“It was a massive effort involving hundreds of transport planes, bombers adapted to carry cargo and fighter escorts along with thousands of pilots and air crew.”

By Robert Forsyth

IN THE early years of the Second World War, the German Luftwaffe represented a key component of Blitzkrieg. By providing in-close, offensive support to the Wehrmacht, Germany’s air force proved decisive during the campaigns in Poland, the West in 1940, the Balkans and in the opening months of Operation Barbarossa.

These operations have been immortalized in post-war media by newsreels depicting formations of Ju 87 dive-bombers howling from the skies to strike targets in the enemy rear paving the way for the Panzers.

But by 1942, the German war effort began to bog down. With fighting continuing on two massive fronts – in the East and in North Africa and the Mediterranean – as well as the growing threat of Allied air power over the occupied territories and the Reich itself, the Luftwaffe’s role steadily changed.

No longer the tip of Germany’s offensive spear, the air force suddenly found itself on the defensive, reacting to threats — a sort of ‘fire brigade.’ Ground-attack and bomber Gruppen were shifted quickly from one hot spot to another, while Germany’s transport planes were called upon to move urgently needed supplies such as food, fuel and ammunition to distant battlefields. Consider the squadrons of Junkers Ju 52/3m transports tasked with making dangerous, long-haul flights from Greece or Italy across to airfields in Libya and Tunisia in support of Rommel’s forces. They also evacuated thousands of wounded and sick soldiers from the front.

But in late 1942, Germany faced a new emergency, possibly the greatest crisis of all as Case Blue or Blau — Hitler’s long, heady advance into southern Russia — sputtered and then stopped.

Early in the year, the German dictator cajoled and pressed his commanders to push east towards the Volga, reaching for the city of Stalingrad that sprawled along the west bank of the river.

The story of Sixth Army’s advance into the city and its subsequent entrapment and isolation amidst the most horrific conditions is well known. The Battle of Stalingrad has gone down in history as one of the most terrible ever fought.

The eventual loss of Sixth Army was perceived by the German public not only as a military defeat, but also as an act of abandonment; it had a devastating effect on the nation’s morale. It was the first time a Prussian or German field army had been encircled and effectively destroyed since 1806. Of around 364,000 German soldiers who approached Stalingrad at the height of Blau in the summer of 1942, only some 91,000 starving and sick survivors limped into Soviet captivity in the final three days of the battle.

Understandably, the historiography has focused primarily on the ground fighting at Stalingrad. But there is an aspect of the battle that has been relegated to a footnote: The Luftwaffe’s attempt to keep the besieged Sixth Army resupplied from the air. It was a massive effort involving hundreds of transport planes, bombers adapted to carry cargo and fighter escorts along with thousands of pilots and air crew. Before it was over, 488 aircraft were lost.

Yet today, the Stalingrad airlift is regarded as a side show. There were no aces, no gripping air battles, no guns blazing. However, there are three key dynamics that shaped this remarkable, yet ultimately doomed operation.

The first was time. For Germany, the clock was ticking. Wehrmacht forces cut off and surrounded in Stalingrad were getting weaker as the Soviets surrounding the city were growing in strength. Eventually, the Russians would counter-attack and there would be a colossal fight for the city.

The second factor was two-fold: the appalling terrain and weather. The men of the Sixth Army, as well as their Soviet opponents, fought in the filth and claustrophobic ruins of the bomb-shattered city (so called ‘Rattenkrieg’ – a ‘rat’s war’) amid sub-zero temperatures, weary from a lack of food and often short of ammunition.  

Finally, there were the personalities. Leaders such as Hitler, Luftwaffe head Hermann Göring, OKW chief of staff Franz Halder, Field Marshal Erich von Manstein and others in the senior German leadership. In-fighting among these outsized officials resulted in disagreement, mismanagement and ultimately, catastrophe from which there would be no recovery.

To be sure, the transport and bomber units of Generalfeldmarschall Wolfram von Richthofen’s Luftflotte 4 did their utmost to supply Sixth Army. Between Nov. 24, 1942 and Feb. 3, 1943, the air division flew 8,350 tons of supplies into the Stalingrad pocket — an average of 116 tons per day, including 600 tons of fuel, 1,122 tons of ammunition, 2,020 tons of rations and 129 tons of miscellaneous supplies. The peak delivery (reached on Dec. 7) was 362.6 tons. An estimated 24,900 wounded and sick men were also evacuated.

Throughout late November and into December, the situation within the pocket became increasingly grim. Dr Heinrich Potthoff, a senior medical officer with Luftflotte 4, flew into Stalingrad through “vile” December weather in a Heinkel He111 bomber adapted as a transport to see for himself what conditions were like. Potthoff went to visit one of the few army field hospitals which was struggling to handle so many take-offs and landings in such primitive and adverse conditions, as well as the gathering of large numbers of wounded and sick at the assembly points who were scheduled to fly out but for whom there was simply not enough transport space.

“These were apocalyptic conditions. The possibility of providing sufficient help from the outside was minimal,” Potthoff recalled.

Simply put, the Luftwaffe was not designed for such operations. Germany’s air force was organized for offensive operations to support fast, mobile warfare. It emphasized fighters, ground-attack planes and bombers; air transport was not a priority. Ironically, the Luftwaffe emerged in the inter-war years when Germany led the world in cutting-edge and sophisticated civil aircraft.

The Stalingrad airlift was ultimately doomed however not because of its planes or the shortcomings of its own front-line leadership or within the ranks of its airmen, but because of stubbornness, indifference and ineptitude on the part of Nazi Germany’s senior leadership, as well as similar traits displayed by the leadership of Sixth Army itself.

The senior officers trying to coordinate the airlift, such as von Richthofen and Generalleutnant Martin Fiebig, commander of the VIII. Fliegerkorps – men who were fundamentally competent and experienced, were frustrated time and again by a lack of resources.

In mid-December 1942 Fiebig visited Richthofen at Novocherkassk who told him that a final decision was awaited on a possible breakout by Sixth Army, but that in the meantime the commander of the trapped German forces in Stalingrad, Friedrich Paulis, said he needed 1,800 tons of rations and 4,000 tons of fuel – way beyond its original estimates and what the Luftwaffe was capable of airlifting. 

“It was impossible to accomplish,” Fiebig admitted. “One cannot see how things will develop.”

Richthofen’s exasperation only grew at the latest news from Germany.

“The Führer decided that Stalingrad has to be held,” Richthofen recalled. “My reports have therefore either not been put forward or are not being taken seriously. In former times, consequences would have resulted from that, but at the present time, one is treated like a stupid ass and is unable to do anything about it.”

As Earl F. Ziemke has commented: “A month is a long time to an encircled army.”

I have studied the aircraft, personalities, campaigns and units of the Luftwaffe for many years, but there is nothing else in its history that matches the drama of the Stalingrad airlift.

Robert Forsyth is an author of To Save An Army: The Stalingrad Airlift. He has written more than 30 books on the aircraft, campaigns and units of the Luftwaffe, an interest he has held since boyhood. His books have appeared in French, German and Japanese language editions and he has written for several aviation magazines. He has also been consulted for television on the subject and can be heard on specialist podcasts. He is a member of the editorial board of The Aviation Historian.