Stuka Ace: Russia Mission 2

24 June 1941 - Brest Fortress, Bug River

The Russian border fortress of Brest, well sited on the Bug River, stubbonly resisted despite two days of being pummelled by artillery and having been completely encircled. From the Operations Map, Voss could see it was already behind the main line of advance with Panzer spearheads already more than 50kms beyond. But it was holding up the German infantry that had to root out the defenders, and the German 34th and 45th Infantry Divisions were already behind schedule. It was developing into an ugly, street to street battle that Stukas couldn't help much with. 

The column of infantry moving to reinforce the defenders were, however, something his Staffel could attend to.  Signals and aerial reconnaissance indicated a Soviet column — likely remnants of bypassed border units — moving to reinforce Brest. If intercepted now, before they reached the garrison, it would help the 45th Infantry secure the fortress. Voss waved over the Operation Feldwebel to muster the aircrews and receive his orders.

Brest Fortress, containing 9000 Soviet defenders

--------

The third day of the great offensive began under a steel-grey canopy of rainclouds. Though the border had been crossed in force, the land remained soaked and obscured. With the shower front pushing through, visibility was poor, and navigation became a matter of gut instinct and instruments. Still, Oberleutnant Andreas Voss took comfort in the distant knowledge that Zerstörergeschwader 26’s twin-engine Messerschmitts circled above somewhere, ready to ward off enemy fighters.

The Staffel flew through buffeting winds and shifting cloud, cutting low above sodden forest and field, until a break in the weather gave them their first glimpse of the objective: Soviet troops, marching in staggered column along a road northeast of Brest Fortress.

“White 1 to Staffel — Target located. Prepare for attack run.”

Suddenly, Milo’s voice from the rear seat: “MiGs, high two o’clock!”

Two MiG-3s emerged through a tear in the cloudbank, cutting across the Staffel’s flight path in a shallow dive. Their high speed was a threat — but they were too late. Before they could line up their attack, ZG26 struck. Two Messerschmitt Bf 110s came down from high cover, cannon shells stitching across the sky. The Soviets turned to meet them, their attack broken.

The Stukas were left alone - time to go to work.

Voss rolled into his attack dive, knowing that four others were right behind him in sequence. Even through the murk and scattered flak, he could see shapes — khaki-clad forms and horse-drawn carts. Some men stopping to fire, others scattering. Scattered tracer climbed up toward him, disappearing over his starboard wing.

Then his bombs were away with a jolt.

As he climbed out of his dive he saw White 7 pull up awkwardly behind him. On the radio came the terse voice of his wingman:

“White 7 to White 1 — took some fire on the run in. My gunner’s gone. Aircraft flyable.”

The flak had been light, poorly aimed, but deadly enough to claim a life.

Voss led them out through a narrow escape corridor. As they curved northeast, he glanced back through his canopy. A shimmer of silver caught his eye — the telltale gleam of sunlight on plexiglass.  MiG-3s again! Same ones or did they call in friends? Regardless, they were racing in, delayed too long by poor coordination or the lack of radios so typical in the Red Army.

The enemy was closing fast when, again, they broke formation and peeled away. Voss craned his neck just in time to see why — more Me 110s, diving like hawks into a pair of startled pigeons. The Stukas flew on, undisturbed.

They landed with incident and Voss walked over to White 7 with its smashed and bloodied canopy. Voss stood by the pilot, Feldwebel Friedrich Stimpl. He silently gave him a cigarette and then quietly led him away in the direction of the mess.

---------

“Mixed results,” Voss told the Gruppe Operations Officer later, under the canvas awning beside the flight line. 

“Some hits. Column scattered. One loss — gunner only.” He paused. 

“White 7 held formation despite the damage.” 

He lit a cigarette. “Stimpl will be OK, but he’ll carry it for awhile.”

-------

That evening, as dusk rolled across the edge of the forest, Voss stood silently beside a rough wooden cross. The army chaplain had just offered the field prayer. The grave was shallow, the earth fresh and raw.

Gefreiter Rolf Hozzel, radioman, 9. Staffel, had been laid to rest in the first 72 hours of the campaign.

Voss stood in silence. This was not the first man he had lost under his command. It would not be the last. But this campaign was merely three days old and young Rolf was, had been, just 21 years of age— and that made the burial feel more bitter.

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Game Notes

Mission 2: June 41

Target: Russian Troops (Medium size traget) = Zone 4

Staffel strength assigned: 5

Staffelkapitän  + W7 + Kette 3 (Lt Klüber) (all armed with 500kg + 4 x 50kg Cluster munitions)

Zone 1  - Rain. Target Zone Vis = Mdm. Full Cover

Zone 2 - Warm fire in the distance, No Contact

Zone 3 - Friend or Foe (+1 stress Staffelkapitain), 2 x MiG-3 chased off my Fighter escort

Zone 4 - Target! Vis Mdm (+1) AA Light (W3: Gunner KIA!)

