The book “J’étais le pilote de Hitler” tells a true story that was originally published in 1957. The 2020 French edition, presented and annotated by Claude Quétel, improves our understanding of Hans Baur, one of the founders of Lufthansa in 1926, Hitler‘s personal pilot, but also a high-ranking Nazi SS officer and a close friend of the Führer.
The information offered by Hans Baur is of great interest. Early in Hans Baur’s career, the pilots doing what he did were called aviation pioneers. At the time, planes contained virtually no air navigation instruments that could assist a pilot flying in difficult weather conditions. The Alps are tricky to fly through in good weather, so it gets a lot more challenging in bad weather and in a poorly equipped plane. If we add the freezing conditions, engine failures, cabins that are not heated and that are not equipped with devices providing supplemental oxygen to pilots, then there are flightsthat would be considered something like an “exploit”. This aspect of the book is therefore very interesting.
I also liked all of Hans Baur’s anecdotes about Hitler’s demands on him. Being a pilot for the Führer was no small task. Hitler had very high expectations regarding the performance and the punctuality of his personal pilot, and the latter certainly demonstrated extraordinary abilities to satisfy his superior.
Where we have to be wary is that we are still dealing with an SS pilot, who was a member of the Nazi organization before Hitler took power. We have to question his personal values and what he voluntarily neglected in his book. The regular massacres carried out during Barbarossa Operation in Russia, or the elimination of six million Jews, are not discussed, as the SS pilot maintains he was never involved in politics. He carried passengers without asking questions, but he had chosen Nazism as a political movement. When you are invited to Hitler’s table on a daily basis and are therefore part of his inner circle, it is clear that the Nazi represented by Hans Baur is speaking about more than piloting.
The experience in Russian prisons is described as inhuman by Hans Baur, who has been there ten years. He talks about the transport of German prisoners in cattle cars, very bad food, etc. But I couldn’t help but wonder what planet he lived on to denounce his condition as a prisoner while ignoring the treatment the Germans imposed on the Russians and all the people who were deported and massacred. The Einsatzgruppen were not altar boys. Moreover, Claude Quétel also questioned this remark from Hans Baur, adding that “although very harsh, the living and working conditions in the Soviet camps have nothing to do – as we sometimes read – with those of the German concentration camps.”(p.381).
There are also some inaccuracies and sometimes falsehoods that Claude Quétel does not hesitate to point out. Sometimes these are trivial errors resulting from poor memory. However, other important facts are downright inaccurate. As in this passage where Baur says that Hitler decided to attack Russia four weeks before the start of the war, which is not true. The conquest of the East and of more living space is specifically enunciated in Mein Kampfand is spoken of in a book written while Hitler was in prison in 1923 following a failed coup.
Conclusion
The book « J’étais le pilote de Hitler » is a very interesting book, one more about Nazi Germany. The history of Germany is fascinating and complex, from the time of the Holy Roman Empire to the present day. But it seems that it will always be the twelve years of the Nazi period that will achieve more success in bookstores.
Have a good read!
Click on the link for other books on war in my blog.
Our transatlantic flight, by Sir John Alcock and Sir Arthur Whitten Brown
Newfoundland
Before 1949, Newfoundland was called Dominion of Newfoundland and was part of the British Commonwealth . In 1949, it became a Canadian province.
The first non-stop flight eastward across the Atlantic.
The book « Our transatlantic flight » tells the story of the historic flight that was made in 1919, just after the First World War, from Newfoundland to Ireland. There was a 10,000 £ prize offered by Lord Northcliffe from Great Britain for whoever would succeed on the first non-stop flight eastward across the Atlantic.
A triumph for British aviation
Sir John Alcock and Sir Arthur Whitten Brown , respectively pilot and navigator, wrote the story of their successful flight in this book which was published in 1969. The followings are pilot quotes from the book : « For the first time in the history of aviation the Atlantic had been crossed in direct, non-stop flight in the record time of 15 hours, 57 minutes. » (p.13) « The flight was a triumph for British aviation; the pilot and navigator were both British, the aircraft was a Vickers-Vimy and the twin engines were made by Rolls-Royce. » (p.13)
Sir John Alcock and Sir Arthur Whitten Brown
As with all great human achievements, a very good flight planning and some luck was needed to make this flight a success. If there was an engine failure during the flight, even if the planning was excellent, there was only one outcome : downward.
