The Last Interview with Erich Hartmann
by Colin Heaton of World War II Magazine
WWII Magazine: When and where were you born?
Hartmann: I was born on April 19, 1922, in Weissach. This is near Wurttemberg, Germany.
WWII: What was your family like?
Hartmann: My father was a respected physician who had been a doctor in the army in WWI, and
my mother was a licensed pilot. My brother [Alfred] later became a doctor also.
WWII: You spent time in China, which was unusual for a German youth of those days. How did
that come about?
Hartmann: My father's cousin was a diplomat there, and he convinced father to move us to
China, since Germany at that time was not exactly the best place to be economically. We
lived in Changsha province, and I was young and Alfred was even younger, but I barely
remember any of it. Father had gone ahead, and we followed. Finally thigs became bad for
foreigners, and father sent us home. We relocated to Stuttgart, and father came back later.
This was where I lived until the war.
WWII: What made you want to become a pilot?
Hartmann: Probably the same reason as most boys of that era--the glory associated with the
aces in the Great War. My mother was a licensed pilot, and this also contributed to my
desire to fly. Mother used to take us up and teach us things about flying. I knew I wanted
to fly. I became a licensed glider pilot at 14 and flew as often as I could. I became an
instructor at age 15 in the Hitler Youth. My father was not pleased that I wanted to be a
pilot. He wanted us to follow him in medicine, and this was also a dream that I had, but it
was not to be.
WWII: At what point did you enlist in the Luftwaffe?
Hartmann: I started military flight training in October 1940, in East Prussia. This lasted
until January 1942, when I went to Zerbst-Anhalt. I graduated as a lieutenant in March 1942.
Later I went to advanced aerial gunnery school, where I got into a little trouble. I was
showing off, buzzing the airfield, and was sentenced to house arrest. Ironically, my room-
mate flew the same aircraft I had been in and it developed a technical problem, and he was
killed in the crash. I arrived in Russia and reported to Jagdgeschwader (JG) 52 just before
the winter, after a slight mishap.
WWII: Was that when you crashed the Junkers Ju-87 Stuka you were flying?
Hartmann: Well, I would not say crashed, because I never got off the ground. We were
supposed to fly them to Mariopol, but when I started the Stuka I realized that it had no
brakes, and it reacted differently from a Messerschmitt 109. I crashed into the operations
shack and another man flipped his Ju-87 up over on its nose. They decided to send us in a
Ju-52 instead, since it was safer for us and the aircraft.
WWII: Was that when you first met Dietrich Hrabak?
Hartmann: Yes. "Dieter" was a very understanding yet disciplined commander, and his
experience showed. He taught us not just how to fly and fight, but how to work as a team and
stay alive. That was his greatest gift. He was very open to discussing his own mistakes and
how he learned from them, hoping we would learn also. Hrabak assigned me to the 7th Squadron
III Group, of JG52 under Major Hubertus von Bonin, an old eagle from the Spanish Civil War
and Battle of Britain. We learned a lot from him also.
WWII: Who were you first assigned to as wingman?
Hartmann: Sergeant Eduard [Edmund] "Paule" Rossmann took me under his wing.
WWII: Was it typical for an officer to be assigned to a noncommisioned officer?
Hartmann: It was for us, since he was a seasoned combat veteran. Rank meant little over
experience, and that was why we were so successful, I think.
WWII: Your first mission on October 14, 1942, was less than spectacular. What happened?
Hartmann: Well, Rossmann and I were in our flight, and Rossmann radioed that he had spotted
enemy aircraft below us. I could see nothing, but followed Rossmann down. Then we came on
them. I knew that I had to get my first kill, so I went full throttle and left Rossmann to
shoot at a plane. My shots missed, and I almost collided with him and had to pull up.
Suddenly, I was surrounded by Soviets, and I headed for low cloud cover to escape. All along
Rossmann kept talking to me, and I had a low-fuel warning. Then the engine went dead and I
bellied in, destroying my fighter. I knew I was in trouble. I had violated every commandment
a fighter pilot lives by, and I expected to be thrown out.
WWII: What happened when you finally got back to your squadron?
Hartmann: I was sentenced by von Bonin to three days of working with the ground crews. It
gave me time to think about what I had done. What I learned from Rossmann and later Walter
Krupinski I taught to new pilots when I became a leader.
WWII: What was your favorite method of attack?
Hartmann: Coming out of the sun and getting close; dogfighting was a waste of time. The hit-
and-run with the element of surprise served me well, as with most of the high-scoring
pilots. Once a Russian was shot down, especially the leader, they became disorganized and
easy to attack. This was not always the case, especially later in the war, and there were
special units of highly skilled and disciplined pilots, such as the Red Banner units, who
would make life difficult.
WWII: When did you score your first victory?
Hartmann: That was a day I will never forget, November 5, 1942. [It was] a Shturmovik
[Ilyushin] Il-2, which was the toughest aircraft to bring down because of its heavy armor
plate. You had to shoot out the oil cooler underneath, otherwise it would not go down. That
was also the day of my second forced landing, since I had flown into the debris of my kill.
I learned two things that day: Get in close and shoot, and break away immediately after
scoring the kill. The next kill came [early] the following year. This was when Krupinski
came to Taman and was my new squadron leader.
WWII: Krupinski was quite a character. What was his arrival at the squadron like?
Hartmann: I was being addressed by my new wing commander [Hrabak] when a fighter came in
smoking and suddenly landed, flipped over and exploded. We knew the pilot was dead. One of
the men said, "It is Krupinski," and out of the blinding smoke this man walked out of the
wreckage with a singed uniform, but no other damage. He was smiling and complained about the
flak over Caucasus, but without any real surprise on his face. He introduced himself,
demanded a plane, went up, was shot down and brought back by car. He then took another
[plane], scored two kills and returned, then wanted dinner. The whole event was treated as
casually as a card game. This was my first meeting with "The Count".
WWII: How did you meet Gunther Rall?
Hartmann: Well, he replaced von Bonin as group commander and we were introduced. That was
the beginning. In August 1943, Rall made me commander of the 9th Squadron, which had been
Hermann Graf's command.
WWII: You eventually began flying with Krupinski as his wingman. How different was it from
your earlier experiences flying with Rossmann?
Hartmann: Well, the partnership was a little uneasy at first, but we found that we worked
well together. We both had strengths and weaknesses and managed to overcome our earlier
problems. It worked out well. Besides, I had to make sure that he came home to his many
girlfriends, who were always waiting on him to come down. I won the Iron Cross 2nd Class
while flying with "Krupi". The one thing I learned from him was that the worst thing to do
was to lose a wingman. Kills were less important than survival. I only lost one wingman,
Gunther Capito, a former bomber pilot, but this was due to his inexperience with fighters.
He survived, however.
WWII: How many kills did you have before you received the Knight's Cross?
Hartmann: I had scored 148 kills by October 29, 1943. My award was sort of late, I guess.
There were many men who had more than 50 kills who did not receive the Knight's Cross,
which I think was unfair. I also thought it infair that men like Rall, [Gerhard] Barkhorn,
[Otto] Kittel, [Heinz] Bar and [Erich] Rudorffer did not receive higher decorations. They
deserved them.
WWII: Who was your best friend during those days?
Hartmann: There were so many. My closest relationship, however, was with Heinz Mertens, my
crew chief. You rely upon your wingmen to cover you in the air and your team-mates in aerial
battle, but the man who keeps your machine flying and safe is the most important man you
know. We became the best of friends, and none of my success would have been possible if not
for "Bimmel" Mertens.
WWII: The bond you two had is legendary. Why the closeness?
Hartmann: I can't explain it. When I went missing on the mission where I was captured and
escaped, Mertens had taken a rifle and went looking for me. He would not give up. That is
a loyalty you never find outside of the military.
WWII: Describe that time you were captured.
Hartmann: The Russians were attacking in our area, and Hrabak gave us our orders. This was
in August 1943, and our mission was to support the Stukas of Hans-Ulrich Rudel in a counter-
attack. Then things changed. The Red Air Force was bombing German ground positions in
support of their offensive, so my flight of eight fighters located and attacked the enemy,
about 40 [Lavochkin Gorbunov-Gudkov] LaGGs and [Yakovlev] Yaks with another 40 or so
Shturmovik ground-attack aircraft. I shot down two when something hit my plane. I made a
forced landing and was captured by Soviet soldiers. I faked that I was injured as they
approached the plane. They believed me and took me to their headquarters, and their doctor
examined me. Even he believed me. They placed me back in the truck (which was German) on a
stretcher, and as Stukas made their attacks, I rushed the one guard in the truck. He went
down, and I leapt out the back. As soon as I did that, I heard the truck stop, so I had to
keep moving. I found myself in a great field of very tall sunflowers, where I tried to hide
as I ran. All the while, the men chasing me were firing wildly in my direction. I found a
small village occupied by Russians and decided to return to the area I had just come from
and wait for nightfall. [It was during this time that Mertens took off to find Hartmann,
armed with only a rifle and water.] I reached my secure area and took a nap, and later I
awoke and took off again headed west. I passed a patrol of Russians, about 10 I think, so I
decided to follow them. Then the patrol disappeared over a small hill and there was a fire-
fight. I knew that must be German lines, since the men of the patrol came flying back over
on my side. I then walked to the other side and was challenged by a German sentry who also
fired a bullet at me, which ripped open my trouser leg. I was pretty upset, but this man
was in complete fear. I was welcomed into their position, given an interrogation and was
asked to prepare for contact. Another group of Russians, obviously drunk, walked toward our
trenches, and the lieutenant gave the order to fire when they came within about 20 meters.
They were all destroyed. I was later told that a group of Russians had entered the perimeter
speaking fluent German and claiming to be escaped POWs, and they pulled out some Tommy guns
and killed some men. This explained the soldier's caution over accepting me at face value,
as I had no identification on me. Everything had been taken when I was captured.
WWII: How did you get back to your squadron?
Hartmann: The infantry commander contacted Hrabak, who confirmed who I was. They sent me
back by car, and I was met by Krupi, who had just come back from the hospital. I was also
informed about what Bimmel had gone and done, and I was very upset. The next day, Bimmel
came back and we saw each other and had a "birthday party".
