trumpets of Jericho” were to prove remarkably effective in combat. The Stuka was clearly ahead of its competitors, and the first of its type reached the flying units by early 1937.
Simple to maintain and operate, Udet’s dive bomber was to prove effective in the hands of expert pilots. In 80-degree dives to within 2,300 feet of the ground, they could deliver a bomb with an accuracy of less than 30 yards. Even average pilots could achieve a 25 percent success rate in hitting their targets—a far higher proportion than that attained by conventional, horizontal attack bombers.
The baptism of fire for the Luftwaffe’s Stuka squadrons came swiftly when they were deployed to Spain in late 1937 to support General Francisco Franco’s Nationalist forces in the Spanish Civil War. As part of Maj. Gen. Hugo Sperrle’s Condor Legion, which wreaked havoc on Spanish cities and towns, the Ju-87s were highly effective, despite some shortcomings, against both ground targets and shipping. They flew on every front where German planes served during the brutal war, which served as a valuable training ground for the Luftwaffe.
Stukas had proved their worth in Spain, and production was stepped up. By mid-1939, up to 60 improved “B” models per month were being turned out. They were soon to see action.
Stukas flew the first combat mission of World War II when 53 German panzer and infantry divisions, supported by 1,600 aircraft, swept into Poland on Friday, September 1, 1939. Three Ju-87B-1s led by Lieutenant Bruno Dilley took off early that day to attack the Dirschau bridge over the Vistula River, about 11 minutes before the Nazis declared war. Accompanying the German ground forces as they surged forward, more of the dive bombers proved deadly as they destroyed Polish tanks and planes on the ground, blasted airfields, bridges, highways, artillery emplacements, supply depots, and troop concentrations, and sank all but two of Poland’s warships. The Luftwaffe committed all nine of its Stuka groups, a total of 319 planes, to the offensive.
The loud sirens of the diving Ju-87s spread terror among the hapless Polish troops and citizens. Outnumbered and hampered by outdated weapons, the Poles fought gallantly until their government capitulated on September 27. The Stukas gained glowing endorsements for their first major test while helping to speed the German victory, and Propaganda Minister Josef Goebbels boasted that the Junkers dive bomber was invincible. Like the panzer, the Stuka quickly emerged as a highly visible symbol of Nazi aggression as it spread destruction and terror.
During the 1939-1940 “Phoney War,” a relatively calm period followed the fall of Poland. That ended with a bang on Friday, May 10, 1940, when Nazi Germany launched blitzkrieg (lightning war), with panzer, infantry, and airborne forces of Army Groups A and B, led by Generals Gerd von Rundstedt and Fedor von Bock, respectively, smashing their way westward into Holland, Belgium, and Luxembourg. Almost all of the 380 available Stukas were initially concentrated against Holland and Belgium. The planes provided close air support for airborne troops landing at several points. It was not the most effective way to use the Ju-87s, but there was no alternative. The lightly armed paratroopers relied on the dive bombers for their heavy punch.
Some of the planes took part that fateful day in one of the most spectacular operations of World War II. When specially trained German glider-borne infantry landed atop the fortress of Eben Emael, at the confluence of the Albert Canal and the Maas River in Belgium, and seized it, nine Stukas of Lieutenant Otto Schmidt’s Geschwader 77 lent support by hitting a Belgian Army position near the canal.
In France, as in Poland, the screaming Stukas had a terrifying effect on both troops and civilians. A French general reported that his men simply froze in place as waves of Ju-87s plummeted toward them. “The gunners stopped firing and went to ground, the infantry cowered in their trenches, dazed by the crash of bombs and the shriek of the dive-bombers,” he said. “They had not developed the instinctive reaction of running to their antiaircraft guns and firing back…. Five hours of this nightmare was enough to shatter their nerves.”
In the following weeks, as the German forces ground on westward, the Stukas reverted to their more usual targets in rear areas. They were in action constantly when the weather permitted, and the crews sometimes flew as many as four sorties a day.
By the final week of May, the Allied troops in northern France were falling back on the Channel port of Dunkirk, where an evacuation operation was started on May 27. The enemy bombers and Stukas managed to cause severe damage to ships and harbor installations.
When the evacuation ended at dawn on June 4, 1940, almost 340,000 British and French troops had been rescued by Royal Navy destroyers and a motley fleet of civilian launches, motorboats, ferries, and yachts. The Stuka squadrons had again proved their worth, and now they prepared to assist in Operation Sealion, Hitler’s planned invasion of England. But their fortunes were about to be dramatically reversed when they faced strong fighter opposition during the Battle of Britain.
History’s first great aerial campaign opened in July 1940, with small-scale German attacks on coastal shipping in the English Channel. On the afternoon of July 13, half a dozen Stukas of Geschwader 1 pounced on a convoy off Dover. Eleven RAF Hurricanes broke up the attack and damaged two Ju-87s, and no ships were hit. But escorting Messerschmitt Me-109 fighters intervened and shot down two Hurricanes.
The pace of the air fighting gradually accelerated, and the Luftwaffe mounted its heaviest convoy attack on August 8. That morning, a few Stukas tried to reach the 18 freighters and naval escort of Convoy CW-9 as it headed west toward Weymouth, but they were driven away by patrolling Spitfires and Hurricanes. At midday, however, the Luftwaffe launched a heavier assault, with 57 Stukas diving on the convoy as it passed off the Isle of Wight.
While the Me-109 escorts tangled with RAF fighters, the Stukas fell upon the slow-moving ships. Several were damaged and two sunk. During the afternoon, 82 more Ju-87s went in to finish off the surviving vessels. The convoy was almost annihilated, and only four ships reached Weymouth without damage. But the Germans had lost 28 aircraft, including nine Stukas downed. Ten others were damaged. The RAF lost 19 fighters that day.
The largest Ju-87 attack during the Battle of Britain came on August 18, which went down in history as “The Hardest Day.” Early that sunny afternoon, 109 Stukas drawn from three groups of Geschwader 77 set out to bomb the radar station at Poling and airfields at Gosport, Ford, and Thorney Island in southeastern England. Fifty Me-109s provided protection. As usual, the raiders hit their targets with precision, but scrambling Hurricanes from the RAF’s No. 43 and 601 Squadrons charged into the German formations with their machine guns belching fire.
Lieutenant Frank Carey, who led the Hurricanes of No. 43 Squadron, reported later, “In the dive, they [Stukas] were very difficult to hit, because in a fighter, one’s speed built up so rapidly that one went screaming past him. But he couldn’t dive for ever.” One by one, flaming Stukas went down. As the surviving Ju-87s headed south for their French bases 70 miles distant, the Hurricanes ran out of ammunition and broke off the chase.
It was a black day for the Junkers dive bombers. Sixteen were shot down, and seven limped home with damage. The first real setback suffered by the Stuka groups highlighted the plane’s major weakness, which would be demonstrated repeatedly as the war progressed. While it was a deadly attack weapon, it could operate only when escorted, when there was no interference from enemy fighters, and when its targets were not well protected by antiaircraft guns.
At the height of the Battle of Britain on August 13-18, a total of 41 Stukas were shot down by Spitfires and Hurricanes, and the losses were regarded by the Luftwaffe high command as unacceptable. The planes were needed to counter the might of the Royal Navy during the imminent invasion of England, so it was decided to preserve the dive-bomber force. The Ju-87s were withdrawn from the Battle of Britain and played little further part in it. RAF Fighter Command’s eventual triumph over the Luftwaffe in September 1940 forced Hitler to shelve Operation Sealion, but the Ju-87’s career was far from over. Vital roles awaited it the following spring and summer in the Mediterranean, the Balkans, and Russia.
