So I’ll outline my proposed rules changes. Firstly, I’m adapting these rules for a hex map. So here’s how that works. A plane can move into the hex it is facing for one point. Or it can change its facing either left or right (one hex only each time) also for one point. It’s a deliberately simple system that I don’t wish to complicate any further with S bends and Immelmanns etc.

Fighters can fire at any target in the hex directly in front. Deflection effects the fighters to hit rolls. 4+ from the hex directly in front of the target. 3+ directly behind and any other hex to the side is 5+. The full deflection shot from the original rules, 6 to hit from directly to the left or right of the target is eliminated.

Bombers can fire at a target in the hex directly in front or the three hexes in the rear arc. Needing a 6 to hit.

Any target hit rolls a D6 for damage. On a 4+ they are destroyed, otherwise they are damaged. A damaged plane suffers a -1 movement penalty and -1 to hit though still always hits on a 6. Damaged planes are marked with a black pipe cleaner hung on the wing. A damaged aircraft that is hit again does not roll for damage it is simply destroyed.

For the purposes of my photos only I’m adding a red pipe cleaner to indicate a destroyed aircraft. In cases where you might see both black and red markers on the same plane that would indicate a damaged plane that has just been hit a second time and destroyed. (Possibly a shared victory.)

A fighter claiming 5 victories becomes an Ace. Aces will re-roll their attack dice and get a +1 modifier when they are being attacked to represent their accumulated skill, knowledge and experience of both attacking the enemy and staying alive up there.

Three more targets have been added to the list.
Naval Yard,
Infrastructure, and
Civilian Population.

Now join the original
Air Fields
Factories and
Radar Towers.

Each target now has only 12 damage points.

For each raid the raiders may choose a primary target but must roll for a secondary target. Damage will be rolled initially on the Primary target only. Only after the primary target has been destroyed will remaining bombers roll damage against the secondary target.

The raiders can win in one of three Strategies.
1 – Eliminate the Air Defence,
2 – Hamper the Naval Supply capability or
3 – Bomb the populace into submission.

Each destroyed target will effect one or more of these outcomes to a greater or lesser extent. If one of these strategies is achieved within seven missions the Germans are victorious. (And presumably Europe falls entirely under the sway of evil Nazi control and the world shortly thereafter.)

But of course there was plenty going on the ground and behind the scenes in the halls of power and the strategic planning that was beyond the control of the pilots in the air. To represent these various elements of the wider war I have added Strategy Cards. At the beginning of each mission both players draw a Strategy Card from the top of their (shuffled and entirely random) deck. These can be played immediately in the forthcoming raid or retained for future missions as the players wish. Each card may only be played once. It’s effect will remain in play as part of the week’s activities unless otherwise stated in the card information.
Some cards will provide additional playable elements in the game such as extra aircraft, cloud cover or AA defences. Some clouds are purely Strategic bonuses which add or delete a point of damage on a target or strategic objective.

I’m quickly going to talk about my Targets and Strategies system.

It’s a bit complicated, hopefully not overly complicated.
I might need to draw it up as a table. So I’ll give each target a code just so the text lines up.

AF- Airfield
NY – Naval Yard
CP- Civilian Population
RT- Radar Towers
Fc – Factory
In – Infrastructure

There are three Strategies by which the Germans can win.
A- Destroy the Air Defence and gain Air Superiority
N- Focus efforts on hampering the Naval supply to Britain
M- erode National Morale by bombing the populace into submission.

The table looks like this.

…..A N M
AF- 3 0 0
NY- 0 3 0
CP- 0 0 3
RT- 2 1 0
In – 0 2 1
Fc – 1 0 2

These are the values I have assigned to each target. So say you want to reduce the Air defence to 0 you’d have to destroy Air Fields, Radar Towers and Factories. (And hope the British strategy cards don’t bring them back from the brink.) there is a chance for German strategy cards to reduce the overall scores by one though so they may not need to knock out that last target after all.

So let’s look at an early version of my Strategy Cards. 12 cards each side.
The British Deck


And das German Deck


Hopefully you can read those ok. It should give you and idea of some of the elements I’m pulling into the story. Auxiliary and voluntary services giving a boost to the various targets’ by restoring a point of damage, or in game bonuses like weather conditions or an extra plane or two.

I’m looking forward to seeing if these strategies and targets and points and cards add up to a balanced system or not.
And if you've read through all this, well thank you.

Primary Target- Infrastructure (Bridge)
Secondary Target - Population (Uncarved block of balsa)

