Taking Names: [Unofficial] Mission 17 – Head to Head Over the Trenches
[Unofficial] Mission 17 – Head to Head Over the Trenches (Central Powers)
Oberleutnant Johannes von der Ahe traced one gloved hand along the leading edge of his triplane’s lower wing, the pre-dawn light muting the colors of the red and green Fokker. “Soon… soon it will be your time again,” he breathed, his words forming a slowly dissipating cloud of vapor. Word had filtered down from headquarters that this was to be the last of their operations in this sector... so they were going to make quite the show of it.
Even now as the shroud of light was being lifted, the jasta’s mechanics were prepping the birds for flight. The first of nearly a dozen engines coughed to life as von der Ahe ducked under the wing of his silent machine, the silence of the stillness of the morning shattered. Franz and Rudi trotted over, linked belts gleaming as they caught the light of the truck delivering petrol to the flightline.
It would only be a matter of time now…
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My… but the Englishman was an early riser. Just a couple hours past dawn, and his artillery cooperation aircraft were already over the lines, guiding the enemy’s strikes onto targets on and behind the German lines. This was as good a place as any to begin.
Signaling to his wingmen, von der Ahe rolled his responsive little triplane to the left… before snapping it back to the right and entering a shallow dive. Weapons charged, engine enjoying a fuel-rich mixture, the young flight leader fell upon the unsuspecting prey…the two other triplanes following in echelon behind.
Their mark occupied with its primary task, the R.E.8 failed to take note of it’s death until the three Fokkers had dropped out of the early morning sun…far too late to do much more than turn for home.
The staccato crack of paired Spandaus announced the presence of the Fokkers, 7.92mm shells tearing through canvas, wood, and flesh with equal unanimity, silencing forever the initially ineffectual fire of the observer. The R.E.8 staggered under the concentrated bursts, wallowing dangerously to the right as a steady trail of oily smoke signaled a mortal wound.
Continuing to pour fire into the stricken craft, von der Ahe watched as the artillery bird’s pilot suddenly hunched over, then disappeared from sight. Now free of the hands that guided it, the two-seater proceeded to depart from controlled flight, flames licking at the flammable combination of wood and doped canvas as the R.E.8 slammed into the ground just beyond the German lines.
Sparing himself a momentary smile, von der Ahe scanned the air around him as he signaled his wingmen to climb to the relative safety altitude provided. Too late, for it appears as though the English had taken affront at this latest of his victories. So be it. Let the dance begin.
A deft kick of the rudder, and the three triplanes turned their noses to the intruding English scouts, readying themselves for the introductions.
Both elements opened fire almost simultaneously, bullets shredding Camel and triplane alike. Two Fokkers and all three Sopwiths staggered under the early morning hammer blows, von der Ahe, alone, escaping grief in this initial salvo.
The speed of the initial intercept carried the diving Camels beyond their quarry, allowing the triplanes a moment to regroup… an offer declined by Leutnant Höpfner and the yellow German scout. Despite the pain of wounds received mere seconds before, Höpfner whipped his agile kite around, attaching himself to the tail of one the English scouts.
Höpfner’s fire lashed out at the desperately fleeing Camel, striking home and inflicting serious damage.
Fixating on the target before him – a mistake made by far too many young pilots – Höpfner fails to note the danger identified by his flight leader: newcomers.
The two late arrivals – fast and deadly SE5s – can’t draw a bead on the first scout they cross paths with, as von der Ahe noted their arrival in time and deftly sidestepped their attack.
Not their type of game, the SE5s declined the invitation to dance, instead powering towards the lone Fokker challenging a pair of Camels…
…and just like that, young Höpfner discovers the fickleness of fate. From the edge of victory and into the jaws of defeat in the blink of an eye. Instinctually turning to flee is his last, fatal mistake. Out of altitude, luck, and time… Höpfner’s yellow Dr.I falls.