During the bitter campaign on Crete in April-May 1941, when British and Greek troops were forced to evacuate after failing to dislodge the Germans, Stukas caused heavy losses to Royal Navy ships. Three cruisers and six destroyers were sunk, and 13 other vessels were severely damaged, including the 23,000-ton carrier HMS Formidable.In the Western Desert, meanwhile, Ju-87s flew numerous sorties in close support of General Erwin Rommel’s Afrika Korps during its long, seesaw struggle with British and Commonwealth forces. The planes destroyed many British strongpoints with incredible accuracy.
By 1941, however, the Stuka was virtually obsolete. It had an unfortunate tendency to disintegrate when struck by Hurricane machine guns, and its 120-mph climbing speed was too slow to qualify for escort by fast fighters such as the Me-109. RAF pilots breezily relished “Stuka parties” as a form of risk-free recreation, while the Stuka crews joked wryly that their planes were so sluggish that survival depended on their British opponents overshooting.
Nevertheless, the Ju-87s continued in their role of attacking Allied land and sea targets and as “flying artillery” spearheads wherever German forces launched offensives. When three powerful German army groups smashed their way into the Soviet Union on Sunday, June 22, 1941, eight Stuka groups with a total of 324 planes flew in close support. They bombed Russian installations and towns as the panzer and infantry columns raced forward against sparse opposition.
“At first, things were easy in Russia, and we had few losses to either flak or fighters,” reported Hauptmann Schmidt of Geschwader 77. “Gradually, however, the Russian gunners gained experience in dealing with our diving tactics. They learned to stand their ground and fire back at us, instead of running for cover as others had done before…. A further strain was caused by the knowledge that if one was shot down on the enemy side of the lines and captured, the chances of survival were minimal.”
As the grinding war of attrition continued across the vast Russian steppes, modified versions of the Stuka were rushed into frontline service. They included the Ju-87 “Dora” and the Ju-87G “Gustav.” Filling the desperate need for a tank-busting airplane, the Gustav carried a 550-pound high-explosive bomb and mounted two 37mm high-velocity cannons under the wings. The guns proved highly effective in piercing the relatively thin armor on the rear of Red Army tanks. The Gustavs made a timely appearance in the spring of 1943, shortly before the main German offensive, Operation Citadel, aimed at the central front near Kursk.
All available Stuka units, with a total of about 360 Doras and a dozen Gustavs, were positioned to support the offensive. What developed into the biggest tank battle in history commenced on July 5, 1943. With their crews flying up to six sorties a day, bomb-carrying Doras attacked targets in the Soviet rear areas while the Gustavs went after enemy tanks caught in the open. Despite powerful air support, however, the German armored thrusts became bogged down in the Soviet defenses. With the last reserves fully committed, Hitler ordered his army to move to the defensive on July 23. At Kursk, the German Army failed to produce a decisive victory, and it never regained the strategic initiative.
On the Eastern Front, a Stuka pilot emerged as the leading combat ace of World War II. He was Oberst Hans-Ulrich Rudel, a once timid minister’s son who flew an incredible 2,530 sorties, dived lower than anyone, and pioneered a ground attack technique. Like a one-man air force, he destroyed 519 tanks, more than 2,000 vehicles, many artillery positions, and even a Soviet battleship, the Marat, and a cruiser. Rudel was the sole recipient of Germany’s highest decoration, the Gold Oak Leaves with Swords and Diamonds to the Knight’s Cross. After losing a leg, he disobeyed orders from Hitler and Göring and continued to fly until the last day of the war. Rudel was reported to be Hitler’s choice to succeed him as führer.
In the autumn of 1943, the Luftwaffe reshuffled the tactical support units, with ground-attack Focke-Wulf 190Fs beginning to replace the Ju-87 Doras. Arguably the best German fighter of the war, the FW-190 mounted four 20mm cannons and two machine guns, carried up to 1,100 pounds of bombs, and was twice as fast as the Stuka.
Elsewhere, from Athens to Corinth and Malta to Tobruk, Stuka squadrons continued to give sterling service. They escorted convoys, raided Allied bases and shipping in the Mediterranean area, and harassed British Eighth Army troops and installations during the long war in the Western Desert. After Operation Torch, when U.S. forces invaded North Africa to join the British, inexperienced GIs felt the wrath of Ju-87s, particularly during the rout of the U.S. II Corps at Kasserine Pass.
The last of more than 5,700 Ju-87s came off the production lines in September 1944, but the type continued in service. Some were modified as night raiders, many were employed as glider tugs, trainers, and transports, and the Ju-87C, equipped with folding wings and a tail hook, was developed to operate from the German aircraft carrier Graf Zeppelin. The ship was never commissioned.
But the heyday of the Stuka, which had been supplanted by faster and more powerful planes, was over. By April 1945, the last month of the European war, only 125 Ju-87 Doras and Gustavs remained with frontline units. Besides the Luftwaffe, Stukas flew during the war with the air forces of Italy, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, and Croatia.
The plane that had spread so much terror and destruction from Warsaw to Crete to Stalingrad, symbolizing Nazi might and ruthlessness, outlived the man who masterminded it. Ernst Udet, one of the most important planners of the Luftwaffe, along with Göring and the stocky, able Erhard Milch, was appointed chief air inspector-general of the Reich Air Ministry in February 1938. He was in charge of aircraft design, production, and procurement.
But his career in preparing the Luftwaffe for the coming war was stormy. He drove himself to the limit as chief of supply, but he became a shadow of his former self, and his buoyant personality cracked under the strain. Udet overindulged in cognac and turned to drugs. On November 17, 1941, he committed suicide.
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Ernst Udet - The Flyer
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W4EAjYG-f1w
Images:
1. Ernst Udet married Elenora Lo Zink 'Lo' on February 20, 1920, They divorced on February 16, 1923
2. Ernst Udet with his pet bull dog
3. Ernst Udets's board bar from his Siebel Fh 104 A-0 on display in the Deutsches Technikmuseum Berlin.
4. Ernst Udet's grave in Invalidenfriedhof Cemetery, Berlin
Background from {[https://military.wikia.org/wiki/Ernst_Udet]}
Ernst Udet
________________________________________
Born 26 April 1896
Died 17 November 1941 (aged 45)
Place of birth Frankfurt am Main
Place of death Berlin
Buried at Invalidenfriedhof Cemetery in Berlin
Allegiance • German Empire (to 1918)
• Nazi Germany
Service/branch • Luftstreitkräfte
• Luftwaffe
Years of service 1914–1919, 1934–1941
Rank
WWI •Oberleutnant (German Empire)
WWII • Generaloberst (Nazi Germany)
Unit World War I: FA 68, FA(A) 206, KEK Habsheim, Jastas 4, 11, 15, 37
Commands held World War I: Jasta 37, Jasta 4
Battles/wars World War I
Awards • Iron Cross
• House Order of Hohenzollern
• Pour le Mérite [Blue Max]
• Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross
Colonel General Ernst Udet (26 April 1896 – 17 November 1941) was the second-highest scoring German flying ace of World War I. He was one of the youngest aces and was the highest scoring German ace to survive the war (at the age of 22).[1] His 62 victories were second only to Manfred von Richthofen, his commander in the Flying Circus. Udet rose to become a squadron commander under Richthofen, and later, under Hermann Göring.
Following Germany's defeat, Udet spent the 1920s and early 1930s as a stunt pilot, international barnstormer, light aircraft manufacturer, and playboy. In 1933, he joined the Nazi Party and became involved in the early development of the Luftwaffe. He used his networking skills to get himself appointed director of research and development for the burgeoning air force. He was especially influential in the adoption of dive bombing techniques as well as the Stuka dive bomber. By 1939, Udet had risen to the post of Director-General of Equipment for the Luftwaffe. However, the stress of the position and his distaste for administrative duties led to an increasing dependence on alcohol.
