The route followed by the bombers on the night of May 31, 1942 passed exactly overhead the radar guidance stations of II./NJG 1
(Il' groupe de la 1" (Night Fighter Squadron). There were more objectives than the defenders could undertake; that night II./NJG 1 put eight confirmed victories on its kill chart. But for each victory, many bombers slipped through the cracks
unmolested.On the German side, the most remarkable engagement was that of Leutnant Niklas and his radio operator, Unteroffizier Wenning, both of II./NJG 1. They had taken off with their Bf 110 from Saint-Trond (Belgium), halfway between Brussels and Liège, and orbited around
the "Himmelbett" station near before the interception related below by Uffz. Wenning. Translated from the book The Messerschmitt B! 110 by Alfred Price, published by Profile Publications Ltd., Cob urg House, Sheet Street, Windsor, Berkshire, Great Britain.
We did not patrol our area for long, because at 3,000 m altitude we encountered our first prey, a Wellington, which we identified at 450 m. Almost at the same time, the Tommy spotted us. It veered tight to the right and started to dive. We chased him, but his strafing was so intense that we couldn't get into firing position and passed him. The machine gunners fired savagely, however, but their tracers did not reach us. The Leutnant Niklas made such a sharp turn that the contents of my navigation bag spilled onto the floor of the cabin. We positioned ourselves behind the bomber again and, at close range, we sprayed its left wing with shells. It caught fire, we saw the flames spring from the wing. At this time, our victim had descended to 1,800 m. We adjusted it one more time and fired another round into the fuselage and wings, and the flames grew. We stood at a distance for a while, waiting to see if another pass was needed. The Wellington continued to fly for some time, the fire constantly spreading. It then rolled over the wing and plunged towards the ground, trailing a plume of flames behind it, like a comet. It exploded near the ground, illuminating the surrounding countryside.
A feeling of satisfaction came over us:it was our first victory. I pounded the pilot's shoulders with both fists. The flaming wreckage crashed into houses as we saw from our plane, but we descended to 180m to get a better sense of it.
The base promptly gave us a bearing so that we could determine our position, and we were ready for the next one, which soon showed up. I suffered from breathing difficulties, as we were flying at 5,000m without an oxygen mask. As I got up, I saw with surprise a Tommy in front of us, 600 m away, it was still a Wellington. He zigzagged but did not open fire. Did they see us? We launched the attack, straight ahead. The lens grew and suddenly seemed huge. It took my breath away. Were we going to approach it? We fired at close range and hit him in the wings and fuselage. We saw the glow from the impacts in the rear of the cabin. I was about to say 'he's on fire' when suddenly Leutnant Niklas yelled, 'I've been hit, I'm breaking off the fight immediately. I had confused the glow from the muzzles of the rear machine guns with the glow from the impacts of our bullets. We dropped the Tommy, because we had enough problems as well.
The steady purr of the engines was reassuring and the radio still worked properly. Our aircraft had not been hit in its vital parts, but the pilot's injuries were worrying. His left arm was inert, and he felt blood flowing. He asked me for a tourniquet. I wondered how to do this and remembered to use a rubber headband. I reached for my suspenders but soon realized that it would be impossible for me to remove them (Wenning was wearing a flight suit and his parachute harness over it). It was then that I remembered that I had a piece of rope in my pocket. In the cramped cockpit, I leaned over the pilot and bound his arm as best I could.
In the meantime, we had received information from the ground to follow a heading of 60°. Quite unnecessarily, because the dashboard had received bullets and the compass was in pieces. A compass was on the right, but it was not illuminated, and we had lost our flashlight in the first fight, as it was in the navigation bag.
Leutnant Niklas said that if we were flying in the opposite direction, we had to join the base. The idea that this statement might be wrong didn't even occur to me, as there was little else we could do.
I was calling on the radio:" Request to champ de chames (name-code of the aerodrome of Saint-Trond) to turn on the beacons immediately, Victor waits. Leutnant Niklas, who had collapsed, then straightened up.
"Stubble field cannot light.
Why?
Order of duty officer, couriers (name-code for enemy aircraft) above field stubble.
Leutnant Niklas, who had slumped again, straightened up in his seat:"We can't carry on like this, we have to make a decision. I said, 'Herr Leutnant, we need to be close to base. Jumping in a parachute, injured as he was, was madness. We had to get back to base as fast as possible, there was no alternative.
"Stubble Field must turn on the beacons or we're lost.
Wait Victor. »
The airfield beacons suddenly lit up on our left. Niklas said over the intercom that he couldn't see anything, that everything had gone white. "A little to the left, Herr Leutnant...not too much!" »
This is how we flew to our airfield. Leutnant Niklas was almost over the runway lights when he saw them. A proper approach was impossible, and he slid to land on the escape runway. We razed trees. “We are too low! Niklas answered:“Yes, but the excursion lasted quite a long time. What did that mean? I had no time to think about it when I saw the roof of a house pass under our wings. The badin was still showing 300 km/h.
“Don't forget the position lights and the harness.
Leutnant Niklas whispered, "I can't take it anymore." and he sagged forward. There was a raspy scrape, and clods of dirt hit the cabin. We slid on the floor for what felt like an eternity. I was tense. So that was a crash landing? I had always imagined it otherwise. The crushing and cracking became more intense; there was a jolt and everything went quiet.
Leutnant Niklas then shouted, "Let's get the hell out of here!" He hit his head but regained consciousness. He got out of his seat, tried to run while unbuckling the harness of his parachute. But it didn't work, and he fainted. I gently laid him down on the grass and opened his bloodied flight suit. A doctor and men came to the rescue and evacuated him. I was surrounded by people who asked me a lot of questions. I realized how lucky I had been.
The wreckage of the second Wellington shot down by Niklas was found later that day.