WWII: What do you mean by a birthday party?
Hartmann: That is a party that is thrown in honor of a pilot who survived a situation that
should have killed him. We had a lot of those.
WWII: Were you ever shot down after that?
Hartmann: No, never by an enemy plane, but I had to crash-land 14 times due to damage from
my victories or mechanical failure, but I never took to the parachute. I never became
another pilot's victory.
WWII: You were never wounded either, were you?
Hartmann: No. I was very lucky, unlike Rall, Krupinski, and especially [Johannes] Steinhoff,
who was almost burned alive.
WWII: In March 1944 you were awarded the Oak Leaves to your Knight's Cross by Adolf Hitler.
What was that occasion like?
Hartmann: That was a strange time. First, most of us were drunk. "Gerd" Barkhorn, Walter
Krupinski, Johannes Wiese, and I were ordered to report to Berchtesgaden. All of us except
Gerd were getting the Oak Leaves; he was getting the Swords. By the time we got there, we
were trying to sober up. Walter always stated years later that we had to hold each other up.
We had been drinking cognac and champagne, a deadly combination when you have not eaten in a
couple of days. The first person we met off the train was Hitler's Luftwaffe adjutant, Major
[Nicolaus] von Below, who, I think, was in a state of shock at our condition. We were to
meet Hitler in a couple of hours and we could hardly stand. [At Berchtesgaden,] I could not
find my hat, and my vision was not the best, so I took a hat from a stand and put it on. It
was too large and I knew it was not mine. Below became upset and told me it was Hitler's and
to put it back. Everyone was laughing about it except Below. I made some joke about Hitler
having a big head, and that it "must go with the job," which created even more laughter.
WWII: What were your impressions of Hitler?
Hartmann: I found him a little disappointing, although very interested in the war at the
front and extremely well informed on events. However, he had a tendency to drone on about
minor things that I found boring. I found him not that imposing. I also found him lacking in
sufficient knowledge about the air war in the East. He was more concerned with the Western
Front's air war and the bombing of cities. Of course, the Eastern Front ground war was his
area of most interest. This was evident. Hitler listened to the men from the Western Front
and assured them that weapons and fighter production were increasing, and history proved
this to be correct. Then he went into the U-Boat war, how we were going to decidedly destroy
maritime commerce, and all that. I found him an isolated and disturbed man.
WWII: What was the feeling about the war in your unit at this time?
Hartmann: I don't recall anyone talking of defeat, but I do know that we talked about some
of the great pilots killed already, and the news of the American [North American P-51]
Mustangs reaching deep into Germany and even farther. Few of us had any experience against
the Americans, although many old-timers had fought the British. Those who fought Americans
had done so in North Africa, and their insights proved interesting.
WWII: By the time you were awarded the Swords to you Knight's Cross, things were getting
even more desperate for Germany. What was the Fuhrer like when you met him for this
ceremony?
Hartmann: I had just landed after a successful mission when I was told that I had been
awarded the Swords. This was June 1944. I arrived on August 3, to visit Hitler again for the
award ceremony, and there were 10 of us Luftwaffe guys in all. Hitler was not the same man.
This was just after the bomb plot to kill him [on July 20], and his right arm was shaking,
and he looked exhausted. He had to turn his left ear to hear anyone speak because he was
deaf in the other one from the blast. Hitler discussed the cowardly act to kill him and
attacked the quality of his generals, with a few exceptions. He also stated that God had
spared his life so that he could deliver Germany from destruction, and that the Western
Allies would be thrown back inevitably. I was very surprised at all of this.
WWII: Not long after receiving the Swords you were awarded the Diamonds for your Knight's
Cross. You were only 22 and the youngest recipient of Germany's highest award. Did you find
that distinction problematic?
Hartmann: I think that being a captain and a Diamonds winner at that age forced a lot of
responsibility upon me. I think that I was able to handle all of that responsibility because
of the strength and friendship of my comrades. I would say that I was ambitious and eager. I
can't think of any fighter pilot who would not have those qualities. Becoming a hero is not
always easy, as you find yourself living up to the expectations of others. I would have pre-
ferred to just do my job and finish the war anonymously.
WWII: How was the subsequent meeting with the Fuhrer to receive the Diamonds different from
your previous encounters with him?
Hartmann: Well, Hrabak and the rest threw a party before I left, and I was so drunk I could
not stand the next day. It sounds like we were all alcoholics, but this was not the case. We
lived and played hard. You never knew what the next day would bring. I flew my 109 to
Insterburg, and JG.52 gave me an escort. When I arrived at the Wolfschanze [Hitler's East
Prussian headquarters] the world had changed. Hitler had already begun the trials and
executions of those involved [in the bomb plot], and everyone was under suspicion. You had
to enter three areas of security, and no one was allowed to carry a weapon into the last
section. I told Hitler's SS guard to tell the Fuhrer that I would not receive the Diamonds
if I were not trusted to carry my pistol. The guy looked like I had just married his mother.
He went to speak with von Below, who was a colonel then, and Below came out and said it was
all right. I hung my cap and pistol belt on the stand, and Hitler came to me and said, "I
wish we had more like you and Rudel," and he gave me the Diamonds, which were encrusted upon
another set of Oak Leaves and Swords. We had coffee and lunch, and he confided in me,
saying, "Militarily the war is lost," and that I must already know this, and that if we
waited, the Western Allies and Soviets would be at war with each other. He also spoke about
the partisan problem, and he asked me of my experiences. Hitler asked me my opinion of the
tactics used in fighting the American and British bombers. Since I did not have a lot of
experience with this, I simply stated what I thought was fact--that [Reichsmarschall
Hermann] Goring's order to combat them and the method employed was in error. I also informed
him of the deficiencies in pilot training; too many minimally trained men were simply
throwing their lives away. He also spoke about the new weapons and tactics, and then we
parted. That was the last time I saw him, August 25, 1944. I flew back to the unit, where an
order for 10 days' leave was waiting for me. I also had to report to Adolf Galland, and we
discussed the [Messerschmitt] Me-262 situation. I went back to marry my Ursula, "Uschi"--
that was all that mattered to me.
WWII: Your relationship with Ursula Paetsch was an extremely important one. How did you
meet?
Hartmann: We were in the same school, and finally I decided to track her down. I caught up
with her and a girlfriend, stopped my bicycle and introduced myself. I knew that she was the
one for me, although I was only 17, and she was two years younger. Our parents were none too
thrilled about it, I can tell you, but they came around.
WWII: You had competition for her, didn't you?
Hartmann: Yes, but I resolved that problem--it was nothing. Uschi and I were destined to be
together--that was fate. And she waited a long time, even after the war. We were married on
September 10, 1944, but still had little time to spend together....Gerd was my best man,
with Willi Batz and Krupi as witnesses. We could not marry in a church due to the logistical
problems. That would have to wait until 1956.
WWII: During the war what were your worst fears?
Hartmann: Well, I feared capture in Russia. That was a very eye-opening prospect. The
bombing of our cities also worried us, as our families were very dear to us. I suppose I was
most worried that Uschi would not wait, so I always tried to see her whenever I was on
leave. Medals meant leave, and that was an incentive. If I had the choice of losing her or
returning all the decorations, I would send the medals back. She was too important to me,
and always has been. It was later learned that the Soviets knew exactly who I was and Josef
Stalin had placed a 10,000-ruble price on my head. This was later increased, and Rudel and I
had the highest bounties of any Germans during the war, probably with the exception of
Hitler and a few of the Nazi elite. Every time I went up I knew that someone would be
looking for me. I had thoughts of the American Western films, where the top gunfighter is
called out into the street--another person wanting to make his mark. I felt marked, so I had
to change my aircraft occasionally. I found that when I used the [Me-109 painted with a]
black tulip [design], I had more difficulty in finding opponents, who avoided me for the
most part. I needed camouflodge.
WWII: What were conditions like in Russia?
Hartmann: Well, in the winter you can imagine. We seldom had hard shelter, living in tents.
The lice were the worst, and there was little you could do but hold your clothes to a fire
and listen to them pop. We had DDT and bathed when we could. Illness, especially pneumonia
and trench foot, was bad, particularly among the ground crews. Food was always a concern,
especially later in the war, and fuel restrictions made every mission count. We always flew
from grass strips, and we were often bombed. These strips were easy to repair, although the
terrain made every takeoff and landing an adventure. Sometimes fighters would snap their
landing gear, or just dig in and topple over. Maintenance was another nightmare, as supplies
and parts were difficult to get, especially when we were moving around all the time. Despite
these problems we were very successful in the Crimea through 1943-44.
WWII: Did JG.52 have any experience flying with foreign units?
Hartmann: We had a Royal Hungarian unit assigned to us, as well as Croats. They were good
pilots and fearless in many ways--good men. We had even more contact, especially with the
Romanians, when we were stationed there, and this was where we engaged both the Americans
and Soviets--a very trying time. We were flying in Russia against 20-to-1 odds. In Romania
it was 30-to-1.
WWII: How was the evacuation from the Crimea?
Hartmann: Well, I would not call it an evacuation but a full retreat. We had to move, and I
discovered that when the radio, armor plate and rear wall were removed, you could stack four
men in the tail, but three was about the most I would try. We managed to save many of our
precious ground crew from capture using this method.
WWII: What about the Soviets that you captured? Was there any animosity among your men
toward them?
Hartmann: Not at all. In fact, I would say that in our group the majority found all the
National Socialist idiocy a little sickening. Hrabak made it a point to explain to the new
young pilots that if they thought they were fighting for National Socialism and the Fuhrer
they needed to transfer to the Waffen SS or something. He had no time for political types.
He was fighting a war against a superb enemy, not holding a political rally. I think this
approach damaged Hrabak in the eyes of Goring and others, but he was a real man and did not
care about anything but his men. Hannes Trautloft [commander of JG.54] was the same way, as
was Galland. All the greats, with a few exceptions, were like that. We even had a Russian
prisoner show us how to start our engines in the subzero cold by mixing gasoline into the
oil crankcase. This was unheard of to us, and we were sure we would lose a fighter in the
explosion. It worked, because the fuel thinned out the congealed oil and evaporated as the
starter engaged. It was wonderful. Another guy showed us how to keep the weapons firing by
dipping them in boiling water, removing the lubricants that froze the mechanisms shut.