When World War II began, the Luftwaffe's needs for equipment outstripped Germany's production capacity. Udet's old comrade in arms Hermann Göring first lied to Adolf Hitler about these material shortcomings when the Germans lost the Battle of Britain, then deflected the Führer's wrath onto Udet.
Operation Barbarossa, when Germany attacked the Soviet Union to begin war on a second front, may have been the final straw for Udet. On 17 November 1941, he committed suicide by shooting himself in the head.
Early life
From motorcycling to flying
Born in Frankfurt am Main, Udet was known from early childhood for his sunny happy-go-lucky temperament. He grew up in the Bavarian city of Munich. He was fascinated with aviation from early childhood and hung out at a nearby airplane factory and an army airship detachment. In 1909, he helped found the Munich Aero-Club.[2] After crashing a glider he and a friend constructed, he finally flew with a test pilot in the nearby Otto Works, which he often visited, in 1913.[2]
He tried to join the army on 2 August 1914, but was only 160 cm (5 ft 3.0 in) tall and did not qualify.[2] In August, when the Allgemeiner Deutscher Automobil-Club appealed for volunteers with motorcycles, Udet applied and was accepted. Udet's father had given him his motorcycle when Ernst passed his first year examination. Along with four friends, Udet was posted to the 26. Württembergischen Reserve Division as a "messenger rider." After injuring his shoulder when his motorcycle hit a shell hole, Udet went to a military hospital, and his bike went for repair. When he tried to track down the 26th Division, he was unable to locate it and decided to serve in the vehicle depot in Namur. During this time, Udet met officers from the Chauny flying sector who advised him to be transferred as an aerial observer. However, before he received his orders for Chauny, the army dispensed with the volunteer motorcyclists, and he was sent back to recruiting officials.[2]
Udet tried in vain to return to the fighting, but was unable to get into the pilot or aircraft mechanic training offered by the army. He soon learned that if he were a trained pilot, he would be immediately accepted into the air force. Through a family friend, Gustav Otto, owner of the aircraft factory he had haunted in his youth, Udet received private flight training. The training cost 2,000 marks[2] and new bathroom equipment from his father's firm. Udet obtained his civilian pilot's license at the end of April 1915 and joined the German Army Air Service.[2]
Military life
Artillery ranging
Originally, Udet flew in Feld Flieger-Abteilung 206 (FFA 206)—an observation unit—as an Unteroffizier (Staff Sergeant) pilot with observer Leutnant Justinius.[2] He and his observer won the Iron Cross 2nd and 1st class respectively[1] for nursing their Aviatik B.I two-seater back to German lines after a shackle on a wing-cable snapped. Justinius had climbed out to hold the wing and balance it rather than land and accept capture. As a result of the structural failure of the Aviatik that caused Udet and Justinius to go down, and a similar incident that cost Leutnant Winter and Vizefeldwebel Preiss their lives, the Aviatik B was retired from service.
Later, Udet was court-martialed for losing his aircraft in an incident the flying corps considered a result of bad judgment. The aircraft—overloaded with fuel and bombs—stalled after a sharp bank and plunged to the ground. Miraculously, both Udet and Justinius survived. Udet was placed under arrest in the guardhouse for seven days.[3]
On his way out of the guardhouse, he was asked to fly Leutnant Hartmann to observe a bombing raid on Belfort. A bomb thrown by hand by the leutnant became stuck in the landing gear. Udet performed some aerobatics to shake it loose.[1] As soon as the Air Staff Officer heard about it, he was transferred to fighter command. That was in early 1916.
Fighter pilot
Udet was given a new Fokker to fly to his new unit—FFA 68—at Habsheim. Mechanically defective, it crashed into a hangar on takeoff. An older Fokker was then sent to Udet. At Habsheim, his first aerial combat was a near disaster. Lining up on a French Caudron, he found he could not bring himself to pull the trigger and was subsequently strafed by the Frenchman. A bullet grazed his cheek and smashed his goggles.[1][2]
From then on, he learned to attack aggressively and made a number of kills, downing his first French opponent on 18 March 1916. On that occasion, he scrambled to attack two French aircraft; instead, he found a formation of 23. He dove in from above and behind, giving his Fokker E.III[4] full throttle, and opened fire on a Farman F.40 from close range. He pulled away, leaving the flaming bomber trailing smoke, only to see the observer fall from the rear seat of the stricken craft. As Udet described it, "The fuselage of the Farman dives down past me like a giant torch...A man, his arms and legs spread out like a frog's, falls past--the observer. At the moment, I don't think of them as human beings. I feel only one thing--victory, triumph, victory."[5] The fiery kill won Udet the Iron Cross First Class.
That year, FA 68 morphed into Kampfeinsitzer Kommando Habsheim before finally becoming Jagdstaffel 15 on 28 September 1916. It was in the latter unit that Udet would claim five more victims, before transferring to Jasta 37 in June 1917. The first of these—on 12 October 1916—had its comic opera aspects. Udet forced a French Breguet to land safely in German territory, then landed nearby to prevent its destruction by its crew. The bullet-punctured flat tires on Udet's Fokker tipped the German plane forward over onto its top wings and fuselage. Victor and vanquished eventually shook hands next to the latter's functional plane.[6]
In January 1917, Udet was commissioned as Leutnant der Reserve (lieutenant of reserves). That same month, Jasta 15 re-equipped with Albatros D.IIIs, new fighters with twin synchronized Spandau machine guns.[2]
It was during his service with Jasta 15 that Udet wrote he had encountered Georges Guynemer, the French ace, in single combat at 5,000 m (16,000 ft). Guynemer preferred to hunt alone; by this time, he was the leading French ace, and one of the war's leading aces, with more than 30 victories.
Udet saw him coming and the two circled each other looking for an opening. They were close enough for Udet to read the "Vieux" of "Vieux Charles" on Guynemer's Spad S.VII. The two opponents tried every tricky aerobatic they knew; the Frenchman ripped a burst of fire through the upper wing of Udet's plane. Udet evaded him and maneuvered for advantage. For an instant, Udet had him in his sights, but his guns jammed. While pretending to dogfight, he worked to unjam them. Guynemer saw his opponent's predicament, waved, and flew away.[2] Udet wrote of the fight, "For seconds, I forgot that the man across from me was Guynemer, my enemy. It seems as though I were sparring with an older comrade over our own airfield." Some experts say that Guynemer spared Udet because he wanted a fair fight. He was also likely impressed with Udet's skills in their battle and hoped that they would fight again someday.
Eventually, all the pilots of Jasta 15 were killed except Udet and his commander, Gontermann. Gontermann became somewhat gloomy, and remarked to Udet, "the bullets fall from the hand of God ... Sooner or later they will hit us."
Udet applied for a transfer to Jasta 37. Gontermann fell three months later, by accident, when the wing of his new Fokker Dr1 Triplane came off. He lingered for 24 hours without awakening, and Udet later remarked, "It was a good death."
On 19 June, Udet transferred to Prussian Jasta 37.[2]
By late November, Udet was a triple ace and Jastaführer. He modeled his attacks after those of Guynemer, coming in high out of the sun to pick off the rear aircraft in a squadron before the others knew what was happening. His commander in Jasta 37—Kurt Grasshoff, witnessing one of these attacks—selected him for command over more senior men when Grasshoff was transferred.[2] Udet's ascension to command on 7 November 1917, was followed six days later by award of the Royal House Order of Hohenzollern.[7]
Despite his seemingly frivolous nature, drinking late into the night and womanizing, he proved an excellent squadron commander. He spent many hours coaching neophyte fighter pilots, with an emphasis on marksmanship as being essential for success.[2]
In the Flying Circus
Udet's success attracted attention for his skill, earning him an invitation to join the Flying Circus, Jagdgeschwader 1 (JG 1), an elite unit of German fighter aces under the command of the famed Red Baron Manfred von Richthofen. Richthofen drove up one day as Udet was trying to pitch a tent in Flanders in the rain. Pointing out that Udet had 20 kills, Richthofen said, "Then you would actually seem ripe for us. Would you like to?"
