A Forgotten Alliance? The Surprising Story Behind China’s Rare Heinkel He 111 A-0 Bomber

In a faded monochrome photograph from the tumultuous 1930s, an unfamiliar silhouette emerges on a sun-scorched Chinese airfield. The aircraft—streamlined, smooth-faced, and distinctly modern for its time—is branded not with the infamous Balkenkreuz, but with the unmistakable emblem of the Chinese Air Force. This is the Heinkel He 111 A-0, an ultra-rare German bomber whose presence in China defies established narratives of global alliances and enmities before World War II. Why did China, a nation then bracing itself against the rising tide of Japanese aggression, secretly acquire a German bomber in 1936? And what became of these obscure warplanes as war enveloped Asia?

Germany and China: Partners Before Rivals

To understand how German bombers came to serve under a Chinese flag, one must rewind to the inverted geopolitics of the 1930s. The Chinese government, led by Chiang Kai-shek’s Nationalist Kuomintang (KMT), was engaged in a precarious struggle—fighting both internal Communist forces and, increasingly, external threats from Imperial Japan. Modernization of the military, especially the air force, was a pressing priority. China’s own aircraft industry was embryonic, and most of its frontline planes were imported from Europe or the United States.

At the same time, Germany—still emerging from the Treaty of Versailles’ constraints—was seeking foreign allies, markets, and influence, particularly in Asia. Although Japan would later become Germany’s Axis partner, in the early to mid-1930s, Berlin viewed Nationalist China as a more attractive strategic partner and export customer than its regional rival.

The Secret 1936 Bomber Deal

Enter 1936—a year of clandestine negotiations. China’s air force was alarmingly outclassed by Japan’s rapidly expanding aviation arm, which boasted numbers, technology, and combat experience. Desperate to bolster its defensive and offensive capabilities, the KMT turned to several European countries, but Germany, already involved in military training and industrial missions in China, was especially receptive.

The result: a contract with Heinkel, Germany’s rising star in aircraft design and production. China ordered a small number—reportedly three—of the brand-new Heinkel He 111 A-0 bombers. This model, an early production variant, was a huge leap forward for Chinese airpower: an all-metal, twin-engine medium bomber with retractable landing gear and an enclosed cockpit—a radical departure from the fabric-covered, open-cockpit biplanes that dominated the skies over China.

The deal was shrouded in secrecy. Both China and Germany understood that the delivery of advanced military aircraft to a potential future enemy of Germany’s regional partners could be diplomatically explosive.

Extraordinary Aircraft, Extraordinary Circumstances

When the He 111 A-0s arrived in China, they were among the most advanced aircraft in the country’s inventory. Sporting two BMW VI V-12 liquid-cooled engines and a clean, monoplane design, these bombers were theoretically capable of outpacing or outlasting most existing fighters in the region.

Primarily based at Hangzhou Jianqiao Airport, these bombers entered service with the early squadrons of China’s revitalized air force. For the Chinese pilots tasked with mastering the He 111s, the transition was both thrilling and daunting. Training was limited, spare parts were almost nonexistent, and operational guidance was thin—making flight, let alone combat, a hazardous affair.

Into the Storm: Early Operations

Historical documentation of the He 111 A-0’s participation in actual combat over China is scant, but available sources indicate they were pressed directly into duty after Japan launched its full-scale invasion in July 1937. They participated in some of the earliest bombing raids against Japanese positions near Shanghai and Nanjing.

Yet their operational impacts were limited by several factors:

Maintenance Nightmares: The He 111 A-0 was an early, somewhat underpowered prototype, and engine reliability issues soon became apparent.
Spare Parts Shortage: With no German support personnel and a complete lack of spare parts, keeping the aircraft flying was a logistical nightmare.
Rapid Attrition: The harsh realities of war—intense combat, difficult weather, and rudimentary infrastructure—took a swift toll. Within a short period, the handful of imported He 111s were either destroyed in action, rendered unserviceable by mechanical failure, or cannibalized for parts to keep at least one airworthy.

Their fleeting operational life, however, left an outsized impression. For a brief moment, these German bombers represented the apex of Chinese air modernization, a bold experiment in international military trade at a time when global alliances seemed infinitely flexible.

Politics Outpace Technology: The End of the Alliance

The onset of World War II brought a rapid and decisive end to Sino-German aviation cooperation. By 1938–1939, diplomatic winds shifted: Germany, now aligned with Japan under the Anti-Comintern Pact and later as formal Axis partners, withdrew all support and military missions from China. The Chinese had by then turned increasingly toward the Soviet Union and the United States for support—a shift punctuated later by the famous American “Flying Tigers” volunteer group.

Any remaining He 111s quickly became impossible to operate, and the type vanished from Chinese skies. Not a single complete example survived the war; the rare photographs are the only testament to their presence.

Legacy and Rediscovery

Today, the story of China’s Heinkel He 111 A-0 bombers is a footnote in both Chinese and German military history—a forgotten alliance born of necessity, rapidly extinguished by global realignment. Yet it stands as a striking early chapter in the saga of 20th-century warfare, where yesterday’s arms dealer might become tomorrow’s adversary.

Historians continue to debate the practical impact of the He 111 purchase, but its symbolic importance remains: For a brief and turbulent time, the rise of modern airpower in China depended not on expected Western partners, but on an unlikely, now largely forgotten, German connection.

As rare as the aircraft themselves, the 1930s photographs of He 111s bearing Chinese insignia serve as a reminder: history is rarely as tidy as textbook alliances suggest. Sometimes, the most surprising partnerships are those that vanish the fastest—leaving behind only mystery and faint echoes in black-and-white.