In order to make the flight, Alcock and Brown boarded a ship from England bound to Halifax. They then headed to Port aux Basques and finally arrived in St.John’s. There, they joined a small group of British aviators who had arrived a few days before and who were also preparing for the competition. « The evenings were mostly spent in playing cards with the other competitors at the Cochrane Hotel, or in visits to the neighbouring film theatres. St.John’s itself showed us every kindness. » (p.60)
Maritime transport was used to carry the Vickers-Vimy biplane to Newfoundland on May 4th. It was assembled in Newfoundland. « The reporters representing the Daily Mail, the New York Times, and the New York World were often of assistance when extra manpower was required. » (p.61).
While the aircraft was being built, there were more and more visiters coming to the site. Brown says : « Although we remained unworried so long as the crowd contented itself with just watching, we had to guard against petty damage. The testing of the fabric’s firmness with the point of an umbrella was a favourite pastime of the spectators […]. » (p.61)
The Vickers-Vimy is being reassembled at Quidi Vidi in Newfoundland.
It was difficult to find a field that could be improvised into an aerodrome : « Newfoundland is a hospitable place, but its best friends cannot claim that it is ideal for aviation. The whole of the island has no ground that might be made into a first-class aerodrome. The district around St.John’s is especially difficult. Some of the country is wooded, but for the most part it shows a rolling, switchback surface, across which aeroplanes cannot taxi with any degree of smoothness. The soil is soft and dotted with boulders, as only a light layer covers the rock stratum. Another handicap is the prevalence of thick fogs, which roll westward from the sea. » (p.59)
They flight tested the airplane on June 9th at Quidi Vidi. During the short flight, the crew could see icebergs near the coast. They did a second trial on June 12th and found that the transmitter constantly caused problems. But, at least, the engines seemed to be reliable…
The departure
The two men left Newfoundland on June 14th 1919. In order to fight the cold air in flight, they wore electrically heated clothing. A battery located between two seats provided for the necessary energy.
The Vickers-Vimy departs from Newfoundland in 1919
The short take-off was very difficult due to the wind and the rough surface of the aerodrome. Brown writes : « Several times I held my breath, from fear that our under-carriage would hit a roof or a tree-top. I am convinced that only Alcock’s clever piloting saved us from such an early disaster. » (p.73)
It took them 8 minutes to reach 1000 ft. Barely one hour after departure and once over the ocean, the generator broke and the flight crew was cut off from all means of communication.
As the airplane consumed petrol, the centre of gravity changed and since there was no trim on the machine, the pilot had to exert a permanent backward pressure on the joystick.
Flying in clouds, fog and turbulence.
During the flight with much clouds and fog, Brown, having almost no navigation aid, had real problems to estimate the aircraft’s position and limit the flying errors. He had to wait for a higher altitude and for the night to come to improve his calculations : « I waited impatiently for the first sight of the moon, the Pole Star and other old friends of every navigator. » (p.84). The fog and clouds were so thick that at times they « cut off from view parts of the Vickers-Vimy. » (p.95)
Without proper instruments to fly in clouds, they were relying on a « revolution-counter » to establish the climbing or the falling rate. That is pretty scary. « A sudden increase in revolutions would indicate that the plane was diving; a sudden loss of revs would show that she was climbing dangerously steeply. » (p.176)
But that was not enough. They also had to deal with turbulence that rocked the plane while they could not see anything outside. They became desoriented : « The airspeed indicator failed to register, and bad bumps prevented me from holding to our course. From side to side rocked the machine, and it was hard to know in what position we really were. A spin was the inevitable result. From an altitude of 4,000 feet we twirled rapidly downward.[…]. « Apart from the changing levels marked by aneroid, only the fact that our bodies were pressed tightly against the seats indicated that we were falling. How and at what angle we were falling, we knew not. Alcock tried to centralise the controls, but failed because we had lost all sense of what was central. I searched in every direction for an external sign, and saw nothing but opaque nebulousness. » (p.88)
« It was a tense moment for us, and when at last we emerged from the fog we were close down over the water at an extremely dangerous angle. The white-capped waves were rolling along too close to be comfortable, but a quick glimpse of the horizon enabled me to regain control of the machine. » (p.40).