Order of Battle
Raiders

GB 1 - x3 Stuka
GB 3 - x3 He111
GF 2 - x2 Me 110
GF 4 - x2 Me 109

Defenders

BF 3 - x3 Hurricanes
BF 5 - x3 Spitfires

Now on with the Battle

~~~~Battle Before Breakfast~~~~



"I see them, lads. Keep in close we're nearly on them."
Acting Flight Lieutenant Gerald Tomlin pushed his Hurricane as hard as she'd fly, climbing for a smattering of black specs in the sky ahead.
"I'm with you, Tommy."
"Roger that flight leader, I see them."
Tommy looked back over his shoulder. His wingmen were badly out of formation and lagging behind. He could see Arthur's plane quite far down below some way off just hanging on its propellor.
"Bring it in lads, keep it tight!" He ordered, easing off the throttle a little. He'd not been too keen on formation flying back in France but now that Tommy was the flight leader he felt he ought to maybe act the part, or read the lines at the very least.

"Come on gents, tally Ho!"

Who was that? Tommy scanned the clouds and his eye landed on a trio of aircraft high off his 2 O'clock. Spitfires.
"My boys will keep the escort busy," the newcomer announced with confidence.


"So you gents can just follow my lead."

Tommy scoffed and rolled his eyes, watching the lead spitfire break off from the flight and dive toward the fast approaching bomber formation. Typical Spitfire jock.

"On my lead, lads." Tommy prepared for his attack run. "We'll hit that left bomber right in the greenhouse."
"Aye Tommy."
"Roger that Flight leader."
Tommy raced as the familiar silhouette of a Heinkel 111 grew in his targeting reticle. Suddenly the diving Spitfire was upon them, taring past the lead bomber at an oblique angle, a reckless deflection shot scoring a few messy hits on but the leader carried on straight and level.

The Spitfire banked hard and pulled around behind the formation now. He was a decent pilot, if a lousy shot.

He made a determined effort at the rearmost bomber on the left coming in from behind and whipped back out over the top just as Tommy closed in for the kill.

In a split second it was over. Tommy saw a pale German face, a muzzle flash and a few broken windows but by the time he'd passed all was smoke and the Heinkel was dropping out of formation. It wasn't at all clear who'd made the kill.

His wingman Michael Addington, a young lad, a local boy had followed him through.

"Nice shooting, Tommy."

"Never mind that, lad just bring it back around."

The pair of Hurricanes banked around hard trying to come back on the tail of remaining two bombers. Tommy's Hurricane was rattling with the effort. He gritted his teeth. He'd not be outflown by any Spitfire. Suddenly he caught a flash of something, two enemy aircraft diving in. He'd taken them for more bombers, twin engine, Dornier's maybe but no.

"Mike, look out!"

A pair of big Mescherschmitt 110 fighter bombers had been waiting to pounce. Tommy jinked and avoided the worst of it but Michael was focused on the Heinkel up ahead. His hurricane exploded in a ball of fire before he even knew his danger.

In that moment Arthur the lagging Hurricane, came roaring in on his own attack run. He came rolling up over the top of one of the Heinkels and right into the sights of the same fighter bomber that had just hit Mike. A moment of fire and furry and both planes were all smoke and oil. Arthur's hurricane dropped out of sight and Tommy gunned his engine hot on the tail of another bomber with an Me 110 close behind, and those damned hot-shot Spitfires where nowhere to be seen.

"A little help chaps if you can spare a man."

"Sorry, fella." It must have been one of the Spitfire pilots, a Northerner by the sound of him, Liverpool maybe.
"We're a bit busy over 'ere."


Tommy squeezed his trigger and the left engine of the Heinkel in front of him shattered and burned.

The bomber dropped into a downward spiral as the wing came away.

The Spitfire leader was breaking away off to his left. Tommy's eyes followed his heading to find a tangle of smoke trails in a veritable hornets nest of activity over there. One fighter had already fallen in flames, he couldn't tell which.

And a pair of the German bombers, both Stukas were labouring on clearly damaged. One of the Spitfires was on the tail of the lead dive bomber headless of the gunner's defensive fire but a pair of Me 109's scared him off.
"Get out of there Charley, bring him around and I'll see him off."

The Me 110 in Tommy's rear view was still giving chase and the one that Arthur had damaged was struggling to keep up, the right engine dead and propellor feathering in the wind.

Approaching the last Heinkel a little too quick for comfort Tommy snapped off a short burst all along the left side before he overshot his target.

Pulling back around in a climbing arc he stole a glance over his shoulder. The bomber wasn't showing any obvious signs of fire or smoke but it was slipping into a shallow dive. He didn't have time to follow it down, instead, the last Hurricane on patrol followed the Spirfire leader up into the fray above.

"Sorry to crash the Stuka party gents but we're all out of Heinkels down there." Tommy expected a little back-chat from the Spitfire boys but they were having a bad time of it with the German fighter escort. The Lead Spitfire only managed a deflection hit against the last undamaged Stuka before a yellow nosed 109 chased him off.
"Spitfire, you've company!" was all Tommy could manage to say in time but the spitfire pilot again demonstrated his skill behind a stick and made a snap turn away.

Suddenly in a split second of motion and noise two fighters went head-to-head guns blazing over on Tommy's right. There was a brief cloud of debris and oil smoke where the two had clashed.

One of the fighters came out just ahead of Tommy's climbing Hurricane. He caught a glimpse of the squared wing tip of a 109 and instinct took over. The man must have been watching below for the Spitfire he'd just clashed with, Tommy didn't waste time to look as he dropped in on the raider's six and let the 303's do the rest.

A big blue cloud of diesel smoke signalled another victory and he let the Mescherschmitt fall.

"Leave some for the rest of us, eh?" It was the voice of that cocky Spitfire pilot again. "Looks like it's just you and me, old boy. I'll keep this one busy, you have a pop at those dive bombers."

Tommy scanned around quickly. The man was right. He counted three smoking Stukas and the 109 that was keeping the spitfire busy. He knew those 110s were still up here somewhere too. Not waiting around to find out where he dived on one of the ailing Stukas.

A quick blast into the canopy and the thing bucked and tumbled. He pulled back up into a climbing loop and surveyed the sky.

The Spitfire had shaken his tail and had another go at one of the two Stukas. Both were trailing blue smoke.

"It hasn't been my day, old boy." The Spitfire pilot was a posh lad but he seemed to know his way around a fight. "But I'm going for the leader."

"Copy that, Spitfire. I'll try to keep up." Tommy loaded the reply with plenty of sarcasm hoping the radio static wouldn't drown it out completely. He let his Hurricane turn lazily hanging back to allow the other hapless dive bomber to drop into position.
"That's got him!" Came the Spitfire jocks excited report, "my luck's changing after all."


Tommy didn't reply, he was crawling dangerously slowly willing the last German bomber forward just a little quicker.

"Eyes behind Hurricane leader, that yellow nosed bastard is gunning or you."

"Well see'im off, lad!"

"I'll see if I can't do better."


Tommy kept on target for the last Stuka, expecting a trickle of defensive fire that never came.

"He's off, old boy." The other man reported, "Take your time and get in close."

"Much obliged." Tommy replied in mock upper-class tones. He did get in close, right up close. Nothing from the smoking Stuka, not even an evasive jink or a turn. The men inside were likely either dead or barely clinging on. It was the easiest shot of his life, or would have been had his ammunition not run out after the briefest flurry of rounds. Still it seemed it was enough. The enemy plane dipped and rolled belly up as he passed overhead.

"That's the last..."

Tommy's report was cut short at the sudden reappearance of the Me 110 diving right across his path. The thing was surprisingly big up so close and there seemed nowhere to go. He slammed the stick forward in an effort to make a last ditch evasion. There was a loud bang but he emerged from the shadow of the raider intact.
The same could not be said of the fighter-bomber.

A rear stabiliser fin had been shorn away by the impact and the left side of the aircraft's tail hung in tatters as the pilot lost control. A man emerged from the rear of the cockpit and dropped over the side, followed by another from the front. Two parachutes opened as the aircraft spun down and down.

"By 'eck that were close." Tommy sighed.

"They've had it," the Spitfire pilot reported, "The blighter's turned tail and dived off."

Tommy scanned around, a white trail of smoke led away out of sight. A damaged 110 long since out of the fight was limping home perhaps escorted by the fleeing 109.


"I say, good show old boy."

"Aye." Tommy was exhausted. "You can't do that in a Spitfire." The Hurricane had a rugged and heavy airframe.

"I make that two for me and five for you!"

"Not that there's a Gerry alive that'll admit it were an Hurricane what did for him."

"I'll go on the record. Flight Lieutenant Harrington "Harry" if you like."

"Pleased to meet you. Names Gerald Tomlin. 366 Squadron out of Kenley. Call me Tommy."

"Not Gerry?"

"No, me Mam won't 'ave it."

"Ace in a day, Tommy. I'm sending the Press down to Kenley."

Ace in a day... He could hardly believe it himself. "Oh, no. No thanks. I'll settle for a pint, I reckon."

"Jolly good."

Harry had pulled up alongside Tommy's Hurricane. He snapped a cramped salute in the confines of the Spitfire's tight cockpit and rolled over and away turning home for Tangmere.

Tommy let out a breath he'd not known he was holding. He checked his instruments and pointed the nose on his own homeward vector. It was definitely time for breakfast.

++++++++++++++++++++++

And that's it for the first mission. Heavy losses on both sides. A squadron of He 111 and another of Stukas both completely destroyed. And both fighter squadrons reduced to one aircraft each. The last 109 escorting a limping 110 back to France.

The Brits paid the price for their victory though with two Spitfires lost, one apiece to the Me 109 pilots, and two Hurricanes lost, again one apiece to the Me 110s. Only one of the British pilots didn't make his survival role. Mike's Hurricane exploding into flames in the air. I do survival roles on occasion mostly for the story. It doesn't affect the squadrons, a plane lost is lost regardless of the pilot's survival. (Unless I decide to make changes as I go along)

I was surprised how text-book it went. The spitfires for the most part took on the fighters and left the Hurricanes to go after the bombers. The German fighters didn't leave the bombers to chase after their own prey and did a reasonable job of defending them for a while. In the end it was a battle of attrition and the bombers just couldn't hang on.
Defensive fire from the bombers didn't make much of an impact this round. And of course no bombers made it to the target so old Blighty is safe for now.

And lastly of course we have an ace on our hands already!

Gerald "Tommy" Tomlin receives his Distinguished Flying Cross and now re-rolls his attack dice and gets a plus one modifier when someone shoots at him. (6 is always a hit though)

And "What Ho, jolly good. We'll give this man a pat on the back too.

Flight Lieutenant "Harry" Harrington might have claimed a full kill for his clearly shared bomber victory early on but given that he was sharing it with a man who had a full five more to spare I figured I'd give it to him. He had rotten luck on his rolls to hit but consistently rolled high on movement. A nifty pilot but not so hot on the trigger. I look forward to following the careers of both, now lone pilots as we go along through the missions.

Their surviving German counterparts each claimed a victory to their scores. Their names in my notes are Helmut in the 110 and Franz in the 109. They'll no doubt be back to avenge their fallen squadron mates soon.

We drew some Strategy Cards at the opening of the game. The British had the Royal Engineers bomb disposal squad standing by but they weren't needed in the end. The card is retained for the future.

On the other side of things the Germans got a "Loose Lips sink Ships" card. So thanks to some blabber-mouth German U-boats stopped a major convoy in the Atlantic and the Royal Navy are feeling the first effects of the week's action. 1 point off the starting line to victory by crippling the country's Naval Supply.

Let me know if you enjoyed that and want to see more and i'll keep on posting the rest of the campaign for you.

Primary Target- Naval Yard (Orange paper)
Secondary Target - Factory

Order of Battle
Raiders
GB1 (already eliminated)
GB5 x3 He 111
GF5 x2 Me 109
GF6 x2 Me 109

Defenders
BF 1 x3 Hurricane (miniatures are actually a Gloster Gladiator leading a pair of P-40s, the boy picked them. But you know, I'm glad he did because thing to keep track of 6 almost identical Hurricanes post battle would have been a nightmare)
BF4 x3 Hurricane (A Russian Hurricane leading some proper RAF Hurricanes)

Strategy Cards
German- Scattered Cloud- six "clouds" are placed on the board by the raider. (Try to be reasonable and scatter them about) each cloud is an irregular shape made up of seven hexes. Each turn the cloud moves one hex in a random direction. I roll a scatter dice to determine the direction of each cloud in turn.) An aircraft in a cloud cannot be fired upon or see to fire upon another aircraft.

British - WRNS +1 to Naval Yard

Now on with the battle.