-2 Ord, -1 Vet, +1 Vis 

Attack results: W1-40, W7-5, W8-55, W9-40, W10-5

Average Attack Result: 30

Egress Phase

Zone 3 - Angel Wings - no intercept - CAP racing to now empty attack area (Inexp pilots/FAC)

Zone 2 - N/E. 2 x MiG 3 intercepted by fighters

Zone 1 - Storm - Low Vis, Full fighter cover

Home airfield - NSTR

Stuka Ace: Russia Mission 1

22 June 1941

Target: Soviet Airfield near Kobrin, Western Belarus
9. Staffel, III./Sturzkampfgeschwader 2 “Immelmann”

Before dawn touched the eastern horizon, the twelve Ju 87s of 9. Staffel thundered down the dirt strip in eastern Poland, one after another, heavy with bombs and expectation. Oberleutnant Andreas Voss, Staffelkapitän, led from the front in the first Kette, flying with Leutnant Rohr’s and Leutnant Klüber’s Ketten tight behind him. Their target: a Red Air Force base near Kobrin, deep inside Soviet territory.

Voss’s own aircraft bore a single 1,000 kg bomb beneath its fuselage — a steel promise meant for something big, like the main hangar. The rest of the Staffel carried a mix of 500 kg and 50 kg munitions, enough to scatter devastation across the Soviet airfield like grain to the wind. Their primary task, indeed the task of the whole Luftwaffe today, was the turn the Red Air Force into scrap on the ground.

As they crossed into Russian airspace under cover of darkness, nothing stirred. No searchlights, no flak — not even a radio challenge. The border was undefended, the enemy utterly unprepared. It was exactly as the briefing had predicted, yet still somehow surreal. 

 “Nothing,” Voss muttered into his throat mic. 

 “Ivan’s still asleep.” Milo replies. "Lets hope he sleeps in a bit longer" 

 About 50 kilometers inside the border, a lone I-16 fighter emerged from the morning haze. It made a cautious approach toward the formation, but before it could threaten the Stukas, a pair of Messerschmitt Bf 110s from ZG 26 swept down from altitude. The Soviet pilot turned tail and vanished into the haze. Voss briefly wondered whether one of the Zerstörer pilots was his old comrade, Otto Brenner, now flying as part of the air superiority screen. 

With Milo keeping a sharp lookout, Voss's eyes were focused on his map to guide his staffel to their target Thanks to a steady tailwind, they reached the target area quickly. By then, the early light had begun to wash across the airfield below, revealing rows of parked aircraft — mostly biplanes and I-16s — standing in perfect order, motionless, undefended. 

Voss gave the attack command and lead them in - he would lead this attack from the front. Like the veteran combat pilot he was, he dipped his wing, identified the main target, and kept the plane rolling until he was inverted and began the dive. 

He could do it in his sleep. No tricks, no heroics - and no need for them. It was like a basic practice run and he released his bomb at an optimal altitude before starting his pull-up. 

As the Gs slammed into him like an unwelcome old friend, he hoped this was not the time that the Russian gunners would deign to notice him. They didn't. 

His bomb struck dead centre of the main hangar. The detonation of the 1000kg bomb tossed twisted sheets of metal skyward as fire erupted from the shattered building. Secondary explosions cooked off whatever was inside.

His two Kette peeled off and their bombs fell in rapid succession — hangars, fuel trucks, aircraft, barracks. There was no anti-aircraft fire, no alarms, no resistance at all. The airfield had been caught flat-footed and paid for their negligence. Andreas knew this turkey-shoot would not be repeated. 

Soviet I-16s destroyed on the ground

Below, wreckage burned in orange and black, spewing columns of dense smoke. A line of I-153s and I-16s turned into debris. Two bombs scored direct hits on fuel stores, sending shockwaves across the tarmac. Running ground staff were scythed down with the fragmentation effects of the 50kg bombs mixed into the payloads. It was a decisive first blow, and it was time to leave.

Turning west for the return leg, the Staffel remained tight and alert. But their clean escape was short-lived. 

Roaring in from the South West, likely drawn by the columns of smoke coming from the airfield, a lone I-16 roared in — possibly the same one they’d encountered earlier — and executed a direct, frontal attack into Kette 2. as the Stukas started to take evasive action, Voss saw a long stream of fire erupt from the I-16's four 7.62mm MGs surround the lead Stuka of Kette 2. Tracers stitched the air; two rounds slammed into the Stuka’s engine cowling, but the plane held course. Voss could hear the shaken voice of Leutnant Klüber over the radio.

"Keep close to your wingmen Friedrich! Your gunners will be able to mass fire when he comes about! If you split off he'll pick you off for sure!" 

"Jawohl Mein Herr. Ich bin gut- no major damage" 

 As it was, the Communist fighter broke off, unwilling to approach the massed fire of the 7 stukas. No doubt he was rattled he the morning;'s surprise attack. Voss could only hope all his friends were too, but it soon looked like that wasn't the case. Milo spotted two MiG-3s above them, positioning for an attack. These were much more dangerous opponents - highly capable and only just getting to the Soviet fighter units in number now. Voss called in the sighting and was pleased to see the distinctive shape of Me 110s angling in to intercept them. Voss was thankful to soon loose sight of them as they duelled behind him. 

