Quote: crow wrote in post #1

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I know there must be someone who will appreciate this...

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Nice find, matey

Quote: Randa france wrote in post #2

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What we found funny is that the Storch has a folding wing assembly...

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Something else about the Storch you may not know...

One of the more bizarre uses to which the Fi 156 was put during the war had remained shrouded in mystery and subject to rumour and speculation until the discovery of hitherto unknown documents.

A plan to execute an air raid on New York with the twin objectives of demonstrating that mainland America was not invulnerable and a demoralisation of the population was actually put into operation in the autumn of 1944. The plan involved a Storch flying across the North Atlantic, refuelled en route by an accompanying U-Boat. The unique ability of the Storch to keep aloft at a very low groundspeed and land in the smallest of spaces led to its choice for this role, it being decided that this ability took priority over the aircraft's relatively limited payload capability. Indeed, it was thought that the very presence of a German aircraft in the skies over New York would have the desired effect on the morale of the population, even if it did no more than drop a handful of grenades.

The official Luftwaffe report into this debacle highlights the dubious decisions made at the time. The U-Boat Captain's log shows that reasonable progress was made during the first 28 refuelling stops. The crew were impressed by the pilot's skill in landing his aircraft on the specially fabricated platform behind the conning tower with unerring accuracy, though clearly unerring accuracy was the minimum requirement, since the only alternative was an unwelcome drink of salty water.

The weather took something of a turn for the worse on day four, and in order to make each successive rendezvous the U-Boat had to backtrack by an increasing amount. By refuelling stop 32 the submarine had actually travelled east-south-east for a considerable time, and was some 743 nautical miles nearer its departure point than its destination.

Clearly the non-stop routine of battling against the elements, combined with the concentration required for pinpoint landings, took its toll on the aircraft's pilot.

The ever-present danger of being spotted by a patrolling Sunderland meant that the only way the landing platform could be safely illuminated was with a candle held on to the lid of a powdered egg tin with wax, and sheltered from the wind by the cupped hand of a crewmember. This did not prevent it from being blown out at crucial moments, plunging the deck into darkness and forcing the pilot to abort the attempt until someone found a dry match and lit it again.

No sooner had the aircraft been refuelled for the 33rd time, the U-Boat had to sail at full speed, on the surface, in the direction whence it had come due to the wind gusting to sixty knots. The Storch had lifted from the platform, and despite the straining from the mighty Argus engine, had been blown briskly backwards.

The planned landfall north of the Hudson River seemed a distant, and receding, prospect.

The report describes how the pilot, one Oberst Wolfgang Schmetterling, appeared haggard and near exhaustion as he landed for the 34th time. High Command in Berlin had omitted to provide a relief pilot, something that had escaped everyone's attention until it was far too late. Schmetterling climbed wearily back into the cabin after drinking coffee from a flask provided by the chief engineer and relieving himself on the anti-aircraft gun. The U-Boat captain had noted with no little pride the steely resolve on the pilot's face despite his tiredness, and watched as he tightened his harness, fastened his leather flying hat, and lowered his goggles.

The engine's roar was almost drowned by the noise of the wind as Schmetterling opened the throttle and juggled the controls. As the undercarriage struts extended and the wheels lifted clear of the greasy steel deck, a particularly fierce gust hit it. The last the U-Boat crew saw of the Oberst was his face, illuminated by the faint glow from his instruments, contorted in a look of grim determination clearly visible through his goggles.

They saw him wrestle with the controls in a futile attempt to exhort more power from an engine howling at maximum revolutions for a few seconds, and then he was gone, like the last leaf of autumn caught in a winter gale.