By the time Mölders left Spain in early November 1938 he was the most successful fighter pilot of the Legion Condor with 14 victories. One of his young 'protégés' was Lt. Josef “Joschko” Fözö who ‘finally’ managed his first victory on 31 October during a bomber escort sortie, a 'kill' he recounted his 1943 memoir ‘ein Fliegerleben mit Mölders’...
" ...the Staffelkapitän is setting up for an attack. We are still almost one kilometre from the adversary and yet Mölders has pulled up into a steep climb. We follow. I make a rough calculation of the enemy’s strength – three squadrons, around 35-40 aircraft. I don’t recognize the model. They are not Ratas or ‘Curtiss’ fighters. It is a new and sleek design, fast, much faster than the Ratas. Will we be faster? Yes, we are. And more powerful. Not that speed decides the combat – that is down to the skill of the pilot and the quality of his fighter. And we are Germans in German aircraft. Like a buzzing swarm, the cloud of fighters suddenly splits up for the attack. I stay tight to Mölders covering his tail. Then he dives on the first, attempting to come in on an oblique pass. He gives it a burst from all barrels as the enemy machines raises his nose to fire. Der Pilot muss getroffen sein. The pilot must be hit. I see him just pull up slightly, then sluggishly and helplessly falling away and spinning down, clear indication that there are no control inputs. My brain works with feverish clarity. I pick out a thousand details like a film strip being wound on rapidly..I climb after the next opponent and try and get in behind him, but he banks into a tight curve and veers off to the side. Should I follow in after him? I’m just about to haul the stick over and throw the throttle wide open, when – like a present from heaven – a second enemy fighter climbs up directly into my line of sight, barely a few hundred metres distant. I can dive away underneath it, or fly right past it or I take it on. Is it time? Fractions of a second to decide. I press myself down behind the sight, every fibre of my being obsessed with the single necessity – to fight. Time flashes past. Now, now – he sits slap bang in the middle of the ring sight. Eyes, don’t fail me – brain, remain clear – hand, squeeze the firing buttons! If only my guns don’t jam then the victory is certain! I press the buttons and a stream of rounds hisses from the barrels. I follow the tracers. There, on target. My burst slams right into the nose and the engine – right where I have aimed, the bullets strike home. Unless a miracle saves him, he is done for..."
“Joschko” Fözö climbs down from his Bf 109 A. Fözö's machine was coded 6-16.
Lt. Fözö’s Bf 109 A '6-16'. In his 1943 account he captioned this image “ ein neuer Balken..ein neuer Abschuss..” ( ‘ another kill marking.. another victory’). Scanned directly from his book - published 1943. Fözö returned three victories in Spain. '6-16' served with all three Staffeln of J/88 at various times and was eventually handed over to the Spanish air force.
Lt. Fözö’s Bf 109 A '6-16'. In his 1943 account he captioned this image “ ein neuer Balken..ein neuer Abschuss..” ( ‘ another kill marking.. another victory’). Scanned directly from his book - published 1943. Fözö returned three victories in Spain. '6-16' served with all three Staffeln of J/88 at various times and was eventually handed over to the Spanish air force.
