Рыбин, Ю. В. Советские асы на Харрикейнах в годы Второй Мировой Войны / Юрий Рыбин . – [Б. м. ] : Osprey Publishing, 2012. – 97 с. : ил., портр. – Англ. яз.

CH AP TE R THREE 38 The son of a factory worker living in Omsk, Sergey Kurzenkov was born in 1911. After graduation from the Textile Technical School, he worked in a textile factory and also learnt to fly at his local aeroclub. In 1933 he entered Eysk Naval Aviation School, and when the w a r commenced he was serving as an instructor at the Nikolaev Naval Aviation School. In October 1941 Kurzenkov was posted to 78th IAP of the Northern Fleet Air Force, and he scored his first aerial victory on 4 March 1942 while flying a Hurricane. By the tim e Kurzenkov was shot down in error by Soviet anti-aircraft fire on 23 February 1943 he had increased his tally to eight kills, all in the Hurricane. Seriously wounded in the incident, Kurzenkov could not return to frontline flying. Forced to continue his service as a staff officer, he was awarded the title of HSU on 23 July 1943. He also received the Order of the Red Banner twice, as well as the US Navy Cross So it was that the combat careers of many Northern Fleet Air Force pilots began during the polar winter, a time when darkness lifted for only a few hours. These men would later be distinguished by the combat successes they achieved in the Arctic theatre of operations. Two pilots stand head and shoulders above the others during this period, Pavel Orlov and Sergey Kurzenkov. Both arrived in the far north in October 1941 and both held the rank o f senior lieutenant. They had been posted to the frontline from a flying school where they had been instructors and flight commanders, although they were mere ‘rank and file’ pilots when they reported for duty at an operational regiment. However, the advanced flying training they had undergone when being taught how to instruct quickly became apparent, and both pilots soon stood out from their regimental colleagues in terms of their combat success. Orlov and Kurzenkov served in 78th IAP, but in different squadrons, and there was constant friendly rivalry between them. I f one had shot down an enemy aircraft, the other would usually claim a kill just a few hours later. Yet their military careers had not begun in the same way. Sergey Kurzenkov’s career as a fighter pilot might have been over almost before it started. On one o f his first sorties, while leading a flight patrolling overhead its Vaenga-2 base at night, Kurzenkov mistakenly attacked a friendly Pe-2. The Soviet twin-engined bomber had a silhouette similar to the German Bf 110 heavy fighter. Luckily for them, the crew o fthe damaged bomber managed to make an emergency belly landing on their own airfield. A few days after it was repaired, the Pe-2 was shot down by enemy fighters and its entire crew perished. Kurzenkov was arrested following the night engagement, and it was only thanks to the intercession of Maj Safonov that he remained in the unit. But fate had certainly not done with Sergey Kurzenkov, for he was almost shot down during his first encounter with enemy fighters. Later, in his memoirs, Kurzenkov would recall that dogfight on 4 January 1942; ‘The Henschel 126 observation aircraft would cross the frontline almost every day and fly over the mountains close to the forward positions o f our land forces. The Fascists found something there because they immediately reported the coordinates back to their own artillery batteries. The barrage would begin and the Henschels would cruise around to correct the fire. The soldiers had become really tired of the “Sticks”, as they were known on account o f their ugly appearance, but they weren’t able to shoot them down — the Henschels were heavily armoured. ‘We were in turn given the job of hunting down the Henschels, but they were nowhere to be seen. We would fly to the frontline and still see nothing —they’d been warned by German observation posts on the mountain peaks and disappeared. The mountains would slide by under our wings once again and the gorges would darken, but still there was no sign of the Henschels. There was no trace of them ‘Our flight took off again in pursuit of Henschels on 4 January, but once more without success. We flew along the frontline for about an hour before turning for home empty handed. I was the last in a line of three Hurricanes, and for me at the back it was like a shuttle flight. I started to make some shallow turns to the left and the right. I made the next turn to the right over the coastal cliffs of the Gulf of Ura-Gubsky © Osprey Publishing • www.ospreypublishing.com