The Fokker C-V could not meet with any modern aircraft, nor in speed, nor in armament, how well it might have performed in its time.
Nothing better to understand that, than the exciting story of somebody who, in a plane like that, attacked by German fighters, literally was swept out of the air.
Reserve sergeant-pilot G.F.Roeloffzen wrote in "Vliegwereld" magazine of July 18, 1940:Fokker C-V Reconnaissance Aircraft.
Presented on the Air Exhibition late 1926 in Paris.
Crew: 2 Pilot and observer.
Engine: in advance Hispano-Suiza, 1931 modified with Rolls-Royce 630 HP
Speed: max. 230 km/h Cruise speed: 190 km/h Radius: 800 km.
Used as light bomber-reconnaissance plane, For observing and disturbing activities over the lines.
Task in peace time: Follow-up training for fighter pilots.
Armament:2 MG 36 firing through propeller circle
1 MG Lewis, used by Observer in rear cockpit
Bombs:
4 x 50 kg or
8 x 25 kg or
16 x 8 kg fragmentation"..... In order to be home the quicker, we boosted the ancient Fokker C-V's with their cruise velocity of 190 km; they drone and rumble and become white hot; but it does not matter, they can stand it, because in spite of their age, they have an iron constitution.
Suddenly, over Culemborg, machine guns from the ground are firing at us, but they don't hit us. We proceed, starting to climb as the Grebbe line comes nearer. We are on 800 meters now. In the distance I can see Wageningen. Everywhere on the ground is smoke and fire. I correct my course a bit and we go straight to the target.
Then, suddenly, 3 German Fighters come diving towards me. Where they came from is a mistery; I suppose from the clouds. Straight-on they are diving to me in a horrible speed. Only a moment I can see them, they are Messerschmitts 109 or Heinkels 112. They're super fast, heavy armed, modern fighters against an old-fashioned slow reconaissance plane. No chance!......Away! ....To the ground!
It is roaring through my head: Stay in the air and try to escape? Suicide! Bail out? If I manage, I will land with my parachute in the middle of the firing line and be dead before I reach the ground.
A kick at the foot-pedals, a push at the "levier" (stick), diving downward to the ground!
Full throttle; handle beyond the block, only allowed to exceed at high altitude. The old Royce shall run, even to burst!
They are after me, I feel it; one to shoot at me, right behind and the two others at the sides. No time to look after me.
He starts firing. This is awful. A spray of lead he throws over me. I see it, for they use, like we do, trace ammunition in which every fifth bullet shows a visible trace of light in the air.
Desperately I start to kick, push and pull like a madman; my "crate" jumps in the air, swinging and slinging, with roaring engine. No, he shall not get me! We don't give up, just-like-that.
Should I have dived in a straight line, I should not have been able to tell this story; he would have catched me very easily in the beams of his machine guns.
He is firing madly, from all his MG's spitting beams of deadly metal; it is like being in a foundry or near a welding machine: left, right, everywhere fire; over and beneath us.
At all sides it is sparkling and glowing and one simple bullet in my back will be enough to finish, to let us dive full speed into the ground. I expect that anytime.
We are still diving, at a terrific speed. Later, in hospital, my observer told me he thought our tail had been shot off during that dive and that we were falling, out of control, as we tumbled down, swinging and slinging.
He was already prepared to plunge into the ground and he was sitting quiet and stoically, he told me.
I have always admired the courage of the observers, trusting me that way.
That your brains are still working in a situation like that is a riddle to me.
It flashes in my head: across the Rhine; try to cross-over the Rhine river!
I knew that north of the river, the hell had bursted out, so should I even land there, we would have been killed; but south of the Rhine the situation was relatively quiet.
We approach the ground. The "fire-rain" is still continuing. It seems te be hours, that dive; in fact it's a matter of seconds. There is the ground. I begin to pull on the stick. With difficult, under heavy vibrations, the nose raises. We are running over the "uiterwaarden" (land between the dikes, flooded as river water is high) and still going lower. Fast it goes, too fast! An enormeous hit, bang! Off left lower wing. Shreds of linen hanging, splinters flying around, we have hit a post or small dike, the whole plane is thrown upward but still going forward in extreme velocity. I succeed in bringing it level and suddenly I see the large winterdike of the Rhine in front of me. From this moment firing stops. The German fighter, going much faster than I, is not able to stay behind me and pulls up over my head. I see the dike with a fence on top, nearing fast. I pull with all my strenght to get over it. But the aircraft, although fast enough, has not enough lift because of the lost lower wing, cannot be brought up. In full speed, with full power running engine, we hit the dike. The aircraft turns totally head-over, is thrown up for meters over the dike and falls upside down with an enormous smash, collapses, so there is not much left. It is black in my eyes. I think by myself, there you go! Now it's finished!
A while after that a sound of streaming fluid appears to me. I smell the petrol (aviation gasoline) and open my eyes. The tank, in which about 450 liters of fuel must be left, is obviously above in stead of under me and fuel is leaking on me. I am totally wet from it and hear a hissing sound from fuel leaking on the hot exhaust pipes.
Then it suddenly is clear to me: Out! Away! My left foot is stuck, but after some wriggling I manage to free it and I crawl out of the wreck.
Everywhere there is blood on me and I feel pain all over my body.
I can't understand that I'm still alive. A miracle has happened! And under the aircraft are still all the bombs, not exploded, in spite of the terrible bang we hit the ground with.
My first thought was then: I may be alive coincidentally, but my observer (res. Sgt. J.L.Holtz) will be dead.
But he also is alive. He comes stumbling from behind the wreck.The Germans obviously saw us hit the ground; we didn't see them anymore.
A couple of Dutch medical-soldiers came running to us (obviously saw us falling). It appears that we crashed ca 20 meters before the foremost Dutch fire line....."