~~~~Aller Anfang ist schwer~~~~

It was Leutnant Werner Maier's first operational mission with Jagdgeschwader 53, in a forward combat zone. He had been assigned to 3 Gruppe positioned on the tail of Hauptmann Fuchs. His job to guard the Hauptmann as he hunted.

Well, Werner reminded himself they were meant to be escorting the bombers; a gaggle of lumbering geese droning away among the low clouds over the English Channel below, but his more senior officers as ever had ideas of their own. They were hunting Spitfires.



"Today is my day, Fuchs. A great day, I can feel it in my bones." The high nasal voice of Major Herman Hofmann lost none of its edge over the radio.

"You praise the day too soon, Major." Laughed Hauptmann Fuchs "I praise it only when you buy the beers at sunset."

Werner laughed, allowing the light camaraderie of the more experienced men to stave off a little of his terror. He was determined to make a good first impression on the Hauptmann. He would remember his training, he would stay on the Hauptmann's wing and they would not be bested.

"Enemy fighters closing ahead."
It was The Major's wingman, Oberleutnant Max Fogel. The eagle-eyed junior was at least half of the equation that made up the Major's victory count.

Before Werner could blink both senior officers were diving into the clouds on the hunt.


Hofmann's voice sang out on the radio frequency, "Ach, these are no Spitfires. That was too easy," he complained, bragging, "Hurricanes are poor sport!"


Werner panicked, already out of formation and alone among the clouds he scanned frantically below.

A flash of red, and a bomber emerged from the clouds already aflame. A pair of RAF Hurricanes in tight formation came roaring over the top of their vanquished foe. Werner, relieved to have a target in sight fell upon the rearmost fighter with cannon and machine guns blazing.


The man either stricken or unnerved lost control of his Hurricane and collided with his wingman. Both Hurricanes became locked and entangled and fell spinning into the clouds beneath.

"Zwei!" he yelled in astonishment as much as in victory, "I got two of them!"

"Where are you boy!?" The Hauptmann was evidently a hard man to impress, "You are wanted on my wing. Am I hunting alone?"

Indeed he was. Werner glimpsed through a break in the clouds a Bf 109 with the Hauptmann's distinctive white wing tips.

It harried and harassed another RAF fighter which twisted and dodged as best it could. It had taken some punishment already but the Hurricane's rugged airframe was still holding its own.

As Werner tilted his wing over to rejoin his wingman a flurry of tracer fire arced around his aircraft. An enemy fighter on his tail. He watched helpless as the Hauptmann crossed his path heading in the opposite direction still pursuing his prey. Werner groaned, if he was to rejoin the Hauptmann's wing he would first have to lose his new friend.

Major Hoffman and his wingman had also become separated.

Fogel, coming to blows with one of the Hurricane squadron leaders had been forced to dive away a little worse off for the encounter but his adversary had been left far behind the escaping bombers.

Emerging into the open sky now a big Heinkel made a tempting target for one of the embattled Hurricanes. It banked in hard behind the bomber with Fuchs in hot pursuit. Fogel too had seen it and was also moving to intercept but his exhausts were belching a thick black fume and though he dived in perfect position to strike he was underpowered and the Hauptmann swooped in front.

The beleaguered Hurricane managed a determined burst of fire into the Heinkel's right engine before the hunting Mescherschmitt closed in and finished him off.

"Trying to steal my kill, Oberleutnant?" He scolded, "had you kept your machine in better shape you might have succeeded."



Fogel did not respond. Instead, stealing a glance around behind he caught a glimpse of the offending Hurricane, eight o'clock high trying to sneak across their flank in the clouds. The Major was in good company with the Hauptmann at his tail and Fogel wounded, but still in the fight, wanted revenge. He climbed into the clouds hoping to catch the Englisher at his own game.

But the man in the clouds was a veteran Pole and he had the German well scouted. As the fickle clouds broke the jig was up and Fogel's Bf 109 was engulfed in a torrent of machine gun fire. He fell in ruin.


The stricken bomber laboured on trailing occasional gouts of oily smoke. Werner had succeeded in shaking his adversary, or rather the Englishman had chased him away from the fight. Suddenly the Hurricane rolled and turned toward the now straggling bomber. But Major Hoffman now was positioned to strike.
Seeing his danger the Englishman turned into the fight and came full at the Major face to face.

In a flash of gunfire and debris they clashed neither plane coming away unscathed. Even as Werner returning to the fray closed the distance on them Hauptmann Fuchs came thundering in from above.

His eager attack however was mistimed and Werner had the better shot.

He took it. His 20mm cannon made short work of the Hurricanes tail which was shredded to splinters and tatters and flame.

But suddenly the Polish man fell upon them. Singling out the Staffelkapitän in the yellow-nosed machine.

He drove the Bf 109 on to the death

before turning in pursuit of the straggling bomber.

"He's going for the bombers!" Hauptmann Fuchs was turning hard but he was in a poor position to give chase, "after him Werner! Take the lead!"

