Joe Broady
Airman 1st Class
- 105
- May 30, 2019
A few months ago I promised to post a some opinions from "Luftwaffe Test Pilot: Flying Captured Allied Aircraft of World War 2" by Hans-Werner Lerche (1977, English translation 1980). Despite leaving the book in plain sight for motivation, I'm just now getting to that.
From childhood Lerche (b. 1914) was interested in mechanical things. This turned in the direction of aviation. Step by step he went from building flyable glider models to flying full sized gliders. This was difficult, as the family was not well off. Mr. Lerche died in 1919 and the family had to relocate to Breslau when Posen became Polish after the war. Mrs. Lerche worked as a librarian and also had her husband's pension, but the postwar inflation eroded much of its value. She had a hard time supporting herself and four children.
Flying got easier after Hitler came to power. By that time Lerche was already a licensed glider pilot and instructor. "One had already noticed how during that year since Hitler had come to power money was much more readily available, and everyone who wanted to fly could do so without even an hour's work beforhand in workshops; in addition to that in 1935 we were given a large number of new gliders."
Later I'll include more biographical information, but now let's go to the first aircraft in the book. The flight occurred in August 1944. I don't think he gives the exact date. All these excerpts will be so heavily trimmed that I'll omit ellipses (...), as the great number would be annoying. And in many cases I have had to re-arrange the text so it makes sense despite the omitted material.
"This Avro Lancaster had fallen into our hands in slightly damaged condition a few weeks previously. I was very impressed by this big aircraft with its fuselage nose rising some twenty feet off the ground. I intended to ferry the Lancaster direct to Rechlin, without a trial flight, taking only my flight engineer. My reasoning was simple: a small thing like a puncture was able to render this captured bomber, to us a unique specimen, unable to fly for quite some time, and each unnecessary take-off would naturally aggravate the hazard.
"I derived some comfort from the fact that the Lancaster had been reconstructed in the Travemünde Lufthansa workshops where people had most extensive experience with larger aircraft. For the same reason I could also be confident that the correct high octane fuel and high grade engine and hydraulic oils had been put into the tanks. If the red limit marks on the instruments were correct, the Rolls-Royce Merlin engines tolerated fairly high oil and coolant temperatures.
"The engines were running smoothly, as only Rolls-Royce engines can run. The power to fly was there, now for the rest of it. During taxiing the visibility was good. I made mental note of the line of sight from the cockpit over the fuselage nose to the horizon in tail-down position — this was of especial importance if the pilot did not know the landing speed.
"Having tested the four engines I opened the throttles carefully, bucause I could not help feeling that the big bomber had a tendency to swing to port. The empty aircraft accelerated quickly, its total weight now being hardly more than 22,000 kg (48,500 lb). However, to raise the tail I had to push the control column vigorously. Then I pulled the Lancaster to a slightly higher angle of attack at which it had to become airborne if the speed was right. It was, indeed, kind enough to do me the favour. Immediately I throttled back to conserve the valuable engines, braked the wheels with the pneumatic lever at the control half-wheel, and then told my flight engineer to raise the undercarriage.
"At about 8000 feet I evaluated the stalling characteristics with both open and closed throttles and with flaps and underarriage locked in up and down positions. During each operation I noted the figures on the airspeed indicator, because despite the absence of any ground effect these readings gave me certain clues as to the behaviour on landing.
"As I was throttling back, all of a sudden a horn began to sound and gave me a start. I already knew of this blessed device reminding the pilot to lower his undercarriage before landing from other British aircraft, such as the Spitfire, Blenheim and Wellington. Nevertheless, it will make you jump all the same if an aircraft suddenly starts giving off such unusual sounds — the more so as you are hardly used to pleasant surprises as a test pilot.
"I tested the flying characteristics of the Lancaster more or less as a routine matter — for my own 'domestic use', so to speak. One could hardly expect any bad characteristics in an aircraft used in such great numbers for night operations.
"The flying characteristics and performance of the Lancaster were really of secondary interest to us at that time. This sole example of the British night bomber captured in flying condition was of interest largely because of the difficulties it caused our air defences when dropping aluminium foil strips to jam or mislead ground or airborne radar. In an effort to solve this problem the Lancaster was to be probed at night by German aircraft equipped with new elecronic AI devices operating from the Werneuchen airfield near Berlin.
"Any flights to Berlin, particularly with a suspicious 'bird' like this, had to be duly announced and of course one had to be ready at any moment to fire the currently required identification flares: the yellow-painted engine nacelles and wing tips and the German crosses alone were no life insurance.
"Every night flight, even without unforseen events, is an exciting affair when you are hanging between heaven and earth with only a flight engineer and radio operator for company. Under these circumstances the strange aircraft with its still unfamiliar instruments offered no reassurance to me. For one thing, the very basic blind flying devices indicated completely differently, making this particular night flight even more difficult. Such deviations naturally required the utmost attention on the part of the pilot. In addition to that the conversion of the indicated data, such as miles into kilometres and feet into metres, was also tedious and time-consuming work.
