areas received dozens of direct hits simultaneously, but apart from those who were in the area at the time, most of the civilians in Hamburg barely knew that the bombing had happened.

* * *

The journey home was potentially even more dangerous than the previous day’s withdrawal flight. Their route would keep the Americans over German territory for almost twice as long, and by flying between Bremen and Oldenburg they would attract the attention of both flak and fighters all the way out. It had been a calculated risk on the part of the planners: the Hanover forces would also be flying through this area, and the USAAF were gambling that the Luftwaffe would not be able to attack both forces in great numbers. In the event, it was the Hanover wings that continued to suffer the brunt of the German storm. The Hamburg group was barely bothered at all – since the formation had held up to the flak remarkably well, it was merely escorted out of German territory by a fighter force that was unwilling to do much beyond hover at the edges waiting for stragglers.

In the end, only one B-17 was unable to keep up with the others – an unfortunate plane called Nitemare, piloted by First Lieutenant James W. Rendall Jr, which had been hit by flak on the way into the target and on the way out. ¹¹With two of its engines on fire, it was only a matter of time before it was forced to drop away from the formation. German fighters lost no time in dealing with it, attacking the plane three and four abreast. The radio operator was killed by their machine-gun fire, and the B-17 was so badly damaged that there was no option for the rest of the crew but to bail out. The ball-turret gunner did so, but his parachute failed to open and he died when he hit the ground after a fall of 26,000 feet. The navigator and bombardier reached the ground safely, but were shot while trying to escape shortly afterwards. They died from their wounds in hospital. The rest of the crew survived to become prisoners-of-war. Nitemarecrashed near Nindorf, ten miles south-east of Rotenburg.

While the stricken plane was making its long descent to the ground, something unusual happened in the skies above. As the fifty or so remaining bombers were making their way back to the coast they were joined by nine strange B-17s, which tried to slot themselves into the American formation. They had none of the usual markings of an American plane, such as the call and identification letters, and their waist-gun windows were closed. When one tried to join 351st BG the other crews became suspicious and fired a few warning rounds at it. It turned immediately and headed back into Germany. Presumably they were captured planes that the Luftwaffe hoped to slot into the American formation either to gather intelligence or to attack it – German records for that day are somewhat patchy and do not mention what they were hoping to achieve. Whatever the case, the strange B-17s turned away after the Americans had crossed the coast and returned to Germany, accompanied by two twin-engined fighters. ¹²

There was only one other loss for the Hamburg force. On the way home a second plane from 91st BG ran out of fuel and had to land in the sea. Its pilot, Lieutenant Jack Hargis, took the plane down gently, and the crew got into their dinghies without much trouble. They were eventually brought home by an RAF rescue launch (which also had to tow home the two Walrus seaplanes that had originally come to rescue them, but which were unable to take off again due to rough seas).

The Hamburg wings had been incredibly lucky. Their loss of just two planes and one crew made this one of the cheapest bombing raids the Eighth Air Force had ever flown over Germany. The wings that had flown to Hanover that day were not so lucky. Like the Hamburg force on the previous day they had attracted most of the German fighters, and sixteen B-17s had been shot down. A further six had been lost by a wing that never made it to Hanover, but bombed Wilhelmshaven, Wesermünde and a convoy off the Frisian Islands. The huge losses took the shine off the Hamburg ‘milk run’: the loss rate was still 12 per cent of the effective planes, well over twice what was considered sustainable.

Over the coming days such losses continued. On Wednesday, 28 July, twenty-two American planes were shot down over Kassel and Oschersleben. Another ten were lost on Thursday, and twelve more on Friday. By the end of the week eighty-eight Flying Fortresses had gone, with another dozen so badly damaged that they had to be scrapped. Nearly nine hundred American airmen were dead, wounded or missing. The following weekend VIII Bomber Command retired to lick their wounds, and for the next two weeks the American B-17s ceased flying. Despite some good bombing results, including those at Hamburg, their attempts to make their mark in the skies over Germany had only left them depleted and demoralized. This was one battle that the Luftwaffe seemed to have won.

14. The Eye of the Storm

First the left and then the right!… But he’s held to his feet, held to the ropes, looked to his corner in helplessness!

Clem McCarthy ¹

The attacks by the USAAF on 25 and 26 July shocked Hamburg. The city had not seen a daylight raid since the beginning of the war, and it had certainly never seen American planes fly over it: that formations of Flying Fortresses were now daring to approach Hamburg in broad daylight suggested that Germany’s enemies felt a new confidence.

Despite their losses in the air, the Americans had been able to do considerable damage to the port. The Blohm & Voss works had suffered quite badly, with severe hits on the construction, the ship-fitters’ and engine-erecting shops, the boiler-house, power station, foundry and tool stores. Two of the dry docks had also been heavily damaged. In the Howaldtswerke factory several furnaces were now out of action, as were the shipbuilding and machinery sheds, and the diesel engine works. The USAAF had also scored direct hits on the power station at Neuhof, the oil stores beside Rosshafen and many of the nearby railway sidings. ²

While none of this would have directly affected most people in Hamburg, the effect on their morale is incalculable. They were still seriously shaken by the Saturday-night bombing, and that they would now have to endure daylight attacks as well was alarming. Rudolf Schurig was out in the centre of Hamburg when the alarm went off for the first American raid, and remembers how frightened everyone suddenly was: ‘The sirens sounded once more – the Fliegeralarm. Terror and dismay played across people’s faces all over again. Women grabbed their children, men grabbed their wives, and they hurried to the nearest air-raid shelter where whole crowds were gathering. I have never seen the people of Hamburg running in such panic because of an air-raid siren!’ ³

Hiltgunt Zassenhaus remembered sheltering the next day during the second American attack. In the shelter everyone was even more nervous than usual because of the destruction they had already witnessed:

Shortly after ten we heard a distant hum over the clouds; the sound came nearer, became a roar. The sirens had failed, but the doom-laden drone in the heavens was warning enough. We hurried down to the cellar of the Institute. Professors, students, women and children, men in blue work overalls, covered with dust from labouring in the debris. The room had no windows. The power had failed. We stood pressed up close to one another in the dark and listened to the noise outside. It sounded like they were attacking the harbour. Then there was a crash nearby. We huddled together in breathless silence. Even the children said nothing. ⁴