The race was on. The last hurricane beat a breakneck pursuit pushing his machine to its limits following the smoking trail through the clouds. Werner was off. He opened up the throttle and his V12 engine roared.

He checked his instruments, oil temperature was good, fuel was sufficient, ammo count was high he was closing into range on the tail of a slower, heavier and frankly inferior enemy aircraft which was growing steadily in his sights. Everything was lining up perfectly.

Werner hit the trigger but closing at such speed he had a fraction of a second in optimal range. His machines guns found their mark but the slower firing rate of the 20mm canon, the real punch of his attack meant that maybe only a single round had been placed on target. He overshot the Hurricane wildly leaving it rattled but still airborne.


Hauptmann Fuchs came in behind and finished the job with the skill of a seasoned professional.

Even in the cold air of the cockpit Werner could feel his face flush red. "I'm sorry Hauptmann. I used too much speed."
"You did well Leutnant," the Hauptmann encouraged, "and tomorrow you will do better."
"Better than three? And two flies with one swat. I doubt it very much. That is already much better than I expected for a first day."
"You had a pig. Nothing more. Every beginning is hard. Remember that Leutnant."

"Target in sight." It was the lead bomber coming into range on the Royal Navy docks in the estuary below. "All bombers on my lead."


"Come, Werner," the Hauptmann took the lead again climbing high above the bombers. "We can't help them now. Now we get above the flack and watch for their returning."

Werner kept a wary eye on the skies above as they climbed and turned into a long slow curve.

Far below the bombs were falling and the raiders were already turning for home.


~~~~~~~~~~~~

So that was raid number two. A bit of a disaster for the RAF as they lost two full hurricane squadrons and only managed to down a single bomber. Just as well there were only three bombers to begin with. The remaining two Heinkels scored poorly on the bombing run and as a result the Naval Yard remains at about half strength.

Thanks in part to the ladies of the WRNS who presumably laugh in the face of German bombers rolling snake eyes to damage. So not a great strategic victory for the Germans.
Though they preserved their bombers well enough they did so at the cost of one of their 109 squadrons who won't now be around for escorting duties in the future.

Perhaps more effective in protecting the bombers was the scattered cloud cover. With two bombers in the clouds at the point of first contact, the closing Hurricanes had to focus on the one exposed bomber which they downed but being bunched up they were the more vulnerable to attack and paid the price when Werner bounced them. Later on in the game the last bomber had a cloud to hide in which might have made all the difference had the chasing Hurricane been able to close the distance.

The card may have been a bonus for the German bombers but ze Germans didn't have it all their own way. We also had a moment of particular cloudy trickery when two fighters were hiding in the same cloud. The cloud then scattered one hex to the left and exposed both fighters to the Hurricane's benefit and the 109's demise.

Many thanks to Warwell for the inspiration of using clouds in games. You may not have been the first but I saw you do it first.

So that was raid number two. What a raging hairball of dogfight! Really tricky to pin down the series of events in order. In the end though it raised the profiles of a couple of German fighters to look out for in future raids.
No doubt we'll see Hauptmann Fuchs and Leutnant Werner Maier in future missions.

Primary Target- Naval Yard (Orange paper)
Secondary Target - Radar Towers

Order of Battle
Defenders
BF5 x1 Spitfire (Flt Lt "Harry" Harrington)
BF6 x3 Spitfire (introducing Wing Commander Barbary)


Raiders
GB4 x3 He 111
GF1 x2 Me 110

GF6 x2 Me 109 (Hpt Fuchs and Lt Werner Maier)
GB2 x3 Do24


Strategy Cards
German- Corpo Aero Italiano - re-roll bombers or fighters.
I had originally rolled a 1 for the bombers. Being the Stukas who were destroyed on day one. The re-roll granted by this card turned up GB2 and since I have only one Do24 in my collection I decided to have it lead a pair of Italian SM79s. (They don't get an extra dice roll on target damage for having an extra engine)

British - ARP- +1 to the civilian population target which isn't on the board for this raid.

A Note on this battle report. I make a few jumps between perspectives in the interest of trying to cover all the angles so it skips back and forth a bit. Hope you can follow it ok. Now on with the battle.

~~~~Race to the finish~~~~

"Spitfire patrol, stand down. We'll take it from here."

"Glad you could make it, Wing Commander." Harry felt his shoulders release a good deal of tension. "Nothing like a bit of company on these dreary old patrols."

"How is your fuel, Harrington?" The wing commander cut in. He wasn't the chatty type.

"I'm not heading for home yet, Sir. I'm good for another innings."

"Understood Flight Lieutenant, fall in. We're going in on my lead."

"Right Ho." Harry eyeballed the motion of the trio of newcomers and paced his dive to fall in on their rear.



"Eyes on target." The Wing Commander confirmed, "Two escorts, Me 110's. We'll give them what for on the first pass, then we'll be free to deal with those bombers.

Harry didn't like the sound of that but he followed in the tail of the formation as they accelerated toward the enemy. It was rather Harry's preference to try and break up the bombers first; Fall on them hard in a full frontal assault, unnerving their pilots and scattering the formation. It was the bombers they here to stop. He watched as all three spitfires one after another fell upon a hapless Me 110.

All the while the bombers continued to drone on by.

"This is ruddy useless." Harry cursed. He pulled out of his attack run and swung in toward the bombers. "We can't all go chasing the sodding escort fighters!"

A formation of big ugly Heinkels grew in his sights and Harry closed in on the rear of the lead bomber.

"I punched that Kraut's ticket." The Wing Commander gloated as a big fighter bomber went spiralling down.

Harry ignored the radio chatter and slowed to the pace of the larger planes, dodging defensive fire and giving their gunners as good as he got. The lead bomber's rearward gun fell silent but the aircraft pressed doggedly on. Harry closed for the kill.

"Watch out, gents" the Wing Commander warned, "this looks rather like trouble."

Before Harry could say 'Hun in the Sun' his world was exploding in bullets and sparks and shards of broken perspex. Harry's cockpit immediately began to fill up with smoke.

He fumbled for the canopy release but the frame was jammed. Choking and desperate he finally managed to force the thing back on its grinding runners. The rush of cold air almost took his head off as he gasped for a breath and then tumbled blindly over the side.

++++++++++++

Hauptmann Fuchs and his Wingman Leutnant Werner Maier were up high overseeing a wide formation of twin-engine medium bombers. A mix of types, word even had it there were Italians amongst them. So high above they all looked little more than occasionally sparkling shadows.


"They come Hauptmann." Werner had spotted a formation of Spitfires approaching from the south west. They were gathering speed and pair of wide-winged Zerstörers were moving to engage.

"I see them, Leutnant." The cunning Fuchs was reading the situation, "Let them come. Let the quality of Göring's pet wonder-birds now show itself."

Werner let a wry smile play across his face. He too had once taken the opportunity to fly an Me 110 and knew well the source of the Hauptmann's sarcasm. It was an aircraft only a commander-in-chief could love, of truly superior design on paper.

Maintaining their hight and position they both watched as the spitfires fell upon the heavier machines like wolves upon deer.

So long as they were kept busy and away from the bombers so much the better.

"See there, Leutnant, the last man." Hauptmann Fuchs had spotted Harry's dive toward the bomber squadron and was already gauging his angle of attack.

Werner opened up the throttle and followed him in.