The two remaining Fokkers circle to reengage and find themselves outnumbered by an unhealthy margin. Still game, however, they continue to look for targets… the black and yellow-tailed triplane flown by Feldwebel Piehl striking a glancing blow against one of the retreating Camels as the bullets from his twin Spandaus rip into the Sopwith’s rudder.
Having eluded the streaking SE5s, von der Ahe finds himself in a turning battle at knife-fighting range with an orange-tailed Camel.
Turning inside of the rapidly decelerating Englishman, von der Ahe sideslips out of the line of fire and let’s loose from long range, immediately achieving results as his strike rips into the orange-tailed Camel’s engine cowling.
As the two scouts close the range, the young flightleader continues to concentrate the fire of his twin Spandaus on the engine and cockpit of the stricken Sopwith. Darting past the Camel, von der Ahe looses a final burst that shatters the propeller of the opposing scout, incapacitating the enemy pilot. Climbing into a fatal stall, the orange-tailed kite wings over and spirals to the ground, exploding on impact.
Despite von der Ahe’s second victory in less than 10 minutes, the battle continues to turn in favor of the Allies as his remaining wingman is caught entering an ill-timed Immelman by a garishly-painted SE5. Flat-footed, and committed to a maneuver that brings his craft directly under the guns of the red SE5, Piehl’s war comes to an abrupt end as a concentrated burst at short range shears off the tailplane section of the unfortunate triplane. Unable to control his descent, Piehl is a helpless passenger as little Fokker snaps into a violent spin from which there is no recovery.
Fate is a fickle thing… and timing is everything. At the very moment that both Piehl and von der Ahe’s opponent are spinning uncontrollably to earth, the cavalry arrives in the form of a kette of four Albatri.
Covering the retreat of the two remaining, damaged Camels, the two SE5s turn to engage the newcomers.
Using their superior speed, and surprising agility, the two English scouts get the drop on their new opponents, striking with mixed results. The red SE5 is far them more successful as his target, a green-tailed and checkered D.III, begins to burn when at least one bullet holes the craft’s petrol tank.
Capitalizing on his advantageous positioning, the red SE5 turns sharply to the right, unleashing a burst of fire that sets the remaining D.III alight… while the first continues to burn.
Meanwhile, the second SE5 continues to joust with the two D.Vs.
Relative peace reigns as the opposing scouts turn to reengage, the early morning skies lit by the light of the two burning D.IIIs. Meanwhile, von der Ahe – who had been unable to engage a target since the demise of the orange-tailed Camel, noted the arrival of two more Entente scouts…Nieuports by the look of them. Intent upon welcoming the newcomers, von der Ahe turns to engage, finding the range before the Frenchman could effectively bring his guns to bear.
A narrow escape, the red SE5 nearly pays the price for underestimating the intestinal fortitude of his German adversaries. Although the fire from the checkered Albatros falls harmlessly behind the tail of the SE5, the Englishman has learned not to take anything – even a scout engulfed in fire – for granted.
Cutting back into the fray, the second SE5 suddenly finds himself digging too deeply into his bag of luck…and pulling his hand out empty. Fire from the two D.Vs lashes out, striking home and riddling the suddenly labouring HS engine. Hunched behind the controls in a desperate act of self-preservation, the English pilot is not able to return fire effectively, nor is he able to avoid what quickly becomes impossibly congested air space.
Incredibly enough, each of the three scouts survives the apparent interpenetration unscathed.
Once again the combatants find themselves with a few moments to collect their thoughts as each turns to reengage the nearest opponent.
Unfortunately for the Germans, the pilots of the two D.IIIs decide that discretion is the better part of valor and yield the field… unable to bring an end to the fires hungrily consuming their machines. The fight is, once again, tipping in favor of the Entente.
Having scored hits against the silver Nieuport on his first pass, von der Ahe turns his attention to the second Frenchman flying a much more subdued scout. Although the speed of the pass limits the length of the engagement, von der Ahe’s aim is true, and the Frenchman suffers for it as bullets riddle his cockpit, throwing off the aim of his return fire.