Of course, Udet would. After watching him down an artillery spotter by frontal attack, Richthofen gave Udet command of Jasta 11,[1] von Richthofen's own former squadron command.[8] The group commanded by Richthofen also contained Jastas 4, 6 and 10.[1] Udet's enthusiasm for Richthofen was unbounded. Richthofen demanded total loyalty and total dedication from his pilots, cashiering immediately anyone who did not give it. At the same time, he treated them with every consideration. When it came time to requisition supplies, he traded favors for autographed photos of himself that read: "Dedicated to my esteemed fighting companion." Udet remarked that because of the signed photographs, " ... sausage and ham never ran out."
One night, they invited a captured English flyer for dinner, treating him as a guest. When he excused himself for the 'ToiletW.C.', the Germans fell over themselves trying to hide from him that they were watching to see if he would try to escape. On his return the Englishman said, "I would never forgive myself for disappointing such hosts." However, the English flyer did escape later from another unit.
Udet considered Richthofen as scientific in battle and cold in his combats, describing his blue eyes and the sun shining off his blonde hair. Richthofen liked to strafe enemy columns in squadron formation, both guns firing, killing large numbers. He was the first to implement the concept of the forward base. While the enemy could mount three missions a day, Richthofen could mount five. In dogfights the head-on attack found favor.
Richthofen fell in April 1918, and Udet was not at the front. He had been sent on leave due to a painful ear infection, which he avoided having treated as long as he could. While at home, he reacquainted himself with his childhood sweetheart, Eleanor "Lo" Zink. Notified that he had received the Pour le Mérite, he had one made up in advance so that he could impress her. He painted her name on the side of his Albatros fighters and Fokker D VII. Also on the tail of his Fokker D VII was the message "Du doch nicht" - "Definitely not you."[9]
Of Richthofen, Udet said, "He was the least complicated man I ever knew. Entirely Prussian and the greatest of soldiers." Udet returned to JG 1 against the doctor's advice and remained there to the end of the war, commanding Jasta 4. He scored 20 victories in August alone, mainly against the British. Udet would become a national hero with 62 confirmed kills to his credit. But he did not enjoy Richthofen's successor, Hermann Göring, and, later, privately, he would question Göring's own achievements during the war.
Udet was one of the early fliers to be saved by parachuting from a disabled aircraft. On 29 June 1918, he jumped after a clash with a French Breguet. His harness caught on the rudder and he had to break off the rudder tip to escape.[2] His parachute did not open until he was 250 ft (76 m) from the ground, causing him to sprain his ankle.
On 28 September 1918, Udet was wounded in the thigh. He was still recovering from this wound on Armistice Day, November 11, 1918, when the war ended.[2]
Between the wars
The adventure of Udet's life continued without pause after the war. On his way home, he had to defend himself against a Communist who wished to rip the medals off his chest. Udet and Ritter von Greim performed mock dogfights at weekends for the POW Relief Organization, using surplus aircraft in Bavaria. He was invited to start the first International Air Service between Germany and Austria, but after the first flight the Entente Commission confiscated his aircraft.
He married "Lo" on February 25, 1920; however, the marriage lasted less than three years and they were divorced on February 16, 1923. (It has been said that Udet had many lovers on the side.) His talents were numerous - juggling, drawing cartoons, party entertainment, etc.
During the inter-war period, Udet was known primarily for his work as a stunt pilot and for playboy-like behavior. He flew for movies and for airshows (e.g. picking a cloth from the ground with his wingtip). He appeared with Leni Riefenstahl in three films: Die weiße Hölle vom Piz Palü (1929), Stürme über dem Montblanc (1930), and S.O.S. Eisberg (1933). Udet's stunt pilot work in films took him to California. In the October 1933 issue of New Movie Magazine, there is a photo of Carl Laemmle, Jr.'s party for Udet in Hollywood. Laemmle was head of Universal Studios which made SOS Eisberg, a US-German co-production. Udet was invited to attend the National Air Races at Cleveland, Ohio. In 1935 he appeared in Wunder des Fliegens: Der Film eines deutschen Fliegers (1935; 79 mins.) directed by Heinz Paul. His co-star Jürgen Ohlsen, who had previously starred (uncredited) in the extremely popular Nazi propaganda film Hitlerjunge Quex: Ein Film vom Opfergeist der deutschen Jugend, played a youth who lost his pilot father in World War I and was befriended and encouraged by Udet, his idol.[10][11]
These efforts were good publicity for Udet. An American, William Pohl of Milwaukee, telephoned him with an offer to back an aircraft manufacturing company. Udet Flugzeug was born in a shed in Milbertshofen. Its intent was to build small aircraft that the general public could fly. It soon ran into trouble with the Entente Commission and transferred its operations to a beehive and chicken coop factory.
The first aeroplane that Udet's company produced was the U2. Udet took the second model, the U4, to the Wilbur Cup race in Buenos Aires at the expense of Aero Club Aleman. It was outclassed, and the club wanted him to do cigarette commercials to reimburse them for the expense, but he refused. He was rescued by the Chief of the Argentinian Railways, a man of Swedish descent named Tornquist, who picked up the tab.
In 1924, Udet left Udet Flugzeug when they decided to build a four-engine aircraft, which was larger and not for the general population. He and another friend from the war, Angermund, started an exhibition flying enterprise in Germany, which was also successful, but Udet remarked, "In time this too begins to get tiresome. ... We stand in the present, fighting for a living. It isn't always easy. ... But the thoughts wander back to the times when it was worthwhile to fight for your life."
Udet's war time friends were in seemingly inexhaustible supply. He and another—Suchocky—became pilots to an African filming expedition. The cameraman was another veteran, Schneeberger, whom Udet called "Flea," and the guide was Siedentopf, a former East African estate owner.
Udet described one incident in Africa in which lions jumped up to claw at the low-flying aircraft, one of them removing a strip of Suchocky's wing surface. Udet and his crew also ventured across the Figtree Hotel, built by Lord Lovelace, and went hunting with an American named Sullivan.
Building the Luftwaffe
Though not interested in politics, Udet joined the Nazi party in 1933 when Göring promised to buy him two new U.S.-built Curtiss Hawk II biplanes (export designation of the F11C-2 Goshawk Helldiver). The planes were used for evaluation purposes and thus indirectly influenced the German idea of dive bombing aeroplanes, such as the Junkers Ju 87 (Stuka) dive bombers. They were also used for aerobatic shows held during the 1936 Summer Olympics. Udet piloted one of them, which survived the war and is now on display in the Polish Aviation Museum
After Ju 87 trials (although the Ju 87 had been awarded top marks and was about to be accepted) a confidential directive issued on 9 June 1936 by Generalfeldmarschall Wolfram von Richthofen called for the cessation of all further Ju 87 development. However, Udet immediately rejected von Richthofen's instructions and Ju 87 development continued.
Udet became a major proponent of the dive bomber, taking credit for having introduced it to the Luftwaffe, which was already interested in such designs. By 1936 he had (due to his political connections) been placed in command of the T-Amt ( the development wing of the Reichsluftfahrtministerium) (Reich Air Ministry). He had no real interest in this job, especially the bureaucracy of it, and the pressure led to his addiction to alcohol (brandy and cognac).
In January 1939, Udet visited Italian North Africa (Africa Settentrionale Italiana, or ASI). He accompanied Maresciallo dell'Aria (Marshal of the Air Force) Italo Balbo on a flight. In early 1939 there were distinct signs of German military and diplomatic co-operation with the Italians.[12] In February 1939 Udet became Generalluftzeugmeister (Luftwaffe Director-General of Equipment).