De-icing a gauge installed outside of the cockpit.
Snow and sleet were falling. They didn’t realize how lucky they were to continue flying in such a weather. Nowadays, there are many ways to dislodge ice from a wing while the aircraft is in flight. Here is what Brown says about their situation : « […] The top sides of the plane were covered completely by a crusting of frozen sleet. The sleet imbedded itself in the hinges of the ailerons and jammed them, so that for about an hour the machine had scarcely any lateral control. Fortunately, the Vickers-Vimy possesses plenty of inherent lateral stability; and, as the rudder controls were never clogged by sleet, we were able to hold to the right direction. » (p.95)
After twelve hours of flying, the glass of a gauge outside the cockpit became obscured by clotted snow. Brown had to deal with it, while Alcock was flying. « The only way to reach it was by climbing out of the cockpit and kneeling on top of the fuselage, while holding a strut for the maintenance of balance. […] The violent rush of air, which tended to push me backward, was another discomfort. […] Until the storm ended, a repetition of this performance, at fairly frequent intervals, continued to be necessary. » (p.94)
In order to save themselves, they executed a descent from 11,000 to 1000 feet and in the warmer air the ailerons started to operate again. As they continued their descent below 1000 feet over the ocean, they were still surrounded by fog. They had to do some serious low altitude flying : « Alcock was feeling his way downward gently and alertly, not knowing whether the cloud extended to the ocean, nor at what moment the machine’s undercarriage might touch the waves. He had loosened his safety belt, and was ready to abandon ship if we hit the water […]. » (p.96)
The arrival.
They saw Ireland at 8.15 am on June 15th and crossed the coast ten minutes later. They did not expect a very challenging landing as the field looked solid enough to support an aircraft. They landed at 8 :40 am at Clifden on top of what happened to be a bog; the aircraft rolled on its nose and suffered serious material damages. The first non-stop transatlantic flight ended in a crash. Both both crewmen were alive and well, although they were dealing with fatigue…
The transatlantic flight ends up in Ireland in a soft field
Initially, nobody in Ireland believed that the plane arrived from North America. But when they saw mail-bags from Newfoundland, there were « cheers and painful hand-shakes » (p.102).
First page of the Sunday Evening Telegraph in 1919.
They were cheered by the crowds in Ireland and England and received their prize from Winston Churchill.
John Alcock chaired by the crowd
Winston Churchill is presenting the Daily Mail Check to the two pilots.
Their record stood unchallenged for eight years until Lindbergh’s flight in 1927.
The future of transatlantic flight.
Towards the end of the book, the authors risk a prediction on the future of transatlantic flight. But aviation made such a progress in a very short time that, inevitably, their thoughts on the subject was obsolete in a matter of a few years. Here are some examples :
« Nothwithstanding that the first two flights across the Atlantic were made respectively by a flying boat and an aeroplane, it is evident that the future of transatlantic flight belongs to the airship. » (p.121)
« […] The heavy type of aeroplane necessary to carry an economical load for long distances would not be capable of much more than 85 to 90 miles an hour. The difference between this and the present airship speed of 60 miles an hour would be reduced by the fact that an aeroplane must land at intermediate stations for fuel replenishment. » (p.123)
« It is undesirable to fly at great heights owing to the low temperature; but with suitable provision for heating there is no reason why flying at 10,000 feet should not be common. » (p.136)
The Air Age.
