OTT CYM Mission 9 “Who’s Stalking Who?” 5th September 1916 – AAR by Mike
OTT CYM Mission 9 “Who’s Stalking Who?” 5th September 1916 – AAR by Mike
Acting Lt. Dubh Beard wasn’t sure what to think, about being told to take a few days leave. On the one hand he could look forward to dusting off Boudica and Briga, his split cane rod and its accompanying reel; he wouldn’t totally miss the 1916 trout season after all. But on the other hand he was nervous of the reception he’d receive, back home. The pats on the shoulder and the “Well done my boy”, offset by the disdain, even resentment, from those who had supported the so called Easter Uprising, or Rebellion, depending on your point of view.
It was so difficult dealing with the distrust from the senior ranks in his own armed forces, whilst dealing with what amounted to contempt, if not downright hatred from other Irish folk, so soon after the executions, last May, of sixteen of the Uprising’s leaders.
One thing was certain though – he knew where his loyalties lay and he really didn’t want to leave the rest of his squadron to deal with this God forsaken war without him. He was also pretty sure the trout would agree, because he was a reasonable dab hand at the art of catching them.
But off he went anyway, sent packing by Uncle.
“We all need a change now and again.” Uncle had explained, reassuringly. “You’ll be all the better for it when you come back and don’t think for one moment we’ll miss you anyway. Won’t even know you’re not here.” And with that Uncle returned to his continuous puffing on that old briar of his. The smell of its aromatic tobacco now imprinted on the brains of the entire squadron.
Uncle knew Dubh needed a rest, but at the same time he was worried about losing the man’s experience, even for a short while.
Dawn Patrol
So it was, that the following morning 2nd Lt Simon Hawker and wingman 2nd Lt Patrick Moor found themselves the stars of the days early morning patrol, because Dubh Beard and Bo Fletcher, originally down to take this patrol, had been dispatched to Ireland and Blighty respectively.
The former pair were unconcerned, of course, since that was their job. However, it was never easy dragging yourself from under the sheets in the dark, to ready yourself for combat. A steaming hot cup of tea and a good breakfast helped though.
First Aid Nursing Yeomanry poem
Meanwhile, the Ack Emmas had been up all night again, readying their DH2s. Hawker’s, in particular, had taken a bit of a bashing during his previous outing for King and Country. But the job was professionally done and both aircraft trundled off towards their take off with no sign of any trouble at all. Climbing to a few thousand feet, the pilots were greeted by a beautiful early morning sun, rising from beyond the horizon and hailing them with the promise of another fine September morning. Although the growing chill in the air was a reminder that summer was nearly over.
They flew east towards the German trench lines and before too long caught sight of the sparkling waters of the river Somme which both were admiring when the ever watchful Hawker suddenly spotted a couple of cheeky hun, about to fly right over the river in the direction of their own lines.
They had their backs to our intrepid Bulldogs, and it was unusual to see enemy scouts this side of the river. Plenty of tandems, but few single seaters; one, because they liked to use the favourable prevailing westerly winds to their own advantage and two, because their overlords were rather more inclined to preserve their limited resources, namely pilots, by rescuing them behind their own lines should they be brought down. It made sense if you thought about it. The attritional attitude of British commanders was nothing like as understandable. They merely believed their “losses” could easily be replaced, just as soon as the boys left school and could be given a few hours of basic training.
But these two Germans must have been on an offensive raid, very early, and were now trying to make their way home before it became too light. Then they’d be spotted both by our aircraft and our archie, neither of which would be very kindly in their response.
Hawker waggled his wings and waved an arm in the signal to attack and both DH2s flew headlong towards the enemy. But they were spotted very quickly. The two German pilots obviously knew their business and whilst one of them immediately turned inside and behind his compatriot, the other briefly flew ahead before turning about through one hundred and eighty degrees, to face the oncoming Tommies.
Hawker took a hopeful shot at long range, but perhaps the sun was now high enough for the glare to confuse his aim. Whatever the reason, he missed. But the response from his foe was more accurate and above the roar of the Gnôme Monosoupape he heard the patter of bullets stitching fresh holes in the fabric of his top plane.
The pair of combatents tore towards one another with all four pilots making barely sufficient adjustments to their flight paths to avoid the disaster that was a collision. However, Hawker was not to be distracted from the main point of this performance; neither was the pilot of the second, camouflaged Halberstadt DIII. The two of them opened fire, again at long range and again Hawker sensed that familiar patter as more holes appeared in the wings of his DH2. But this time his own aim was better. The German pilot, the experienced ObLtn Gisbert Habich, felt his rudder controls slacken momentarily.