Continuing past his most recent foe, and aware of the brutal nature of the math, von der Ahe turns back towards his own lines and his beleaguered “relief.”
Having miraculously escaped what appeared to be a certain collision, the second SE5 manages to achieve an advantageous position despite the limitations placed on the pilot by a damaged engine. The tables quickly turn, however, as he cannot maintain his position and finds himself disadvantaged and in need of support.
Outnumbered, and flying an increasingly sluggish mount, the hard-pressed SE5 pilot turns for home… only to find himself challenged by the second of the D.Vs. Bullets cross the dwindling distance between the two scouts, searching out and finding targets of wood and linen.
Struggling to maintain altitude, the Englishman curses as his maxim suddenly quiets, halving his firepower. His shot of rage is cut short, however, when he is forced to throw his craft to one side in a desperate attempt to avoid a potentially catastrophic collision with the onrushing Albatros. Once again drawing on the Devil’s own luck, he comes away from the collision relatively undamaged.
His opponent in the D.V is not so lucky.
Having noted the distress of his wingman, the red SE5 swings back into action, engaging one of the pursuing D.Vs.
His aim is true, as the D.V begins trail a thin line of oily smoke.
Finding himself hard-pressed, the Englishman rolls left, narrowly avoiding colliding with his previous target. Unaware of von der Ahe’s triplane quickly closing the range, he focuses his attentions on his wingman’s tormentors.
Although a long-range shot ends the day for one Albatros, the pilot of the red SE5 has little time to celebrate his second victory of the day. Instead, he kicks his craft into a steep, turning climb in an attempt to bring his guns to bear.
After a quick reversal, the red SE5 is joined by the two French scouts in pursuit of the two remaining German aircraft. Having decided that these odds favor the Entente, the Luftstreitkräfte chooses to yield the field, and retire… but not before the red SE5 strikes a final blow, crippling von der Ahe’s retreating triplane.
The skies above the trenches theirs, the three scouts – one English and two French – slowly retire from the field to lick their wounds and remember their dead.
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This was pretty crazy: 15 aircraft in total, and all of them under AI control. I think I had 10 scouts at once on the table, but that didn’t last long… more often than not, the total number of active scouts at any one time was in the neighborhood of 5-7. Time consuming, and confusing at times, the book-keeping was a pain. Although doable, I prefer smaller skirmishes… and will remember the lessons learned here when I design my scenario for the FINAL MONTHS component of the Over the Trenches solo campaign.
The rules concerning pilot withdrawal due to damage, fire, and pilot wounds worked like a charm, and reduced the total number of hard kills to five: the R.E.8 that fell early, a single Camel, two Fokker triplanes, and a D.Va. Interestingly enough, neither of the D.IIIs succumbed to the flames that proved them to be rather flammable.
All-in-all a good time, but one that took me several hours to play, spaced out across three evenings.
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Butcher’s Bill:
R.E.8: Crew WIA; MIA (shot down in flames over NML)
Banded Camel: WIA; RTB
Heart Camel: RTB
Orange-Tailed Camel: KIA (came apart over NML); 1 kill
Red SE5a: RTB; 2 kills
Green SE5a: RTB; 1 kill
French Nieuports: 1 WIA; both RTB
Yellow Dr.I: WIA; MIA (shot down over NML)
Green Dr.I: KIA (came apart over NML)
Red/Green Dr.I: RTB; 2 kills
Checkered D.III: WIA; RTB
Banded D.III: RTB
Red D.Va: RTB
Dragon D.Va: MIA (Out of Control over NML)
Very informative points in you afterward too. 
Originally Posted by Lloydthegamer
I didn't start playing until after their bed time, so that, when compounded with the fact that I start getting sleepy earlier every year... you get the point. Outside of the kids, and all joking aside, the game slows down somewhat juggling all of the AI decks, damage, etc. I've developed a bit of a system, however, so I'm getting a little faster each time I give it a go.
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