"We had already finished our work with the second monitoring airclaft at an altitude of 13,000 ft and were waiting for the next to arrive. But what was this? Instead of announcing the third machine, my radio operator reached for the screwdriver! There was a fault in his radio set, and so I was left to take care of the navigation myself. [German radios had been installed for this test.]
"One thing was certain, though: I had to get clear of the 'colleagues from the other side' who would soon be approaching from the west as quickly as I could. Perhaps, while veering off to the east, I could even catch sight of an illuminated town with an airfield.
"We were flying at an altitude of about 1300 ft across the landscape. I had the navigation lights on to show from afar that we had no evil intentions. Soon afterwards, a flashing light appeared to the left in front of us, and where there is a flashing light there must be something else. To be on the safe side, I began to fly in circles. What was more alarming, however, was that anybody who knew anything about aeroplanes could hear at once that we had a foreign aircraft. For that reason I lowered the undercarriage, switched on the landing light and let down the landing flaps a little as well. I had heard once that this was the way deserters would ask for 'nice weather' — which for the time being seemed more important than the use of identification flares.
"There was nothing to be seen for a while, but then suddenly airfield lights came on below us. I flew a wide turn before approaching for landing and then, with nearly full throttles and just a little more than the minimum speed I hopped across the airfield boundary and touched down directly behind it. Immediately I pushed the pneumatic brake levers mounted on the control column vigorously as long as the remaining relative wind pressed down the elevator at the tail and helped to prevent a nose-over. Gererally speakig, I did not like the unusual pneumatic brakes as much as our hydraulic brakes which, in my opinion, could be operated more precisely. But any brakes were a boon in this situation!
"As we climbed down, some figures approached us in the darkness. But we did not receive the hearty welcome we had expected: two soldiers stopped at a respectable distance and pointed their submachine guns at us. Naturally, nobody believed that we were Germans: a Lancaster was a Lancaster, and that was British! Not even my suggestion to telephone the Rechlin and Werneuchen airfields to confirm our identities was readily accepted. Then, in the middle of our negotiations a third man came over from the airfield flying control office flourishing a white piece of paper. It was a teleprinter message that had just come in. This changed the situation like magic. It transpired that Flugkapitän H. who had been flying the third of our monitoring aircraft, had returned to Werneuchen immediately after he had become aware that our radio had failed and sent this radio message 'To All'.
"The airfield was operated by a flying training school for single engined aircraft and was never used by heavy multi-engined machines. To me it was particularly gratifying that this night landing with a strange four-engined aircraft under such difficult circumstances had gone so smoothly on this small airfield."
To be continued.
From childhood Lerche (b. 1914) was interested in mechanical things. This turned in the direction of aviation. Step by step he went from building flyable glider models to flying full sized gliders. This was difficult, as the family was not well off. Mr. Lerche died in 1919 and the family had to relocate to Breslau when Posen became Polish after the war. Mrs. Lerche worked as a librarian and also had her husband's pension, but the postwar inflation eroded much of its value. She had a hard time supporting herself and four children.
Flying got easier after Hitler came to power. By that time Lerche was already a licensed glider pilot and instructor. "One had already noticed how during that year since Hitler had come to power money was much more readily available, and everyone who wanted to fly could do so without even an hour's work beforhand in workshops; in addition to that in 1935 we were given a large number of new gliders."
Later I'll include more biographical information, but now let's go to the first aircraft in the book. The flight occurred in August 1944. I don't think he gives the exact date. All these excerpts will be so heavily trimmed that I'll omit ellipses (...), as the great number would be annoying. And in many cases I have had to re-arrange the text so it makes sense despite the omitted material.
"This Avro Lancaster had fallen into our hands in slightly damaged condition a few weeks previously. I was very impressed by this big aircraft with its fuselage nose rising some twenty feet off the ground. I intended to ferry the Lancaster direct to Rechlin, without a trial flight, taking only my flight engineer. My reasoning was simple: a small thing like a puncture was able to render this captured bomber, to us a unique specimen, unable to fly for quite some time, and each unnecessary take-off would naturally aggravate the hazard.
"I derived some comfort from the fact that the Lancaster had been reconstructed in the Travemünde Lufthansa workshops where people had most extensive experience with larger aircraft. For the same reason I could also be confident that the correct high octane fuel and high grade engine and hydraulic oils had been put into the tanks. If the red limit marks on the instruments were correct, the Rolls-Royce Merlin engines tolerated fairly high oil and coolant temperatures.
"The engines were running smoothly, as only Rolls-Royce engines can run. The power to fly was there, now for the rest of it. During taxiing the visibility was good. I made mental note of the line of sight from the cockpit over the fuselage nose to the horizon in tail-down position — this was of especial importance if the pilot did not know the landing speed.
