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Big B(erlin)

A 348th Bomb Group Fortress, its tail sheared by flak, follows the group's bombs into Berlin.

The advent of the peashooters made this possible; the fighting during the Big Week proved that which everyone knew: there was no such thing as a "flying fortress." Without fighter escort to and from the target as well as target support, the bomber toll would be costly.

It was Goring, after it was all over, who said that the day he saw American fighters over Berlin he knew "the jig was up." It was a sign of military perspicacity which had, until that March 4, 1944, not been readily discernible ... if then.

The fighters over Berlin were the Mustangs of the 4th Fighter Group (Eighth Air Force) and those of the Ninth Air Force's 354th and 363rd Groups. The 4th Group had evolved from the Eagle Squadrons, several of whose members continued to fly with the 4th. Early in January 1944 the 4th was commanded by the brilliant, young (about twentyseven), pugnacious Colonel Donald Blakeslee. He had succeeded Colonel Chesley Peterson (who, at twenty-three, had been the youngest colonel in the U. S. Army), an Eagle veteran, detached for duty to the Ninth Air Force to assist in its planning for Overlord.

Blakeslee's Mustang may have been the first American Mustang over Berlin, but he did not fire a shot. In fact, the arrival of the Americans over the Reich capital, though epochal, was not as impressive as the newspapers would have had it. The International News Service, reporting from London under the March 4 [1944] dateline, reported the operation, "carried out in 56-below zero cold and covering 1,500 mile round trip distances," as if it had been a true success: "Escorted U.S. Flying Fortresses, plowing through clouds nearly six miles high, staged history's first American bombing attack on the Berlin metropolitan district today." The London Evening Standard editorialized to the effect that this daylight assault was "a sign of unshakeable comradeship" of the British and Americans (this was in answer to German broad hintings at disagreements between the Allies).

The first American attempt to reach Berlin actually occurred on March 3, but cloud, piled to nearly thirty thousand feet, caused the mission to be scrubbed except for a few bombings of opportunity targets short of Berlin. It was a bitter disappointment, for among the more "intrepid" pilots it had become a matter of pride and rivalry to be the first over Big B.

Blakeslee was without doubt one of the most intrepid and, since he led the fighters which spearheaded the first combat box of Fortresses in the run over Berlin, was probably the first of the fighters over the city. But thick, high clouds again interfered. Most of the Fortress forces returned to their bases, or bombed targets of opportunity, but the 95th and 100th Bombardment Groups stubbornly continued on to Berlin with Blakeslee's Mustangs countering the Luftwaffe.

Over Berlin, when the Eighth Air Force for the day dwindled down to a mere twenty-nine B-17s (eleven 100th Bomb Group, the rest from the 95th) and around twenty Mustangs (many had been forced to abort because of various mechanical troubles), the Luftwaffe struck. Even these forces were not impressive - the estimate was about thirty to thirty-five Me-109s and FW-109s. Green flares arched from the bombers, indicating enemy fighters were attacking.

Blakeslee led his fighters in on the German attackers. He himself jumped an Me-109 and fastened to its tail; when he pressed the gun nothing happened. His guns had jammed. Cursing, Blakeslee throttled the Mustang, overtook the German plane, and, as he flew alongside, waved to the pilot. The German waggled his wings in wondering gratitude and flipped away. Blakeslee climbed to a position over the clouded battle zone and directed the fighters to the spots of contention. "The P-5 1s saved the day," one of the 100th's gunners said - the 100th lost one plane that day. The 95th lost four B-17s. The day's target had been the Bosch electrical plant in a suburb of Berlin, which actually showed through a break in the clouds for a moment or two. But then it covered again and most of the bombs were dropped with the help of radar; very little damage was done, in fact. But the German capital had finally been attacked by American bombers (German propaganda that night announced that the bombers had been turned back before they ever reached Berlin). Goring, apparently, had not communicated his perturbing divinations to Herr Goebbels.

Even so, it was the initial blow in a new phase in the Battle of Berlin - the final phase. On March 6 the first full-scale attack took place, the targets being the Bosch works, the Erkner ballbearing plant, and the Daimler-Benz factory, where aircraft engines were produced. These were not the only targets, for it was hoped that the Luftwaffe would come out to protect the sancta civitas of Germany. On this Monday, when even the weather momentarily seemed co-operative, the Luftwaffe cooperated also in its most deadly fashion. If German interception had not been very zealous since the Big Week, it was absolutely ardent on the first big mission to Berlin.

The Germans had devised a new tactic in an attempt to deal with the serious problem of the Mustangs over the target. Three Gruppen were dispatched as a unit, one to attack the bombers and the other two to engage the fighters. The newer, high-flying Me-109 (equipped with the latest DaimlerBenz engine) bounced down upon the Mustangs and Thunderbolts, which on this day also made the trip to Berlin. Besides the Messerschmitts the Germans had mustered FW-190s, equipped with cannon and machine guns, as well as the twin-engined fighters (many drawn from the night fighter units) with their rockets fired out of bomber machine-gun range. About two hundred German aircraft met the oncoming American force.

