During the interwar years, war strategists started throwing around a wild and discomfiting thought: rather than bogging down armies in brutal trench fighting, why not target the opponent’s heart—its factories, infrastructure, and even its citizens’ morale? When the Second World War began, this theory flew in directions few could have conceived. One of its most chilling applications came in 1943 when the city of Hamburg was bombed as part of what would be referred to as Operation Gomorrah.
Initially, both the British and U.S. air forces attempted to adhere to the principle of “precision bombing.” The premise was to minimize damage to military and industrial installations and avoid hurting civilians as much as possible. But such intentions soon ran up against the harsh realities of war.
Night bombing, high altitude, and rigid opposition from attacking enemy planes and flak made it almost impossible to reach individual targets with any degree of accuracy. Contemporary reports indicate that during the early stages of the war, British bombers could only manage to come within five miles of their target 20 percent of the time.
At the same time, the German bombing of London and other cities had given a demonstration of the power of terror from the air, persuading the Allies that cities themselves could be legitimate targets.
Hamburg, Germany’s second-largest city and an important center for war production and shipbuilding, was selected for a new type of air campaign. By the summer of 1943, a prolonged dry spell had made the city a powder keg. For the RAF Bomber Command, commanded by Air Marshal Arthur Harris, the situation appeared nearly ideal for a grand display of power.
With a new strategy came a new weapon: radar-jamming aluminum strips called “Window,” which could disorient German defenses and enable bombers to pass through more safely. That first night, some 800 British bombers made for Hamburg—and due to Window, the majority made it through with remarkably little loss.
The raid opened on the evening of July 24. British pathfinders flew in first, dropping white flares to illuminate the targets. Then, wave after wave of heavies dropped a deadly combination of high explosives and firebombs.
The explosions destroyed buildings and burst water mains, so it was almost impossible to contain the subsequent fires. The incendiaries did the rest—rooftops, wooden houses, warehouses, and fuel depots catching fire. Witnesses described the scene later as eerily beautiful to start with—like seeing the northern lights—but before long, that awe turned to horror as whole neighborhoods burned.
The very next day, the daylight arrival of American B-17 bombers, which targeted factories and shipyards with the intent to knock them out. The American Army Air Forces were still attempting to maintain the line of precision bombing by employing their much-publicized Norden bombsight.
Thick smoke from the British raid and intense German anti-aircraft fire, however, made accuracy almost impossible. The American crews were severely battered and damaged, and most of their bombs fell short of the target. Yet still the pounding went on—British bombers at night, American bombers during the day. Each successive wave of attacks contributed to the mayhem on the ground.
But worst of all was yet to come. During the evening of July 27 into the early morning hours of the 28th, the most devastating period of the campaign hit with all its fury. That night would bring forth a ghastly new specter: the firestorm.