[烛光生存狂]-匈牙利斯图卡中队

http://forum.axishistory.com/viewtopic.php?t=104472

This comes from Tibor Tobak "Pumák és a többiek" /Pumas and the others/ 1990, Budapest, page 57-66 per request of Stuka Pilot in Shanghai.

This is a short account of Hungarian dive-bombers written by an old Puma fighter, Lt. Tibor Tobak using the text of memoirs (italics) of the Stuka squadron commander, Capt. Gyõzõ Lévay.

Please note that the text contains phrases like Russky etc., no offense is meant, it comes from the original text.

He got his nickname in Germany in 1938. They were on training and to irritate his German instructors he always told to his Hungarian comrade “Good morning, Sir, how are you, Sir” in English in the mornings. That was all he could speak in English by the way. “Sir” stuck as his nickname but later became phonetic “Szõr”. He was brave and tough. He was nicely decorated: Officers’ and Knights’ Crosses of the Hungarian Order for Merit /or something like it – Krisz/; Iron Cross class 1 and 2; and the Deutsches Kreutz im Gold. The number of sorties he had flown is well above 200. A historian dubbed him “pirate captain”. He was not offended, quite the contrary… He was not always playing it by the book but the way he saw it fit. This is what he has to say on this:

“…I do not mind being called a pirate captain. Field manuals do not address many situations. For example I ordered my men to shoot two SS-soldiers whom we caught robbing a Hungarian peasant. On another occasion we “convinced” a group of SS-guys at the point of our SMGs to hand over a couple of cows from the herd of cattle they were “escorting” towards the west. We had a right to do that, it was Hungarian property anyway.

There was one thing I always insisted on: it was me and me alone who should punish my boys – if need be – wherever they did wrong. I never allowed them to pillage from the population neither on the front nor at home. If such thing was brought to my notice I punished the guy and kicked him out of my squadron right away.

There were cases when I should have punished my men but I did not. When we arrived in Nikolayev to take delivery of our aircraft in 1943 my boys kicked some Romanian Stuka crews out of the canteen. I withheld punishment. In October 1944 when we returned from front service in Poland to Sárospatak, Hungary some of my boys went to a movie. Germans had not let them sit on the “Nur für Deutsche” seats. My boys got angry and kicked the Germans out of the movie and thoroughly beat them up. German HQ in the city demanded retribution. I gave the boys extra leave instead.

If someone arrived late from leave and told it straight that he was drunk or had been with women I was easy on him. If he tried to come up with some lame excuses however, I had him locked up. Noone went AWOL in my time.

We always had plenty to eat. If we got alcohol (e.g. rum) from supply we never drank that. We swapped it for food instead.

It is true however, that two non-crewmembers of my squadron became KIA during sorties. Lt. János Szakály, one of our engineers and a doc, István Balázs MD. They both volunteered for it as we were short of crews for a mission. They got posthumous Knights’ Cross for that. Another sin of mine is the case of the army-chaplain. He always begged to allow him to go on missions as a gunner. I let him; he was motor-racer in civil life anyway. I think he is the only priest in the world with seven Stuka sorties under his belt…”

He collected a bunch of tough guys around him and they adored him, would do anything for him. His combat performance made him a legendary figure of the air force. He started his career in the clandestine times in 1934. By 1939 he was a bomber instructor in Szombathely. When the need for a Stuka unit arose he was there. In 1940 training was under way with three Stukas.

In 1943 the Stuka squadron was formed in Kolozsvár (Cluj, Romania), CO Capt. Jenõ Kóróssy, XO Capt. Gyõzõ Lévay. He got the squadron in shape within a month. In JUN43 they were transferred to Kiev and got training for Ju-87D. After that they received 12 D’s, one of them was a D-5.

The squadron was attached to a German Stuka geschwader and began to fly missions in the aftermath of the Battle of Kursk. In AUG43 they were stationed in Poltava. It was here that they lost their first aircraft. This is how it happened:

“Our squadron was attached to II/SG77, CO Capt. Jenõ Kóróssy. On that day we stuffed a village called Omelivka with 1000-kg bombs. AA fire was withering.

As I check around I cannot see my left wingman. The radio crackles: plane 636 was hit, left wing is on fire and crash lands. I have to bring them home, the thought occurs to me. I quickly turn back, my right wingman stays with me. I report the situation on radio. We hug the ground and search the crippled Stuka. Explosions and smoke everywhere. There it is, in the tall grass. Smoke is coming out of the left wing but the crew, Ensign Jászberényi and his gunner is fine, they are running towards us. I prepare to put down my plane next to the wreck and order my right wingman to turn back. As I land I realize that the undercarriage hit a field telephone line, the cord is wound around the wheel. Jászberényi and his gunner are reaching us and a German Feldwebel also shows up in a car. He is from a nearby artillery position.

‘Where are we?’

‘This is no man’s land!’

‘Where are the Russkies?’

‘Some 1000 meters away, on the top of that hill.’

As I glance at the hill it occurs to me that the Russians have an excellent view from there so it is quite unhealthy to spend to much time here. I order the parachutes out of the plane and begin to climb into the cockpit when I hear a hissing sound. “Take cover!” A mortar round lands near me but I am unhurt. As I look around I see the German in his car. He is speeding away. I do not blame him; the Russians open up on the Stukas. They hit Jászberényi’s aircraft with the fourth salvo. We cannot stay in the open, here we are sitting duck. There is a sunflower field some 800 meters from us. ‘Run to the sunflowers!’ I glance back just to see my Stuka being hit. Now it is our turn. We fall to the ground when we hear the hissing sound. After the explosion we jump up and continue running. As we are on the ground my gunner shouts at me.

‘Captain, you double-crossed me.’

‘How come, Jóska?’

‘You told me that any crater is safe, no second round will fall into that.’

‘And?’

‘The second round fell nicely into a crater just before I tried to slip in.’

There is not time to carry on with the chit-chat, we get up and run. We are sweating heavily under our pilot dresses but made it pretty quickly to the sunflowers. We do not stop until we cross the field and arrive to a dirt road. Here we sit down and try to bring our breath under control. Soon a German vehicle appears. It is full of wounded soldiers but we make place for ourselves somehow. Soon we reach a small village with German artillery observers. The commander cannot help us with transportation but offers us coffee and cognac. We reach the road to Krasnograd at dusk. It clogged with trucks moving slowly forward. No reflectors in the dark. We climb up on a truck and begin our lengthy journey.

Soon Russian night bombers appear to harass the traffic and start throwing bombs along the road. Occasional explosions to the left, right, behind or in front of us. There is nothing to do, we take our chances. I ask the driver: ‘What is the cargo?’ ‘Landmines’ - comes the answer. Oh, great! I never felt fear during my thirty sorties, not during AA fire or during our field run earlier this day. There was no time that, everything happened so quickly. But now fear creeps on me. I do not dare telling the guys that they sit on landmines. With cold sweat on my forehead I keep staring at the obscure silhouette of the truck in fr

新用户注册返回首页
首页上一页下一页尾页页次1/1 转到第页