There is a short section in the book on the « Air Age ». I chose two small excerpts on Germany and Canada :
On Germany’s excellent Zeppelins : « The new type of Zeppelin – the Bodensee – is so efficient that no weather conditions, except a strong cross-hangar wind, prevents it from making its daily flight of 390 miles between Friedrichshafen and Staalsen, thirteen miles from Berlin. » (p.140)
On Canada’s use of aeroplanes : « Canada has found a highly successful use for aeroplanes in prospecting the Labrador timber country. A group of machines returned from an exploration with valuable photographs and maps of hundreds of thousands of pound’s worth of forest land. Aerial fire patrols, also, are sent out over forests.» (p.142) and « Already, the Canadian Northwest Mounted Police [today the RCMP] have captured criminals by means of aeroplane patrols. » (p.146)
Conclusion
The Manchester Guardian stated, on June 16th 1919 : « […] As far as can be foreseen, the future of air transport over the Atlantic is not for the aeroplane. It may be used many times for personal feats of daring. But to make the aeroplane safe enough for business use on such sea routes we should have to have all the cyclones of the Atlantic marked on the chart, and their progress marked in from hour to hour. »(p.169)
Title : Our Transatlantic Flight
Authors : Sir John Alcock and Sir Arthur Whitten Brown
(Precedent story: the UFO invented in Inukjuak in 1983)
Inukjuak during a blizzard that forbid landings for days.
The winter 1982-1983 was fierce in Inukjuak (CYPH), in the Nunavik. There was a period when the winds were strong enough and the visibility reduced to the point that a rope had to be attached between the staff house and the flight service station. A Transport Canada flight service specialist (FSS) had to hold a rope to guide himself from one building to the other. And good luck to the FSS who would try to carry his meal on a tray between both buildings. A hand held the rope while the other one took care of the tray which was going in all directions. On one occasion, tray and food found their way in the snowbank.
Due to strong sustained winds, snow sometimes reached the roof top of the Inukjuak flight service station.
After a storm which seemed endless, I remember that the employees had to dig steps in the hardened snow in order to reach the flight service station door.
We sometimes had to dig in the snow to free the door and enter in the Inukjuak flight service station
This blizzard, which lasted twelve days, had prevented any takeoff and landing. There was no more milk for sale in the Inuit village, as it was now reserved for children. Hardly one hundred feet over us, there was a perfectly blue sky, according to the pilots who had tried to land on multiple occasions. But one morning, an Austin Airways pilot decided to risk an approach.
A red square was useful to help the employees find a building during a blizzard in Inukjuak.
The pilot could not benefit from any precise navigation aid during his approach, as the airport was only equipped with an NDB. So he trusted his local knowledge and what was left of his judgment. He knew that the staff house was painted green and situated just beside the runway. I guess that he prepared himself to aim for the colored staff house then make a sharp turn at the last minute. He dived into the storm, estimating the wind drift as much as he could.
At that same moment, our cook was working in the staff house’s kitchen. He was facing a huge bay window and was stunned to suddenly see the nose of a Twin Otter appear a few meters away from the window at the same time as a steep turn was being made to avoid the building. Reverse thrust was immediately applied to immobilize the plane as fast as possible. The cook repeated what he witnessed to every employee. I guess that helped him to unwind a bit.
As this was not enough surprise for the day, the plane’s doors opened and, instead of the much needed milk cargo expected by the villagers, we witnessed about ten passengers stepping out the plane and chitchatting like nothing ever happened. This unorthodox approach to the Inukjuak airport would now be one more story added on top of all the others told by pilots offering daily air service to northern Quebec villages along Hudson Bay and Ungava Bay coasts.
(Next story: the cockpit of a KLM Boeing 747 during a night flight over the Atlantic)
After a proficiency check, I soon find myself flying a Cessna 170B (tail wheel) on a flight across Canada, from St -Jean-sur- Richelieu, Quebec, to Edmonton, Alberta. I am accompanied by the aircraft’s owner who has not yet completed his private pilot course. The 1952 Cessna flies well, but has absolutely no instruments for air navigation, not even a VOR nor ADF. And the era of the portable GPS is not yet upon us.
Fourteen 1:500,000 VFR charts, covering the planned flight, are folded, glued and numbered. I trace the expected flight path on each chart, with 10 miles landmarks. This will facilitate the monitoring of our progress, considering the absence of navigation equipment. The preparation now completed, the take off is done on a beautiful summer day of 1981.