Without the oils they worked fine. I felt sad for these men, who hated no one and were
forced to fight a war they would rather have avoided.
WWII: What were some of your more memorable combat experiences in fighting enemy aircraft?
Hartmann: One situation comes to mind. I was in a duel with a Red Banner-flown Yak-9, and
this guy was good and absolutely insane. He tried and tried to get in behind me, and every
time he went to open fire, I would jerk out of the way of his rounds. Then he pulled up and
rolled, and we approached each other head-on, firing, with no hits either way. This happened
two times. Finally, I rolled into a negative-G dive, out of his line of sight, and rolled
out to chase him at full throttle. I came in from below in a shallow climb and flamed him.
The pilot bailed out and was later captured. I met and spoke with this man, a captain, who
was a likable guy. We gave him some food and allowed him to roam the base after having his
word that he would not escape. He was happy to be alive, but he was very confused, since his
superiors had told him that Soviet pilots would be shot immediately upon capture. This guy
had just had one of the best meals of the war and had made new friends. I like to think that
people like that went back home and told their countrymen the truth about us, not the
propaganda that erupted after the war, although there were some terrible things that
happened, no doubt. Once I attacked a flight of four IL-2s and shot one up. All four tried
to roll out in formation at low altitude, and all four crashed into the ground, unable to
recover since their bombloads reduced their maneuverability. Those were the easiest four
kills I ever had. However, I remember the time I saw over 20,000 dead Germans littering a
valley where Soviet tanks and Cossacks had attacked a trapped unit, and that sight, even
from the air, was perhaps the most memorable of my life. I can close my eyes and see this
even now--such a tragedy. I remember that I cried as I flew low over the scene; I could not
believe my eyes. Another time was in May 1944, near Jassy. My wingman Orje Blessin and I
were jumped by fighters; he broke right, and the enemy followed him down. I rolled and
followed the enemy fighter down to the deck. I radioed to my wingman to pull up and slip
right in a shallow turn so I could get a good shot. I told him to look back and see what
happens when you do not watch your tail, and I fired. The [Soviet] fighter blew apart and
fell like confetti. However, apart from Krupinski's crash the day I met him, one event is
clear and comical. My wingman on many missions was Carl Junger. He came in for a landing,
and a Polish farmer with a horse cart crossed his path. He crashed into it, killing the
horse, and the fighter was nothing but twisted wreckage. We all saw it and began thinking
about the funeral, when suddenly the debris moved and he climbed out without a scratch,
still wearing his sunglasses. He was ready to go up again. Amazing! Then there were the
American Mustangs that we both dreaded and anticipated meeting. We knew that they were much
better aircraft than ours--newer and faster, and with great range. Once in Romania we had an
interesting experience with both Russians and Americans.
WWII: What happened on that mission?
Hartmann: We took off on a mission to intercept Soviet bombers attacking Prague, and we
counted many American-made aircraft with Red Stars, part of your Lend-Lease. But then there
were also American fighters nearby, and I was above them all by a thousand meters. It seemed
that the Americans and Russians were busy examining each other and were unaware that we were
around. I gave the order to drop down through the Mustangs, then the Russian fighters, and
through the bombers in just one hit-and-run attack. Then we would get the hell out of there,
since there were only the two of us. I shot down two P-51s quickly in my dive, and I then
fired on a [Douglas] Boston bomber and scored good hits, but it was not a kill. The second
element also scored a kill against the Mustangs, and my wingman and I were all right.
Suddenly, the most amazing thing happened. The Soviet fighters and Americans began fighting
each other, and the confusion worked for us. They must not have realized that it was Germans
that started the whole thing! The Russian bombers dropped their bombs in panic and turned
away. I was three Yaks get shot down and a Mustang damaged, trailing white smoke. That was
my last fight against Americans.
WWII: When had you first encountered American fighters and bombers?
Hartmann: This was in the defense of Ploesti and Bucharest, and also over Hungary, when the
bombers came in and they had heavy fighter escort. I was recalled to take over the command
of I Group, JG.52; this was June 23, 1944. [Boeing] B-17s were attacking the railroad
junction, and we were formed up. We did not see the Mustangs at first and prepared to attack
the bombers. Suddenly, four of them flew across us and below, so I gave the order to attack
the fighters. I closed in on one and fired. His fighter came apart and some pieces hit my
wings, and I immediately found myself behind another and I fired, and he flipped in. My
second flight shot down the other two fighters. But then we saw others and again attacked. I
shot down another and saw that the leader still had his drop tanks, which limited his
ability to turn. I was very relieved that this pilot was able to successfully bail out. I
was out of ammunition after the fight. But this success was not to be repeated, because the
Americans learned and they were not to be ambushed again. They protected the bombers very
well, and we were never able to get close enough to do any damage. I did have the
opportunity to engage the Mustangs again when a flight was being pursued from the rear and I
tried to warn them on the radio, but they could not hear. I dived down and closed on a P-51
that was shooting up a 109, and I blew him up. I half-rolled and recovered to fire on
another of the three remaining enemy planes and flamed him as well. As soon as that
happened, I was warned that I had several on my tail, so I headed for the deck, a swarm of
eight Americans behind me. That is a very uncomfortable feeling, I can tell you! I made
jerking turns left and right as they fired, but they fired from too far away to be
effective. I was headed for the base so the defensive guns would help me, but I ran out of
fuel....I was certain that this one pilot was lining me up for a strafe, but he banked away
and looked at me, waving. I landed four miles from the base; I almost made it. That day we
lost half our aircraft. We were too outnumbered, and many of the young pilots were
inexperienced.
WWII: How did you assess your enemy in the air?
Hartmann: I knew that if an enemy pilot started firing early, well outside the maximum
effective range of his guns, then he was an easy kill. But if a pilot closed in and held his
fire, and seemed to be watching the situation, then you knew that an experienced pilot was
on you. Also, I developed different tactics for various conditions, such as always turning
into the guns of an approaching enemy, or rolling into a negative-G dive, forcing him to
follow or break off, then rolling out and sometimes reducing airspeed to allow him to over-
commit. That was when you took advantage of his failing.
WWII: There were some skeptics who questioned your kills. How did you react to this
criticism?
Hartmann: Well, this happened to a few of us. Goring could not believe the staggering kills
being recorded from 1941 on. I even had a man in my unit, [Friedrich] "Fritz" Obleser, who
questioned my kills. I asked Rall to have him transferred from the 8th squadron to be my
wingman for a while. Obleser became a believer and signed off on some kills as a witness,
and we became friends after that.
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Hartmann interview continued:
WWII: With your impressive record by 1945, you were a natural to be chosen for Galland's
elite Jagdverband (JV) 44. Why didn't you take him up on his offer?
Hartmann: I did qualify in the Me-262, but my heart and friends were in JG.52, and I felt
that was where I belonged. Unit loyalty was important to me. Plus, I had many new pilots who
needed guidance and instruction. They were getting younger all the time and had fewer and
fewer hours of flight instruction before they were thrown into battle. I was needed, and
that was where I stayed. Rall, Krupinski, Steinhoff and others were transferred to Germany,
where they ended their war. I was torn, but I felt that I made the right decision at the
time. In later years I realized that my life would have been very different if I had joined
JV.44.
WWII: What were your experiences on the last day of the war in Europe?
Hartmann: On May 8, 1945, I took off at around 0800 hours from my field in Czechoslovakia
going to Brunn. My wingman and I saw eight Yaks below us. I shot one down, and that was my
last victory. I decided not to attack the others once I saw that there were 12 Mustangs
above me. My wingman and I headed for the deck, where the smoke of the bombing could hide
us. We pulled through the smoke and saw once again the two allies fighting each other above
us. Incredible! Well, we landed at the field and were told that the war was over. I must
say that during the war I never disobeyed an order, but when General [Hans] Seidemann
ordered me and Graf to fly to the British sector and surrender to avoid the Russians, with
the rest of the wing to surrender to the Soviets, I knew I could not leave my men. That
would have been bad leadership. There was a large bounty on my head, much like Rudel. I was
well known, and everyone knew that Stalin would like to get me. I remember Graf telling me
that, as [we were] Diamonds winners, the Soviets would probably execute us if they got us.
I had no doubt he was right at the time. Graf also mentioned the women, children and ground
personnel who would have no one to help them; they would be at the mercy of the Red Army,
and we all knew what that meant. Well, we destroyed the aircraft and all munitions,
everything. I sat in my fighter and fired the guns into the woods where all the fuel had
been dropped, and then jumped out. We destroyed 25 perfectly good fighters. They would be
nice to have in museums now. I was marching with my unit through Czechoslovakia when we
surrendered to an American armored unit.
WWII: How many missions had you flown by the end of the war?
Hartmann: I flew around 1,456, I think, but I am not sure of the exact number.
WWII: How did you wind up in Soviet hands?
Hartmann: After Graf, [Hartmann] Grasser and I surrendered, we were placed in a barbed wire
camp. The conditions were terrible. Many men decided to escape, and some were assisted by
the guards. We went eight days without any food and then were told we were to be moved. All
of us, even women and children, were taken to an open field. The trucks stopped and there
were Soviet troops there waiting for us. The Russians then seperated the women and the
girls from the men, and the most horrible things happened, which I cannot say here. We saw
this, the Americans saw this, and we could do nothing to stop it. Men who had fought like
lions cried like babies at the sight of complete strangers being raped repeatedly. A couple
of girls managed to run to a truck, and the Americans pulled them in, but the Russians--
most were drunk--pointed their guns at the allies and fired a few shots. Then the truck
drivers decided to drive away quickly. Some women were shot after the rapes. Others were not
so lucky. I remember a 12-year-old girl whose mother had been raped and shot being raped by
several soldiers. She died from these acts soon afterward. Then more Russians came, and it
began all over again and lasted through the night. During the night entire families
committed suicide, men killing their wives and daughters, then themselves. I still cannot
believe these things as I speak now. I know many will never believe this story, but it is
true. Soon a Russian general came and issued orders for all of this to stop. He was serious,
because some of the Russians who did not stay away and came to rape were executed on the
spot by their own men by hanging.