In April and May 1941, Udet was in charge of German delegation inspecting Soviet aviation industry in line with Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact. Udet informed Goering that Soviet air force and aviation industry are very strong and technically advanced. Goering decided not to report the facts to Hitler hoping that a surprise attack will quickly destroy Russia.[13] Udet realized that the upcoming war on Russia may destroy Germany, and torn between truth and loyalty, suffered a psychological breakdown and even tried to tell all the truth to Hitler, but Goering had Udet under control by giving him drugs at drinking parties and hunting trips. Udet's drinking and psychological condition became a problem, but Goering used Udet's dependency to manipulate him.[13]
When World War II began his internal conflicts grew more intense. Aircraft production requirements were much more than the German industry could supply (given limited access to raw materials such as aluminium). Göring responded to this problem by simply lying about it, which further upset Udet. After the Luftwaffe's defeat in the Battle of Britain, Göring tried to deflect Hitler's ire by blaming Udet. Hitler's attack on the Soviet Union drove Udet further into despair.
On 17 November 1941 Udet committed suicide,[14] shooting himself in the head while on the phone with his girlfriend. Evidence indicates that his unhappy relationship with Göring, Erhard Milch, and the Nazi Party in general was the cause of his mental breakdown.[14]
According to Udet's biography, The Fall of an Eagle, he wrote a suicide note in red pencil which included: "Ingelein, why have you left me?" and "Iron One, you are responsible for my death." "Ingelein" referred to his girlfriend, Inge Bleyle, and "Iron One" to Hermann Göring. The book The Luftwaffe War Diaries states something similar, that Udet wrote "Reichsmarschall, why have you deserted me?" in red on the headboard of his bed.
It is possible that an affair Udet had with Martha Dodd,[15] daughter of the U.S. ambassador to Germany and Soviet sympathizer, during the 1930s might have had some importance in these events. Records made public in the 1990s confirm Soviet security involvement with Dodd's activities.
Udet's suicide was concealed from the public, and at his funeral he was lauded as a hero who had died in flight while testing a new weapon. On his way to attend Udet's funeral, the World War II fighter ace Werner Mölders died in a plane crash in Breslau. Udet was buried next to Manfred von Richthofen in the Invalidenfriedhof Cemetery in Berlin. Mölders was buried next to Udet.
Portrayals
Carl Zuckmayer's play Des Teufels General ("The Devil's General"), whose main character is based upon Ernst Udet.
In the film Von Richthofen and Brown (1971), Udet was portrayed by Robert La Tourneaux
The character of "Ernst Kessler" in the 1975 film The Great Waldo Pepper is clearly based upon Ernst Udet. Kessler was portrayed by actor Bo Brundin. It also contains dogfighting scenes between a Fokker Dr.I and a Sopwith Camel.
In the movie The Red Baron, Udet is portrayed by Jiří Laštovka.
See also
Udet U 12
Notes
1. ↑ Jump up to:1.0 1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5 Sherman, Stephen. "Ernst Udet - Second Highest German Ace of WWI". acepilots.com. Retrieved 24 February 2012.
2. ↑ Jump up to:2.00 2.01 2.02 2.03 2.04 2.05 2.06 2.07 2.08 2.09 2.10 2.11 2.12 2.132.14 Browne, O'Brien (June 2006). "Ernst Udet: The Rise and Fall of a German World War I Ace". Retrieved 27 February 2012.
3. ↑ Udet, Ernst (1970). Ace of the Iron Cross. Ace Books. ISBN [login to see] 613.
4. ↑ Franks, Norman (2002). Sharks Among Minnows. Grub Street. ISBN [login to see] 922.
5. ↑ Early German Aces of World War I. p. 49.
6. ↑ Early German Aces of World War I. pp. 86–87.
7. ↑ "World War I Military Medals and Decorations - Royal House Order of Hohenzollern (Prussia)". theaerodrome.com. Retrieved 27 February 2012.
8. ↑ "Jasta 11". theaerodrome.com. Retrieved 27 February 2012.
9. ↑ This account and translation from Stanley M. Ulanoff, the editor of Ace of the Iron Cross, An Ace Book, 1970 - the English translation of Mein Fliegerleben by Udet. Udet does not mention the dare.
10. ↑ Rentschler, p. 233, 288.
11. ↑ "Wunder des Fleigens -" (in German). filmportal.de. Retrieved 17 September 2012.
12. ↑ Kelly, Saul, The Lost Oasis, p. 130
13. ↑ Jump up to:13.0 13.1 «Боевые операции люфтваффе», Москва 2008 г., изд. Яуза-пресс, по «Raise and fall of the German Air Force», Лондон 1948 г., пер. П.Смирнов, ISBN 978-5-9955-0028-5 Cite error: Invalid <ref> tag; name "RF" defined multiple times with different content
14. ↑ Jump up to:14.0 14.1 "Ernst Udet". The Aerodrome. Retrieved 19 April 2009.
15. ↑ Martha Dodd http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martha_Dodd
References
Barker, Ralph (2002). The Royal Flying Corps in World War I. Robinson. ISBN 1-84119-470-0.
Bekker, Cajus (1994). The Luftwaffe War Diaries. Da Capo Press. ISBN 0-306-80604-5.
Herlin, Hans (1960). UDET - A Man's Life. MacDonald.
Kelly, Saul (2002). The Lost Oasis: The Desert War and the Hunt for Zerzura. Westview Press. ISBN 0-7195-6162-0.
Knopp, Guido (2000). Hitlers Krieger. Goldmann Verlag. ISBN 3-442-15045-0.
Udet, Ernst (1981). Stanley M. Ulanoff. ed. Ace of the Iron Cross. Arco. ISBN 0-668-05163-9.
van Ishoven, Armand (1979). The Fall of an Eagle: The Life of Fighter Ace Ernst Udet. Kimber & Co. ISBN 0-7183-0067-X.
VanWyngarden, Greg, et al. (2006) Early German Aces of World War I. Osprey Publishing. ISBN 1-84176-997-5, ISBN 978-1-84176-997-4.
FYI Cpl (Join to see) Sgt John H. Maj Wayne CristSGM Bill FrazerCSM (Join to see)SSG Jeffrey LeakeSSG Paul HeadleeSGM Major Stroupe LTC Hillary Luton SSG Jeff Furgerson]Sgt (Join to see)PO1 Steve Ditto SPC Michael Terrell CPL Douglas ChryslerSP5 Geoffrey Vannerson LTC John Shaw GySgt John Hudson SPC Diana D. TSgt Joe C. Maj Marty Hogan
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W4EAjYG-f1w
Images:
1. Ernst Udet married Elenora Lo Zink 'Lo' on February 20, 1920, They divorced on February 16, 1923
2. Ernst Udet with his pet bull dog
3. Ernst Udets's board bar from his Siebel Fh 104 A-0 on display in the Deutsches Technikmuseum Berlin.
4. Ernst Udet's grave in Invalidenfriedhof Cemetery, Berlin
Background from {[https://military.wikia.org/wiki/Ernst_Udet]}
Ernst Udet
________________________________________
Born 26 April 1896
Died 17 November 1941 (aged 45)
Place of birth Frankfurt am Main
Place of death Berlin
Buried at Invalidenfriedhof Cemetery in Berlin
Allegiance • German Empire (to 1918)
• Nazi Germany
Service/branch • Luftstreitkräfte
• Luftwaffe
Years of service 1914–1919, 1934–1941
Rank
WWI •Oberleutnant (German Empire)
WWII • Generaloberst (Nazi Germany)
Unit World War I: FA 68, FA(A) 206, KEK Habsheim, Jastas 4, 11, 15, 37
Commands held World War I: Jasta 37, Jasta 4
Battles/wars World War I
Awards • Iron Cross
• House Order of Hohenzollern
• Pour le Mérite [Blue Max]
• Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross
Colonel General Ernst Udet (26 April 1896 – 17 November 1941) was the second-highest scoring German flying ace of World War I. He was one of the youngest aces and was the highest scoring German ace to survive the war (at the age of 22).[1] His 62 victories were second only to Manfred von Richthofen, his commander in the Flying Circus. Udet rose to become a squadron commander under Richthofen, and later, under Hermann Göring.
