Lords of the Sky: Fighter Pilots and Air Combat, From the Red Baron to the F-16 (74 page)

Keep in mind that in addition to the hand-eye coordination and mental processing that goes into this, if you’re in a dogfight you’re not standing still on the ground. So this visualizing and maneuvering has to be done in three dimensions, against a twisting, turning target while you yourself are twisting and turning in three dimensions. And you still must physically fly the plane, keep track of fuel, your location, and a few dozen other essential details.

As illogical as it sounds, flying is secondary to
fighting
in air combat. A man could be a great natural pilot but an abysmal marksman, which meant he’d be noneffective as a warrior. Conversely, there were men like Mannock and Richthofen who were average flyers but became great fighter pilots by virtue of their exemplary shooting and fighting spirit.

Many pilots in the Great War simply solved all the math by eliminating range from the equation. They figured if they got close enough, then complex angles, and even marksmanship, didn’t really matter. This is correct—up to a point. First of all, getting that close to another aircraft, even at the comparatively slow speeds of 1917, isn’t easy. Also, he’s trying to avoid getting shot so he’s wildly turning, twisting, and spinning all over the sky. Lastly, if you do hit him and are that close, pieces of him are likely to hit you too. So pilots would perfect their own techniques. Some would race in and fire at the last second, never slowing down to “saddle up” behind a target. Others, like Albert Ball, would try for belly shots. Some were outstanding natural marksmen and had mastered deflection shooting. However it had to be done, successful fighter pilots found a method which worked for them and stuck to it.

Unlike many theoretical ground situations for which countertactics can be taught with a “cookbook” approach, air combat is wildly unpredictable. The fast-developing repertoire of basic fighter maneuvers could be mastered, but applying them when needed was something else entirely.

HUNTING

So you’re out on a lone patrol and you see the enemy. Throttle goes forward; you adjust your goggles and check your guns. The plane vibrates and it’s cold. You’re instinctively taking in the sun position, clouds, and your location relative to the lines. How many fighters do you see and what type are they? One is a two-seater, probably a reconnaissance aircraft. The other is much smaller and flying above and behind the larger one. They’re about three miles from you at the ten o’clock position on a watch face, heading west with the late-morning sun behind them.

You angle away slightly to the right and climb, careful not to make any big movements that might attract a watchful eye. You think about your fuel and figure you’ve got about 15 minutes to fight. The winds are behind you, from the west, and will push you deeper into enemy territory. They could also slow you down if you need to escape. If you can get a few thousand feet higher, you can slice down on their vulnerable rear quarter, partially shielded by the sun and catch them by surprise. If they don’t change position or get separated, then you’ll attack the fighter first.

But suddenly the enemy scout begins rocking his wings and the bigger plane slowly peels away and dives toward a scattered cloud deck. You instantly nose over to gain speed and turn to point at the other fighter as he turns toward you. Scanning the sky above and behind him, then above and behind you, you’re fairly certain that this is a one-on-one fight—but that can always change in a flash. There was about three miles between aircraft as the turns began, and the combined airspeed of both planes, called closing velocity, is about 200 mph. This is 300 feet per second so you’ll meet head-on in less than a minute.

Both planes slice down a thousand feet and level off, gaining speed. Your enemy is on your left side and is growing bigger by the second. You hold the stick lightly in your hand, the entire plane is throbbing. The engine roars and wind screams past the little screen and over your ears. You hunch forward, squinting. He’s a biplane, like yours, and now less than a half mile in front of you. You roll suddenly left, drop your nose toward the empty space in front of him, and open fire for a count of two, then release.

Shoving the stick forward, you roll back right and see the tracers streak toward the other aircraft. He pulls up and banks hard away. You caught him off guard and the burst of lead took him by surprise.

And that was the point. For a critical second as the two planes come together, he’s not looking at you, he’s avoiding the bullets. It’s a hard shot to make but your enemy flinched and maybe one golden bullet hit him or his engine or a spar.

Doesn’t matter.