"Having tested the four engines I opened the throttles carefully, bucause I could not help feeling that the big bomber had a tendency to swing to port. The empty aircraft accelerated quickly, its total weight now being hardly more than 22,000 kg (48,500 lb). However, to raise the tail I had to push the control column vigorously. Then I pulled the Lancaster to a slightly higher angle of attack at which it had to become airborne if the speed was right. It was, indeed, kind enough to do me the favour. Immediately I throttled back to conserve the valuable engines, braked the wheels with the pneumatic lever at the control half-wheel, and then told my flight engineer to raise the undercarriage.
"At about 8000 feet I evaluated the stalling characteristics with both open and closed throttles and with flaps and underarriage locked in up and down positions. During each operation I noted the figures on the airspeed indicator, because despite the absence of any ground effect these readings gave me certain clues as to the behaviour on landing.
"As I was throttling back, all of a sudden a horn began to sound and gave me a start. I already knew of this blessed device reminding the pilot to lower his undercarriage before landing from other British aircraft, such as the Spitfire, Blenheim and Wellington. Nevertheless, it will make you jump all the same if an aircraft suddenly starts giving off such unusual sounds — the more so as you are hardly used to pleasant surprises as a test pilot.
"I tested the flying characteristics of the Lancaster more or less as a routine matter — for my own 'domestic use', so to speak. One could hardly expect any bad characteristics in an aircraft used in such great numbers for night operations.
"The flying characteristics and performance of the Lancaster were really of secondary interest to us at that time. This sole example of the British night bomber captured in flying condition was of interest largely because of the difficulties it caused our air defences when dropping aluminium foil strips to jam or mislead ground or airborne radar. In an effort to solve this problem the Lancaster was to be probed at night by German aircraft equipped with new elecronic AI devices operating from the Werneuchen airfield near Berlin.
"Any flights to Berlin, particularly with a suspicious 'bird' like this, had to be duly announced and of course one had to be ready at any moment to fire the currently required identification flares: the yellow-painted engine nacelles and wing tips and the German crosses alone were no life insurance.
"Every night flight, even without unforseen events, is an exciting affair when you are hanging between heaven and earth with only a flight engineer and radio operator for company. Under these circumstances the strange aircraft with its still unfamiliar instruments offered no reassurance to me. For one thing, the very basic blind flying devices indicated completely differently, making this particular night flight even more difficult. Such deviations naturally required the utmost attention on the part of the pilot. In addition to that the conversion of the indicated data, such as miles into kilometres and feet into metres, was also tedious and time-consuming work.
"We had already finished our work with the second monitoring airclaft at an altitude of 13,000 ft and were waiting for the next to arrive. But what was this? Instead of announcing the third machine, my radio operator reached for the screwdriver! There was a fault in his radio set, and so I was left to take care of the navigation myself. [German radios had been installed for this test.]
"One thing was certain, though: I had to get clear of the 'colleagues from the other side' who would soon be approaching from the west as quickly as I could. Perhaps, while veering off to the east, I could even catch sight of an illuminated town with an airfield.
"We were flying at an altitude of about 1300 ft across the landscape. I had the navigation lights on to show from afar that we had no evil intentions. Soon afterwards, a flashing light appeared to the left in front of us, and where there is a flashing light there must be something else. To be on the safe side, I began to fly in circles. What was more alarming, however, was that anybody who knew anything about aeroplanes could hear at once that we had a foreign aircraft. For that reason I lowered the undercarriage, switched on the landing light and let down the landing flaps a little as well. I had heard once that this was the way deserters would ask for 'nice weather' — which for the time being seemed more important than the use of identification flares.
"There was nothing to be seen for a while, but then suddenly airfield lights came on below us. I flew a wide turn before approaching for landing and then, with nearly full throttles and just a little more than the minimum speed I hopped across the airfield boundary and touched down directly behind it. Immediately I pushed the pneumatic brake levers mounted on the control column vigorously as long as the remaining relative wind pressed down the elevator at the tail and helped to prevent a nose-over. Gererally speakig, I did not like the unusual pneumatic brakes as much as our hydraulic brakes which, in my opinion, could be operated more precisely. But any brakes were a boon in this situation!
"As we climbed down, some figures approached us in the darkness. But we did not receive the hearty welcome we had expected: two soldiers stopped at a respectable distance and pointed their submachine guns at us. Naturally, nobody believed that we were Germans: a Lancaster was a Lancaster, and that was British! Not even my suggestion to telephone the Rechlin and Werneuchen airfields to confirm our identities was readily accepted. Then, in the middle of our negotiations a third man came over from the airfield flying control office flourishing a white piece of paper. It was a teleprinter message that had just come in. This changed the situation like magic. It transpired that Flugkapitän H. who had been flying the third of our monitoring aircraft, had returned to Werneuchen immediately after he had become aware that our radio had failed and sent this radio message 'To All'.
"The airfield was operated by a flying training school for single engined aircraft and was never used by heavy multi-engined machines. To me it was particularly gratifying that this night landing with a strange four-engined aircraft under such difficult circumstances had gone so smoothly on this small airfield."
To be continued.