Then they were past one another. Habich used the opposite rudder to flip his aircraft around again and he took a snap shot at the undefended rear end of one of the enemy pushers. Hawker too, threw his bus into a complete turn about face and hit Habich again, this time causing more than minor damage.
And so the dance proceeded. Above the glistening waters of the river Somme, the four aircraft floated in the air, diving this way and that, banking, spinning, avoiding collisions, climbing and diving again, all the while turning, like swallows gathering for their return journey to Africa at the end of a hot summer.
They took advantage of any momentary glimpse of an enemy to let off a few rounds, in the hope of a hit. Some did but many more did not.
Until, after what only seemed like a few split seconds, 2nd Lt Patrick Moor and ObLtn Gisbert Habich came face to face in an exchange that did a lot of damage to the German pilot’s aircraft, but more crucially, struck Moor, with fatal consequences.
The shock of the bullets slammed him into the back of his seat. He was already dead. So with that the DH2 flew itself down the throat of Habich’s guns, which in turn finished the job. Hits at close range were too much for the pusher that lurched upwards, before plunging down and into the river below, carrying the deceased with it.
The infantry that recovered his body said that it was “more than likely he died before the aircraft even hit the water. There were two bullet holes in him – one in his chest and one pretty much in the centre of his forehead”; a typical British understatement if ever I heard one!
But the pilots still flying above knew little or nothing of this and continued in their beligerance. The firing continued briefly, until first the gun on Habich’s Halberstadt jammed, followed, no doubt in some form of idiotic sympathy, by that of his wingman, Ltn Heinrich Gabriel.
A short burst of no action then followed whilst the enemies circled around one another.
The Germans attempting to clear the jams in their guns, the British pilot trying to find an illusive target.
In the end he succeeded, of course, as the unfortunate Ltn Gabriel, having successfully cleared the aforementioned gun jam, promptly circled into a mistimed attack that resulted in Hawker putting some bullets through the engine of his precious Halberstadt.
This promptly blew up and plummeted to the earth, ploughing into the mud just behind a British communication trench.
Luckily for him, this was unoccupied at the time. Despite having to nurse an injury to his arm, that would keep him from flying for a time, he managed to evade capture by the tommies that made their way to the crash site in less that ten minutes. He did this by hiding amongst a number of corpses. The tommies were busy, there was a lot of shelling going on and nobody wanted to risk being blown sky high just to find a German pilot that was probably dead anyway. They reported that he’d been thrown from his aircraft whilst it was coming down and that he was therefore probably miles away, splattered all over no mans land!
Back in the sky again, with just two birds still aloft, Habich did attempt to exact revenge for that piece of mischief. He managed to put a few of his own rounds into the remaining DH2, which by then was so damaged that Hawker decided caution was the better part of valour and rapidly headed off, out of harms way and to home. Leaving the “Field of Battle” to the victor, ObLtn Habich.
The morning patrol had been a bit of a disaster for both sides, even though 2nd Lt Simon Hawker and ObLtn Habich had both managed to down another enemy aircraft. Just another day and another patrol in endless days of the same. The afternoon patrol was still to come too!
Afternoon Patrol
Later that same day:
Pat Moor was listed as missing and nobody had yet heard anything about his fate.
“I saw him go down in the river, but that was near to our own trenches, so somebody must know if he’s alright.” said Simon Hawker, who was rather shaken up by the morning’s sortie. It had gone very badly. He’d only just managed to get his own bus back in one piece and the Ack Emmas would have to work like the very devil if they were going to get it back up and running again my the next morning.
The phone rang in Uncles “office”. Then the window of his hut opened and he poked his head out of it, pipe and all. “Sorry, no news yet!” and he disappeared again behind a cloud of aromatic fumes.
“Right, its time we were up” announced Lt Mick Taker. He and F/Sgt Jo Lee were on the rota for the afternoon patrol.
“We’ll take a ganders over the area you described, Simon, and see if we can pick up any information about our missing star. But then we have orders to go and hunt the hun over their lines. Wish us good fortune. By the time we get back, Pat will be lounging in his chair, smoking his tenth fag of the last hour and regaling the rest of you with his tale of woe; no doubt adding how unlucky he was not to bag a hun himself.”
A few minutes later any further conversation about the matter was drowned out by the roar of two DH2 engines as they trundled their way to the far end of the field and rose gracefully into the air.
Taker and Lee reached 3000 feet by the time they crossed the river Somme, but they saw nothing of a crashed DH2 anywhere in the vicinity. After that they flew on, over the trenches of both sides, with nothing for company but the noise of their engines in their ears and a vista that had always seemed so magical below them.
There were other aircraft in the distance, other fights in progress and plenty of signs of the war going on beneath them. But nothing, as yet, untoward to concern them. In fact the patrol was rather uneventful apart from being chased, as always, by little puffs of black smoke that enemy Archie was always happy to chuck at them.
