The Airplane That Struck in an Impossible Place

On January 30, 1943, Hermann Göring—President of the Reichstag and head of the Luftwaffe—stood before a packed crowd at the Air Ministry Building in Berlin. Adorned with medals and inflated pride, Göring prepared to rally the nation, clinging to the illusion of German might even as the tide of war shifted.

The morning sun glinted off his chest, and as the triumphant strains of Großdeutscher Rundfunk rang out, the crowd leaned forward in anticipation. But then—a low, distant rumble. Growing louder. Deeper. Unmistakable. Göring’s eyes widened as he clenched the podium. The unthinkable had happened: for the first time in the war, enemy bombers were heading straight for Berlin.

A High-Risk Mission

At RAF Marham in Norfolk, two Mosquito squadrons had launched a daring daylight mission. Their aircraft—the sleek, twin-engine Mosquito Mk. IV—was fast, nimble, and armed with Browning machine guns and up to 2,000 pounds of bombs.

But not everyone was eager. Sgt. Richard “Lofty” Fletcher recalled his apprehension:

“I was playing cards in the crew room when my driver first told me we were going on an op—I must admit I was a bit shattered when I found out it was Berlin.”

He knew the risks: flying deep into enemy territory in broad daylight could mean civilian casualties—and near-certain retaliation.

Spoiling Göring’s Moment

The plan was audacious. Flying just above ground level to avoid radar detection, the Mosquitoes would climb to 25,000 feet and strike Berlin at exactly 11:00 AM—precisely when Göring’s speech was scheduled to begin.

As the crowd waited for Göring to speak, trumpets signaled the start. And then—boom. The Mosquitoes thundered overhead, dropping 500-pound bombs with chilling precision. Explosions rocked the city. Air raid sirens screamed to life. Anti-aircraft guns roared, filling the air with steel and smoke.

Göring’s moment was shattered.

As their bombs found their targets, the Mosquitoes peeled off and raced west. Near Bremen, flak batteries opened fire. Twisting and diving, the pilots dodged death with split-second maneuvers. But by 2:00 PM, all three aircraft made it home.

A Second Wave for Goebbels

At 1:25 PM, a second trio of Mosquitoes from the 139 Squadron took off—this time targeting Joseph Goebbels and his own propaganda speech. German defenses, now on high alert, were ready. The Mosquitoes flew higher, climbing above 20,000 feet, relying on the clouds for cover.

At exactly 4:00 PM, bombs dropped again, one detonating just half a mile from the city center. The Germans scrambled to keep the broadcast going—even as chaos unfolded in real time.

Despite anti-aircraft fire and fighter threats, both aircraft made it back, landing just before 6:30 PM.

The Third Mosquito’s Sacrifice

But not all returned. The third Mosquito—piloted by Darling and Wright—was hit as it made its bombing run. Smoke billowed from a crippled wing as the aircraft spiraled down, crashing near Altergrabow in a fiery explosion. Both men were killed.

More Than a Statement

These raids weren’t just symbolic. They revealed key intelligence—enemy response times, radar capabilities, and fuel consumption rates—that helped shape future bombing campaigns. But they came at a cost.

Pilot Officer Ted Sismore later reflected:

“It was a very difficult mission—what to drop, and how much to drop.”

Dozens of Germans lost their lives that day. But the message was clear: Berlin was not untouchable, and Nazi propaganda was not invincible.