WWII: What was your internment like in Russia?
Hartmann: Well, I was somewhat famous, or infamous, depending upon your perspective, and
the Soviets were very interested in making an example of me. I was never badly beaten or
tortured, but I was starved and threatened for several years. The interrogations were the
worst. The first thing they did was give us physical exams to determine how fit we were for
hard labor. Then they put us on a train that was diverted from Vienna to the Carpathians in
Romania. We were placed in another wired prison with Romanian Communist guards. This lasted
a week and then we boarded another train. There was no room in these small train cars, so
not all could sit. So we took turns. Finally, we arrived near Kirov and disembarked in a
swamp. This was our home for a while. Of the 1,500 POWs who were dropped at this place,
about 200 lived through the first winter. This I know from some who survived. They were not
fed, just worked to death. I was sent to Gryazovets, where [Luftwaffe ace Hans] "Assi" Hahn
was already. He had been a POW since 1943.
WWII: Which camp were you in as a POW?
Hartmann: I was in several camps: Shakhty; Novocherkassk, where they kept me in solitary
confinement; and Diaterka. I had gone on a hunger strike to protest the slave-labor
conditions and the fact that the Soviets were simply working men to death out of spite. I
was ironically placed in a camp at Kuteynikovo, where my squadron had been based in 1943.
WWII: Not all of the POWs were docile. Wasn't there an uprising at one camp?
Hartmann: That was Shakhty. This was when I and others refused to work, invoking the Geneva
Convention. They placed me back in solitary. This was a work camp for mining, and many men
were tired of it, and I think my being gone started the problem. Within a few days, the POWs
jumped the guards, cornered the camp commandant and freed me. It was quite exciting. Then
they sent me to the other camps.
WWII: Describe a camp. How was it laid out?
Hartmann: A fine example was Diaterka. There was a high fence, then a dead zone with a
walkway for guards and dogs, then another fence with watchtowers with more guards and
machine guns. There were long rows of barracks, which were not insulated against the cold,
and the winters were quite cold, I can tell you. Each barrack held between 200 and 400
prisoners depending on its size, and there were rows of wooden bunks in tiers of three to
four. The camp was divided into maximum- and minimum-security sections, with us being in the
most secure section. The ultra-maximum-security section housed elite members of the Third
Reich and special Soviet political prisoners, which was another section even within our
part. This was where Hitler's SS adjutant Otto Gunsche and [Berlin police vice president
Fritz-Dietlof] Count von der Schulenburg were held, among others. I stayed there until 1954,
when I was sent back to Novocherkassk. This was my last camp.
WWII: Did the Soviets try to recruit you to work for them, as they did others?
Hartmann: Yes, they offered me the opportunity to return home if I worked as an agent for
them, which was out of the question. They did not like this either. I was assigned kitchen
duties as an inducement to become a converted Communist. I think [they believed] that if
they could get us highly decorated officers to convert, their job would be made much easier.
They converted Graf, which is a shame, but he did not embrace communism. He looked at it as
a pragmatist--it was either the Western way or Soviet way, and he was already there. They
did release him in 1950, but I would not be so lucky. Those of us who resisted were punished
much longer. They wanted me as an informer and even gave me a list of names of officers they
wanted information on. They promised me early release if I did this. I refused. They placed
me in solitary a few times, for a long time.
WWII: How did you maintain your sanity when others did not?
Hartmann: I thought of my Uschi. She kept me going, and the thought of my family waiting for
me. They threatened to kill my wife and son, or forcibly bring them to Russia, and they
spoke about doing terrible things. All of this was to break you down.
WWII: Did you have mail or other means of communication with Germany?
Hartmann: We were allowed only 25 words on a postcard to send out, sometimes a lot less, and
this was not often. The letters I smuggled out with returning POWs provided the information
they needed. I received about 50 letters from Uschi in the 10 1/2 years I was confined, but
she wrote over 400. Getting a letter was the greatest morale boost you could imagine.
WWII: You and your old friend Graf had a parting of the ways in Russia. Why was that?
Hartmann: Well, we had agreed never to surrender Diamonds to the Soviets. My originals were
with Uschi, and a copy was taken by an American, and another copy I had also. I threw them
away, although they were worthless, rather than surrender them. Graf had given them his, and
they were on the table of the NKVD [intelligence] officer when I was called in. He wanted
mine also. He did not get them. They also wanted detailed information on the Me-262 because
they had several captured machines they wanted to evaluate. I did not help them.
WWII: What seperated the Germans from the rest of the international prisoners? How did all
of you manage to survive when so many perished?
Hartmann: I would have to say our discipline. We never lost our military bearing, and our
rigid system and mutual respect for our own authority maintained us. We had the rank
structure and presence of mind to form our own leadership committees. Even though we wore no
rank, everyone understood their place and all worked within the system. That was our
strength, as well as many of us having our faith in God. I thought of my faith and my Uschi,
and that got me through. Many men found it difficult when word would come that their wives
had divorced them, or that a relative such as a parent had died. My son Peter died while I
was a POW, but I only learned of this much later, a year or more, as with my father. I
learned more when I was repatriated in 1955 along with Hans Baur, Ferdinand Schorner, Hajo
Herrmann, Johannes Weise and several others. Assi Hahn was released earlier than the rest of
us, as was Walter Wolfrum, who had been badly wounded before our capture. Wolfrum smuggled a
private letter to Uschi for me, which let her know I was still alive.
WWII: You received Red Cross packages didn't you?
Hartmann: Yes, sometimes, but these were often rifled through and delayed so long the food
contents were worthless. Those packages that did arrive well were very helpful, especially
when it came to trading with the local civilians. We made many friends with the local
peasants, and they had no ill will towards us, nor we with them.
WWII: What events eventually secured your release?
Hartmann: [West German] Chancellor Konrad Adenauer was very crucial in this. My mother had
written Stalin and [Vyacheslav] Molotov on my behalf without any response. She wrote to
Adenauer, and he replied personally that he was working on the problem. The Soviets wanted
a trade agreement with the West, especially West Germany, and part of this deal was the
release of all the POWs. I knew something was going on when we were allowed to go to the
cinema and were issued new clothes, suits of a kind, and not prison issue. We boarded a bus
to Rostov, where we boarded a train in October 1955. Other trains would follow, with the
last coming in December. As soon as the train stopped at Herleshausen, I was able to send a
telegram to my Uschi.
WWII: What would you say were the greatest highs and lows of coming home in 1955?
Hartmann: I learned that my son, Peter Erich, and father had died while I was in prison,
and that was a hard thing for me, and I will say no more. But my mother and lovely Uschi
were there waiting for me. They never gave up hope, and I think that my belief in their
strength was what got me through the most terrible torture or starvation. Whatever the NKVD
did to me, I just thought about my family and focused upon that. Another sad thing was that
when the train stopped and we got out, hundreds of women and men were holding photographs
of sons, brothers, husbands and fathers, all asking everyone they saw if they knew of their
loved one. Many thousands had died, and there was rarely any communication back home to
anyone as to what had happened, so many never returned and the families knew nothing. They
were simply ghosts who vanished. I find that very sad.
WWII: What was one of the first things you wanted when you came home?
Hartmann: Well, a good meal and a hot bath! But to see my Uschi was the greatest dream. I
also read everything I could find---newspapers, books and magazines---I wanted information.
I had been in an intellectual vacuum for so long, I wanted knowledge. Of coarse Uschi and I
had our church wedding, which was long overdue.
WWII: Was there any celebration for your return?
Hartmann: Yes, a big party was planned, but I declined it. I did not feel that it was
appropriate until everyone was home who was still alive. I also could not believe the
rebuilt areas and number of new cars, the airplanes in the peaceful sky. The clothes style
was new, all of it was new. One of the first people to meet me was Assi Hahn, who had been
home five years before.
WWII: Why did you join the Bundesluftwaffe? Was there anything in your mind that would have
prevented you from wearing a uniform again?
Hartmann: There is always the thought that you may once again be in the same situation. I
was 33 when I came home, and that is late in life to start a career. I had lost touch with
much of the world, but the one thing I knew was flying and the military. That was a safe
call to make. The thought of fighting another war also frightened me. But I also thought
about the needs of my country, and my old comrades had joined and were pressuring me to do
the same. Krupi called and wanted me to join him and Gerd Barkhorn on a flying trip to
England. Dieter Hrabak even came and talked to me at the house. I joined in 1956. The old
boys were back.
WWII: How did you get back into flying?
Hartmann: I had a friend who let me fly his lightplane, and I certified as a private pilot.
Heinz Bar was also a great help, as were others. I took refresher and conversion training in
Germany, England and the United States on the newer models. I was made the first commander
of the new JG.71 "Richthofen," and I was very proud.
WWII: Your opposition to the Lockheed F-104 Starfighter program is well known. What do you
say about that today?
Hartmann: Yes. Well, the Starfighter was a great plane, but it had problems, and I did not
feel that Germany needed---or that our pilots could even handle---this machine without a lot
more experience. Many higher up felt that I was out of line, but I stated what I thought was
accurate, and I was proven correct, but this made me enemies. I also did other things that
were considered criminal, such as having the unit's [North American] F-86s painted with my
old tulip pattern, and I created the squadron bars, like in the old days, and this raised
eyebrows. I felt that morale was important and camaraderie through a unique and
distinguishing emblem was needed. The bars were killed under superior directives, although
today all squadrons have them. I did have supporters, such as General [Joseph] Kammhuber,
but he was a rare breed from the old days.
WWII: What did you do after retirement?
Hartmann: I instructed and flew at a few air clubs, and flew in an aerobatics team with
Galland. Later I just decided to relax and enjoy life. I have my family and friends and am
always meeting new ones.
WWII: One question many people may have is how can you not have hatred for the Russians
after your experiences with them?
Hartmann: One thing I learned is this: Never allow yourself to hate a people because of the
actions of a few. Hatred and bigotry destroyed my nation, and millions died. I would hope
that most people did not hate Germans because of the Nazis, or Americans because of slaves.