Seeing no signs of enemy aircraft in their sector, the two of them turned about and headed back towards the barn. The river Somme was once again in sight when all that changed.
In what amounted to a repeat, in reverse, of the morning patrol’s fight, they were suddenly aware of being bounced by a couple of the hun.
“Bloody ‘ell” thought an alarmed F/Sgt Lee, “Where the ‘ell did they spring from?”
Normally he was sharp as a razor’s edge when it came to spotting danger, but he’d completely missed these two. Instinctively, he threw the DH2 to port, whilst his flight leader turned through one hundred and eighty degrees to meet his enemy head on.
Both of them had been surprised too, as neither had seen the likes of their camouflaged opponent before. In fact, unknown to them or very many others for that matter, the hun were demonstrating the wonders of their latest development. For this new aircraft was the first in a line of aircraft that would be amongst the very best and most successful of the war. This was an Albatros DI, partnering a CDC Halberstadt. The former piloted by Ltn Kurt Jentsch, who felt honoured and delighted to be flying it. The latter was flown by his wingman, Ltn Erich Wedel. So the experience was new to all of them. The Tommies had never seen an Albatos scout like this one before, Jentsch had never been behind the controls of one before and Wedel had never before fought alongside one of them.
Lt Taker headed straight for the Halberstadt, hitting him with a couple of rounds from his Lewis at long range. So by the time F/Sgt Lee banked left and came about, the pilot of the Albatros had decided to leave his wingman to his own devices and take on our Flight Sergeant for his opponent.
And just as in the morning, the fight became another aerial dance to the staccato beat of machine gun fire, effective and wasted in equal proportions as lead whined its way through the sky.
Occassionally it struck its intended target, but mostly it did not, until first the Albatros and then the CDC DH2 did actually dispatch bullets that hit home successfully. But that was the last time the DH2 did so. The Albatros was quicker. It was more agile. And to top it all it was firing two machine guns at once.
For the second time that day, a member of the Bulldog squadron never quite understood his predicament. He sort of knew what hit him, but the shock stunned him and he couldn’t really feel anything. His responses were automatic but unfeeling as his life blood seeped through his boots and poured onto the floor of the fuselage.
His DH2 sort of took him in hand and directed him away from the fight, but a ruthlessly determined Ltn Erich Wedel was having none of it. Wedel followed him and claimed the kill. Pouring enough lead into the Tommie’s petrol tank, it went up in a sheet of flames and spiralled out of contention. But F/Sgt Lee had already died, even if he didn’t realize it.
After that the result was a foregone conclusion.
The three remaining protagonists circled around for a bit; Taker managing an ineffective flea bite on the Albatros, that responded in kind.
They circled some more whilst gun jams were cleared and ammunition drums were replaced until finally the two Eagles were able to successfully corner the Bulldog and set it alight. Wedel being the successful shot.
That was enough for the now less than intrepid Lt Mick E Taker. Fire was not to his liking; not one bit. He threw his machine into an over dive and headed for home.
The two hun followed as quickly as they could, but Taker, having successfully dealt with the dreaded flames of fire, turned sharply, threw the Eagles momentarily off the scent and managed to make a low lying bank of clouds that came rolling by, just in time, much to the confusion and annoyance of the enemy. He was aghast at the speed with which the Albatros, in particular, had closed on his fleeing backside and was astounded to realize that the beast had even managed a few more hits on him as he fled.
Yet another Bulldog had been flayed to within an inch of its life. The Ack Emmas were going to be delighted, weren’t they.
What a disastrous day. The Eagles disagreed entirely!
Meanwhile, Dubh Beard enjoyed his few days on the Kells Blackwater. The river was low and the weather was hot, so there weren’t many fish about. But he did have a few, including a really nice one that measured 18 inches from head to tail. That one went into the pan with some butter.
Bo Fletcher had a reasonable break too. He visited a friend, but she fussed over him so much he took off again after one night and headed for the delights of Soho.
Both returned to a somewhay sombre collection of Bulldogs that now included two faces they did not recognise.
Uncle was relieved to have them back. Puff puff went the pipe, and the smokey atmosphere in his hut was maintained. And so the beat went on.
The end.