Following Germany's defeat, Udet spent the 1920s and early 1930s as a stunt pilot, international barnstormer, light aircraft manufacturer, and playboy. In 1933, he joined the Nazi Party and became involved in the early development of the Luftwaffe. He used his networking skills to get himself appointed director of research and development for the burgeoning air force. He was especially influential in the adoption of dive bombing techniques as well as the Stuka dive bomber. By 1939, Udet had risen to the post of Director-General of Equipment for the Luftwaffe. However, the stress of the position and his distaste for administrative duties led to an increasing dependence on alcohol.
When World War II began, the Luftwaffe's needs for equipment outstripped Germany's production capacity. Udet's old comrade in arms Hermann Göring first lied to Adolf Hitler about these material shortcomings when the Germans lost the Battle of Britain, then deflected the Führer's wrath onto Udet.
Operation Barbarossa, when Germany attacked the Soviet Union to begin war on a second front, may have been the final straw for Udet. On 17 November 1941, he committed suicide by shooting himself in the head.
Early life
From motorcycling to flying
Born in Frankfurt am Main, Udet was known from early childhood for his sunny happy-go-lucky temperament. He grew up in the Bavarian city of Munich. He was fascinated with aviation from early childhood and hung out at a nearby airplane factory and an army airship detachment. In 1909, he helped found the Munich Aero-Club.[2] After crashing a glider he and a friend constructed, he finally flew with a test pilot in the nearby Otto Works, which he often visited, in 1913.[2]
He tried to join the army on 2 August 1914, but was only 160 cm (5 ft 3.0 in) tall and did not qualify.[2] In August, when the Allgemeiner Deutscher Automobil-Club appealed for volunteers with motorcycles, Udet applied and was accepted. Udet's father had given him his motorcycle when Ernst passed his first year examination. Along with four friends, Udet was posted to the 26. Württembergischen Reserve Division as a "messenger rider." After injuring his shoulder when his motorcycle hit a shell hole, Udet went to a military hospital, and his bike went for repair. When he tried to track down the 26th Division, he was unable to locate it and decided to serve in the vehicle depot in Namur. During this time, Udet met officers from the Chauny flying sector who advised him to be transferred as an aerial observer. However, before he received his orders for Chauny, the army dispensed with the volunteer motorcyclists, and he was sent back to recruiting officials.[2]
Udet tried in vain to return to the fighting, but was unable to get into the pilot or aircraft mechanic training offered by the army. He soon learned that if he were a trained pilot, he would be immediately accepted into the air force. Through a family friend, Gustav Otto, owner of the aircraft factory he had haunted in his youth, Udet received private flight training. The training cost 2,000 marks[2] and new bathroom equipment from his father's firm. Udet obtained his civilian pilot's license at the end of April 1915 and joined the German Army Air Service.[2]
Military life
Artillery ranging
Originally, Udet flew in Feld Flieger-Abteilung 206 (FFA 206)—an observation unit—as an Unteroffizier (Staff Sergeant) pilot with observer Leutnant Justinius.[2] He and his observer won the Iron Cross 2nd and 1st class respectively[1] for nursing their Aviatik B.I two-seater back to German lines after a shackle on a wing-cable snapped. Justinius had climbed out to hold the wing and balance it rather than land and accept capture. As a result of the structural failure of the Aviatik that caused Udet and Justinius to go down, and a similar incident that cost Leutnant Winter and Vizefeldwebel Preiss their lives, the Aviatik B was retired from service.
Later, Udet was court-martialed for losing his aircraft in an incident the flying corps considered a result of bad judgment. The aircraft—overloaded with fuel and bombs—stalled after a sharp bank and plunged to the ground. Miraculously, both Udet and Justinius survived. Udet was placed under arrest in the guardhouse for seven days.[3]
On his way out of the guardhouse, he was asked to fly Leutnant Hartmann to observe a bombing raid on Belfort. A bomb thrown by hand by the leutnant became stuck in the landing gear. Udet performed some aerobatics to shake it loose.[1] As soon as the Air Staff Officer heard about it, he was transferred to fighter command. That was in early 1916.
Fighter pilot
Udet was given a new Fokker to fly to his new unit—FFA 68—at Habsheim. Mechanically defective, it crashed into a hangar on takeoff. An older Fokker was then sent to Udet. At Habsheim, his first aerial combat was a near disaster. Lining up on a French Caudron, he found he could not bring himself to pull the trigger and was subsequently strafed by the Frenchman. A bullet grazed his cheek and smashed his goggles.[1][2]
From then on, he learned to attack aggressively and made a number of kills, downing his first French opponent on 18 March 1916. On that occasion, he scrambled to attack two French aircraft; instead, he found a formation of 23. He dove in from above and behind, giving his Fokker E.III[4] full throttle, and opened fire on a Farman F.40 from close range. He pulled away, leaving the flaming bomber trailing smoke, only to see the observer fall from the rear seat of the stricken craft. As Udet described it, "The fuselage of the Farman dives down past me like a giant torch...A man, his arms and legs spread out like a frog's, falls past--the observer. At the moment, I don't think of them as human beings. I feel only one thing--victory, triumph, victory."[5] The fiery kill won Udet the Iron Cross First Class.
That year, FA 68 morphed into Kampfeinsitzer Kommando Habsheim before finally becoming Jagdstaffel 15 on 28 September 1916. It was in the latter unit that Udet would claim five more victims, before transferring to Jasta 37 in June 1917. The first of these—on 12 October 1916—had its comic opera aspects. Udet forced a French Breguet to land safely in German territory, then landed nearby to prevent its destruction by its crew. The bullet-punctured flat tires on Udet's Fokker tipped the German plane forward over onto its top wings and fuselage. Victor and vanquished eventually shook hands next to the latter's functional plane.[6]
In January 1917, Udet was commissioned as Leutnant der Reserve (lieutenant of reserves). That same month, Jasta 15 re-equipped with Albatros D.IIIs, new fighters with twin synchronized Spandau machine guns.[2]
It was during his service with Jasta 15 that Udet wrote he had encountered Georges Guynemer, the French ace, in single combat at 5,000 m (16,000 ft). Guynemer preferred to hunt alone; by this time, he was the leading French ace, and one of the war's leading aces, with more than 30 victories.
Udet saw him coming and the two circled each other looking for an opening. They were close enough for Udet to read the "Vieux" of "Vieux Charles" on Guynemer's Spad S.VII. The two opponents tried every tricky aerobatic they knew; the Frenchman ripped a burst of fire through the upper wing of Udet's plane. Udet evaded him and maneuvered for advantage. For an instant, Udet had him in his sights, but his guns jammed. While pretending to dogfight, he worked to unjam them. Guynemer saw his opponent's predicament, waved, and flew away.[2] Udet wrote of the fight, "For seconds, I forgot that the man across from me was Guynemer, my enemy. It seems as though I were sparring with an older comrade over our own airfield." Some experts say that Guynemer spared Udet because he wanted a fair fight. He was also likely impressed with Udet's skills in their battle and hoped that they would fight again someday.
Eventually, all the pilots of Jasta 15 were killed except Udet and his commander, Gontermann. Gontermann became somewhat gloomy, and remarked to Udet, "the bullets fall from the hand of God ... Sooner or later they will hit us."
Udet applied for a transfer to Jasta 37. Gontermann fell three months later, by accident, when the wing of his new Fokker Dr1 Triplane came off. He lingered for 24 hours without awakening, and Udet later remarked, "It was a good death."
