AAR: Southern Front - CYM Mission 2 Bring them Home if you can
OTT CYM Mission 2 – Bring them home if you can
Somewhere over Hungary in the winter of 1918-19
This is a modified version of a scenario, by Teaticket, set 12 July on the Western Front, which can be read here:
https://www.wingsofwar.org/forums/sh...6-by-Teaticket
Wolfgang Augustin gazed out over the wintry Hungarian landscape. What month was it? December? January? He had lost track of time because time no longer seemed to matter. Everything was in chaos. It seemed like another century when there was an Empire with an imperial aristocracy. He recalled reading that the Emperor Karl had abdicated – not that this meant much because the Empire was no more by then.
Wolfgang had dropped the ‘von’ from his name at that time. It seemed that with strong republican and even Bolshevik sentiments sweeping the former imperial lands that a ‘von’ would be troublesome. His comrade, Ryan von Taaffe, had kept the ‘von’. He thought it gave him an exotic air. Hmmm, that maybe, thought Wolfgang, but he had no desire to be exotic. If only he could be rid of his chronic headaches that only seemed to go away when he drank too much brandy, which was frequent, or just after he had killed someone in combat. Maybe it was the adrenaline that came from a brush with death. A death wish? Perhaps.
When did their Flik disband? September? Wolfgang wasn’t sure, but four of them were still together – Wolfgang, Ryan, Günter Neumann - Wolfgang’s habitual wingman and Hungarian, Karoly Horváth. For all Karoly’s talk of socialist ideals during the war, it had been a surprise when the former zugführer had proposed that they form a mercenary company and hire themselves out to the highest bidder. Karoly had managed to bribe someone to prevent three of the Flik aeroplanes from being destroyed and to hide them for use by their new ‘corporation’. They had done well enough. Karoly had a knack for business and for negotiation. How he managed to acquire two new Sopwith Snipes was beyond Wolfgang’s comprehension. It didn’t matter, The Snipe suited Wollgang to a tee.
Their latest contract was for a Hungarian Bolshevik war lard. Wolfgang and Günter were to meet and escort an unarmed, transport DH4 to safety. Another, armed, DH4 was providing some escort protection, but Karoly told them to not worry about it. It was the transport DH4 that mattered.
Wolfgang and Günter spotted the two DH4 near the rendezvous point but also two Albatros – one with a black fuselage and one with a green tail – no doubt to mimic the famous German jasta. The black one headed towards Wolfgang and Günter while the green tail moved to intercept the DH4. Günter kept on a course to head off the green tail while Wolfgang turned to meet the black Albatros head on. The pilot might be experienced but in the off chance he had hardly any training, Wolfgang fire a warning shot to see if it would scare black Albatros off.
Well that didn’t work. Wolfgang was past the Albatros. It would take it time for the Albatros to turn around. Perhaps by then they could chase off the green-tail and with three escorts the black Albatros might go with it.
But there was more trouble in the form of a red-painted Albatros. Hmmmm, thought Wolfgang, wonder who he’s trying to emulate. The paint job didn’t help him - a few rounds from the escort DH4 and the red Albatros was smoking badly.
The two Snipes moved in quickly, guns blazing, to intercept the green-tail. The green-tail pilot was brave and undeterred. Günter’s rudder controls went slack. He’d be out of action until he got that cleared.
The red Albatros flew past the Günter’s gun sights. He fired but without flight control, it was more hope than anything else. The green-tail wasn’t so lucky as it flew past Wolfgang and the escort DH4; their bullets tore into the Albatros and it’s wounded pilot was unable to keep the aeroplane from spiralling into the ground. Although it did seem that the pilot managed to get the nose of the Albatros up just in time. Perhaps he’d live, thought Wolfgang.
The pilot of the red knew his job and wasn’t about to be distracted by the capricious chances of a dog-fight. Unfazed by a few rounds from the escort DH4’s gunner, the red Albatros focussed on catching the transport DH4.
With Günter trying to regain control of his machine and the lumbering escort DH4 flying in the opposite direction, that left only Wolfgang to try and stop two Albatros DVa from taking down the transport. The forgotten black Albatros had found itself, more by luck than design, closest to the transport. Wolfgang opened up the throttle hoping to catch and distract the black DVa. The inexperienced pilot of the black Albatros responded and put a few bullets into the tail of the Snipe. That was a little too successful, thought Wolfgang. The black DVa would take valuable time to get back into the action but Wolfgang found that his controls wouldn’t respond when he tried to bank left to follow the transport.
As Wolfgang struggled with his control he found himself in front of the red Albatros. More bullets slammed into his rudder. Wolgang would be lucky to keep his machine in the air, but the bullets stopped. That’s lucky, he thought, he must have jammed his machinegun.
Struggling for control, with no other means to induce the red Albatros to turn away from the transport, Wolfgang headed straight for the enemy as if to ram it. It had worked for him once before, in the Great War, when he was in a tight spot. Alarmed the pilot of the red Albatros veered, stressing his machine – wires snapped. Works a charm, thought Wolfgang.
But it wasn’t enough, with Wolfgang helpless to intervene, the red Albatros flew after the transport. A few well-placed bullets and the transport exploded. God in heaven, there goes the contract, sighed Wolfgang. There wasn’t much left to do now except to ensure that Günter could get safely past the two enemy aeroplanes.
Too late, Wolfgang regained control of the Snipe. Just then the black Albatros flew in from the left. Wolfgang fired at the DVa in frustration more than anything else. The Albatros sputtered and flew on erratically.
The pilot of the black Albatros panicked and found himself in the sights of both Snipes and the escort DH4.
It seemed that despite his errors that luck would be with the black Albatros but it wasn’t to be. Wolfgang found his mark and the Albatros burst into flames. He watched it slowly drift into the broken battleground below them. He should have been watching out for Günter. Still unable to control his Snipe his wings clipped the tail of Wolfgang’s snipe.
With his Snipe badly damaged from the collision, Günter flew head on towards the red Albatros. With his machineguns jammed, all Günter could do was pray. The red Pilot was good; his bullets hit vital parts of the Snipe. Günter struggled to see through the smoke that enveloped the aeroplane.
Günter thought he was finished, but the pilot of the red aeroplane wasn’t interested. His job was done. The transport aeroplane was a smouldering heap. Perhaps it wasn’t pity as much as that there was still Wolfgang and the escort DH4 with which to contend. With a waggle of his wings and wave, the enemy turned away.
Karoly, Wolfgang and Günter waited as the Bolshevik commissar strode towards them. He was in a foul mood.
“Capitalist swine! It was a simple job. An idiot could do it. You kind can’t be trusted. You’re traitors…enemies of the state. We needed those supplies. You should be shot. Guards, arrest these men!”
Just then, Ryan roared up in their truck. “Hop in, lads”.
Bullets flew past their heads, but they were soon safely away.
“The money for bullets, fuel and repairs will come from you wages,” remarked Karoly.
“What does that take us to, Karoly, October 1929? quipped Günter. “By the way what was so important on that DH4?”
“The usual stuff….medicine, weapons….and, um, gold.”
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Originally Posted by Teaticket
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