The Adventures of the Pilot from Tsingtau -Pages 45 - 51

All Kinds of Pranks by the Japs The operations of the Japanese occupation forces were a mystery to us. After the first massive shelling we all thought that the Japanese would attempt to storm the stronghold but nothing of the kind happened. We simply couldn't comprehend the enemy. Surely they knew how weak we were and they needed only to cross over the single wire fence in order to gain entry to the fortress. This started the wildest rumors among us. "The Japanese wouldn't dare attack us. Our position in Europe is too strong." Then again "The Americans are sending their flotilla to help us; the Japanese will have to leave!" And then "The Japanese just want to starve us out. They want to get their hands on Tsingtau as intact as possible." But everything was mere speculation. Quietly, systematically and without our being able to stop them, the Japanese landed their troops, built roads and railways, assembled the sturdiest siege weaponry and munitions,

dug tunnels beneath our barriers, and moved forward towards our line of defense. Now my primary work began: reconnaissance of the enemy's heavy artillery positions. Day after day, if the weather and the propeller allowed it, I rose early into the first gray light of dawn in my airplane. And there I faced an uncertain destiny. When the sun rose I soared high into the blue, circled enemy positions for hours, examined the beloved reserve, which now held a bold enemy who wanted to send us to death and decay. My task was difficult but grand and the results would bring reward. And I had success which I best marked by the efforts the enemy took to bring me down and neutralize me. As I've already mentioned, I was the only pilot left in Tsingtau, "The Bird Master of Tsingtau" as the Chinese called me and I only had this one dove at my disposal. It was well worth paying close attention and breaking nothing otherwise my days of aviation would be at an end. Flying was extraordinarily restricted by the tiny bit of airspace surrounded by high mountains and the extremely difficult wind patterns. Heavy turbulence was caused by the high and jagged cliffs which separated the land and the water and the strong rays of the sun. Air conditions were as unfavorable each morning by eight as they were in Germany during the midday hours during the hottest part of the summer. You can only imagine the difficulty if you've flown through them yourself.

It became apparent that my plane, built for normal air conditions at home, was too heavy in this thin air. The engine made one hundred too few revolutions and I flew with a propeller made for German airspace. Thus it was no wonder that I could not consider bringing along an observer. I took everything expendible out of my plane to lighten the load. Fuel and oil were so closely measured that there were times when I had to leave my jacket at home otherwise the plane wouldn't have made it off the runway. The takeoff was a precarious adventure! Each takeoff required luck; any mishap led to failure! Each flight was truly a battle between life and death and it was often only by a hair that the plane escaped shelling. Sometimes when I took off towards the south at the end of the runway around where fort Hu-Tchuen-Huk met with the sea there was an enormous downdraft which grabbed the plane right out from under me. I would just make it over the gun barrels at the fort when the plane would drop and I'd only be a hand's breadth above sea level before I would start to recover and climb. Taking off to the north (taking off in the other two directions was out of the question) was terrifying and in total I only did it six or seven times. I'll think about these times for the rest of my life. I had to take off from the southernmost point of the airfield. Going in a straight line it was only a few hundred meters beyond my shed, several villas and our churchyard, which rested on an approximately one hundred

and fifty meter sloping cliff closed off on both sides by the Bismarck and Iltis mountain ranges. As soon as I went left of the Bismarck range I came to the first valleys with their sharp wind drafts, which caused my plane to shudder and knock it starboard. Despite full counter twisting I couldn't correct the plane. I couldn't use the rudder otherwise I'd run into the cliffs. Thus my plane was caught in this precarious position with the right wing tip barely centimeters away from the treetops and the rocks, stuck in this hellish valley and unable to do anything but steer through it with iron resolve so as not to succumb to the shelling below. It wasn't until I soared over the Kiautschou Bay to the other side that my aircraft was again controllable. I will admit I felt heat and cold flow over me with every takeoff and usually I was happy when I had it behind me. I spiralled higher and higher until I finally reached my altitude of two thousand meters. Above all else it was a test for my patience. Sometimes I reached this altitude in an hour. Most times it took an hour and forty-five minutes. During the entire time I flew far up over the sea in order to escape the shells the Japanese sent towards me. I constantly thought about the fact that I had a plane meant for flight over land and if I had an engine failure I'd drown. Of course things would be the same if I flew over land and had a breakdown or encountered a solid artillery hit. There were only cliffs and canyons throughout the reserve and except for my airfield there was no place where I could land safely. These thoughts came to me regularly during those first days but since nothing ever happened they eventually stopped.

