It’s the morning of the 7th of November, 1944  and twelve P-38 “Lightnings” soar high over Yugoslavia. Leading the flight is Colonel Clarence Theodore Edwinson. He spots a cloud of steam rising below. It’s a German steam train! Not the main target, but it’s too juicy to pass up. “Let’s go get it, boys!” Edwinson turns over and dives to the attack, his men following close behind.

They pick up speed and lock the locomotive square in their sights, and pull the trigger. The locomotive is riddled with American fire and steam pours out of holes all over the boiler as “Lightnings” rise back up into the sky. But the Germans are quick to the defense. Black puffs of German flak burst around the formation with shrapnel piercing the aircrafts’ thin metal skins. 

Edwinson shouts on the radio:   “Everyone, get low!” They turn to dive back to the ground to escape the German guns,  but it’s too late.  One P-38 is struck directly and bursts into flames as the entire squadron dives for safety. The pilot’s desperate voice is heard over the radio. “I’m hit! I’m going down!” Edwinson levels out low over the trees and whips his head back looking for his man.

But instead, he sees a fireball of the stricken bird slamming into a hillside. “Does anyone see a chute?” Every pilot hopes someone else responds for the “yes”, but the silence is deafening.  “Negative, sir.” Fury fills Edwinson’s heart. “Copy.” The US planes roar over the Serbian mountains. Suddenly, the ground drops below them, revealing a huge valley with an airfield. 

It looks just like the target area as was described in their mission briefing. Seconds later, Edwinson sees exactly what he expects,  a long line of trucks and tanks going north on the road to Belgrade.  There’s never a shadow of a doubt on his mind. This is their chance for revenge.  “There are those sons of bitches.

Blue flight, get that German convoy!  Red and Yellow to the airfield!” “Yes, sir!” The Soviets are unaware that they’ve been misidentified by the Americans. The Red Army and Yugoslav partisans are celebrating the anniversary of the October Revolution. They drive along, soldiers singing and Soviet flags flying proud in the air, until the rumble of an engine interrupts the melody. 

The soldiers look up to the sky and see the P-38s flying in the distance. Seeing their ally brings a smile to their face. Celebrations resume and the convoy marches on. Few are alarmed as they see aircraft break formation and turn straight towards them. “No, no, they are about to strafe us!” The Lightnings bear down upon the column, the roar of engines getting louder.

The few Soviet soldiers that realize the mistake scramble to warn the incoming Americans. They grab flags from their comrades and lift them higher, waving them desperately, hoping the Americans see. But there’s not enough time. The pilots don’t notice and they pull the trigger. The Soviets are cut down as bullets tear through the formation of men and vehicles.

The column is thrown into a frantic panic under a storm of lead. Then, the American bombs rain down. Explosions blast through what remains of the convoy, inflicting heavy casualties. At the nearby airfield the distant blasts are heard. Lookouts stand in attention and see a swarm of aircraft headed straight towards them.

“Man the guns!” The alert sounds and Soviet soldiers rush for the anti-air guns. They come to life with a furious roar with tracers flying out in the sky to meet their incoming attackers. In the air Edwinson leads his men down towards what they believe to be a Luftwaffe airfield full of Bf 109s. Anti-aircraft fire sweeps through their formation, striking the planes, but they are undeterred. 

20 mm shells and .50 caliber bullets pour from the Lightnings powerful armament.  They smash into the earth, ripping across the rows of parked aircraft as they hear enemy fire striking their own birds with a crackle. “Pull up!” The Lightnings pull out of the dive, but one of them fails to follow. It’s Second Lieutenant Eldon Coulson.

He yanks on the yoke with all his strength, but he’s taken severe damage from the Soviet guns. He flies much lower than expected, attracting the fire of the entirety of the Soviet airfield’s anti-aircraft defense. “She’s not coming up!” More impacts strike the Lightning, wings and elevators are ripped to shreds, and control slips from his grasp.

The P-38 crashes a kilometer from the airfield, exploding with Coulson inside. Edwinson sees the balls of flame.  and his anger once again rises. They’re going to make the “Germans” pay. “Build some altitude and go in again!” Down below anti-aircraft fire continues skyward at what they they believe to be German twin boom, Fw 189s.

Red Army pilots rush to the remaining Yaks through fire and smoke. “Combat alert! All pilots, scramble!” The first two Yak-9s to start a life are piloted by Lieutenant Krivonogikh and his wingman, Junior Lieutenant Shipulya.  As they taxi, Krivonogikh looks up, and sees the fighters turning back for another attack.

“Shilpulya, faster!” They line up on the runway and smash the throttle to full. The Yak-9s roar down the runway and lift off into the air with the terrifying sight of the incoming enemies looming overhead.  The two Soviets skim the treetops, racing away from the P-38s’ sights. But behind them the rest of the Soviet pilots are not so lucky. 

They take off in a large group… Easy targets for a squadron that have already lost two men. “Get those planes before they gain altitude!” His men don’t question. They dive in at maximum speed, peppered by anti-air fire streaming from the ground, with the crosshairs on target they pull the triggers. Bullets and shells tear through the Soviet planes.

One Yak is immediately destroyed and several others are damaged. They break into evasive maneuvers as Lightnings soar overhead.  All except one. One of the pilots sees his attacker pulling out of the dive and spots an opportunity.  In a split second he pulls his Yak upward and pulls the trigger. P-38 flies straight through his burst and is ripped to shreds.

