Messerschmitt 262

 "... Our squadron flight controller reported the approach of an enemy reconnaissance aircraft over the Ostsee (the Baltic Sea). Lt. Weber and I took off as a Rotte, and were directed to the location by Preusker.
I was at full power, but Weber started to pull away from me, and when I asked him to power back, he just sped on and vanished into the distance.
In the hopes of catching a (USAF) Lightning or a (RAF) Mosquito unawares, I kept to my present course. Then suddenly one of my engines lost power and flamed out. The only thing I knew was that I was quite
high and somewhere over the Ostesee. Below me, the clouds had closed up to form a solid, impenetrable, blanket. I turned the aircraft onto a reverse heading, then started to call my field over the radio, which
was Brandenburg, using code “077”, but received no answer. I then tried to contact with Larz, Burg, and finally Oranienburg, but no responses.
I heard nothing except the wind rushing past my cockpit and the roar of my one remaining jet engine.
Time passed me by and I tried not to think of the possible disaster awaiting me.

I called on the radio again and said that my second engine was faltering. I had no sooner said that when the engine died on me. Both engines were now stopped. Right about the same time, I heard over the
headphones “077 Brandenburg calling”. I started counting so the radar operator could get a fix on my position. I pushed the aircraft stick forward and I saw the solid mass of clouds rush towards me, and the radio
operator calling me again. “Can hardly get a fix on you, your position must be very close to the airfield. We will fire some flares.”
I pulled back the stick a bit and levelled out the aircraft , saw an opening in the clouds and pushed on to through them. I pressed the speak button on the radio again and told control, “This is not Brandenburg,
I will belly-land”
Beneath me, I saw forest woods and snowy fields, and in the distance what looked like yellow-brown sand. What I have learned in the past was now put to instinctive use – that is, “don’t dither about when you have
chosen where to land, and under no circumstances change your approach”.
I flew on towards my goal, gaining more speed, which took me over the trees, and then I saw my chosen landing area, which, to my disgust, was not level at all but covered with craters. I re-tightened my seat webbing
and got rid of the cockpit cover, when suddenly to the side of me near a house I saw a bright flash and a mushroom cloud of smoke.

Too late to pull up and too late to bail out, I concentrated on landing the jet aircraft. I followed the contour of the ground, and felt the speed of the aircraft slow down, then near an almost level slope I gently let the
engines touch the ground. Unfortunately, ahead of me, I saw a crater, which I hit, ripping off one of my engines and I slid for 20 to 30 meters before I came to a stop.
I breathed a sigh of relief, undid my seat belt harness, and took off my flying helmet.

Then a strange whistling noise made me jump out of the cockpit and I ended up flat on the ground for fear of my life!
I then felt a tremendous pressure wave rolling over me and I immediately thought I was under attack by enemy aircraft fire, but could not hear any engine noise. After awhile another whistling sound made me jump
to the ground once more. I felt the waves of this second blast wash over me and I saw in the distance a fountain of smoke shoot up, followed by complete silence again.

I sprinted over to the house wish I had seen on my landing approach but I realized it was no house at all but a bunker. Between the aircraft and the bunker, the landscape was filled with shell-holes and craters - looked like
a proper moonscape. Upon reaching the bunker-house my frantic banging on the iron door was greeted with complete indifference from the presumed occupants. I picked up a stone and banged on the door once again,
this time obtaining the desirable result. A military guy opened the door and looked at me up and down, as I stood there with my leather flying gear and said to me, “ what do you want?”
I told him, “I have just landed here”.  He seemed unable to comprehend my answer, retorting, “This is not an airfield !! ”

The officer in charge duly told me that my emergency landing field was, in fact, an artillery testing ground where they had just been evaluating compressed air grenades as I landed!
After the firing had ceased I went back to my aircraft to pick up my parachute and my radio.
It was not a serious crash, and by the look of the aircraft only a few R4M rockets had broken away from their moorings and were hanging down from under the wings, thus presenting an intimidating sight – this probably explains why the two guards posted to watch the airplane kept their distance. Later I made my way to Juterbog, where I was to make arrangements for the aircraft to be picked up. I eventually reached my base airfield
at Brandenburg-Briest before midnight".

Hellmut Detjens account illustrates the technical problems, lack of replacement parts, crashes caused by pilot error and, inevitably, the foul winter weather (often fog so thick that it was difficult to see in any direction
for a few meters) that plagued these early jet fighter pilots during the last days of World War 2.
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The real story can be found in the book - Osprey Aircraft of the Aces Nº 17  "German Jet Aces of World War 2" by Hugh Morgan and John Weal - pages 52 and 53.
Osprey Publishing , United Kingdom, 1995