In between there were always some other, different tasks for me. At the end of
September, for instance, I went to Berlin-Gatow to check a night landing
procedure evolved by Flugkapitan Dipl.-Ing. Melitta Schiller, von Stauffenberg by
marriage. I made seven night landings with her. The procedure was based on the
idea that by fixing on the intersection point of two light beams attached to the
aircraft during levelling off near the ground it was possible to make three-point
landings. The idea was certainly not bad, but it was not followed up.
In November I made some more test-flights with the Soviet La-5FN fighter, but there was a complete change when the Kalkert Ka 430 transport glider had to be towed from Lärz to Rechlin on 8 November. The only transport gliders I had flown so far were the ten-seat DFS 230 and the larger Go 242, and so naturally I was interested to find out how the Ka 430 behaved. I took a He 111 to Lärz and then got into the pilot’s seat of the Kalkert glider. This type of ‘bird’ really had little to do with gliding any more, but nevertheless I found it interesting to fly such a piece of furniture for a change: after all, there might be a chance that an Airspeed Horsa, the British counterpart, would fall into our hands.
By that time the military situation was getting steadily worse, fuel became scarce
and could, of course, only be used for the most urgent programmes. These included
primarily the Messerschmitt Me 262 jet programme in which I was to participate if not prevented by really urgent test flights with captured aircraft. Tasks of this nature and other urgent jobs were welcome opportunities for me to replace the desk chair with the pilot’s seat.
In the East, the major Soviet offensive against East Prussia began from the direction of Lomzha around 6 January, 1945. A few days later the first Soviet Yakovlev Yak-3 fighter landed intact at Gross-Schimanen, an airfield I had already visited the previous September.
This was exciting news indeed, as everybody was most anxious to know more about this latest Soviet fighter. According to reports, it was not only much lighter than the Yak-9 but was also said to be superior to it in performance regarding climbing speed and turning radius, especially from the ground level up to about 3000-3500 m (10,000-11,500 ft).
The necessary arrangements did not take long, and on 11 January I set out again by train to Gross-Schimanen. By then, traveling by train had become rather wearisome; they were late and without heating, and the air raids had made everything uncertain. I took my experienced flight engineer with me as well; he could not fly back with me in the single-seater, but would be of great assistance in identifying the various control levers.
After many difficulties and a very uncomfortable journey - I also had my
parachute with me - we finally arrived at Gross-Schimanen.
The Yak-3 made a very good impression; in particular, the finish of its plywood wing surface was of an excellent quality. It was smaller than the Yak-9 and weighed only 2500 kg (5512 lb) all up, and therefore its power loading was only about 4.5 lb/hp. One can imagine what this meant in terms of acceleration alone! Another surprising fact was that, in spite of the small wing of about 15 sq.m (161.5 sq.ft) area the wing loading was also relatively low due to the light all-up weight.
As I walked around the Yak-3 I noted with satisfaction that it had a nice, wide undercarriage which retracted inwards to meet under the fuselage. Then I settled down in the pilot’s seat and began the usual search to find Out where the various lever operations ‘arrived’ when watched from the ground. The water-cooled in line engine ran very well, and the propeller even had quite a bit of ground clearance. Still, I knew I had to muster my utmost flying skill, because these fast little devils could be very nasty at times, if ‘only’ by trying to swing or stall at take off. The trapezoid wing, which was tapered at a ratio of about 1:3, suggested that there was the hazard of stalling if it was not set in a special way, so that the outer wing sections had a smaller angle of incidence which would delay the separation of the airflow in the area near the ailerons.
The next morning, on 12 January, there was so much ‘other traffic’ in the air over Gross-Schimanen that a take-off with the captured Yak-3 was out of the question. Not until it was afternoon and the weather was getting worse, dared I take off in the direction of Markisch-Friedland. One had to watch the agile little aircraft very carefully to prevent it from having its own funny ways during the take-off. The view was not too good while I was taxiing on account of the upright V 12-cylinder engine, but in flight the visual range was all right. The control forces were slight, so that one had to be careful not to over-react. However, the engine was running smoothly and encouraged me to fly at low level. I had decided to do without an escorting aircraft, so that there was no possibility of testing the Yak-3 thoroughly at higher altitudes. Still getting my ‘feel’ of the Soviet fighter, I landed at Märkisch-Friedland fifty minutes later, approaching at a rather high speed.
The control forces were notably reduced with undercarriage and flaps down.
and the landing was a bit shaky, but the wide undercarriage helped, and I was
quite contented with my smooth three-point landing. When taxiing to a halt, however, trying to help with the pneumatic brake lever on the control column, I noted that the compressed air pressure had run down. There was a pressure gauge in the cockpit, but, of course, I did not know the correct values, and so I had to taxi with utmost care. What was more important: I had been graciously accepted without being fired at; perhaps I had even been properly announced. The lack of compressed air was by no means just a flaw, because not only the brakes but also the undercarriage, flaps and the radiator gills were pneumatically operated. Something had to be done about it. My luck held at the workshop, and as we started the engine, the soap suds we had put along the air pipe system formed some lovely bubbles at a cap nut. So the damage was not serious and could be repaired by cutting a new gasket and tightening the nut. But even these minor repairs meant that there was not enough time left that afternoon to continue the flight; after all, it was January. I was relieved that the compressor had not suffered any damage because repairing or even replacing would have been a time-consuming business.
The next day, it was again the thirteenth (of January), the weather was beastly. It was snowing and there could be no question of taking off, but the weathermen dangled hopes before my eyes for the afternoon. The Yak-3 had no blind-flying. instruments, though, and I had to get down somewhere and be able to know my position, too, As it happened, the meteorologists’ prophesy even came true, and so I got ready. Much to my surprise, the air pressure in the system was right, too, and at 1527 hrs I opened the throttle again, taking care that the Yak-3 did not swing during take-Off. Although the flight was properly announced, I carried the signal pistol with the identification ammunition as well. I glanced frequently at the manometer, but the pressure seemed to remain constant. The weather too improved a little as I got further west, and so I ventured a little higher to make some initial tests regarding the stability in the elevator and rudder controls — I was not tired enough of life to test the Yak at slow speed and low level. The short winter day was getting near the end, it grew misty again and I was glad after a 45-minute flight to spot Lake Müritz with the Rechlin airfield on its south end. Even when I extended the undercarriage and flaps the air pressure remained constant, which was reassuring. Soon afterwards I placed the Russian bird smoothly on the grass, and with compressed air power on hand the taxiing in wavy lines was not too difficult either. The pneumatic brake reacted on one wheel following the corresponding rudder movement, and on both wheels in central rudder position. As a result of my experience with the noisy La-5 I had plugged my ears with cotton wool under my flying helmet for this flight. The engine of the Yak, which was not exactly quiet either, had therefore not deafened me as much as that of the La-5, and so I was able to answer the questions my colleagues were bombarding me with. As usual, the aircraft was taken into the workshop hangar for inspection by various experts. General interest was roused by the excellently finished plywood wing surface. It created minimum friction and also offered the advantage of easy repair even on front-line airfields with makeshift facilities.