As you meet, you’re already turning and he’s late. As you pull across his tail, he reverses back into you in what’s called a
One Circle
fight. But the second delay cost him some distance and you’re farther around your turn than he is. You also dipped a little low as you turned and he stayed level. Descending as you are, your airspeed stays up while he gets slower. This makes his circle bigger and you’re turning inside of it. The front view of his plane becomes the side view as you come through about 180 degrees of the turn.

You spare a quick glance over your shoulders on both sides, then deepen your slice. Your plane is now cutting across his turn circle and the profile picture changes to his back quarter and tail. He realizes this and reacts by flipping over in the direction of the turn and pulling down toward the earth. It’s not a spin so you follow, floating behind and above him as he comes out of the bottom in a sloppy split S.

He’s gotten his speed back in the dive, which is good for him, but he rolls out momentarily. His tail is slipping back and forth and you realize that he’s kicking the rudder and looking for you. Vertical down often does that—it’s hard to keep sight of the enemy. Going up is better but much more difficult given current engine technology. Piston motors of the Great War didn’t produce the excess power needed for lots of sustained vertical maneuvering. Besides, getting “anchored” in a fur ball, a dogfight, is an excellent way to get killed. No matter how good your situational awareness is or how experienced you are, there’s just no way to keep track of everyone. More than likely, the one you don’t see is the one who gets you.

Like now.

The enemy biplane is weaving back and forth as the pilot tries to find you. He should’ve gone straight down and dashed back to his lines. Or gone the opposite direction from the reconnaissance plane he’d been protecting. Anything but roll out and look around.

You’ve flushed out of your own split S below and behind him. Now, about 50 yards back, you pull the nose up and stare through the Aldis scope. Your plane has been modified with the machine-gun trigger on the stick and you wriggle your fingers to loosen them up. The other biplane begins a right turn back toward the east and the wings fill up your aiming circle.

Suddenly a white flash catches your eye. And another and another!

From long-ingrained habit, you kick the rudder hard and flip over into a falling leaf maneuver as the tracers zip past. Twisting around, you grunt against the force and stare nearly straight up as your plane tumbles down.

There!

Another fighter. No . . . two!

Your brain takes in the details in a second. Not torpedo shaped like the Albatros, these are boxy-looking planes but very, very fast. The closest one rolls once to try for another shot but can’t do it and pulls away to avoid a collision. The fuselage is painted with the mottled purples, blues, and yellow lozenges that the Germans use. The other one, circling the fight maybe a thousand feet overhead, is darker with a green nose and blurry camouflage behind.

Fokker D-VIIs.

Coming through the leaf, like a spinning top, you grope for the throttle and pull it back. If you’re too fast the fabric will tear off your wings. The first D-VII streaks overhead, big black crosses on the wings and fuselage. His ailerons are painted black on one side and white on the other. The second Fokker has circled around to the east and the Pfalz is nowhere to be seen. Swallowing hard, you pull back on the stick, careful not to yank too hard, and as the nose comes up through the horizon you fly by feel, keeping your eyes padlocked on the enemy fighters. As you come around, you get a face full of sun and the other planes vanish. Adding power, you bunt forward, then hold one hand up as a shield. Heart thumping, you stare a second, then realize
you’re
not the hunter at the moment . . . you’re the target. Booting a rudder, you glance back left, high and low, then forward. Nothing. Then back to the right, high and low. Nothing.

The sky is empty.

Immediately slicing back to the left, you drop down a few thousand feet and head west toward friendly territory. As your breathing slows somewhat, you unconsciously continue scanning the sky and realize your mouth is bone dry. Fumbling for the canteen you carry, you remember the black and white ailerons. The markings of Jasta 2—the Boelcke Squadron. Taking a deep breath, you shake your head.

Next time.

APPENDIX B

ANATOMY OF A SURFACE ATTACK

THE WHOLE IDEA
is to hit something on the ground from the air. Sounds basic, right? But how many people standing still on the ground can throw a ball and hit a target? Now add constant movement in multiple dimensions, several hundred feet per second of velocity and add in people shooting at you. And in combat you have to hit what you aim at or the entire risk of life is wasted.

