AAR - Southern Front Mission 3 The Oxymoron of Militiary Intelligence
OTT CYM Mission 2 – The Oxymoron of Military Intelligence
Somewhere over Hungary in the winter of 1918-19
This is a very modified version of a scenario, by myself, set 19 July 1916 on the Western Front. The original can be read here:
https://www.wingsofwar.org/forums/sh...916-by-ShadowD
The early morning soft breeze had the promise of an early spring. Wolfgang took in a deep breath as he slumped into the chair out front of the shack that was his ‘quarters’. He sipped his black coffee and gazed at the glass of Slivovitz that was the usual other half of his morning breakfast. Slivovitz was a commoner’s drink and never would have graced his parent’s table. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills and coins – some of it was worthless. Cognac and champagne were well out of his league these days.
There’s nothing so pathetic as an impoverished, ex-aristocrat, he thought. It’s not that there weren’t those with worse circumstances, but at least they got sympathy or pity. A poor, ex-aristocrat? They got what was coming to them. Oh well, he probably would have been one of those empty headed, party all day and night aristocrats. What did the Bolsheviks call them? Parasites. Perhaps he was worse than a parasite. His only skill seemed to be killing – that and having headaches but this morning he had none. Usually the headaches only went away if he was drunk or had just killed someone. Perhaps it was the conversation he had the previous night with the old gypsy woman. Maybe, as she suggested, he wasn’t a killer but just one more victim of the Great War. Why the ‘Great War’? Maybe the ‘Great Terrible War’. His thoughts were interrupted…
Heading towards them was Karoly, the business manager of their tiny aerial mercenary corporation and a tall man. Karoly was sporting his new white fedora and so was the stranger – a fedora club. He chuckled. Trust Karoly to dig this stranger up. Except wearing the haberdashery fashion the stranger looked pretty rough around the edges.
“Wolfgang, just the man I wanted to see. Let me introduce you to Captain Sam Magee. Sam, this is Wolfgang, our best pilot. He will provide your escort.”
“Not much choice is there, Karoly. Günter’s Snipe is waiting for parts to repair the damage from the last job you got us and Ryan’s hasn’t yet tuned up the surplus Camel we were lucky to find.”
Karoly shrugged. Wolfgang wasn’t the sort of chap you went to be cheered up and it was best to ignore his cynicism – so sad in someone so young.
“Wolfgang, huh? I got shot down twice in the war by an Austrian ace called Wolfgang. You wouldn’t be him, would you, pal?”
An American. What was he doing here? Up to no good Wolfgang suspected. He shrugged.
“I was shot down once.” Wolfgang said no more about it. “What’s the job, Karoly.”
“You remember the last job escorting the gold…”
Sam interrupted, “Yeah, the gold. My people have an interest in that gold.”
“Everyone has an interest in gold.”
“Not to acquire it, pal. We just don’t want it in the wrong hands and right now it’s in very wrong hands.”
“I can’t see that gold and good hands go together very often.”
“Point taken, Wolfy. Let’s just say hands that aren’t quite so bad. We have a line on where the gold is being held. It’s heavily defended, so we need to fly over it, take some snaps to figure out the defence and then bomb the hell out of it. If we’re successful my ground team will zip and and snatch the gold.”
“Can’t see much going wrong with that plan.”
Karoly rolled his eyes at Wolfgang’s sarcasm. Good plan – bad plan. A job was a job if it paid well enough and the American had money.
“Do you want the job? How’s tomorrow?”
“Why not? I’ve got nothing else on my calendar…for, oh, forever.”
“Yeah, pal. That’s your problem. I’ll work out the detailed plans with Karoly, all you need to do is to rendezvous with one of my team in a Bristol F2B and then escort them to and from the target.”
“Don’t see why an F2B needs an escort, but, it’s your money. So it’s your choice.”
The next morning, Wolfgang was up early. He was happy. His one joy was flying. Even Karoly was taken aback by Wolfgang’s good humour. Shortly Wolfgang and his Snipe were in the air and escorting the F2B.
On the horizon, Wolfgang spied a speck flying in circles over the ‘target’ area. “Of course, there’s an airplane protecting the area. Nothing’s easy.”
The speck got closer – an Albatros. Wolfgang headed straight for the Albatros and the Albatros returned the favour but as so often happens when two planes meet head on their timing is off and neither gets a shot off…and so it was this time.
That didn’t worry Wolfgang. He spun the Snipe like a top and put a few rounds into the Albatros…and then the machinegun jammed. He shook his head. From his first days flying with the Flik we was a good pilot but as good a pilot as he might be that’s how bad he was at keeping his machinegun in shape.
He watched as the Albatros sailed right in front of him. “A perfect shot!” But the machinegun needed the encouragement of another couple of whacks with the mallet.
Another whack and the machinegun had seen the error of its ways. Wolfgang got another burst off – into air and nothing else. Aiming badly was another thing he had a reputation in the Flik. How he got to be the Flik’s top ace no one could figure out.
Wolfgang sidled the Snipe up a little closer to the Albatros. Another burst and then ‘whoosh’. The bullets hit something vital. The enemy airplane exploded.
Suddenly Wolfgang remembered his mission. The F2B, where was it. It looked over and saw that the F2B had flown over the first target site but had picked up a tail - another Albatros, one with a green fuselage.
Wolfgang headed straight at the green Albatros and, as usual, both pilot failed to get a shot off at each other.
The Albatros flipped over in an Immelmann turn while Wolfgang spun the Snipe. Both pilots got quick shots off but were rewarded with wasted bullets.
“He’s not a bad pilot”, thought Wolfgang. Seeing the F2B was safely way. He waggled the wings of his Snipe at his foe and waved. The enemy waved back. There was no need for further killing. Both pilots seemed to understand and headed away.
To be continued with Part 2 below.
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Originally Posted by Stumptonian
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