[Kildlawyrs]

There was an earlier post which sought to counter my doubts as to the true validity of some of the amazing Luftwaffe "kill" claims. This individual brought up the point that by staying in the war more or less continuously, this allowed Luftwaffe "experten" to gain so much experience that their kill scores were perfectly believable. This view, although certainly having some validity, is in my opinion, at its core, partially flawed. Allow me to explain.

"Experience", in the normal arena of human pursuits is much to be admired. The more a certain craftsman practices his trade, the better he is likely to become. In this sense then the experienced plumber, carpenter, surgeon or computer programmer is likely to get better the more he practices his art. But in the case of the Luftwaffe, we are talking about a very different kind of experience; namely mortal combat. With increased exposure to this ambience, a warrior would indeed enhance his prowess and even his deadliness, but only up to a certain point. There comes a time when the law of diminishing returns must be invoked since with experience there comes too, a constant exposure to violent death. Do you believe that any human being could long remain immune from the sheer psychological stress imposed by such a daily occurrance? There was bound to be a mistake, a slight oversight, an error in judgment which could (and repeatedly did) send even the most experienced fighter and bomber pilots to their deaths. Again, if I may invoke the experience of Japanese ace Saburo Sakai, he told me personally of the heated arguments he had with his girl friend over his refusal to marry her as long as the war persisted. He tried to explain to her that all of his victories in essence counted for naught. On his very next flight, death could come from anywhere at any time. He was bound to make a mistake; it was inevitable.

This is powerful stuff. The psychology of watching good friends perish in grisly fiery deaths would weigh heavily. The constant need for alertness, coupled with the rigourous demands of flying, would also result in physical fatigue. No man could possibly withstand this. As the physical world of Nazi Germany shrunk further and further, matters would have steadily deteriorated. There were no safe havens. Even a fledgling student, from his very first flights in a 'Jungmann' would be exposed to attack, and his experienced instructors had to be aware of this.

Let me give you a real world example. If I may for a moment digress to the other side of the world and to the United States Navy, you may get a better grasp of what I am espousing. Commander Sam Dealy of the USN Submarine USS Harder was an extraordinary submarine skipper. He has gone down in history as being one of the most resourceful and aggressive commanders in the history of the US Navy (in this regard, successful submarine captains shared a great deal in common with their aerial counterpart; the fighter pilot). Commander Dealy actually managed to destroy five Japanese destroyers in rapid succession; an absolutely unheard of, and never repeated, fete. This was akin to a bomber pilot attacking and destroying fighter aircraft. And yet on his next to last war patrol, Commander Dealy found himself utterly exhausted up to the point where he actually had to be temporarily removed from command. The man was simply worn out. He was killed on his last war cruise and awarded, posthumously, a much deserved Medal of Honor.

In this same vein then, Luftwaffe fighter pilots fighting a constant battle would have been fighting not only the odds, but also the sheer physical denouement which was part and parcel to a never ending exposure to death. No one was immune to it. During the Battle of Britain, when some Luftwaffe crews were flying three or even more missions per day, the exhaustion and fear reached unmanageable proportions. One fighter pilot wrote of this somewhat whimsically, and asked the question at large, "Why not just wander off somewhere and wait out the day's battle, and then return to base? Who would know?" Indeed, who would know? How widespread were these same sentiments, and how often were they acted upon is a question almost certainly lost to history.

In the end, fate and circumstance affected all. A green bomber crew or novice fighter pilot could get the chop as easily on his first mission as he could on his last. There is an old axiom in aviation circles which says, "I'd rather be lucky, than good". It is quite humorous, but also conveys a certain element of truth, and even of the dread implicit of never having total control over one's fate. I think any individual long involved in combat would certainly acknowledge that on top of all the experience one accrued, a healthy dose of luck was often needed to see him through.

The race does not always go to the swift, nor the battle to the brave.