Going down with a flame and black smoke trailing from the engines and across the left wing, his Spitfire plummets toward the body of water.
That was a good pilot.
Watching the plane as it descends in a smoking twirl toward the sea, I see the pilot emerge with a parachute.
Good he’ll make it.
I’ve got to get out of here!
As I pause a moment to reassess my position, I check the fuel gauge. I’m not surprised, but forlorn, to see it teetering near empty.
Where did I end up? How do I get back to a friendly field from here?
I scan the horizon, taking in any landmarks I can use to navigate.
A channel of water rests calmly below me.
Ah, the Channel. I just need to cross that and I’ll be home.
Banking the FW-190, the newest and most advanced aircraft in the Luftwaffe, I line up perpendicular with the channel.
Off in the distance I see an airfield, sprawling before the horizon.
Let’s end this day with a little celebration.
I bank my nimble fighter toward the airfield, wagging my wings in a celebratory greeting as I approach.
Strange, no reply from the tower, or any of the ground crew.
Where are the other planes on the field?
Slowly descending toward the grass strip, I can’t help but wonder about the field.
Doesn’t look right.
I wish I had more fuel.
Bumping along the field, I bring the plane to a halt near a small building just as a man approaches my plane.
Why does he have a firearm?
He climbs on the wing of my now stopped fighter, as he approaches the cockpit.
This isn’t right.
“Open up!” He demands.
English! This is an English airfield!
What have I done?
“Welcome to Blighty Fritz, and thanks for the plane.” He says as he points a flare gun at me with his right hand, removing my sidearm with his left.
I stand up from my seat. My exhausted muscles scream at the stretch of my body.
Nothing I can do about this. No fuel. No sidearm. No choice.
“Thank you for the warm greeting.” I reply in broken English.
He looks at me, a bit surprised. “Well, what do you know.”
He smiles at me. I smile at him, and we both climb down from what will now likely not be my fighter.
Was fun flying it while I could. What a great plane!
Oberleutnant Armin Faber was a Luftwaffe pilot in World War II who mistook the Bristol Channel for the English Channel and landed his Focke-Wulf 190 (Fw 190) intact at RAF Pembrey in south Wales. His plane was the first Fw 190 to be captured by the Allies and was tested to reveal any weaknesses that could be exploited.
Oberleutnant Armin Faber anxiously scanned the ground below, his eyes constantly drawn to the fuel gauge of his Focke-Wulf 190 fighter, hoping desperately to spot an airfield. It was the evening of 23 June 1942 and the Luftwaffe pilot, running perilously low on fuel after an intense dogfight over southern England, was searching for somewhere to put his aircraft down.
Minutes later a feeling of relief washed over him. There in the distance was an aerodrome. He rapidly descended, gently bumped the Fw 190 down onto the grass airstrip, cut his engine and breathed a deep sigh of relief.
No sooner had he done so, however, than a man in blue uniform came running towards his plane, holding what looked like a pistol. Strange, the German pilot thought. Then, as the figure came nearer, he recognised the man’s uniform and his heart instantly sank - it was that of an RAF officer!
Before Faber could restart his engine the man reached the cockpit and shoved a Very pistol in his face. Faber realised that he wasn’t in France at all. In fact, the Luftwaffe pilot had landed at RAF Pembrey in South Wales, home to the RAF’s Air Gunnery School.
In June 1942, Oberleutnant Armin Faber was Gruppen-Adjutant to the commander of the III fighter Gruppe of Jagdgeschwader 2 (JG 2, Second Fighter Wing) based in Morlaix in Brittany. On 23 June, he was given special permission to fly a combat mission with 7th Staffel. The unit operated Focke-Wulf 190 fighters.
Faber's Focke-Wulf Fw 190A-3 of III/JG 2 at RAF Pembrey, June 1942
The Fw 190 had only recently arrived with front line units at this time and its superior performance had caused the Allies so many problems that they were considering mounting a commando raid on a French airfield to capture one for evaluation.
7th Staffel was scrambled to intercept a force of six Bostons on their way back from a bombing mission;
the Bostons were escorted by three Czechoslovak-manned RAF squadrons, 310 Squadron, 312 Squadron and 313 Squadron commanded by Alois Vašátko.
All the Bostons returned safely while a fight developed over the English Channel with the escorting Spitfires, which resulted in the loss of two Fw 190s and seven Spitfires, including that of Alois Vašátko, who was killed when he collided with an Fw 190 (the German pilot bailed out and was captured).
During the combat, Faber became disoriented and separated from the other German aircraft. He was attacked by Sergeant František Trejtnar of 310 Squadron. In his efforts to shake off the Spitfire, Faber flew north over Exeter in Devon. After much high-speed maneuvering, Faber, with only one cannon working, pulled an Immelmann turn into the sun and shot down his pursuer in a head-on attack.
Trejnar bailed out safely, although he had a shrapnel wound in his arm and sustained a broken leg on landing; his Spitfire crashed near the village of Black Dog, Devon.M
Meanwhile, the disorientated Faber now mistook the Bristol Channel for the English Channel and flew north instead of south. Thinking South Wales was France, he turned towards the nearest airfield - RAF Pembrey.
Observers on the ground could not believe their eyes as Faber waggled his wings in a victory celebration, lowered the Focke-Wulf's undercarriage and landed.
The Pembrey Duty Pilot, Sergeant Jeffreys, identified the aircraft as German while it was landing and he ordered his men to signal it to park in the dispersal area. As the Fw 190 slowed, he jumped onto its wing and took Faber prisoner with a flare gun (as Pembrey was a training station, Jeffreys had no other weapon to hand).
Faber was later driven to RAF Fairwood Common for interrogation under the escort of Group Captain David Atcherley (twin brother of Richard Atcherley).
Atcherley, fearful of an escape attempt, aimed his revolver at Faber for the entire journey. This was possibly unwise as at one point, the car hit a pothole, causing the weapon to fire; the shot only narrowly missed Faber.
What the RAF needed was an intact Fw 190 so that they could unpick the technical secrets of Hitler’s new super-fighter. But how to get hold of one? Various schemes were put forward, one of the more outlandish being proposed by Squadron Leader and decorated ‘ace’ Paul Richey, which sounds like a plot straight out of Dad’s Army.
His plan was for a German-speaking RAF pilot, wearing Luftwaffe uniform, to fly a captured Messerschmitt fighter (of which the RAF possessed several) made to look as if it had been damaged in combat, into France and land at an Fw 190 aerodrome. The “German” pilot, would then “taxi in to where the 190s were, let off a stream of German, say he was a Colonel so-and-so, and wanted a new aeroplane as there was a heavy raid coming this way. With any luck, an airman would see him into a Focke Wulf...and he’d take off and head for home..
But Richey plan was not required because Armin Faber delivered the RAF with the FW 190,'free of charge'.