A bright explosion caught his eye as one of the Zerstörers went up in flames. A smoking Spitfire emerging from behind now turned in their direction. As an immediate threat to the Hauptmann he was Werner's mark and the junior officer moved to engage.


++++++++

Wing Commander Barbary left the first Me 110 intact in his rear cursing his luck. They were a bit of a conundrum those heavy fighters. Too big and cumbersome to really pose any great threat to the Spitfires and presumably too small and light to carry much in the way of ordinance. Still they were best not dismissed out of hand. He lined up the second heavy fighter for the attack but it made a sudden jink before pulling back up into his range with more speed than he'd anticipated.

His machine battled through a brief moment of intense fire and noise and confusion emerging from a world of flame into a shaky banking turn through open sky.

Barbary steadied the flight, regaining control of his machine and his wits.
"I punched that Kraut's ticket." he laughed sounding braver than he felt. The enemy was a flaming comet riding down a plume of dense black smoke but his own aircraft had not escaped completely unscathed.

Suddenly a pair of enemy fighters were diving in. Real ones, 109s.
"Watch out, gents" he called "this looks rather like trouble."

But his radio only crackled in response. His engine whined and begrudged his request for more power. Inside the cockpit smelled of fuel. Helpless he watched as the lead 109 fell in behind a Spitfire who was already harrying the bombers. But there was nothing he could do. Already the second Messerschmitt had clocked him as a threat and was coming in on the attack, guns blazing from well outside of his range.

Barbary accepted the challenge from the impudent pup with a calm level head. He tipped his machine up on its wing bating the enemy and throwing off the boy's fire before letting fly his bullets as it closed into range.

A brief clatter and buzz and the attacker, for all his bluster passed on overhead and away. Barbary quickly allowed his plane to dive in an attempt to coerce a little more speed from his ailing Spitfire. He wasn't out of the fight yet.

His radio crackled. It sounded like Rufus. The other two lads of his squadron swooped into the fray and the lead bandit now had his hands full.

He broke away from the Spitfires in fear for his life but before he could bunt and dive away his rudder and tail fin was shredded and he lost control. Rufus followed him down a little to hammer the message home but the 109 leader was done for.

With no one now between them and their prey the Spitfire pilots trusted to their greater speed to reach the bombers in time. The chase was on.

++++++++++++

Werner had been sold a dummy. Even as he turned into the spitfire's attack he knew he had been played for a fool. The rattle of a hundred 303 bullets all along his underside confirmed as much. He made an angry turn to come back around on the rear of the other two spitfires but instead he began to slip into a nosedive. Struggling to regain control he lost some altitude and a lot of time. Once more straight and level he found that his engine made a disconcerting noise if pushed beyond a certain point. He risked a climb back into the fight but it smoked profusely and threatened total failure.

He could only watch and scream in impotent rage as Hauptmann Fuchs was hounded in a ruthless pursuit down to the death.

Werner none the less set his fighter, on a hopeless pursuit course following the action as the drama unfolded beyond is reach.

While the fighters had tangled the bombers had broken free and were by now some way off. The spitfires raced to engage them one RAF fighter trailing smoke and struggling to keep up.

Werner pressed his damaged V12 as hard as it would allow but it was useless. The first bomber fell out of formation trailing a long black plume from a flaming engine.

The flames quickly spread engulfing the entire wing as desperate men evacuated one by one to take their chances by parachute.

But though one bomber had fallen there were many more. Many more than a handful of spitfires could tackle alone.

A stray Me 110 close by caught his eye.

It was droning aimlessly along for all the world oblivious to the danger of flying straight and slow in enemy airspace.
"Zerstörer, S 9 A M..." He called, reading the lettering along its fuselage. No response came over the radio.
"Eins Zehn, can you hear me?"
Werner eyed the distant pursuit ruefully, there was little help he could be there. He turned into a slow climb closing on the wing of the other German plane in a bid to communicate.

Whatever they were going to do from here their best hope for survival was staying together.

The heavy fighter had been badly shot up. The cockpit was riddled with bullet holes and Werner could see that the radio man in the rear was most likely dead. The pilot's face was ashen grey, his eyes wide staring back at Werner.

Far away beyond his reach another bomber went up in smoke but the rest had gotten through and the bombs were already falling. They'd done all they could. They had kept the fighters busy long enough and now all that remained was for every man to make it home as he may.

Werner took position ahead of the other plane and waggled his wings. The man was in shock but he managed a response and so followed Werner's lead as they set course back to France. Their work here was done.

++++++++++

Wing Commander Barbary cursed his damaged Spitfire with the kind of language traditionally reserved for sailors. The Naval yards all along the Kentish coast had been taking a hammering of late so Barbary expected the good lads and ladies down there would likely excuse his colourful language so long as he stopped those bombers.

"Rufus!" He called the overzealous young pilot over the radio. "The blighter's on fire already, get on after those bombers!"

The broken radio only garbled back a lot of noise but he could see that Rufus was once again climbing back into the hunt.

Pilot officer White was on the tail of a bomber in the rear of the formation hosing it down with a blast of machine gun fire.

"For the love of merry England, White!" The wing commander vented his frustrations, "You're not here to wash their ruddy Windows! Get in close and give 'em what for! Aim for the engines!"

There wasn't any response over the radio but the spitfire redoubled his efforts with spectacular effect.

"Atta boy, Whitey!" He whooped, "keep on 'em now lad, there's plenty more of 'em."

But time was running out. Looking altogether far too close now in the near distance a row of tall steel radar tower pylons was growing nearer and nearer. Barbary's engine coughed and threatened to sputter out but he saved it in time. He wasn't getting nearly enough speed out of it though. It was all down to the younger lads. A window cleaner from Watford and a, well he wasn't altogether sure about Rufus. He had a suspicion the boy was a singer or an actor of some sort, he was a much better pilot by all accounts.

As they approached the target the lead bombers were already dropping their payloads.

Rufus made a last desperate stab at another bomber which caught fire and began to drop out of formation but it was too little too late.

A power generator station went up in flames as all across the headland bombs fell among the radar towers and their adjoining structures. The bombers scattered and turned back out to sea.

"Steady now, boys." Wing Commander Barbary reigned in his red-faced charges. "Orders are orders. No chasing 'em away off over the Channel." The pair of wayward Spitfires broke off their vengeful pursuit and reluctantly formed up on their Wing Commander's wings.

Barbary coaxed his wounded warbird into a Northwestward heading leading his squadron back to Biggin Hill.

++++++++++

So there you have it. Raid number three. The RAF lose the last Spitfire of BF5 (Poor Harry, we hardly knew ye.) for the loss of one Me 109 and one Me 110 and only two He 111s. But more significantly, while the Spits were busy messing around with the fighters the Bombers made good on their threat and in end with four crossing the table edge it was bad news, disastrous news in fact for the already beleaguered Naval yard.

Losing its last remaining 6 damage points to the first bomber across the line.

And it was all too much for the Radar Towers too as even with one of the Heinkels rolling snake eyes (AGAIN!!!) the last two bombers over the line finished the job.

So both targets totally eliminated leaving only the Infrastructure target to keep the Royal Naval supply situation feasible. Bit of a disaster for Britain this round as the desperate struggle continues on into day four.

