(I JG 54) Combat Operations... 16 August 1940

Offensive Patrol, on the Whitstable Installation Chain Home (Low)

The Staffel will provide cover for bombers proceeding to, and over the target...


Take off 1400hrs, distance to target 90 km.
Time to target, 14 mins. Weather over target: expect scattered cloud.
Approach altitude to enemy coastline 4700m.
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MAX STADLER, DIARY RECORD.

I slept the sleep of the dead after yesterdays eventful day... Our patrol this afternoon took the Staffel deeper into Englander territory.
Once again our forces tried to knock out a radar station, this time at Whitstable.
At breakfast we were informed that Rewald's replacement should arrive sometime over the next four days... Poor Rewald, here one minute, gone the next.
As for Haehnicke, nothing yet, but he has been marked as presumed dead or if he is lucky, a prisoner of the Tommies.

Not sure what has happened to Grueneberg, as I have a new Schwarm Leader, Leutnant Piller. He is all smiles and full of ''Let's get Tommy'... I like him a lot!
I was getting the 'butterflies' again as after our briefing we were going straight out, so it was a quick talk by Piller to confirm we all understood what was required of us, and then to the aircraft dispersal point.
Little Emil was waiting for me, as was 'Uncle Rolf' our Chief of the 'Black Men'....
''Hey Junger... bring her back in one piece!'' he said with a growl, then gave me a grin and a slap on the back... ''Let's get to it then''

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As before, once I had climbed in and we went through the engine start routine, any worries I had were quickly forgotten, as all checks done, we waited for the signal to take off...


Formed up and climbing out we soon found ourselves over the 'Canal', and all too soon the enemy coast was ahead... I remember watching the Schwarm ahead cross the coastline, no flak came up to greet them...
'This will be easier than yesterday', I thought to myself...

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A few seconds later... How wrong I was!


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Compared to yesterday the flak eventually petered out, and I sat there expecting next to see the Hurricanes or Spitfires of the English, but again nothing... we carried out our patrol as ordered.
Didn't even see our own bombers, in fact they never turned up. We simply flew our route, looked for our bomber force, got some attention from the flak gunners and then returned to our airfield.

Our return to the airfield was uneventful, in fact, if it were not for the enemy flak defences, it all seemed like a training flight.
As I completed my landing drill, gear and flaps down, airfield in sight, I still could not help thinking ''Where are the RAF''...

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Still, I thought, as I made final preparations to land, perhaps we should be extremely thankful... this time we all came home!

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