Butcher’s Bill
Entente
2nd Lt Patrick Moor / SD FT/WIA/0 kills
Roll 2D6 = 4 – 1SD – 1WIA = 2 KIA
Result – KIA (RIP)
2nd Lt Simon Hawker / FRTB-D / 1 kill
Roll 2D6 = 3 and 2 – No crash on landing
Result – All good
Lt Mick E Taker / FRTB-D / 0 kills
Roll 2D6 = 5 and 6 – No crash on landing
Result – All good
F/Sgt Jo Lee / EXP ET / WIA / 0 kills
Roll 2D6 = 3 – 3EXP – 1WIA = -1 KIA
Result – KIA (RIP)
Central Powers
Ltn Heinrich Gabriel / EXP ET / 0 kills
Roll 2D6 = 7 – 3EXP = 4 – Injured skip 1D6 = 1
E&E
Roll 2D6 = 9 – 1EXP – 1WIC – 1BEL = 6 In hiding – skip 1D2 = 6 – skip 2
Result – Skip 2 scenarios
ObLtn Gisbert Habich / RTB / 1 kill
Result – All good
Ltn Kurt Jentsch / RTB / 0 kills
Result – All good
Ltn Erich Wedel / RTB / 1 kill
Result – All good.
Victory points
Entente - am patrol: 1 x SD = 2 points / pm patrol = 0 points
Central Powers – am patrol: 1 x SD + 1 x FRTB = 3 points / pm patrol : 1 x SD + 1 x FRTB = 3 points.
Totals: Entente 2 points : Central Powers 6 points
Clear victory to the Eagles.
Notes: For the uninitiated who may otherwise find a few things confusing:
Mission 9 was played as two separate games. Part 1 is the am Mission. Part 2 is the pm Mission.
References to Dubh Beard and Bo Fletcher relate to Mission 8 of the OTT CYM campaign.
Both parts of the Mission were played with all aircraft operated with AI using the D8 charts provided by “Flash”. The exception is for the last few turns of the pm mission where an aircraft was forced to flee when it was burning, was chased, then damaged to within 1 point of being shot down. Because the actions of this pilot could not be represented by AI actions, I took control, just as the rules of the campaign permit.
I used altitude throughout, as follows: Using the Campaign optional altitude rules, changes up or down as permitted on manoeuvre cards other than the official climb and dive cards, were always by one counter at a time, not 1 peg. Climbing a peg, for the DH2s, therefore took six such manoeuvres. The Halberstadt and the Albatros both took four counters as per their recognised climb rates. The Albatros DI was flown, according to the approved unofficial stats given on the Aerodrome web site, which are the same as for a DII. The over dive, used at one point, was carried out as per the official rules but I added the removal of two extra pegs, as per the campaign optional rule. Ditto the dive made by the chasing German aircraft – they both dived three pegs on the dive card not one.
NB. One photo shows two German aircraft nose to nose. Be reassured, they were at different altitudes. Also note the photo showing the “B” card drawn against a fire token – this was the overdive result – hence the fire lasted only two turns, not three.
Aim bonus, owing to height difference, was not used in this mission. I wasn’t sure if a counter difference would qualify, so I stayed safe and only considered the possibility if there was a “complete” peg difference and this never occurred.
Choice of manoeuvres was always processed in the same way – both entente aircraft followed by both CP aircraft. I had to use the I in AI on only a couple of occasions when doing this, usually when the opposing aircraft was moving side to side across the flight path and the choice also fell between two possible arcs of manoeuvre. Then it was necessary just to be sensible. On the one occasion that I just couldn’t make up my mind, I resolved the issue with a D6 dice.
Damage cards were also always drawn in the same manner as the movement cards; in the order - all entente first, then the central powers.
Part 1 of the mission was played using pilots of both sides that did not have any ace skills. The Halberstadts and the DH2s used the same manoeuver decks and have the same stats, which is why I did this. In part two, I had an Entente pilot with an ace skill - “Lucky Pilot”, so decided to balance this with the use of the “A” firing Albatros DI. Mmmmmm!!!!! NB The ace skill was never used – retained until the very last moment, just in case
Finally, the two parts of the mission took a total of 32 turns, which I have to admit I found tiring, especially as much of the time the aircraft were jostling for position and unable to fire at each other. The result was some 155 photos, often with little or no action involved! Given that I need to reduce the pixel size of each shot used before posting, which is rather laborious and routinely boring, I’m afraid I have cut the number down as much as possible. I hope the effect of that is not disjointed.
The mission was a really interesting one to play and very, very, enjoyable. Seemingly quite realistic to boot. Thanks for posting it Pete.
Mike
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Bit much to take though; chin well and truly mashed. Revenge shall be mine though, sayeth someone or other! And so on to destroy a few trucks I believe. I'll be back.
Well Mike that marathon did not go the way our Doggies would have hoped.
Originally Posted by mikeemagnus
Drought, Fire & Flood ---Just the normal 3 seasons down here in Australia! 
you're right though it is almost as big a job selecting and manipulating the photo's as it is writing the story. I try and cull mine to somewhere between 25 and 50 just to try and keep things manageable but it's no hardship at all to look at you photos, even if nothing is happening in the fight.
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