Never hate, it only eats you alive. Keep an open mind and always look for the good in
people. You may be surprised at what you find.
by Colin Heaton of World War II Magazine
WWII Magazine: When and where were you born?
Hartmann: I was born on April 19, 1922, in Weissach. This is near Wurttemberg, Germany.
WWII: What was your family like?
Hartmann: My father was a respected physician who had been a doctor in the army in WWI, and
my mother was a licensed pilot. My brother [Alfred] later became a doctor also.
WWII: You spent time in China, which was unusual for a German youth of those days. How did
that come about?
Hartmann: My father's cousin was a diplomat there, and he convinced father to move us to
China, since Germany at that time was not exactly the best place to be economically. We
lived in Changsha province, and I was young and Alfred was even younger, but I barely
remember any of it. Father had gone ahead, and we followed. Finally thigs became bad for
foreigners, and father sent us home. We relocated to Stuttgart, and father came back later.
This was where I lived until the war.
WWII: What made you want to become a pilot?
Hartmann: Probably the same reason as most boys of that era--the glory associated with the
aces in the Great War. My mother was a licensed pilot, and this also contributed to my
desire to fly. Mother used to take us up and teach us things about flying. I knew I wanted
to fly. I became a licensed glider pilot at 14 and flew as often as I could. I became an
instructor at age 15 in the Hitler Youth. My father was not pleased that I wanted to be a
pilot. He wanted us to follow him in medicine, and this was also a dream that I had, but it
was not to be.
WWII: At what point did you enlist in the Luftwaffe?
Hartmann: I started military flight training in October 1940, in East Prussia. This lasted
until January 1942, when I went to Zerbst-Anhalt. I graduated as a lieutenant in March 1942.
Later I went to advanced aerial gunnery school, where I got into a little trouble. I was
showing off, buzzing the airfield, and was sentenced to house arrest. Ironically, my room-
mate flew the same aircraft I had been in and it developed a technical problem, and he was
killed in the crash. I arrived in Russia and reported to Jagdgeschwader (JG) 52 just before
the winter, after a slight mishap.
WWII: Was that when you crashed the Junkers Ju-87 Stuka you were flying?
Hartmann: Well, I would not say crashed, because I never got off the ground. We were
supposed to fly them to Mariopol, but when I started the Stuka I realized that it had no
brakes, and it reacted differently from a Messerschmitt 109. I crashed into the operations
shack and another man flipped his Ju-87 up over on its nose. They decided to send us in a
Ju-52 instead, since it was safer for us and the aircraft.
WWII: Was that when you first met Dietrich Hrabak?
Hartmann: Yes. "Dieter" was a very understanding yet disciplined commander, and his
experience showed. He taught us not just how to fly and fight, but how to work as a team and
stay alive. That was his greatest gift. He was very open to discussing his own mistakes and
how he learned from them, hoping we would learn also. Hrabak assigned me to the 7th Squadron
III Group, of JG52 under Major Hubertus von Bonin, an old eagle from the Spanish Civil War
and Battle of Britain. We learned a lot from him also.
WWII: Who were you first assigned to as wingman?
Hartmann: Sergeant Eduard [Edmund] "Paule" Rossmann took me under his wing.
WWII: Was it typical for an officer to be assigned to a noncommisioned officer?
Hartmann: It was for us, since he was a seasoned combat veteran. Rank meant little over
experience, and that was why we were so successful, I think.
WWII: Your first mission on October 14, 1942, was less than spectacular. What happened?
Hartmann: Well, Rossmann and I were in our flight, and Rossmann radioed that he had spotted
enemy aircraft below us. I could see nothing, but followed Rossmann down. Then we came on
them. I knew that I had to get my first kill, so I went full throttle and left Rossmann to
shoot at a plane. My shots missed, and I almost collided with him and had to pull up.
Suddenly, I was surrounded by Soviets, and I headed for low cloud cover to escape. All along
Rossmann kept talking to me, and I had a low-fuel warning. Then the engine went dead and I
bellied in, destroying my fighter. I knew I was in trouble. I had violated every commandment
a fighter pilot lives by, and I expected to be thrown out.
WWII: What happened when you finally got back to your squadron?
Hartmann: I was sentenced by von Bonin to three days of working with the ground crews. It
gave me time to think about what I had done. What I learned from Rossmann and later Walter
Krupinski I taught to new pilots when I became a leader.
WWII: What was your favorite method of attack?
Hartmann: Coming out of the sun and getting close; dogfighting was a waste of time. The hit-
and-run with the element of surprise served me well, as with most of the high-scoring
pilots. Once a Russian was shot down, especially the leader, they became disorganized and
easy to attack. This was not always the case, especially later in the war, and there were
special units of highly skilled and disciplined pilots, such as the Red Banner units, who
would make life difficult.
WWII: When did you score your first victory?
Hartmann: That was a day I will never forget, November 5, 1942. [It was] a Shturmovik
[Ilyushin] Il-2, which was the toughest aircraft to bring down because of its heavy armor
plate. You had to shoot out the oil cooler underneath, otherwise it would not go down. That
was also the day of my second forced landing, since I had flown into the debris of my kill.
I learned two things that day: Get in close and shoot, and break away immediately after
scoring the kill. The next kill came [early] the following year. This was when Krupinski
came to Taman and was my new squadron leader.
WWII: Krupinski was quite a character. What was his arrival at the squadron like?
Hartmann: I was being addressed by my new wing commander [Hrabak] when a fighter came in
smoking and suddenly landed, flipped over and exploded. We knew the pilot was dead. One of
the men said, "It is Krupinski," and out of the blinding smoke this man walked out of the
wreckage with a singed uniform, but no other damage. He was smiling and complained about the
flak over Caucasus, but without any real surprise on his face. He introduced himself,
demanded a plane, went up, was shot down and brought back by car. He then took another
[plane], scored two kills and returned, then wanted dinner. The whole event was treated as
casually as a card game. This was my first meeting with "The Count".
WWII: How did you meet Gunther Rall?
Hartmann: Well, he replaced von Bonin as group commander and we were introduced. That was
the beginning. In August 1943, Rall made me commander of the 9th Squadron, which had been
Hermann Graf's command.
WWII: You eventually began flying with Krupinski as his wingman. How different was it from
your earlier experiences flying with Rossmann?
Hartmann: Well, the partnership was a little uneasy at first, but we found that we worked
well together. We both had strengths and weaknesses and managed to overcome our earlier
problems. It worked out well. Besides, I had to make sure that he came home to his many
girlfriends, who were always waiting on him to come down. I won the Iron Cross 2nd Class
while flying with "Krupi". The one thing I learned from him was that the worst thing to do
was to lose a wingman. Kills were less important than survival. I only lost one wingman,
Gunther Capito, a former bomber pilot, but this was due to his inexperience with fighters.
He survived, however.
WWII: How many kills did you have before you received the Knight's Cross?
Hartmann: I had scored 148 kills by October 29, 1943. My award was sort of late, I guess.
There were many men who had more than 50 kills who did not receive the Knight's Cross,
which I think was unfair. I also thought it infair that men like Rall, [Gerhard] Barkhorn,
[Otto] Kittel, [Heinz] Bar and [Erich] Rudorffer did not receive higher decorations. They
deserved them.
WWII: Who was your best friend during those days?
Hartmann: There were so many. My closest relationship, however, was with Heinz Mertens, my
crew chief. You rely upon your wingmen to cover you in the air and your team-mates in aerial
battle, but the man who keeps your machine flying and safe is the most important man you
know. We became the best of friends, and none of my success would have been possible if not
for "Bimmel" Mertens.
WWII: The bond you two had is legendary. Why the closeness?
Hartmann: I can't explain it. When I went missing on the mission where I was captured and
escaped, Mertens had taken a rifle and went looking for me. He would not give up. That is
a loyalty you never find outside of the military.
WWII: Describe that time you were captured.
Hartmann: The Russians were attacking in our area, and Hrabak gave us our orders. This was
in August 1943, and our mission was to support the Stukas of Hans-Ulrich Rudel in a counter-
attack. Then things changed. The Red Air Force was bombing German ground positions in
support of their offensive, so my flight of eight fighters located and attacked the enemy,
about 40 [Lavochkin Gorbunov-Gudkov] LaGGs and [Yakovlev] Yaks with another 40 or so
Shturmovik ground-attack aircraft. I shot down two when something hit my plane. I made a
forced landing and was captured by Soviet soldiers. I faked that I was injured as they
approached the plane. They believed me and took me to their headquarters, and their doctor
examined me. Even he believed me. They placed me back in the truck (which was German) on a
stretcher, and as Stukas made their attacks, I rushed the one guard in the truck. He went
down, and I leapt out the back. As soon as I did that, I heard the truck stop, so I had to
keep moving. I found myself in a great field of very tall sunflowers, where I tried to hide
as I ran. All the while, the men chasing me were firing wildly in my direction. I found a
small village occupied by Russians and decided to return to the area I had just come from
and wait for nightfall. [It was during this time that Mertens took off to find Hartmann,
armed with only a rifle and water.] I reached my secure area and took a nap, and later I
awoke and took off again headed west. I passed a patrol of Russians, about 10 I think, so I
decided to follow them. Then the patrol disappeared over a small hill and there was a fire-
fight. I knew that must be German lines, since the men of the patrol came flying back over
on my side. I then walked to the other side and was challenged by a German sentry who also
fired a bullet at me, which ripped open my trouser leg. I was pretty upset, but this man
was in complete fear. I was welcomed into their position, given an interrogation and was
asked to prepare for contact. Another group of Russians, obviously drunk, walked toward our
trenches, and the lieutenant gave the order to fire when they came within about 20 meters.
They were all destroyed. I was later told that a group of Russians had entered the perimeter
speaking fluent German and claiming to be escaped POWs, and they pulled out some Tommy guns
and killed some men. This explained the soldier's caution over accepting me at face value,
as I had no identification on me. Everything had been taken when I was captured.
WWII: How did you get back to your squadron?
Hartmann: The infantry commander contacted Hrabak, who confirmed who I was. They sent me
back by car, and I was met by Krupi, who had just come back from the hospital. I was also
informed about what Bimmel had gone and done, and I was very upset. The next day, Bimmel
came back and we saw each other and had a "birthday party".