The P-38 bursts into flames and spins violently out of control. The pilot inside is 2nd Lt. Phillip Brewer and he has no opportunity to get out. He’s trapped,  and his plane plummets to the earth, crashing to the northeast of the Soviet airfield. The P-38s gain altitude, escaping the grasp of the anti-air gunners.

Edwinson looks down where one enemy and two friendlies burn. This is becoming a much tougher fight than he expected. “A lot of fighters incoming, make a defensive circle, we’re shooting our way out!” Meanwhile, Krivonogikh and Shipulya race low over the trees, accelerating to well over 400 kilometers per hour. 

The attack on the rest of their squadron has left them isolated,  but they watch the enemy fighters opening fire on the helpless column, and they know they have no choice. The pair of Yak-9s pull up into a steep vertical climb.  For the first time in history, fighters of the United States and Soviet Union will face off in all-out air-to-air combat.

“Shipulya, attack! I’ll cover you!” “Roget that!” Shipulya races in pursuit, sweeping in at high speed, and opens fire with his single 20 mm cannon and .50 caliber machine gun.  His bursts land on one of the P-38’s twin fuselages, but it doesn’t take it down.  Shipulya soars by at blistering speeds and turns away to prepare for another run.

But the American pilot requests backup, and two circling P-38s come to his rescue. Krivonogikh spots the enemies diving upon his wingman and he shouts over the radio.  “Shipulya, maneuver, break right!” It’s just at the nick of time. Shipulya pulls hard in the last second, escaping the P-38’s lethal burst. 

He twists and dodges the enemy aircraft’s guns, but he’s on the back foot. “I can’t get rid of him!” “Hang on, I’m coming!” Krivonogikh flies into the scene as fast as he can,  his heart thumping with every burst of tracers launched towards his wingman. He’s coming in fast. His crosshairs line up with one of the two Lightnings, and he pulls the trigger. 

His gunshots streak across the sky and narrowly miss the enemy’s aircraft. The American pilot immediately abandons the attack, but Krivonogikh ignores him. He moves on to the next P-38 hounding Shipulya, takes aim, and opens fire. His rounds are perfectly placed and hit the Lightning’s twin booms, bursting the aircraft into flame.

It flies on, out of control.   The American pilot opens the canopy and bails and his burning plane crashes 8 kilometers to the north of the Soviet airfield. “Thank you, commander.” “You’re welcome. Prepare to fight!” Both brace for an onslaught. They’re horribly outnumbered, but then… The rest of the Soviet squadron burst onto the scene, opening fire and scattering their enemies.

Krivonogikh is relieved, victory is now within reach. The two pilots rush into the fight again, but in the chaos of battle they get split up. Krivonogikh sets his sights on an enemy and chases him through the melee spiraling upwards through the air. The P-38 does the same. But the P-38 is not optimized for low altitude flying and Krivonogikh quickly catches up.

He has the American in his sights. On the ground, a Soviet anti-air crew are firing at every enemy target they see. Whether it was just bad aim or an overenthusiastic gun crew — we’ll never know, but they send a volley directly at Krivnogikh’s Yak.  He gets no warning. His Yak is struck directly, and disintegrates.

Shiplulya tries to raise his friend on the radio and sees the burning wreck plummeting down to the ground.  His friend is gone. He shakes the loss from his mind and spots an American target underneath him. He’s outnumbered, and now without his friend, but he still dives back into the fight. P-38s swarm around him.

One of them performs a steep climb, stalls, and then opens fire. Shipulya has no chance, he flies on straight through its fire, and he’s shot down. The burning wreck of his plane crashes 500 meters north of the airfield he was defending.   Soviet losses mount: another Yak is shot down by the Americans. Soviet forces are desperately contacting every nearby base hoping for reinforcement.

Rushing to the scene is a fresh group of Yak-3 fighters led by Captain Aleksandr Koldunov. They are responding to the airfield commander’s desperate plea for help, but Koldunov is unsure of what he’ll find.  He’s been told he’s fighting German Fw 189s, but he knows the 189 is a reconnaissance aircraft, it’s not used for attacks like this.

Something is very wrong. Approaching the battle he sees what is before him is not an Fw 189. That is an unmistakable shape of an American P-38. He quickly abandons his attack and roars alongside the Americans, wagging his wings, hoping the allied pilots see the red stars. “We are allies!” But instead, the Lightning slows , gets behind and turns to fire.

“Damn it!” Koldunov breaks into evasive maneuvers and escapes the furious volley.  “Come on, what are you doing…” He once again flies straight through the maelstrom, trying to capture the attention of the American pilots,  But it doesn’t work, until he flies right alongside Edwinson. Edwinson sees the Soviet plane and his eyes go wide, a cold sense of dread travels down his spine.

He looks around at the other aircraft zipping by around him.  Every single one of the so-called enemies are sporting the red Soviet stars. “Holy shit!  Cease fire! Cease fire! They are Soviets! Everyone back to base! Now! Repeat, everyone back to base! Now!” All of the P-38s turn west and flee the scene, but they are chased by the Yaks.

“All pilots: Let them go! They are allies!!”  One by one, each Soviet pilot turns back to their base and the terrible accident comes to an abrupt end. The incident was taken by some on Soviet high command to have been a deliberate act and for a brief moment, the fallout of the incident threatened to spiral out of control.

But the US admitted the mistake in an explanatory letter to the Soviets that set out the chain of events as to why the Americans thought they were fighting the Germans.  The Soviet account, although likely embellished, was released over the years. American information on the incident is very scarce, and many believe that the full account of the incident has been kept secret and remains classified until 100 years after the event.