(I JG 54) Combat Operations... 27 August 1940

Offensive Patrol... Lympne satellite airfield. Provide cover for attacking bomber force (Ju 88's of I KG 54)
The entire Staffel will carry out the operation...



Take off 0900hrs, distance to target 80 km.
Time to target, 14 mins. Weather over target: expect heavy cloud.
Route to target altitude, 4000m.
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MAX STADLER DIARY ENTRY.

We are to hit Lympne airfield again this morning... after the damage we did the other day I'm surprised the Tommies have it up and running again.

The Staffel now have 14 aircraft fully serviceable with 10 pilots on this operation.
After the briefing we were astounded to think it would still go ahead, despite the bad weather conditions, heavy cloud, fog and high winds were forecast throughout the day.

My group commander took me to one side afterwards and told me my claim for the Hurricane on the last mission had been denied...
''I know you saw the pilot bail out, but no one else saw it to have it confirmed... I'm sorry Stadler''

Once in the air, we made contact with the Ju 88's at the assigned RV... but it was obvious that if the conditions were the same over the target, the bombers would be lucky to hit anything.




The now familiar routine took it's course. We crossed the channel and the all too familiar flak came up to meet us.
I knew that it would only take a few minutes before the bombers were over target, and that meant the RAF were bound to be in the vicinity.
I could see aircraft approaching at our own level from 11 oclock and was about to report to the Schwarm Leader, but then identified them as a pack of Dorniers heading back across the channel.
I relaxed and realised that I was sweating, thinking it was a large group of the enemy...
Just as I thought that, a stream of tracers flew past my canopy, followed by several loud bangs that almost made me jump out of my seat!

I frantically looked behind to see a Hurricane, still firing and registering hits on my airframe.
I shoved the nose straight down at full combat power, flat out, watching my altimeter quickly unwinding to 1500m, speed 650 km/h, and then pulled out, banking left to change direction, heading back out across the sea.

I knew that the aircraft was hit, and more than once. I was thankfully ok, just a little shaken... looking out I could see my left wing was like a colander and the elevator was stiff and slow to respond.
The engine though was slowly but surely loosing power...



''not again'' I said aloud... ''please, not again''.

But there was no use sitting in a state of denial... I was going to ditch this time.
I tightened my straps, unplugged the radio lead and oxygen hose... by the time I had done that the engine had cut and the propeller was slowly windmilling as I rapidly lost height.




I remembered my training... ''do not ditch into oncoming waves, but put down in the troughs between them''.
I watched the sea get closer and closer, and just before my plane hit I raised the nose slightly, and then with a huge bang I hit the surface!




My head was thrown violently forward and my shoulders felt like they were coming out of their sockets... then all was quiet, apart from a hissing sound and the sound of incoming water.
The cockpit was slowly filling... Time to get out!
I undid my safety straps and parachute harness, then I got rid of the canopy... I stood up, marvelling that the Emil had not flipped over, and was still floating on the surface. But it couldn't last.

I stepped onto the wing, hanging onto the side of the cockpit, wondering what I should do next... I then became aware of powerful engines approaching from behind.
I could not believe my luck, someone had seen me ditch and were coming to get me. I couldn't care who it was, my own side or the British... all I knew was, I was saved!