WWII: What do you mean by a birthday party?
Hartmann: That is a party that is thrown in honor of a pilot who survived a situation that
should have killed him. We had a lot of those.
WWII: Were you ever shot down after that?
Hartmann: No, never by an enemy plane, but I had to crash-land 14 times due to damage from
my victories or mechanical failure, but I never took to the parachute. I never became
another pilot's victory.
WWII: You were never wounded either, were you?
Hartmann: No. I was very lucky, unlike Rall, Krupinski, and especially [Johannes] Steinhoff,
who was almost burned alive.
WWII: In March 1944 you were awarded the Oak Leaves to your Knight's Cross by Adolf Hitler.
What was that occasion like?
Hartmann: That was a strange time. First, most of us were drunk. "Gerd" Barkhorn, Walter
Krupinski, Johannes Wiese, and I were ordered to report to Berchtesgaden. All of us except
Gerd were getting the Oak Leaves; he was getting the Swords. By the time we got there, we
were trying to sober up. Walter always stated years later that we had to hold each other up.
We had been drinking cognac and champagne, a deadly combination when you have not eaten in a
couple of days. The first person we met off the train was Hitler's Luftwaffe adjutant, Major
[Nicolaus] von Below, who, I think, was in a state of shock at our condition. We were to
meet Hitler in a couple of hours and we could hardly stand. [At Berchtesgaden,] I could not
find my hat, and my vision was not the best, so I took a hat from a stand and put it on. It
was too large and I knew it was not mine. Below became upset and told me it was Hitler's and
to put it back. Everyone was laughing about it except Below. I made some joke about Hitler
having a big head, and that it "must go with the job," which created even more laughter.
WWII: What were your impressions of Hitler?
Hartmann: I found him a little disappointing, although very interested in the war at the
front and extremely well informed on events. However, he had a tendency to drone on about
minor things that I found boring. I found him not that imposing. I also found him lacking in
sufficient knowledge about the air war in the East. He was more concerned with the Western
Front's air war and the bombing of cities. Of course, the Eastern Front ground war was his
area of most interest. This was evident. Hitler listened to the men from the Western Front
and assured them that weapons and fighter production were increasing, and history proved
this to be correct. Then he went into the U-Boat war, how we were going to decidedly destroy
maritime commerce, and all that. I found him an isolated and disturbed man.
WWII: What was the feeling about the war in your unit at this time?
Hartmann: I don't recall anyone talking of defeat, but I do know that we talked about some
of the great pilots killed already, and the news of the American [North American P-51]
Mustangs reaching deep into Germany and even farther. Few of us had any experience against
the Americans, although many old-timers had fought the British. Those who fought Americans
had done so in North Africa, and their insights proved interesting.
WWII: By the time you were awarded the Swords to you Knight's Cross, things were getting
even more desperate for Germany. What was the Fuhrer like when you met him for this
ceremony?
Hartmann: I had just landed after a successful mission when I was told that I had been
awarded the Swords. This was June 1944. I arrived on August 3, to visit Hitler again for the
award ceremony, and there were 10 of us Luftwaffe guys in all. Hitler was not the same man.
This was just after the bomb plot to kill him [on July 20], and his right arm was shaking,
and he looked exhausted. He had to turn his left ear to hear anyone speak because he was
deaf in the other one from the blast. Hitler discussed the cowardly act to kill him and
attacked the quality of his generals, with a few exceptions. He also stated that God had
spared his life so that he could deliver Germany from destruction, and that the Western
Allies would be thrown back inevitably. I was very surprised at all of this.
WWII: Not long after receiving the Swords you were awarded the Diamonds for your Knight's
Cross. You were only 22 and the youngest recipient of Germany's highest award. Did you find
that distinction problematic?
Hartmann: I think that being a captain and a Diamonds winner at that age forced a lot of
responsibility upon me. I think that I was able to handle all of that responsibility because
of the strength and friendship of my comrades. I would say that I was ambitious and eager. I
can't think of any fighter pilot who would not have those qualities. Becoming a hero is not
always easy, as you find yourself living up to the expectations of others. I would have pre-
ferred to just do my job and finish the war anonymously.
WWII: How was the subsequent meeting with the Fuhrer to receive the Diamonds different from
your previous encounters with him?
Hartmann: Well, Hrabak and the rest threw a party before I left, and I was so drunk I could
not stand the next day. It sounds like we were all alcoholics, but this was not the case. We
lived and played hard. You never knew what the next day would bring. I flew my 109 to
Insterburg, and JG.52 gave me an escort. When I arrived at the Wolfschanze [Hitler's East
Prussian headquarters] the world had changed. Hitler had already begun the trials and
executions of those involved [in the bomb plot], and everyone was under suspicion. You had
to enter three areas of security, and no one was allowed to carry a weapon into the last
section. I told Hitler's SS guard to tell the Fuhrer that I would not receive the Diamonds
if I were not trusted to carry my pistol. The guy looked like I had just married his mother.
He went to speak with von Below, who was a colonel then, and Below came out and said it was
all right. I hung my cap and pistol belt on the stand, and Hitler came to me and said, "I
wish we had more like you and Rudel," and he gave me the Diamonds, which were encrusted upon
another set of Oak Leaves and Swords. We had coffee and lunch, and he confided in me,
saying, "Militarily the war is lost," and that I must already know this, and that if we
waited, the Western Allies and Soviets would be at war with each other. He also spoke about
the partisan problem, and he asked me of my experiences. Hitler asked me my opinion of the
tactics used in fighting the American and British bombers. Since I did not have a lot of
experience with this, I simply stated what I thought was fact--that [Reichsmarschall
Hermann] Goring's order to combat them and the method employed was in error. I also informed
him of the deficiencies in pilot training; too many minimally trained men were simply
throwing their lives away. He also spoke about the new weapons and tactics, and then we
parted. That was the last time I saw him, August 25, 1944. I flew back to the unit, where an
order for 10 days' leave was waiting for me. I also had to report to Adolf Galland, and we
discussed the [Messerschmitt] Me-262 situation. I went back to marry my Ursula, "Uschi"--
that was all that mattered to me.
WWII: Your relationship with Ursula Paetsch was an extremely important one. How did you
meet?
Hartmann: We were in the same school, and finally I decided to track her down. I caught up
with her and a girlfriend, stopped my bicycle and introduced myself. I knew that she was the
one for me, although I was only 17, and she was two years younger. Our parents were none too
thrilled about it, I can tell you, but they came around.
WWII: You had competition for her, didn't you?
Hartmann: Yes, but I resolved that problem--it was nothing. Uschi and I were destined to be
together--that was fate. And she waited a long time, even after the war. We were married on
September 10, 1944, but still had little time to spend together....Gerd was my best man,
with Willi Batz and Krupi as witnesses. We could not marry in a church due to the logistical
problems. That would have to wait until 1956.
WWII: During the war what were your worst fears?
Hartmann: Well, I feared capture in Russia. That was a very eye-opening prospect. The
bombing of our cities also worried us, as our families were very dear to us. I suppose I was
most worried that Uschi would not wait, so I always tried to see her whenever I was on
leave. Medals meant leave, and that was an incentive. If I had the choice of losing her or
returning all the decorations, I would send the medals back. She was too important to me,
and always has been. It was later learned that the Soviets knew exactly who I was and Josef
Stalin had placed a 10,000-ruble price on my head. This was later increased, and Rudel and I
had the highest bounties of any Germans during the war, probably with the exception of
Hitler and a few of the Nazi elite. Every time I went up I knew that someone would be
looking for me. I had thoughts of the American Western films, where the top gunfighter is
called out into the street--another person wanting to make his mark. I felt marked, so I had
to change my aircraft occasionally. I found that when I used the [Me-109 painted with a]
black tulip [design], I had more difficulty in finding opponents, who avoided me for the
most part. I needed camouflodge.
WWII: What were conditions like in Russia?
Hartmann: Well, in the winter you can imagine. We seldom had hard shelter, living in tents.
The lice were the worst, and there was little you could do but hold your clothes to a fire
and listen to them pop. We had DDT and bathed when we could. Illness, especially pneumonia
and trench foot, was bad, particularly among the ground crews. Food was always a concern,
especially later in the war, and fuel restrictions made every mission count. We always flew
from grass strips, and we were often bombed. These strips were easy to repair, although the
terrain made every takeoff and landing an adventure. Sometimes fighters would snap their
landing gear, or just dig in and topple over. Maintenance was another nightmare, as supplies
and parts were difficult to get, especially when we were moving around all the time. Despite
these problems we were very successful in the Crimea through 1943-44.
WWII: Did JG.52 have any experience flying with foreign units?
Hartmann: We had a Royal Hungarian unit assigned to us, as well as Croats. They were good
pilots and fearless in many ways--good men. We had even more contact, especially with the
Romanians, when we were stationed there, and this was where we engaged both the Americans
and Soviets--a very trying time. We were flying in Russia against 20-to-1 odds. In Romania
it was 30-to-1.
WWII: How was the evacuation from the Crimea?
Hartmann: Well, I would not call it an evacuation but a full retreat. We had to move, and I
discovered that when the radio, armor plate and rear wall were removed, you could stack four
men in the tail, but three was about the most I would try. We managed to save many of our
precious ground crew from capture using this method.
WWII: What about the Soviets that you captured? Was there any animosity among your men
toward them?
Hartmann: Not at all. In fact, I would say that in our group the majority found all the
National Socialist idiocy a little sickening. Hrabak made it a point to explain to the new
young pilots that if they thought they were fighting for National Socialism and the Fuhrer
they needed to transfer to the Waffen SS or something. He had no time for political types.
He was fighting a war against a superb enemy, not holding a political rally. I think this
approach damaged Hrabak in the eyes of Goring and others, but he was a real man and did not
care about anything but his men. Hannes Trautloft [commander of JG.54] was the same way, as
was Galland. All the greats, with a few exceptions, were like that. We even had a Russian
prisoner show us how to start our engines in the subzero cold by mixing gasoline into the
oil crankcase. This was unheard of to us, and we were sure we would lose a fighter in the
explosion. It worked, because the fuel thinned out the congealed oil and evaporated as the
starter engaged. It was wonderful. Another guy showed us how to keep the weapons firing by
dipping them in boiling water, removing the lubricants that froze the mechanisms shut.