1:500,000 VFR charts used for a flight toward Edmonton, Canada, in 1981
We do stopovers at Gatineau, North Bay, Sudbury and then fly along Lake Superior to Wawa.
Small break in Sudbury on a VFR flight to Edmonton in 1981
We fly around Lake Superior to our next stopovers, Thunder Bay and Fort Frances. Over large forested areas, with no major landmarks, the gyroscopic precession must be corrected frequently so as not to stray too far from the intended track. Sometimes when it facilitates navigation, we either follow a railway or main roads. There are some instances where the westerly winds are so strong that our ground speed is slower than a car on a highway.
From Fort Frances to Kenora in 1981, with a Cessna C170B
Our flight path follows a line that keeps us away from areas of high air traffic. I choose to fly north of Winnipeg terminal control area, thus avoiding frequent radio exchanges with air traffic control in a language I do not master. The underperforming radio would not be of any help at any rate. This option eventually means that we must fly over Lake Winnipeg, in its southern portion. We have enough altitude to be able to glide to the other side in case of an engine failure. Nonetheless, we realize that we are gradually loosing several thousand feet due to the cold air mass above the lake. This with maximum power applied. The unexpected descent eventually ends, but it is now impossible to have an engine failure without ditching in the lake…
The crossing of Lake Winnipeg with a Cessna C170B in 1981
Near Lundar, Manitoba, the aircraft’s old gauges indicate a significant loss of fuel. It is surprising since we refueled an hour ago. We must land the plane on the nearest runway, but the strong crosswinds exceed the capabilities of the aircraft. Nonetheless, an attempt is made with the result that only the left wheel accepts the contact with the runway. As soon as the right wheel also touches the ground, the aircraft becomes airborne again. A nearby field is selected to make a precautionary landing so that the fuel status can be verified. We fly at low altitude over the electrical wires and the cows in the adjacent field, and touch smoothly at a ground speed not exceeding 15 knots. A farmer witnesses the landing and arrives in his red pick-up to offer some help. The tanks are almost full, so the plane only needs few liters of gasoline. Once this is done, we take off westward. It appears that the old fuel gauges of this 1952 Cessna are now totally unreliable…
Landing in a field with a Cessna C170B in Lundar, Manitoba in 1981.
We leave Manitoba through Dauphin and enter Saskatchewan. If we were to experience an engine failure above such uniform fields, the risk of serious problems at landing would be virtually nonexistent.
Near Yorkton, Saskatchewan, in flight with a Cessna C170B in 1981
The weather is slowly deteriorating. We choose to land in Watson, Saskatchewan, on the nearest runway.
The runway surface consists of muddy earth and grass, and it’s delimited by small red wooden panels. As we touch the ground, the tires splash mud everywhere, including under the wings.
The Watson runway, Saskatchewan, in 1981
The King George motel in Watson, Saskatchewan in 1981
Finally, the weather improves and a takeoff is made toward North Battleford, the last stop before Edmonton. The sloping terrain forces us to fly lower and lower near Edmonton, under an overcast stratocumulus, limiting our ability to see a long time in advance the correct airport from the three available (international, civil , military ). Luckily, everything goes well in choosing the right airport and approach, but we cannot say the same with radio communications. The sound quality coming from the old speaker is awful and the English spoken by the air traffic controller too fast for us. The combination of these two factors causes the controller to repeat more than once his instructions until he finally decides to slow down and we can officially say: « Roger! »
After spending few days in Edmonton it is now time for the return flight to St-Jean. This proves to be much easier and faster because the westerly winds push the aircraft. Our ground speed is sometimes double what we had managed to get on our trip to Edmonton. The journey took us twenty-five hours to go and eighteen hours to come back.
Cessna C170B in flight over Canada, summer 1981.
Climbing to 9,500 feet on the return leg to St-Jean-sur-Richelieu, in 1981.
VFR “on top” with a Cessna C170B in 1981 over Canada
Over North Bay, Ontario, the weather is ideal. But we will have to land in Ottawa while waiting for thunderstorms to move away from Montreal and St-Jean-sur-Richelieu. After a total of forty- three-hours of flying time, the old Cessna 170B is landing back to St- Jean -sur- Richelieu.