Primary Target- Infrastructure (Bridge)
Secondary Target - Population (block of balsa)

Order of Battle
Raiders
GB3 (already eliminated)
GB5 x2 He 111
Fighters rolled double 6 so only GF6 is available.
GF6 x1 Me 109 (a rather lonely Leutnant Werner Maier)


Bonus- Lost Patrol Card x1 Me 109 (entering from the right side)

Defenders
BF2 x3 Hurricane
BF3 X1 Hurricane (Ace Flight Lft"Tommy" Tomlin.)


Strategy Cards

The boy picks his card for this round. (Yes he's dressed as a bat skeleton)
German- Lost patrol +1 Me 109
British - A Desperate Defence - a squadron of Bolton Paul Defiants.
With only two bombers and two fighters to contend with today the RAF opted not to use this last desperate reserve this time.

~~~~Now on with the battle~~~~

Helmut clapped his hands trying to beat a little heat out of his frozen blood. The channel crossing had been cloudy and dank. Condensation rolled down the cold sides of the bombs standing to attention in their racks. Another day another drop. England this time, again.

As the cloud broke up Helmut looked out of the machine gun point on the side of the bomber expecting to see the now familiar sight; a flurry of bombers, near as stepping stones in a stream. Not today. He stepped over to the other side. He saw one. Only one other bomber, and a single Me 109 zigzagging away above trying to keep pace.

"Gunther!" He called to the navigator, "Where is the rest of the Staffel?"

There was no response.

"Gunther!"

"Be quiet, he's navigating." Dieter, the pilot was trying to keep his voice calm, "We followed the lead bomber, the rest will be here soon."

Helmut looked over at the other bomber on their right, it wasn't leading, if anything they were the leaders. "There are no markings on his wings." He reported, "you followed the wrong guy."

"Just man the guns, Helmut." Gunther snapped, "Keep an eye out for enemy fighters.

Helmut climbed into the dorsal machine gun position and scanned around in all directions. Sure enough a little silhouette was closing in from the north east.

"A fighter!" he yelled, "two o'clock."

"Relax, Helmut." Gunther had a better view from the bombardier's position in the fully glazed nose, "it's one of ours."

Helmut relinquished his white knuckle grip on the SM15 and let his shoulders drop. But all too soon.

"Incoming enemy fighters!" It was Rolf, lying prone in the underbelly gondola.

"I see them," Deiter confirmed, "Four of them, Hurricanes I think."

Helmut scanned ahead. He couldn't see them from up top but the fighter escort had seen something. They began diving in ahead on an intercept course, two knights charging into battle upon winged steeds.

"Yes," Helmut cheered, "Englishers beware!"

But the smile died on his lips as the first machines clashed in a deadly joust; the Englishman the victor.

The vanquished Me 109 spun out of control falling into a steep dive beneath his field of vision.

Another pair of Hurricanes came on fast threatening the bombers with a frontal assault but the other German fighter made his move. Diving in front he set his sights on an intercept course with the lead Hurricane.

They drove against each other guns ablaze, each man steely eyed and determined to make the other man blink first and break off his attack. It was a deadly game that neither man won.

"Gott in Himmel!" Helmut gasped as they collided in a terrible explosion of flame and twisted metal. But there was no time to pray.

"Here they come!" Dieter yelled as he slew the He 111 to the right to avoid a full frontal attack almost crossing into he path of the other bomber.

A rattle of staccato bullet strikes sounded all along the side of their plane as the Hurricane came on. Helmut his fingers already on the trigger began firing off rounds from his MG15 even as the RAF Hurricane passed right overhead. It was so close he could hardly have missed.

It whipped out over the top of both bombers in turn, a trace of blue smoke trailing in its wake.

"I hit him!" Helmut yelled down to Rolf in the ventral position. The man was busy with his own gunnery firing bursts at any target of opportunity.

But it was a hopeless. Without their fighter escort the Encounter was becoming a turkey shoot as the Hurricanes, unopposed fell upon the other bomber like a murder of crows.

They picked it apart and it fell in flames.

"Menschenskinder!" Helmut wailed, "Dieter, get us out of here!"

"Dieter's been hit," It was Gunther, sounding pretty shaken himself, "He's ok, I think."

"Well keep moving up there!" yelled Rolf, between bursts of fire, "we've got three of them on out tail."


They began to jink and tilt more furiously now as Dieter threw them around the sky like a large drunken goose. One of the fighters made his attack but the Englishman struggled to keep them in his sights as he was hampered by a determined stream of fire from both rearward guns.

None the less on he came. Risking a closer shot the Hurricane dropped under Helmut's field of vision but suddenly appeared again all guns firing, targeting their left engine.

Helmut immediately fought him off but not before the damage was done.

"Aaach!" Gunther cursed, catching a 303 bullet in the foot. "This is no good."
Helmut heard the damaged engine sputter and give out. They were ducks for the shooting now for sure.

"Go on, evacuate," Dieter coughed sounding decidedly worse for wear.

Rolf had abandoned the rearward ventral gun and had just released the lower hatch when he was racked with bullets through the right side of the plane.
Gunther wheeled his sights across but couldn't bring his gun to bear on the culprit before the right engine exploded into flames.

The aircraft jerked hard and began to lose altitude fast. Helmut slid down into the smoky fuselage and fumbled for the exit. Dropping out of the opened hatch with a feeling of mixed terror and relief he grabbed for his parachute cord and tugged it hard. The sudden jerk of the opening parachute brought a sharp pain to his shoulder. To his surprise it was all wet with blood already soaking through his jacket. He must have caught a stray bullet up there.

As he fell to earth he scanned around for the crash site of his Heinkel or for any more parachutes. He saw only rooftops and trees and green fields approaching at an alarming rate. Helmut did not know what to expect. Would he put up a fight or simply be captured and taken prisoner immediately? Would he even land safely? Whatever happened one thing was certain. For Helmut, his war was over.

+++++++++

So there you have it. A total wipe out for the Germans this round even with the help of an extra bonus Me 109 they had a bad time of it. The initial contact of the fighters saw some terrible rolls for the Germans with both escort fighters eliminated immediately. The 3 remaining Hurricanes then had all the time in the world to chase the pair of bombers down and knock them out.

Tommy the fighter Ace Hurricane hero leads the lads home for a well earned cuppa.

Despite being tagged early on in the fight he hung in there to bag that last bomber adding another one to his tally of victories.

And a bit of a spectacular end for young Werner in his third and last outing of the game.

What a way to go.

Fate continues to turn her wheel it would seem with the Brits coming out on top today. But how they will fair tomorrow is anyone's guess.

Primary Target- Infrastructure (Bridge)
Secondary Target - Airfield

Strategy Cards
German -Diversionary raid -British to re-roll fighter defence.
British - Aux Fire Brigade +1 to Factory.

Order of Battle
Raiders
GB2 x3 Do 24z
GB4 x1 He 111
GF 2 - x1 Me 110
GF 4 - x1 Me 109


Defenders
BF4 (already eliminated)
BF6 x3 Spitfire

So not liking the idea of fending off a full squadron of Spits I used my "Diversionary Raid" card and made the boy re-roll that. The result came up.

BF3 X1 Hurricane (Ace Flight Lft"Tommy" Tomlin, again!)
BF4 also again! (And still already eliminated)
Leaving just Ace Hurricane pilot Tommy to stand in the way of ultimate German victory! (I rub my hands in diabolical movie villain glee.)

So the boy pulled out his card from last time and Scrambled the Defiants! Making it
BF3 X1 Hurricane (Ace Flight Lft"Tommy" Tomlin.)
BF(desperate) x3 Defiants.


Rules for Defiants.
Movement D6
May attack any adjacent hex in any direction requiring a 6 to hit.

Now on with the battle

~~~~ A Desperate Defence~~~~

"You're sending what?" Tommy wasn't at all sure he'd heard the lady at fighter command correctly. Did she just say..."Defiants?" He repeated "Bolton Paul Defiants?"