Without the oils they worked fine. I felt sad for these men, who hated no one and were
forced to fight a war they would rather have avoided.
WWII: What were some of your more memorable combat experiences in fighting enemy aircraft?
Hartmann: One situation comes to mind. I was in a duel with a Red Banner-flown Yak-9, and
this guy was good and absolutely insane. He tried and tried to get in behind me, and every
time he went to open fire, I would jerk out of the way of his rounds. Then he pulled up and
rolled, and we approached each other head-on, firing, with no hits either way. This happened
two times. Finally, I rolled into a negative-G dive, out of his line of sight, and rolled
out to chase him at full throttle. I came in from below in a shallow climb and flamed him.
The pilot bailed out and was later captured. I met and spoke with this man, a captain, who
was a likable guy. We gave him some food and allowed him to roam the base after having his
word that he would not escape. He was happy to be alive, but he was very confused, since his
superiors had told him that Soviet pilots would be shot immediately upon capture. This guy
had just had one of the best meals of the war and had made new friends. I like to think that
people like that went back home and told their countrymen the truth about us, not the
propaganda that erupted after the war, although there were some terrible things that
happened, no doubt. Once I attacked a flight of four IL-2s and shot one up. All four tried
to roll out in formation at low altitude, and all four crashed into the ground, unable to
recover since their bombloads reduced their maneuverability. Those were the easiest four
kills I ever had. However, I remember the time I saw over 20,000 dead Germans littering a
valley where Soviet tanks and Cossacks had attacked a trapped unit, and that sight, even
from the air, was perhaps the most memorable of my life. I can close my eyes and see this
even now--such a tragedy. I remember that I cried as I flew low over the scene; I could not
believe my eyes. Another time was in May 1944, near Jassy. My wingman Orje Blessin and I
were jumped by fighters; he broke right, and the enemy followed him down. I rolled and
followed the enemy fighter down to the deck. I radioed to my wingman to pull up and slip
right in a shallow turn so I could get a good shot. I told him to look back and see what
happens when you do not watch your tail, and I fired. The [Soviet] fighter blew apart and
fell like confetti. However, apart from Krupinski's crash the day I met him, one event is
clear and comical. My wingman on many missions was Carl Junger. He came in for a landing,
and a Polish farmer with a horse cart crossed his path. He crashed into it, killing the
horse, and the fighter was nothing but twisted wreckage. We all saw it and began thinking
about the funeral, when suddenly the debris moved and he climbed out without a scratch,
still wearing his sunglasses. He was ready to go up again. Amazing! Then there were the
American Mustangs that we both dreaded and anticipated meeting. We knew that they were much
better aircraft than ours--newer and faster, and with great range. Once in Romania we had an
interesting experience with both Russians and Americans.
WWII: What happened on that mission?
Hartmann: We took off on a mission to intercept Soviet bombers attacking Prague, and we
counted many American-made aircraft with Red Stars, part of your Lend-Lease. But then there
were also American fighters nearby, and I was above them all by a thousand meters. It seemed
that the Americans and Russians were busy examining each other and were unaware that we were
around. I gave the order to drop down through the Mustangs, then the Russian fighters, and
through the bombers in just one hit-and-run attack. Then we would get the hell out of there,
since there were only the two of us. I shot down two P-51s quickly in my dive, and I then
fired on a [Douglas] Boston bomber and scored good hits, but it was not a kill. The second
element also scored a kill against the Mustangs, and my wingman and I were all right.
Suddenly, the most amazing thing happened. The Soviet fighters and Americans began fighting
each other, and the confusion worked for us. They must not have realized that it was Germans
that started the whole thing! The Russian bombers dropped their bombs in panic and turned
away. I was three Yaks get shot down and a Mustang damaged, trailing white smoke. That was
my last fight against Americans.
WWII: When had you first encountered American fighters and bombers?
Hartmann: This was in the defense of Ploesti and Bucharest, and also over Hungary, when the
bombers came in and they had heavy fighter escort. I was recalled to take over the command
of I Group, JG.52; this was June 23, 1944. [Boeing] B-17s were attacking the railroad
junction, and we were formed up. We did not see the Mustangs at first and prepared to attack
the bombers. Suddenly, four of them flew across us and below, so I gave the order to attack
the fighters. I closed in on one and fired. His fighter came apart and some pieces hit my
wings, and I immediately found myself behind another and I fired, and he flipped in. My
second flight shot down the other two fighters. But then we saw others and again attacked. I
shot down another and saw that the leader still had his drop tanks, which limited his
ability to turn. I was very relieved that this pilot was able to successfully bail out. I
was out of ammunition after the fight. But this success was not to be repeated, because the
Americans learned and they were not to be ambushed again. They protected the bombers very
well, and we were never able to get close enough to do any damage. I did have the
opportunity to engage the Mustangs again when a flight was being pursued from the rear and I
tried to warn them on the radio, but they could not hear. I dived down and closed on a P-51
that was shooting up a 109, and I blew him up. I half-rolled and recovered to fire on
another of the three remaining enemy planes and flamed him as well. As soon as that
happened, I was warned that I had several on my tail, so I headed for the deck, a swarm of
eight Americans behind me. That is a very uncomfortable feeling, I can tell you! I made
jerking turns left and right as they fired, but they fired from too far away to be
effective. I was headed for the base so the defensive guns would help me, but I ran out of
fuel....I was certain that this one pilot was lining me up for a strafe, but he banked away
and looked at me, waving. I landed four miles from the base; I almost made it. That day we
lost half our aircraft. We were too outnumbered, and many of the young pilots were
inexperienced.
WWII: How did you assess your enemy in the air?
Hartmann: I knew that if an enemy pilot started firing early, well outside the maximum
effective range of his guns, then he was an easy kill. But if a pilot closed in and held his
fire, and seemed to be watching the situation, then you knew that an experienced pilot was
on you. Also, I developed different tactics for various conditions, such as always turning
into the guns of an approaching enemy, or rolling into a negative-G dive, forcing him to
follow or break off, then rolling out and sometimes reducing airspeed to allow him to over-
commit. That was when you took advantage of his failing.
WWII: There were some skeptics who questioned your kills. How did you react to this
criticism?
Hartmann: Well, this happened to a few of us. Goring could not believe the staggering kills
being recorded from 1941 on. I even had a man in my unit, [Friedrich] "Fritz" Obleser, who
questioned my kills. I asked Rall to have him transferred from the 8th squadron to be my
wingman for a while. Obleser became a believer and signed off on some kills as a witness,
and we became friends after that.
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Hartmann interview continued:
WWII: With your impressive record by 1945, you were a natural to be chosen for Galland's
elite Jagdverband (JV) 44. Why didn't you take him up on his offer?
Hartmann: I did qualify in the Me-262, but my heart and friends were in JG.52, and I felt
that was where I belonged. Unit loyalty was important to me. Plus, I had many new pilots who
needed guidance and instruction. They were getting younger all the time and had fewer and
fewer hours of flight instruction before they were thrown into battle. I was needed, and
that was where I stayed. Rall, Krupinski, Steinhoff and others were transferred to Germany,
where they ended their war. I was torn, but I felt that I made the right decision at the
time. In later years I realized that my life would have been very different if I had joined
JV.44.
WWII: What were your experiences on the last day of the war in Europe?
Hartmann: On May 8, 1945, I took off at around 0800 hours from my field in Czechoslovakia
going to Brunn. My wingman and I saw eight Yaks below us. I shot one down, and that was my
last victory. I decided not to attack the others once I saw that there were 12 Mustangs
above me. My wingman and I headed for the deck, where the smoke of the bombing could hide
us. We pulled through the smoke and saw once again the two allies fighting each other above
us. Incredible! Well, we landed at the field and were told that the war was over. I must
say that during the war I never disobeyed an order, but when General [Hans] Seidemann
ordered me and Graf to fly to the British sector and surrender to avoid the Russians, with
the rest of the wing to surrender to the Soviets, I knew I could not leave my men. That
would have been bad leadership. There was a large bounty on my head, much like Rudel. I was
well known, and everyone knew that Stalin would like to get me. I remember Graf telling me
that, as [we were] Diamonds winners, the Soviets would probably execute us if they got us.
I had no doubt he was right at the time. Graf also mentioned the women, children and ground
personnel who would have no one to help them; they would be at the mercy of the Red Army,
and we all knew what that meant. Well, we destroyed the aircraft and all munitions,
everything. I sat in my fighter and fired the guns into the woods where all the fuel had
been dropped, and then jumped out. We destroyed 25 perfectly good fighters. They would be
nice to have in museums now. I was marching with my unit through Czechoslovakia when we
surrendered to an American armored unit.
WWII: How many missions had you flown by the end of the war?
Hartmann: I flew around 1,456, I think, but I am not sure of the exact number.
WWII: How did you wind up in Soviet hands?
Hartmann: After Graf, [Hartmann] Grasser and I surrendered, we were placed in a barbed wire
camp. The conditions were terrible. Many men decided to escape, and some were assisted by
the guards. We went eight days without any food and then were told we were to be moved. All
of us, even women and children, were taken to an open field. The trucks stopped and there
were Soviet troops there waiting for us. The Russians then seperated the women and the
girls from the men, and the most horrible things happened, which I cannot say here. We saw
this, the Americans saw this, and we could do nothing to stop it. Men who had fought like
lions cried like babies at the sight of complete strangers being raped repeatedly. A couple
of girls managed to run to a truck, and the Americans pulled them in, but the Russians--
most were drunk--pointed their guns at the allies and fired a few shots. Then the truck
drivers decided to drive away quickly. Some women were shot after the rapes. Others were not
so lucky. I remember a 12-year-old girl whose mother had been raped and shot being raped by
several soldiers. She died from these acts soon afterward. Then more Russians came, and it
began all over again and lasted through the night. During the night entire families
committed suicide, men killing their wives and daughters, then themselves. I still cannot
believe these things as I speak now. I know many will never believe this story, but it is
true. Soon a Russian general came and issued orders for all of this to stop. He was serious,
because some of the Russians who did not stay away and came to rape were executed on the
spot by their own men by hanging.