While climbing the entire time I basked in the glorious sunshine and enjoyed the sight of the craggy coastline and the deep blue sea. Mostly I sang or whistled a tune and when the altimeter read two thousand meters I mumbled a "Thank God!" At the shortest possible distance I traced the enemy's line and began my reconnaissance. This is the routine I followed: As soon as I was over the enemy I adjusted the throttle so that the airplane maintained this altitude. I set my map out before me on the control stick, took a pencil and notebook, and looking out over the wing and the tail marked out enemy positions. I kept my hands off the control stick and steered to the side with my feet. I circled positions on the map until everything was marked out and wrote myself notes to sufficiently fill in the details. I had so much practice in doing this that without ever looking up I'd spend up to two hours making observations and writing everything down. And when my neck got stiff I'd turn around and sit in the other direction. Once I was satisfied with my drawings a look at the fuel gauge would tell me it was time to turn back and go home. The return flight was always the same. I'd circle the shipyard and the city in a bold arc, approach my airfield, cut the engine and glide down in wide curves until I reached the ground. Four minutes later I'd stand contentedly on solid earth. Speed was necessary! Naturally during all that time my plane, being flown over enemy territory,

was heavily peppered with rifle and machine gun fire. And the Japanese always had other surprises in store for me. For example, as I returned one beautiful morning from a mission in the splendid blue heavens and intended to land, tiny white clouds drifted over my airfield at an altitude of about three hundred meters. From above they looked adorable. But I soon noticed that the Japanese were again pulling a prank on me because the little clouds were cloudbursts of ten and a half centimeter shrapnel fire. No use worrying. Just clench your teeth and punge through it! And four minutes later, diving back down two thousand meters, I landed safely and as quickly as I could taxi the plane into the hangar, the roof of which is protected by dirt. Now it was time for me to pull a prank. Sometimes when I was still over enemy positions I'd shut down the engine and plunge straight down to the corner of my airfield so that the Japanese believed I had been shot down. They would be so surprised they wouldn't start shelling again until I rolled into the hangar. But since I kept coming back the Japanese relocated two of their ten and a half centimeter batteries farther back and to the side so that their shrapnel could easily reach me as I circled over their positions for hours. That was most unpleasant and my fate might have been sealed if I hadn't avoided an oncoming hit with a sudden turn. The shelld exploded so close to me that I could hear the dreadful bellow of the detonation despite the roar of the engine. I could feel the wind thrust upon my face and my plane

would start to cant like an old boat on a huge wave. This hampered me in marking my observations. I must publically admit that as soon as I landed horizontally I experienced a wonderful feeling of contentment and satisfaction at having finished a difficult assignment. Most times I shouted a mighty cheer out of sheer joy. Then I think: Just four minutes earlier I was up two thousand meters, hours of the highest stress and danger were now behind me. I made it back despite the bullets and the shelling to God's beautiful earth and had solid ground under my feet again! As soon as I set down my four brave men came running, heedless of the shower of shrapnel and helped me hide the plane. With joyous yelps they were circled by my loyal dog Husdent. And as the four crewmen made the plane ready for the next time I sat for a moment in my auto, maps and reports in my breast pocket, and Husdent next to me. Then I raced through the shelling over the airfield to the government house where they were already awaiting my reports. I think people may understand my pride and joy in delivering my drawings. On any day I might have discovered five or six new enemy batteries and my reports often filled four pages. The warm handshake in thanks by my governor and the chief of staff told me everything I needed to know. And when I drove home to have breakfast then rest up our guns were already thundering and throwing out their shower of iron into the positions I had just reported.

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Imaging and translation by Susan Kriegbaum-Hanks