On 19 June, Udet transferred to Prussian Jasta 37.[2]
By late November, Udet was a triple ace and Jastaführer. He modeled his attacks after those of Guynemer, coming in high out of the sun to pick off the rear aircraft in a squadron before the others knew what was happening. His commander in Jasta 37—Kurt Grasshoff, witnessing one of these attacks—selected him for command over more senior men when Grasshoff was transferred.[2] Udet's ascension to command on 7 November 1917, was followed six days later by award of the Royal House Order of Hohenzollern.[7]
Despite his seemingly frivolous nature, drinking late into the night and womanizing, he proved an excellent squadron commander. He spent many hours coaching neophyte fighter pilots, with an emphasis on marksmanship as being essential for success.[2]
In the Flying Circus
Udet's success attracted attention for his skill, earning him an invitation to join the Flying Circus, Jagdgeschwader 1 (JG 1), an elite unit of German fighter aces under the command of the famed Red Baron Manfred von Richthofen. Richthofen drove up one day as Udet was trying to pitch a tent in Flanders in the rain. Pointing out that Udet had 20 kills, Richthofen said, "Then you would actually seem ripe for us. Would you like to?"
Of course, Udet would. After watching him down an artillery spotter by frontal attack, Richthofen gave Udet command of Jasta 11,[1] von Richthofen's own former squadron command.[8] The group commanded by Richthofen also contained Jastas 4, 6 and 10.[1] Udet's enthusiasm for Richthofen was unbounded. Richthofen demanded total loyalty and total dedication from his pilots, cashiering immediately anyone who did not give it. At the same time, he treated them with every consideration. When it came time to requisition supplies, he traded favors for autographed photos of himself that read: "Dedicated to my esteemed fighting companion." Udet remarked that because of the signed photographs, " ... sausage and ham never ran out."
One night, they invited a captured English flyer for dinner, treating him as a guest. When he excused himself for the 'ToiletW.C.', the Germans fell over themselves trying to hide from him that they were watching to see if he would try to escape. On his return the Englishman said, "I would never forgive myself for disappointing such hosts." However, the English flyer did escape later from another unit.
Udet considered Richthofen as scientific in battle and cold in his combats, describing his blue eyes and the sun shining off his blonde hair. Richthofen liked to strafe enemy columns in squadron formation, both guns firing, killing large numbers. He was the first to implement the concept of the forward base. While the enemy could mount three missions a day, Richthofen could mount five. In dogfights the head-on attack found favor.
Richthofen fell in April 1918, and Udet was not at the front. He had been sent on leave due to a painful ear infection, which he avoided having treated as long as he could. While at home, he reacquainted himself with his childhood sweetheart, Eleanor "Lo" Zink. Notified that he had received the Pour le Mérite, he had one made up in advance so that he could impress her. He painted her name on the side of his Albatros fighters and Fokker D VII. Also on the tail of his Fokker D VII was the message "Du doch nicht" - "Definitely not you."[9]
Of Richthofen, Udet said, "He was the least complicated man I ever knew. Entirely Prussian and the greatest of soldiers." Udet returned to JG 1 against the doctor's advice and remained there to the end of the war, commanding Jasta 4. He scored 20 victories in August alone, mainly against the British. Udet would become a national hero with 62 confirmed kills to his credit. But he did not enjoy Richthofen's successor, Hermann Göring, and, later, privately, he would question Göring's own achievements during the war.
Udet was one of the early fliers to be saved by parachuting from a disabled aircraft. On 29 June 1918, he jumped after a clash with a French Breguet. His harness caught on the rudder and he had to break off the rudder tip to escape.[2] His parachute did not open until he was 250 ft (76 m) from the ground, causing him to sprain his ankle.
On 28 September 1918, Udet was wounded in the thigh. He was still recovering from this wound on Armistice Day, November 11, 1918, when the war ended.[2]
Between the wars
The adventure of Udet's life continued without pause after the war. On his way home, he had to defend himself against a Communist who wished to rip the medals off his chest. Udet and Ritter von Greim performed mock dogfights at weekends for the POW Relief Organization, using surplus aircraft in Bavaria. He was invited to start the first International Air Service between Germany and Austria, but after the first flight the Entente Commission confiscated his aircraft.
He married "Lo" on February 25, 1920; however, the marriage lasted less than three years and they were divorced on February 16, 1923. (It has been said that Udet had many lovers on the side.) His talents were numerous - juggling, drawing cartoons, party entertainment, etc.
During the inter-war period, Udet was known primarily for his work as a stunt pilot and for playboy-like behavior. He flew for movies and for airshows (e.g. picking a cloth from the ground with his wingtip). He appeared with Leni Riefenstahl in three films: Die weiße Hölle vom Piz Palü (1929), Stürme über dem Montblanc (1930), and S.O.S. Eisberg (1933). Udet's stunt pilot work in films took him to California. In the October 1933 issue of New Movie Magazine, there is a photo of Carl Laemmle, Jr.'s party for Udet in Hollywood. Laemmle was head of Universal Studios which made SOS Eisberg, a US-German co-production. Udet was invited to attend the National Air Races at Cleveland, Ohio. In 1935 he appeared in Wunder des Fliegens: Der Film eines deutschen Fliegers (1935; 79 mins.) directed by Heinz Paul. His co-star Jürgen Ohlsen, who had previously starred (uncredited) in the extremely popular Nazi propaganda film Hitlerjunge Quex: Ein Film vom Opfergeist der deutschen Jugend, played a youth who lost his pilot father in World War I and was befriended and encouraged by Udet, his idol.[10][11]
These efforts were good publicity for Udet. An American, William Pohl of Milwaukee, telephoned him with an offer to back an aircraft manufacturing company. Udet Flugzeug was born in a shed in Milbertshofen. Its intent was to build small aircraft that the general public could fly. It soon ran into trouble with the Entente Commission and transferred its operations to a beehive and chicken coop factory.
The first aeroplane that Udet's company produced was the U2. Udet took the second model, the U4, to the Wilbur Cup race in Buenos Aires at the expense of Aero Club Aleman. It was outclassed, and the club wanted him to do cigarette commercials to reimburse them for the expense, but he refused. He was rescued by the Chief of the Argentinian Railways, a man of Swedish descent named Tornquist, who picked up the tab.
In 1924, Udet left Udet Flugzeug when they decided to build a four-engine aircraft, which was larger and not for the general population. He and another friend from the war, Angermund, started an exhibition flying enterprise in Germany, which was also successful, but Udet remarked, "In time this too begins to get tiresome. ... We stand in the present, fighting for a living. It isn't always easy. ... But the thoughts wander back to the times when it was worthwhile to fight for your life."
Udet's war time friends were in seemingly inexhaustible supply. He and another—Suchocky—became pilots to an African filming expedition. The cameraman was another veteran, Schneeberger, whom Udet called "Flea," and the guide was Siedentopf, a former East African estate owner.
Udet described one incident in Africa in which lions jumped up to claw at the low-flying aircraft, one of them removing a strip of Suchocky's wing surface. Udet and his crew also ventured across the Figtree Hotel, built by Lord Lovelace, and went hunting with an American named Sullivan.
Building the Luftwaffe
Though not interested in politics, Udet joined the Nazi party in 1933 when Göring promised to buy him two new U.S.-built Curtiss Hawk II biplanes (export designation of the F11C-2 Goshawk Helldiver). The planes were used for evaluation purposes and thus indirectly influenced the German idea of dive bombing aeroplanes, such as the Junkers Ju 87 (Stuka) dive bombers. They were also used for aerobatic shows held during the 1936 Summer Olympics. Udet piloted one of them, which survived the war and is now on display in the Polish Aviation Museum
After Ju 87 trials (although the Ju 87 had been awarded top marks and was about to be accepted) a confidential directive issued on 9 June 1936 by Generalfeldmarschall Wolfram von Richthofen called for the cessation of all further Ju 87 development. However, Udet immediately rejected von Richthofen's instructions and Ju 87 development continued.
