The D-model P-51 included an extra 85-gallon fuel tank in the fuselage, just aft of the cockpit.
This extra fuel extended even further the Mustang's range. But additional weight in that location threw off the plane's handling characteristics, especially in a tight turn. So standard procedure was to use the fuselage tanks first, even before the wing-mounted drop tanks, run the fuselage tanks down to about 30 gallons, and then switch to the external tanks. This way the pilot was always ready for combat; he could jettison the external tanks instantly, and be ready for anything.
But with 40 missions and three kills to his credit, Goebel was a little cocky; he didn't empty his fuselage tanks. In his mind, he "glossed over the aerodynamic effect. That was for the new guys to worry about." As he approached the rendezvous point with the bombers, the sky was brilliant blue with just a few wisps of cirrus. After 30 minutes, the bombers arrived and began to drops their loads. The clouds began to thicken up.
Suddenly there was instant pandemonium as ten Bf-109's appeared! The sky was filled with radio chatter and airplanes going in all directions. Goebel spotted a 109 on the tail of another Mustang, firing away. He went after the German as fast as possible and opened up at extreme range, just hoping to scare the 109 off its prey. A few shots hit the German's left wing, and the pilot broke off and turned sharply, now trying to get behind Goebel. He tried to match the hard turn, but his sluggish P-51 just kept falling off the sharp turns. As it developed into a turning duel, Goebel could see the 109 streaking coolant. He couldn't tell whether the German would get behind him and shoot him down before the 190's engine overheated. One more turn, then Geobel's Mustang fell out again, and when he recovered the German was gone.
Overwhelmed with relief and still pounding from adrenaline, Goebel headed for the nearest cloud bank to burn off the excess fuel in his fuselage tank. In the murky whiteness, his instrument flying wasn't too precise, but he burnt off the fuel that he needed to get rid of, emerged from the clouds (alone), and made it back to his base at San Severo in one piece. When the squadron intelligence offer heard Goebel's description of the mission, he said, "If you hit him and saw glycol, why not claim a probable?" Goebel couldn't resist the offer - he had almost gotten hammered and still he got to make a claim. He swore he'd never leave his fuselage tank full again.
The P-39 was definitely a different
airplane, armed with a 37mm cannon firing through the propeller hub,
two .50 calibre machine guns on the cowling, and four .30 calibers on
the wings. All these had different muzzle velocities, so making a
deflection shot was a little problematic. Also the P-39 featured
tricycle landing gear (different, but good), a door that swung open
like a car door (different and 'un-airplane-like', so therefore bad),
an engine mounted behind the cockpit (different, and allegedly bad),
and no turbocharger (different, and very, very bad - it couldn't
operate at high altitudes).
One time he had to make an emergency landing at an even more remote jungle airstrip, run by a US Army Captain who had 'gone native', a sort of latter-day Captain Kurtz. He was an older man, about 40, wore a wrinkled and sweat-stained uniform, looked two feet over Goebel's head when he spoke to him, and was always accompanied by two Indians - the local chief and his wife. The whole scene made Goebel uneasy and he was relieved to be on his way the next day. He also had his first brushes with death in Panama: two pilots killed in training accidents, and a third through the indifference of his CO. He left Panama in December, 1943 thinking that perhaps it made all the Captains crazy. His group embarked in a Liberty ship, converted to a troop transport, and 21 cramped days later arrived in Oran, Algeria.
Here he began to adjust to life in NATOUSA (North African Theatre of Operations - U.S. Army), starting with cold, uncomfortable tents and a lack of running water. The PX had a few things to offer, including such long-gone items as: "mirror, trench" and "nib, pen" or "pen, fountain" or "pencil, styptic." Every eight weeks, he could draw a: "brush, shaving" and a "brush, tooth" and a "brush, hands," or perhaps a "book, note" or some "cards, playing." His first base in Algeria looked like a French Foreign Legion outpost; as a matter of fact, it had been a French Foreign Legion outpost. One night he and his tentmates rigged up a homemade heater that drew gasoline through some thin aircraft tubing, and dripped it into pan, where the fumes could be safely burned. Or at least that was the idea. It didn't blow the tent to kingdom-come, but it did start a pretty good fire.
Take-off was a blur. Once airborne, he "stuck to Thorsen like glue." They completed an uneventful escort mission, except for some flak. Goebel was pleased to have completed a four hour mission over "Fortress Europa," stayed with his leader, and come back in one piece.
There was no feinting or maneuvering; both groups of fighters went right at each other, resulting in an intermingling, attacking, evading, melee. He spotted a couple of Bf-109s crossing about 800 yards in front of him. He wrenched his Mustang into a violent turn and caught up with the German wingman, who had lagged a little bit behind his leader. At what Goebel estimated to be 350 yards, he opened up, trying a 30 degree deflection shot. The Messerschmidt's canopy came off, followed by the pilot. Goebel couldn't see the pilot's chute; the German must have waited to pop it at a low altitude. Goebel admitted to contributing to the disgraceful babble on the radio in his excitement, but soon calmed down. The Group escorted the bombers back home.
Continuing home, Goebl reflected on his accidental discovery of getting close, really close, so that he almost overran his target. That night when they reviewed the group's gun camera footage, Goebel's was "pretty spectacular, except at the end when the [German's] glycol and oil began to coat the camera lens." This was his fifth victory; he was an ace, but in retrospect, he didn't know how he had scored his first four kills, blasting away from long range as he had been doing.
One of the newly arrived officers, Ski, was the assistant intelligence officer, a nice enough fellow, but he rubbed Goebel the wrong way. On another day, a flier nicknamed 'George' was in the operations hut with Ski and a lot of other officers. George called Ski on the telephone and identified himself as "Major So-and-so" from Wing Headquarters, demanding to know if Ski had received a warning about an equally fictitious new German dive bomber
"Yes sir, I brought that up just this morning at a pilots' meeting. Yes, sir, we're taking that report very seriously here at the 308th," as he rummaged feverishly in his papers looking for the non-existent memo. He slowly became aware that George's lips were moving in sync with the "Major's" voice. Confusion gave way to embarrassment and then to anger. He stalked out of the hut, to hoots of laughter. Geobel concludes "George had not a bit of malice in his make-up, but Ski didn't talk to him for weeks afterward."
In early September, the Squadron doctor called him in and handed him a letter. He was being sent home! He allegedly had "not been as eager to fly combat missions as previously. ... and following a prolonged rest in the Zone of the Interior ... will be capable and desirous of another tour." Goebel was stunned, and while at first annoyed, he realized there was no appeal, and he took his enforced return as gracefully as he could. On his return home, he tried making small talk, and realized how he could only talk easily with his squadron mates, how much he had learned and changed, how much older he felt. He was twenty-one.
After the war, Robert Goebel attended the University of Wisconsin, raised nine children. He re-entered the Air Force in 1950, staying with them until 1966. Among his assignments was working on the Gemini launch vehicle for NASA.
Among the memorable anecdotes from Goebel's memoir is the strained meeting with the hotshots from the Eighth Air Force (who had all the good press). They arrived in San Severo, complete with their white scarves, ready to show the second string how it was done. One MTO wag reported that the 8AF Mustangs were decorated with odd victory symbols that included motorcycles, haystacks, and outhouses. Goebel's book also features clearly-written discussions of technical issues like the B-model's machine gun problems, the P-51's oxygen system, and aerial gunnery. Many period B&W photos of Goebel and other pilots of the 31st Fighter Group, also a table of his 61 combat missions and his eleven aerial victories. |
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