WWII: What was your internment like in Russia?
Hartmann: Well, I was somewhat famous, or infamous, depending upon your perspective, and
the Soviets were very interested in making an example of me. I was never badly beaten or
tortured, but I was starved and threatened for several years. The interrogations were the
worst. The first thing they did was give us physical exams to determine how fit we were for
hard labor. Then they put us on a train that was diverted from Vienna to the Carpathians in
Romania. We were placed in another wired prison with Romanian Communist guards. This lasted
a week and then we boarded another train. There was no room in these small train cars, so
not all could sit. So we took turns. Finally, we arrived near Kirov and disembarked in a
swamp. This was our home for a while. Of the 1,500 POWs who were dropped at this place,
about 200 lived through the first winter. This I know from some who survived. They were not
fed, just worked to death. I was sent to Gryazovets, where [Luftwaffe ace Hans] "Assi" Hahn
was already. He had been a POW since 1943.
WWII: Which camp were you in as a POW?
Hartmann: I was in several camps: Shakhty; Novocherkassk, where they kept me in solitary
confinement; and Diaterka. I had gone on a hunger strike to protest the slave-labor
conditions and the fact that the Soviets were simply working men to death out of spite. I
was ironically placed in a camp at Kuteynikovo, where my squadron had been based in 1943.
WWII: Not all of the POWs were docile. Wasn't there an uprising at one camp?
Hartmann: That was Shakhty. This was when I and others refused to work, invoking the Geneva
Convention. They placed me back in solitary. This was a work camp for mining, and many men
were tired of it, and I think my being gone started the problem. Within a few days, the POWs
jumped the guards, cornered the camp commandant and freed me. It was quite exciting. Then
they sent me to the other camps.
WWII: Describe a camp. How was it laid out?
Hartmann: A fine example was Diaterka. There was a high fence, then a dead zone with a
walkway for guards and dogs, then another fence with watchtowers with more guards and
machine guns. There were long rows of barracks, which were not insulated against the cold,
and the winters were quite cold, I can tell you. Each barrack held between 200 and 400
prisoners depending on its size, and there were rows of wooden bunks in tiers of three to
four. The camp was divided into maximum- and minimum-security sections, with us being in the
most secure section. The ultra-maximum-security section housed elite members of the Third
Reich and special Soviet political prisoners, which was another section even within our
part. This was where Hitler's SS adjutant Otto Gunsche and [Berlin police vice president
Fritz-Dietlof] Count von der Schulenburg were held, among others. I stayed there until 1954,
when I was sent back to Novocherkassk. This was my last camp.
WWII: Did the Soviets try to recruit you to work for them, as they did others?
Hartmann: Yes, they offered me the opportunity to return home if I worked as an agent for
them, which was out of the question. They did not like this either. I was assigned kitchen
duties as an inducement to become a converted Communist. I think [they believed] that if
they could get us highly decorated officers to convert, their job would be made much easier.
They converted Graf, which is a shame, but he did not embrace communism. He looked at it as
a pragmatist--it was either the Western way or Soviet way, and he was already there. They
did release him in 1950, but I would not be so lucky. Those of us who resisted were punished
much longer. They wanted me as an informer and even gave me a list of names of officers they
wanted information on. They promised me early release if I did this. I refused. They placed
me in solitary a few times, for a long time.
WWII: How did you maintain your sanity when others did not?
Hartmann: I thought of my Uschi. She kept me going, and the thought of my family waiting for
me. They threatened to kill my wife and son, or forcibly bring them to Russia, and they
spoke about doing terrible things. All of this was to break you down.
WWII: Did you have mail or other means of communication with Germany?
Hartmann: We were allowed only 25 words on a postcard to send out, sometimes a lot less, and
this was not often. The letters I smuggled out with returning POWs provided the information
they needed. I received about 50 letters from Uschi in the 10 1/2 years I was confined, but
she wrote over 400. Getting a letter was the greatest morale boost you could imagine.
WWII: You and your old friend Graf had a parting of the ways in Russia. Why was that?
Hartmann: Well, we had agreed never to surrender Diamonds to the Soviets. My originals were
with Uschi, and a copy was taken by an American, and another copy I had also. I threw them
away, although they were worthless, rather than surrender them. Graf had given them his, and
they were on the table of the NKVD [intelligence] officer when I was called in. He wanted
mine also. He did not get them. They also wanted detailed information on the Me-262 because
they had several captured machines they wanted to evaluate. I did not help them.
WWII: What seperated the Germans from the rest of the international prisoners? How did all
of you manage to survive when so many perished?
Hartmann: I would have to say our discipline. We never lost our military bearing, and our
rigid system and mutual respect for our own authority maintained us. We had the rank
structure and presence of mind to form our own leadership committees. Even though we wore no
rank, everyone understood their place and all worked within the system. That was our
strength, as well as many of us having our faith in God. I thought of my faith and my Uschi,
and that got me through. Many men found it difficult when word would come that their wives
had divorced them, or that a relative such as a parent had died. My son Peter died while I
was a POW, but I only learned of this much later, a year or more, as with my father. I
learned more when I was repatriated in 1955 along with Hans Baur, Ferdinand Schorner, Hajo
Herrmann, Johannes Weise and several others. Assi Hahn was released earlier than the rest of
us, as was Walter Wolfrum, who had been badly wounded before our capture. Wolfrum smuggled a
private letter to Uschi for me, which let her know I was still alive.
WWII: You received Red Cross packages didn't you?
Hartmann: Yes, sometimes, but these were often rifled through and delayed so long the food
contents were worthless. Those packages that did arrive well were very helpful, especially
when it came to trading with the local civilians. We made many friends with the local
peasants, and they had no ill will towards us, nor we with them.
WWII: What events eventually secured your release?
Hartmann: [West German] Chancellor Konrad Adenauer was very crucial in this. My mother had
written Stalin and [Vyacheslav] Molotov on my behalf without any response. She wrote to
Adenauer, and he replied personally that he was working on the problem. The Soviets wanted
a trade agreement with the West, especially West Germany, and part of this deal was the
release of all the POWs. I knew something was going on when we were allowed to go to the
cinema and were issued new clothes, suits of a kind, and not prison issue. We boarded a bus
to Rostov, where we boarded a train in October 1955. Other trains would follow, with the
last coming in December. As soon as the train stopped at Herleshausen, I was able to send a
telegram to my Uschi.
WWII: What would you say were the greatest highs and lows of coming home in 1955?
Hartmann: I learned that my son, Peter Erich, and father had died while I was in prison,
and that was a hard thing for me, and I will say no more. But my mother and lovely Uschi
were there waiting for me. They never gave up hope, and I think that my belief in their
strength was what got me through the most terrible torture or starvation. Whatever the NKVD
did to me, I just thought about my family and focused upon that. Another sad thing was that
when the train stopped and we got out, hundreds of women and men were holding photographs
of sons, brothers, husbands and fathers, all asking everyone they saw if they knew of their
loved one. Many thousands had died, and there was rarely any communication back home to
anyone as to what had happened, so many never returned and the families knew nothing. They
were simply ghosts who vanished. I find that very sad.
WWII: What was one of the first things you wanted when you came home?
Hartmann: Well, a good meal and a hot bath! But to see my Uschi was the greatest dream. I
also read everything I could find---newspapers, books and magazines---I wanted information.
I had been in an intellectual vacuum for so long, I wanted knowledge. Of coarse Uschi and I
had our church wedding, which was long overdue.
WWII: Was there any celebration for your return?
Hartmann: Yes, a big party was planned, but I declined it. I did not feel that it was
appropriate until everyone was home who was still alive. I also could not believe the
rebuilt areas and number of new cars, the airplanes in the peaceful sky. The clothes style
was new, all of it was new. One of the first people to meet me was Assi Hahn, who had been
home five years before.
WWII: Why did you join the Bundesluftwaffe? Was there anything in your mind that would have
prevented you from wearing a uniform again?
Hartmann: There is always the thought that you may once again be in the same situation. I
was 33 when I came home, and that is late in life to start a career. I had lost touch with
much of the world, but the one thing I knew was flying and the military. That was a safe
call to make. The thought of fighting another war also frightened me. But I also thought
about the needs of my country, and my old comrades had joined and were pressuring me to do
the same. Krupi called and wanted me to join him and Gerd Barkhorn on a flying trip to
England. Dieter Hrabak even came and talked to me at the house. I joined in 1956. The old
boys were back.
WWII: How did you get back into flying?
Hartmann: I had a friend who let me fly his lightplane, and I certified as a private pilot.
Heinz Bar was also a great help, as were others. I took refresher and conversion training in
Germany, England and the United States on the newer models. I was made the first commander
of the new JG.71 "Richthofen," and I was very proud.
WWII: Your opposition to the Lockheed F-104 Starfighter program is well known. What do you
say about that today?
Hartmann: Yes. Well, the Starfighter was a great plane, but it had problems, and I did not
feel that Germany needed---or that our pilots could even handle---this machine without a lot
more experience. Many higher up felt that I was out of line, but I stated what I thought was
accurate, and I was proven correct, but this made me enemies. I also did other things that
were considered criminal, such as having the unit's [North American] F-86s painted with my
old tulip pattern, and I created the squadron bars, like in the old days, and this raised
eyebrows. I felt that morale was important and camaraderie through a unique and
distinguishing emblem was needed. The bars were killed under superior directives, although
today all squadrons have them. I did have supporters, such as General [Joseph] Kammhuber,
but he was a rare breed from the old days.
WWII: What did you do after retirement?
Hartmann: I instructed and flew at a few air clubs, and flew in an aerobatics team with
Galland. Later I just decided to relax and enjoy life. I have my family and friends and am
always meeting new ones.
WWII: One question many people may have is how can you not have hatred for the Russians
after your experiences with them?
Hartmann: One thing I learned is this: Never allow yourself to hate a people because of the
actions of a few. Hatred and bigotry destroyed my nation, and millions died. I would hope
that most people did not hate Germans because of the Nazis, or Americans because of slaves.
Never hate, it only eats you alive. Keep an open mind and always look for the good in
people. You may be surprised at what you find.
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