"That's correct Flight Leader," She confirmed, "three Defiants from 264 Squadron."

"They told me you were scrambling Spitfires!" Tommy was at a loss, "What happened to Biggin Hill?"

"They had to be diverted west. There's another raid heading for the Isle of Wight."

Tommy didn't complain. He knew things were tight all over , but taking on a bunch of Luftwaffe raiders singlehanded while babysitting a squadron of Daffys wasn't his idea of a fair fight. It was a bit of a sticky wicket.

"RAF Manston reports they scrambled six minutes ago. They should be with you soon."

"Roger that Fighter Command. I'll keep an eye out."

Tommy kept on climbing steadily on his intercept heading south east. A long lonely patrol, all the while watching for enemies ahead and his support coming in from the north.

Soon enough he made visual contact. A mixed flight of German bombers accompanied by a couple of escorts already over the channel and heading inland.

A flicker of movement caught his eye down to the right. It was 264 Squadron, already on an attack course and closing on target for the bombers. And judging by the movement of the German escort fighters Tommy wasn't the only one who'd spotted them.

"Gordon Bennett, here we go." Tommy throttled up and angled his attack to approach from the sun trusting to his luck that the German would keep looking the other way.

His luck held. Speeding over the top of the enemy fighter he placed a solid burst of machine gun fire along its full length nose to tail before turning immediately upon the bombers.

"Sorry to drop in unannounced, fellas." he radioed over to the Defiant squadron. They were already closing upon a Heinkel out on the edge of the formation.

But it wasn't alone. A waiting Me 110 was poised to strike and it dived on the rearmost of the Defiant squadron.

He delivered a solid punch with the 20mm cannon before the Defiant's gunner scared him off.

The turret fighters circled their chosen prey but they had only seconds in range at such closing speeds and soon the enemy Heinkel had passed them by unhindered and still on target for the drop.

"264 Squadron come in." Tommy called again. "Are you getting on alright?" Tommy fell upon another bomber,

this time scoring a solid hit leaving one propellor feathering in the wind.

"This is Flight Lieutenant Don't worry about us." Came a terse response, "We're coming around for another go."

But the Me 110 was still in pursuit.

Falling in behind its chosen mark once again but this time keeping low to avoid the return fire, the German heavy fighter closed in and finished the job.

"Benny!"

"They've had it, gents." The Defiants' flight leader cut in "You pair get on after those bombers." He ordered, "We'll deal with that one."

"Defiants, look out." Tommy called in, "you've got one coming in behind."

The German fighter fell in on the rear of the British plane mistaking it for another Hurricane. Even as his nose cannon found its mark he was caught by a surprising barrage of return fire from the forewarned Defiant. Both aircraft suffering all they could withstand fell to the earth in ruin.

The two airmen in the lead Defiant redoubled their efforts and moved in on the last remaining German fighter.

It jinked and managed to evade their fire.

Neither had Tommy time to mourn the loss of two more RAF airmen,

he was busy dodging defensive fire from the nearest bomber.

He rolled up over the top of it and gave it what for before moving onto the next one.

"I reckon we got him that time!" It sounded like the gunner in the last remaining defiant, a Londoner.

"He's lookin' a bit home sick now."

"That's another bomber going down too." Tommy added, "I can't get 'em all though."


Far above out of reach the lead bomber continued on apace.

"Roger that, Hurricane." The Defiant pilot responded, "We're going after that big Heinkel again."


The pair of British defenders beat a desperate pursuit of the last remaining bombers. The Defiant had the advantage though, trading some altitude for speed they dived in on the tail of the target bomber, utterly contemptuous of the defensive gunners. Dropping underneath the belly of the bomber their quartet of Brownings made a most persuasive argument in their favour compelling the raider to break off its attack and return to Earth with immediate effect.


Tommy had no such luck. He had already lost too much altitude chasing his last bomber down and now had a hill to climb to reach the final raider.

Even pushing his engine as hard as he could he closed with the old Dornier at a glacial pace.
"Come on! Come on!" He begged. Tommy would've reached out of the cockpit and whipped it with a riding crop if he thought it would help. But suddenly to his horror the bomb bay opened. He fired off a desperate burst of 303's but he was too far out of range and his ammunition was finally spent. All he could do was watch as the bombs fell and the Dornier turned for home.

++++++++++

So there you have it. Another blow for the Brits this round as another bomber gets through. Though crucially only one bomber.

He rolls the standard two D6 for a twin engine bomber and scores a respectable 7. But the Royal Engineers respond quickly and manage to defuse a time delay bomb reducing the damage down to 6.

The raiders limp home, one victorious Do 17 and a homesick Me110. Keeping a couple of squadrons live on the German rosters.

And the celebrated Ace, let's give him a promotion and maybe a VC after all. Wing Commander Gerald "Tommy" Tomlin adds another pair of victories to his tally bringing him up to 8.

And then we have one surviving Defiant who rolled spectacularly well in the final turns not only damaging the Me110 and thus hampering its pursuit but then chasing down and destroying a bomber. What a team those guys are!

So with that the UK is against the ropes now with only 6 points of damage on one target standing between survival and starvation, or eventual capitulation to the Third Reich.

Primary Target :Infrastructure
Secondary Target: Factories

Strategy Cards
German - storms (bit useless at this stage)
British - ARP

Order of Battle

GB3 (already eliminated)
GB6 x3 Ju88
GF1 x1 Me 110
GF2 x1 Me 110


BF1 (already eliminated)
BF6 x3 Spitfires

~~~Now on with the Battle~~~

Well actually no, wait a minute. I've got sad news. It's all over. I actually rolled two already eliminated British units. So this raid should be an automatic win for the Germans. But then the boy still wanted to play so I gave him his Spitfires. But then (this is what I get for cheating) the Germans go and win this one anyway, and thus the game is over and the Germans won and history is rewritten. Poo!

I'll give you the whole run down of the game just to show you how it fell out but I'm not going all historical fiction on it because don't worry there'll be more to come after this as I couldn't let the boy's first foray into air combat gaming be a sad let down so we replayed it and I'll write that one up in full story style. But Officially it's over and goes down as a German victory so we'll talk about that later and I'll give you the brief AAR of that now.

So now,

~~~On with the Battle~~~

The German formation was coming in faster than usual with the new Ju88s moving that extra hex per turn

so the spits wasted no time in closing in for a full frontal attack. But they were pretty strung out by some inconsistency in their dice rolls

and although the first two fell upon the lead bomber unopposed they didn't knock him out.

All they managed was a bit of damage to the leader and to scatter the formation but not before he got a bit of payback with some smart defensive gunnery.

And then the waiting Me 110s pounced and...

Wham

Bam, in quick succession the RAF were in serious trouble.
The last spitfire undaunted made to hit back but was caught by a last desperate defensive shot by the Me 110's rear gunner

and that was all she wrote.

Three Spits downed for a single Me 110 leaving all 3 Ju 88s alive to go on and finish the job. And seeing as how the target has only 6 points left even if all 3 bombers rolled snake eyes it'd still be enough to win the game. So that was it, game over for the Brits.

