OTT-CYM Mission 5: Going Solo – 5 August 1916 – by ShadowDragon
Original scenario by Mikemagus
https://www.wingsofwar.org/forums/sh...by-Mikeemagnus
It is a turbulent time. It is the 1960s – civil rights demonstrations, anti-war demonstrations, counter-culture and, of course the Beatles, but in the Hunter Valley, somewhat north of Sydney – by Australian standards – it is harvest time and the smell of fermenting grapes permeates the air. The Wilde Dundee Winery was a modest enterprise, but one would never know it from the laughter and other sounds of delight emanating from a large house to one side of the vineyards. Inside a rather large, multi-generational group has just finished feasting.
“Tom, that was a fine stew. Almost rivals your mother-in-law’s. What’s it called again?” asked one of the two older men in the group.
“Carbonnade à la flamande”, replied Tom, one of the group’s middle generation.
“Aw, shucks, Bruce. It’s just Belgian beer stew”, interjected the other older man. “It still doesn’t seem proper to me – a man cooking.”
“Ah, Dad, you’re just old fashioned. Times are a-changing as they say…or sing. Besides I like a man that knows how to cook a decent Belgian beer stew.” The woman moved over and put one arm around Tom’s waist.
“Just because I’m old-fashioned doesn’t necessarily make me wrong, Sofia. But you’re right – without your mom, aunt Isabel, Marta and you, the winery would have been sold to the bank long ago. I guess I’m still just an old Alberta cowboy.”
“Never mind, Dad. Why don’t you tell the children one of your flying stories from the Great War? That will put them in the mood for bedtime.”
“You mean it will bore the livin’ daylights out of ‘em.” Jack pulled out his pipe and thought it about it for a moment. “Say, I never did tell you kids about the time your Grandad and Uncle Bruce became an Ace.”
“Not that old story,” winked Tom.
“Tom, just because you’re my brother – don’t you forget I had to change your nappies,” Bruce interrupted. “Maybe some other time you can tell us how you got to be an Ace – probably scared the daylights out the Desert Fox.”
Shortly five children, a couple more than usual as two of Bruce’s grandchildren were in the mix, were arranged on the veranda around Jack, Bruce, Tom and Sofia while the other adults settled in nearby to chit-chat and enjoy the evening – whether or not they were listening to Jack’s story one couldn’t say.
“We had been a month in Flanders. All of us had chequered backgrounds but flying patrols had brought us together so that none of that matter much – with the one exception, the Irishman, Fergis, but that’s another story. Bruce was the scoring leader with three while the Flight Leader and I were right behind him with two – each of us looking for a break that would put us ahead of Bruce, but it wasn’t to be. Bruce, you’ve got horseshoes up your arse.”
“Jacques….language!” called Angelique from across the veranda although it had seemed she wasn’t paying the slightest attention to the storytelling.
“Sorry, dear. All I mean is that you should have come away from that patrol empty handed so to speak or God forbid not at all.” Jack turned to the others, “we had been just retuning from a patrol when Bruce spotted some Huns through a break in the clouds. He thought there was just a couple, but the darn fool was mistaken. There were five Hun eindeckers crossing No Man’s Land – returning from whatever mischief they had been up to.”
“Well, Bruce, didn’t know this. He just spied the last couple of Huns and thought he’d pick off the last one and run up his score out of reach of Flashman and me. So he dropped off from our flight to have a go at them.”
“Bruce could just headed them off, but instead he started climbing to gain the altitude advantage but keeping the cloud cover between him and the Huns.”
“By the time Bruce felt he had enough altitude he decided to make his move. The trouble is the Huns hadn’t seen him and had a good head start towards getting back safely to their aerodrome. So he just about missed his chance with all that fooling around.”
“You’re just jealous, Jack, that I got to be an Ace before you.”
Jack ignored Bruce.
“Just then Bruce got some luck. The Huns turned right. There must have been some directional marker that was a cue. Whatever the reason that put them closer to Bruce.”
“Just then the last Hun spots Bruce and turns to investigate. I suppose he wasn’t sure if Bruce was one of theirs or one of ours.”
“It didn’t take him long to figure out that Bruce meant them harm. So he waggled his wings to warn the others while he headed straight for Bruce – both of them brave – and foolhardy, I might add, flyers.”
“I got the better of that round. I must have hit the poor chap. I saw his arm fly up in the air. Got an oil line too as he started to smoke something fierce. If the others hadn’t noticed me before they sure did after that.”
“And soon enough a second Hun – in a green Fokker as I remember – came across my gun sight. One burst and his Fokker was on fire. He got a some damage on me but nothing I couldn’t handle – so far.”
“As I said, Bruce….horseshoes you know where.” Jack glanced over at Angelique who only smiled back.
“With the green Fokker trying desperately to control his fire, Bruce, focussed on the first Hun.”
“Tailing him like a male dog with his nose glued to the butt of a female dog.” Jack glanced at Angelique again…nothing. “With everything going for Bruce, the Hun didn’t have a chance. His Fokker started spiralling to the ground. That brought Bruce up to a score of four…still not an Ace.”
“Again – horseshoes. The pilot of the green Fokker couldn’t control his fire so he tried to land his airplane. Unfortunately the Fokker burst into a real fireball just as he got to the ground. Don’t think the poor man survived. Well that made it five fore Bruce but he still had to get home alive and there were now three Huns hopping mad and his Nieuport wasn’t in prime condition anymore.”
“And, yes, again….horseshoes. Bruce took on one of the grey Fokkers. It did some damage to Bruce’s Neiuport but Bruce must have hit the Fokker’s engine and that pilot broke off from the fight.” [Note: I don’t know why the extra 1 damage but it was over a week since I played the game and I couldn’t remember why I drew the extra card. It might have been from a previous shot that I missed. Anyway it was on the picture for the Butcher’s bill so I kept it.]
“Bruce, throwing caution to the wind, headed for a fourth Fokker.”
“This time he ran out of horseshoes. His gun jammed.”
“With his gun jammed and seeing as the remaining two Huns were heading for home rather than tangle with this mad Englander, Bruce headed back to the aerodrome and the glory of being our squadron’s first Ace.”
“And rightly so,” said Bruce.
“Yeah, well I’ll forgive you since your brother is the best son-in-law a man could want. Makes up for all your sins and I’m darn sure he’s the better flyer.”
[Game notes: The Fokker EII were flown with the same stats as the EIII. The bonus ace skill chosen for Bruce was ‘sniper’ – it seemed to fit the results of the previous missions.]
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