Udet became a major proponent of the dive bomber, taking credit for having introduced it to the Luftwaffe, which was already interested in such designs. By 1936 he had (due to his political connections) been placed in command of the T-Amt ( the development wing of the Reichsluftfahrtministerium) (Reich Air Ministry). He had no real interest in this job, especially the bureaucracy of it, and the pressure led to his addiction to alcohol (brandy and cognac).
In January 1939, Udet visited Italian North Africa (Africa Settentrionale Italiana, or ASI). He accompanied Maresciallo dell'Aria (Marshal of the Air Force) Italo Balbo on a flight. In early 1939 there were distinct signs of German military and diplomatic co-operation with the Italians.[12] In February 1939 Udet became Generalluftzeugmeister (Luftwaffe Director-General of Equipment).
In April and May 1941, Udet was in charge of German delegation inspecting Soviet aviation industry in line with Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact. Udet informed Goering that Soviet air force and aviation industry are very strong and technically advanced. Goering decided not to report the facts to Hitler hoping that a surprise attack will quickly destroy Russia.[13] Udet realized that the upcoming war on Russia may destroy Germany, and torn between truth and loyalty, suffered a psychological breakdown and even tried to tell all the truth to Hitler, but Goering had Udet under control by giving him drugs at drinking parties and hunting trips. Udet's drinking and psychological condition became a problem, but Goering used Udet's dependency to manipulate him.[13]
When World War II began his internal conflicts grew more intense. Aircraft production requirements were much more than the German industry could supply (given limited access to raw materials such as aluminium). Göring responded to this problem by simply lying about it, which further upset Udet. After the Luftwaffe's defeat in the Battle of Britain, Göring tried to deflect Hitler's ire by blaming Udet. Hitler's attack on the Soviet Union drove Udet further into despair.
On 17 November 1941 Udet committed suicide,[14] shooting himself in the head while on the phone with his girlfriend. Evidence indicates that his unhappy relationship with Göring, Erhard Milch, and the Nazi Party in general was the cause of his mental breakdown.[14]
According to Udet's biography, The Fall of an Eagle, he wrote a suicide note in red pencil which included: "Ingelein, why have you left me?" and "Iron One, you are responsible for my death." "Ingelein" referred to his girlfriend, Inge Bleyle, and "Iron One" to Hermann Göring. The book The Luftwaffe War Diaries states something similar, that Udet wrote "Reichsmarschall, why have you deserted me?" in red on the headboard of his bed.
It is possible that an affair Udet had with Martha Dodd,[15] daughter of the U.S. ambassador to Germany and Soviet sympathizer, during the 1930s might have had some importance in these events. Records made public in the 1990s confirm Soviet security involvement with Dodd's activities.
Udet's suicide was concealed from the public, and at his funeral he was lauded as a hero who had died in flight while testing a new weapon. On his way to attend Udet's funeral, the World War II fighter ace Werner Mölders died in a plane crash in Breslau. Udet was buried next to Manfred von Richthofen in the Invalidenfriedhof Cemetery in Berlin. Mölders was buried next to Udet.
Portrayals
Carl Zuckmayer's play Des Teufels General ("The Devil's General"), whose main character is based upon Ernst Udet.
In the film Von Richthofen and Brown (1971), Udet was portrayed by Robert La Tourneaux
The character of "Ernst Kessler" in the 1975 film The Great Waldo Pepper is clearly based upon Ernst Udet. Kessler was portrayed by actor Bo Brundin. It also contains dogfighting scenes between a Fokker Dr.I and a Sopwith Camel.
In the movie The Red Baron, Udet is portrayed by Jiří Laštovka.
See also
Udet U 12
Notes
1. ↑ Jump up to:1.0 1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5 Sherman, Stephen. "Ernst Udet - Second Highest German Ace of WWI". acepilots.com. Retrieved 24 February 2012.
2. ↑ Jump up to:2.00 2.01 2.02 2.03 2.04 2.05 2.06 2.07 2.08 2.09 2.10 2.11 2.12 2.132.14 Browne, O'Brien (June 2006). "Ernst Udet: The Rise and Fall of a German World War I Ace". Retrieved 27 February 2012.
3. ↑ Udet, Ernst (1970). Ace of the Iron Cross. Ace Books. ISBN [login to see] 613.
4. ↑ Franks, Norman (2002). Sharks Among Minnows. Grub Street. ISBN [login to see] 922.
5. ↑ Early German Aces of World War I. p. 49.
6. ↑ Early German Aces of World War I. pp. 86–87.
7. ↑ "World War I Military Medals and Decorations - Royal House Order of Hohenzollern (Prussia)". theaerodrome.com. Retrieved 27 February 2012.
8. ↑ "Jasta 11". theaerodrome.com. Retrieved 27 February 2012.
9. ↑ This account and translation from Stanley M. Ulanoff, the editor of Ace of the Iron Cross, An Ace Book, 1970 - the English translation of Mein Fliegerleben by Udet. Udet does not mention the dare.
10. ↑ Rentschler, p. 233, 288.
11. ↑ "Wunder des Fleigens -" (in German). filmportal.de. Retrieved 17 September 2012.
12. ↑ Kelly, Saul, The Lost Oasis, p. 130
13. ↑ Jump up to:13.0 13.1 «Боевые операции люфтваффе», Москва 2008 г., изд. Яуза-пресс, по «Raise and fall of the German Air Force», Лондон 1948 г., пер. П.Смирнов, ISBN 978-5-9955-0028-5 Cite error: Invalid <ref> tag; name "RF" defined multiple times with different content
14. ↑ Jump up to:14.0 14.1 "Ernst Udet". The Aerodrome. Retrieved 19 April 2009.
15. ↑ Martha Dodd http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martha_Dodd
References
Barker, Ralph (2002). The Royal Flying Corps in World War I. Robinson. ISBN 1-84119-470-0.
Bekker, Cajus (1994). The Luftwaffe War Diaries. Da Capo Press. ISBN 0-306-80604-5.
Herlin, Hans (1960). UDET - A Man's Life. MacDonald.
Kelly, Saul (2002). The Lost Oasis: The Desert War and the Hunt for Zerzura. Westview Press. ISBN 0-7195-6162-0.
Knopp, Guido (2000). Hitlers Krieger. Goldmann Verlag. ISBN 3-442-15045-0.
Udet, Ernst (1981). Stanley M. Ulanoff. ed. Ace of the Iron Cross. Arco. ISBN 0-668-05163-9.
van Ishoven, Armand (1979). The Fall of an Eagle: The Life of Fighter Ace Ernst Udet. Kimber & Co. ISBN 0-7183-0067-X.
VanWyngarden, Greg, et al. (2006) Early German Aces of World War I. Osprey Publishing. ISBN 1-84176-997-5, ISBN 978-1-84176-997-4.
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Biplane Dead Stick Landing Ernst Udet - Chicago International Air Races 1933
Aces's Antics Thrill Throngs - "Chicago: Breath-taking scenes at the International Air Races as Major Ernst Udet, renowned German pilot, performs amazing sky...
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1. Ernst Udet 1928
2. Junkers Ju-87 Stuka - Fearsome Luftwaffe Vulture
3. Colonel General Ernst Udet
Biplane Dead Stick Landing Ernst Udet - Chicago International Air Races 1933
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hz4J8f6pkIk
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1. Ernst Udet 1928
2. Junkers Ju-87 Stuka - Fearsome Luftwaffe Vulture
3. Colonel General Ernst Udet
Biplane Dead Stick Landing Ernst Udet - Chicago International Air Races 1933
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hz4J8f6pkIk
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