+++++++++++

Well the boy was bummed out. So was I to be honest. Not the way you want to win in the final game but it happens I guess.

So a few days later we had another go at it but this time we'd added one crucial difference. Next time the RAF will be joined by


Looking forward to doing a proper AAR for that one soon.

Primary Target :Infrastructure
Secondary Target: Airfield

Strategy Cards
German - Storms
British - Ace Pilot Noah


Order of Battle

Germans

GB3 (already eliminated)
GB6 x3 Ju88
GF1 x1 Me 110
GF2 x1 Me 110

Brits

BF1 (already eliminated)
BF6 x3 Spitfires
And Ace Spitfire pilot Noah (the Wing Commander)

~~~Now on with the Battle~~~

Alfie's nerves were shredded.

Some days he slept like the dead, some nights he drank like a sailor and awoke to a nicotine breakfast of two maybe three woodbines and felt no worse for it. There was tea and scrambled egg on the base some mornings even real eggs sometimes but he had no kind of an appetite. Most mornings Alfie just smoked in the rain and watched the clouds. It was only really up here, soaring aloft in the white sunlit heavens above the clouds that he thought about food.

He was hungry now, exhausted but oh so alive.

"Tidy up that formation, Squadron Leader." The unfamiliar voice on the radio broke Alfie's reverie. "That's not how we fly a vic at Duxford, gentlemen."



Alfie shook off the daze to find he had fallen well out of formation, he tried to focus taking deep breaths in his oxygen mask and blinking his eyes wide. It wasn't often the Squadron leader got orders on the wing from a visiting senior officer and it wouldn't do to be the man making the squadron look bad.

"Enemy sighted, Wing Commander. Formation of Ju88's dead ahead." the Squadron Leader announced, judiciously avoiding comment on their formation, "Let's show them some Biggin Hill hospitality, gents. I'll take the one on the right, you boys go left. That leaves the leader for the Wing Commander." It was a clever bit of politics and there was little time to argue. The enemy bombers were closing fast.



The Squadron Leader peeled off into a diving intercept with the visiting Wing Commander somewhere behind.

"Roger that Squadron Leader. Follow me in Alfie."

Alfie took up position behind Flight Lieutenant Tucker as together they drove their Spitfires down upon the enemy. Now Alfie felt suddenly very awake. His blood sang. Tucker lined up the attack but before he had quite closed the distance a big heavy fighter came diving in from above.



Alfie caught a glimpse of some unidentifiable debris from Tucker's aircraft whistling past before, for a heart-stopping split second a large black cross on the wing of an Me 110 filled his forward view and then was gone beneath.

Tucker was still on target but the attack had him rattled. He mistimed his shot on the bomber before he overshot a second Me 110 lingering in the rear.



Alfie's luck was little better.

"His fitter won't like that." It was the Squadron leader, apparently he'd had some success.



"Made a dashed mess of his greenhouse." he remarked jovially.

"Contacted Fighter escort," warned Tucker, "Two heavy fighters."

"One Tens?" The Squadron leader scoffed, "No fear."

But before he could scan around for his next target one of the escort fighters was already thumbing his trigger. They exchanged fire as their aircraft closed the distance, jousting like knights in the lists. Both sustained damage but the heavier machine could take it.



The Squadron Leader's Spitfire however was done for. With a 20mm canon round in the oil cooler a deluge of engine oil was pouring back painting the nose and canopy a glossy black. It levelled off, the Englishman flying blind for a while before the canopy opened and the man emerged. Trusting to his umbrella he baled out.

"He'll be joining the Caterpillar club." Tucker confirmed as the parachute opened.

"Scratch one raider." The Wing Commander called as one of the Me 110's went up in flames.



"Now let's have at these bombers."



He pulled in hard on the nearest target and gave the bomber a squirt. He was rewarded with a plume of oily smoke from one of its engines.

But these were Schnellbombers and the leader, as yet unhampered was making alarming progress.



Alfie caught a flash of tracer fire off to his right. The Wing Commander, now intent on the pursuit of the bombers was himself under attack. The second Me110 obviously wanted to pay him out for flaming his squadron mates.



"Wing Commander, your six!"

"Never mind that, boy." the man sounded more than a little tense as he jinked away from the less manoeuvrable heavy fighter. "Tis but a scratch," he joked, "Now after those blasted bombers!"

Alfie set the nearest enemy raider in his sights and throttled up to a high speed pursuit. Racing in just ahead of the Wing Commander both spitfires closed the distance and caught the first trailing bomber in a withering crossfire.



"Steady on there chap," the Wing Commander warned, "save a few rounds for the next one."

"Erm, Wing Commander, sir? It's Flight Lieutenant Tucker, sir." He sounded rather alarmed.

"Yes Flight Lieutenant."

"This blighter isn't giving up, sir. I've lost some control in the tail, I can't out turn him like this."



"Then just dive off, Flight Lieutenant, and use as much speed as you can to catch those bombers."

"Roger that, sir. I'm fighting some yaw but I think it's throwing his aim off."

"He's falling behind, Tuck." Alfie advised falling back into formation behind the Flight Lieutenant. "Just push her as hard as she'll fly."



"These Jerries going like the clappers, chaps. It's through the gate or we'll never catch them." The wing Commander put in a burst of speed taking the lead in pursuit of another straggler. He closed the gap but couldn't deliver the finishing blow.



"I can't keep it in range, gentlemen," he reported, "I'm losing power. Flight lieutenant, take your shot."

"She's flying apart, Sir." Tucker's voice was over-loud wth panic and sounded distorted over the radio.

"I'm coming in." Alfie pushed in over the wings of the two more senior officers, the enemy raider in his sights. Noting a tell-tail stream of blue smoke coming from its left engine he made a move for the right. Dropping the nose of his spitfire, Alfie ducked in closer around a scattering of defensive machine gun fire and brought his sights to bare before leaning hard on the trigger.



The engine belched a thick plume of black smoke before open flames erupted and burst along the entire wing. The bomber tilted and dropped away slipping into a corkscrew dive.

Not far ahead the lead bomber had made it through.



It leapt for joy as its heavy load was released and turned up away for France.

The Wing commander took point on the return to Biggin Hill with Alfie and Tucker falling into a tidy V.



There wasn't much chatter over the radio now. Each man was alone with his thoughts recounting every action, every choice and consequence.

Alfie hadn't been hit but the other two aircraft were looking decidedly homesick. He may have survived another engagement with the enemy, he reminded himself but he was by no means out of the woods yet. Already he could feel the creeping fatigue returning. Gripping the stick harder in his trembling hand he sucked deeply on his oxygen and fought to keep his eyes open. Every second came crawling as Alfie battled his way back to the critical point of final approach, praying to God he'd make it.

+++++++++++

Wow, right down to the wire that time with a last ditch effort to bag that last bomber, catching it right before it crossed the line. Nail biting stuff.
So analysis time. How did the raid go? Well this time around the old Me 110's didn't do too badly. (They did the better the first time we played it, obviously) They scored hits on three of the four Spits downing one of them and kept them busy enough to allow at least one of the fast bombers a good run at the primary target.

The British infrastructure started the game with only 6 points of damage remaining after raid number 5 (including a bit of help from the Royal Engineers) That lone raider rolling only 5 points might have finished off the last objective had his dice come up just one point higher this time. Good thing he was the only one to get through.