The Fortresses and Liberators were covered in relays by Lightnings, Thunderbolts, and Mustangs across the North Sea and Holland and deep into Germany. The bomber formations stretched over a distance of fifteen miles from lead group to "tail-end Charley" of the last. The Lightnings and Thunderbolts weaved around the bombers to keep within striking distance of the slower-flying Fortresses and Liberators.

The bombers had flown only fifty miles into Germany when the German fighters struck. The high squadron of the 100th Bomb Group took the brunt of the first attack before the Thunderbolts could sweep in to their aid. Looking up from the lead bomber Major Albert M. Elton was shocked to see that of the nine ships in the high squadron, six trailed sheets of flame. More shock was in store, for another great formation - it seemed like fifty - of German fighters tore through the bombers again. The air filled with burning debris as the large planes were forced to leave the formation. Pilots attempted to keep the planes flying level so that the still living among the crews could jump. Bombs were jettisoned across the countryside on the way to Berlin.

Robert Koper of Beloit, Wisconsin, ordered the crew out of his burning B-17 and was the only man aboard when the ship blew up in the air. Jack Swartout, of San Francisco, piloting Nelson King, the lead aircraft of the 100th's 351st Squadron, watched an FW-190 come in head on as the guns rattled. He felt the ship shudder - and then a swift lurch. Swartout found the plane difficult to control even with the help of his copilot, F. G. Lauro. The Focke-Wulf had torn off the tip of the vertical fin. Another ship, flown by Richard Helmick, who saw the trouble Swartout and Lauro were in, pulled alongside to give some support to the stricken bomber - always a favored Luftwaffe target. But Helmick had to abandon his position off Swartout's wing when another burning bomber began falling directly toward his plane, which he pulled out of the way. Unable to join up with any other planes, Swartout turned Nelson King around for the long, lonely flight back to England. Before he left, however, the bomb load was dropped "somewhere in Germany."

For forty-five minutes the battle raged - from eleven fifty-nine when the first German fighters had hit until twelve forty-five - and Elton counted no less than seventeen bombers from the 13th Wing (95th, 100th, and 390th Groups) which went down aflame. And Berlin was still a half hour away. In vain, it seemed to the hard-hit groups of Elton's wing, did they look for their own fighters. One lone Thunderbolt flashed through the formation on the tail of an FW-190. The Thunderbolts that had been weaving above them when the Germans arrived were off fighting in another part of the sky.

It was over Berlin that the flak thickened as, for ten seconds, the bombers held a steady course on the bomb run. And on the edge of the flak zone the German fighters waited for the cripples. Mustangs and Thunderbolts tore into the German fighters, but there seemed an overwhelming number of them and they fought recklessly, with determination and with seeming desperation. If the men in the bombers did not see the American fighters as often as they would have wished, the Luftwaffe saw them.

The 56th Fighter Group (commanded by Colonel Hubert Zempke made its first trip to Berlin that day in its Thunderbolts. Leading A Section himself, Zempke assigned B Section to a young Oklahoman, Robert S. Johnson. Each section consisted of thirtyfive P-47s. Over Berlin they joined their archrivals, the 4th Fighter Group in their sleeker Mustangswhich the pilots referred to as "kites"-to take on the Luftwaffe.

If the October 14 mission to Schweinfurt could be called "Black Thursday," the March 6 Berlin attack was definitely "Blue Monday" for both sides. Sixty-nine heavy bombers of the 660 which bombed did not return to their bases in England and 11 fighters were lost in the melee. Bomber crews claimed they had shot down no less than 97 German fighters of all descriptions - the fighters claimed a more modest 82. As was inevitable in such a widespread battle, duplications of claims were made, especially by bomber gunners. But postwar evaluations of German records put the German losses for the day at 80, almost half of its attacking force. The loss in pilots was even more serious than the loss of aircraft.

When the bombers returned two days later, the effect of Monday's fighting was obvious. As 462 bombers dropped their loads on the Erkner bearing factory in a nearly clear sky few German fighters ascended to contest the privilege. Over 170 Mustangs, in turn, were on hand to protect the big friends. Consequently, most of the 37 bombers that fell that day had been flak-ed. But the Erkner friction-bearing factory was hit hard and with chilling precision. Berlin Radio was not advertising that, but it did announce that "a large number of enemy planes were destroyed" over Berlin and admitted that "Berlin has become the front line of the air war." Hitler, however, was not listening.

The Big B had been attacked and rapidly lost its glamour; like Schweinfurt and Ploesti it stood for heavy losses even if from time to time it appeared that the Luftwaffe had gone under. Soon the more defiant bomber crews sang a bitter song:

Target Berlin Mission 250: On March 6, 1944, the Americans launched their first large-scale daylight raid on Berlin, the capital of Hitler's Reich. The price they paid for their audacity was high: 69 heavy bombers and 11 escort fighters failed to return, the highest number in any raid mounted by the 8th Air Force. This account of the mission is a compellingly readable, skillfully researched, minute-by-minute description. It is also the first book on the subject to look at events from the perspective of both sides, drawing on material from over 160 USAAF personnel, Luftwaffe pilots, civilians, and German flak gunners.

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