Surface Attack is a component of basic bombing—putting airborne weapons on generally unlocated targets in the middle of some type of ground battle. Troops in contact, it’s called. This differs from high-altitude bombing against fixed, high-priority objectives whose locations are well known and unmoving. Static targets may not move, but if they’re important enough to attack, then they’re very likely heavily defended. Ground attack is very fluid and dynamic, since there’s no such thing as a predictable battle.

BOMB AIMING THEORY

When a bomb comes off an aircraft it immediately begins to slow down from the effects of gravity, drag, and wind. This change in the bomb’s velocity, called drift, must be compensated for in order to get close to the target. In aerial gunnery, unless you were shooting from a position directly ahead or behind a target, then angles (deflection) had to be considered. However, unlike in dogfighting where you can squeeze off multiple bursts, once a bomb was off the aircraft, then it was gone, so any compensation for all those variables had to be done before the weapon left the rack. Again, from a known release altitude and airspeed, at a given dive angle, these factors could be combined into an
aim off distance.
This is a physical, measurable distance that represents the sum of all the variables—just like aiming ahead of a moving target.

In the beginning, the pilot did this all with his eyes and a great deal of trial, error, and experience. The relative inaccuracy of bombing attacks, and their effectiveness, reflected this, so a better solution had to be found. Basic attacks are built around the target: what is it made of, is it stationary or moving, and how is it defended? These factors (and many more) dictate the weapon to be used. Once the weapon is known, the type of
delivery,
or attack, is decided. This is based on tactical considerations including the time of day, air-to-air and ground-to-air threats, weather, and time needed over the target.

For instance, if a target is heavily defended by enemy fighters, then the attacking aircraft might want to sneak in at low altitude, using terrain to mask their presence. If the target is defended by lots of anti-aircraft artillery (in the pre-missile world), then the attacker might be able to stay above the ground fire and attack with impunity. In any event, once the type of weapon and attack has been chosen, this determines the altitude above the ground required, the dive angle, release altitudes, and in some cases a minimum or maximum airspeed. These fixed numbers are known as
parameters
and together form the
bombing triangle
.

Now, dropping a weapon from a bomber flying relatively straight and level at a preplanned altitude is a straightforward trigonometry problem. Except for wind, early bombsights like the Number Seven and Gortz could solve the math. However, they all assumed that the dropping aircraft would fly into the wind and that the wind would remain constant. This, of course, just doesn’t happen for a bomber three miles above the earth. Nor would any kind of solution which depended upon fixed, stable parameters work for a fighter, especially one engaged in the wild maneuvering of close air support.

There was a long way to go with this and fully grasping the principles was occurring simultaneously with the evolving technology. This made efforts like the school at Lipetsk all the more important because theory could meet practice face to face. Again, the Germans led the field here because the Luftwaffe was conceived as a primarily ground support arm. As we’ll see, this would have dire consequences for hundreds of thousands of men.

WEAPONS

Early general purpose (GP) bombs like the 20-pound British Cooper bomb used during the Great War were quite simple. There would be an amount of high explosive encased in a heavy body that would fragment after detonation. This explosive, usually TNT or Tritonal, constituted about 50 percent of the weight for a given bomb and GP bombs are labeled by gross weight. Detonation was caused by a contact fuse—an initiating device—that would function when the bomb decelerated by hitting the target. Other types of fuses would eventually be developed in conjunction with rises in technology; proximity fuses which used electronics, and radar fuses to detonate bombs at specific distances above the ground. Timed fuses could be set for delayed detonations against to achieve greater penetration of hardened (reinforced) targets.

The ingenious mind of man quickly devised other ways to improve the destructive power of these weapons. There were firebombs, predecessor of the incendiary type, made of kerosene and dropped in finned containers.
^*
Cluster bombs, which contain a number of smaller, individual bombs inside the casing, would be developed to produce a shotgun blast effect.