A welcome friend - Me 110 Zerstorer

The last part of their egress was uneventful, but they had a bird's eye view of the front bursting into life. It looked as if every gun in the Army was firing on the Red Army border positions. The Staffel touched down in good order, one by one, tires kicking up plumes of Polish dust as mechanics ran to meet them.  Crews climbed down in silence, the adrenaline ebbing, faces pale and hands shaking. Some lit cigarettes. Others crouched beside their aircraft in quiet disbelief. 

The Staffel Sergeant Major approached up to his Stuka and pressed a mess-tin of kaffe into his hands as he climbed down. “All birds home, Herr Oberleutnant.” 

 Voss only nodded, eyes scanning eastward toward the grey sky. They had struck first. But the war was just beginning. 

Voss strode quickly to the Ops tent as the ground crews started the refuelling and rearming process. Voss needed to be on-hand to plan the next sortie, knowing he and his men would be airborne again within the hour.

BEGIN SIGNAL MESSAGE
SUBJECT: MISSION REPORT – 9./StG 2
TIME: 22.06.41 // 0655 hoursREPORT: MISSION SUCCESSFUL.

TARGET: VVS AIRFIELD - KOBRIN
STAB + KETTE 1 & 2 STRUCK PRIMARY TGT. KETTE 3 STRUCK ALT TGT 10KM SE.
SURPRISE COMPLETE.
NO FLAK, NO ALARM, NO DEFENCE.
MAIN HANGAR DEST. 8 ENEMY AIRCRAFT DESTROYED ON GROUND. MULTIPLE SECONDARY EXPLOSIONS.
ENEMY FIGHTERS DURING EGRESS INTERCEPTED BY ZG 26. NO LOSSES.
GOOD VISIBILITY. RETURN FLIGHT AS PLANNED. ALL AIRCRAFT LANDED SAFELY. PREPARING FOR NEW TASKING

END MESSAGE

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Game Notes

An experiment, this time flying the mission using "Storm of Steel" from Compass Games - with a view to combining with Stuka Ace.

Mission 1: June 41

Target: Russian Airfield = Zone 3

Staffel strength assigned: 7 

Staffelkapitän (1000kg bomb) + Kette 1 (Lt Rohr) & Kette 2 (Lt Klüber) (all 500kg + 4 x 50kg)

All assigned aircrew are Veteran quality - with Oblt Voss and Gunner Ace status (naturally!)

Zone 1  - nil event, no contact - Russians are asleep!

Zone 2 - +1 stress Crew White 3, 1 x I-16, chased off by Fighter cover (ZG26)

Zone 3 - Tailwind. Advanced to Target area

Zone 4 - Target! Visibility Good (0 DRM), AA Nil! (caught Ivan napping)

Attack results: W1-100, W2-100, W3-80, W4-100, W5-80, W6-60, W7-60

Average Attack Result: 82

Egress Phase

Zone 3 - No effect, Intercepted by 1 x I-16, nil fighter escort available

        I-16 frontal attack: 2 hits on W5 +5stress, +1 Stress. Flight leader ability-1 = 5 (no bail out required)

Zone 2 - Rain. nil effect. 2 x MiG-3 chased off by fighter escort

Zone 1 - Ace - 2stress to W5. Full fighter cover

Home airfield - all aircraft landed safely.

System Comparison

This game focuses on running a Staffel of up to 10 Stukas, and the aircrew who fly them. You assign them to tasks, and have to manage their wounds and damaged aircraft. Aircrew also accumulate stress, and if they don't get time off, it starts to significantly impact their effectiveness. Its an additional level I very much like.

Curiously, it doesn't include staffel formations or use of altitude which Stuka Ace does. I think the formation is something that would porte across well

In Combat and attacking, the additional detail of what is happening to the other A/C is great! Each is resolved individually to give granularity - albeit simply compared to Stuka Ace, though that process would not scale well at all.

Thats my first impressions anyway - more to follow. Once I've got a couple of missions under my belt I'll start the integration attempts!

Stuka Ace: Barbarossa

 

15 June 1941

More than two hundred men leapt to attention as the General entered the hall. Rows of chairs now filled the briefing space, packed shoulder to shoulder with airmen from Sturzkampfgeschwaders 1 and 2. As a Staffelkapitän, Andreas Voss sat near the front, flanked by his officers. Behind them, the hall was thick with smoke, murmurs, and the weight of anticipation.

Generaloberst Wolfram von Richthofen strode purposefully into the room, ramrod straight, his lined face unmistakably bearing the noble features of his famous cousin, the Red Baron. His piercing gaze swept across the gathered ranks.

“Setzen Sie sich, meine Herren. Bitte.”

He looked tired. Like many in the room, Richthofen had just returned from Greece and Crete. While General Student had led the Fallschirmjäger on the ground, it was Richthofen who had commanded the entire air campaign. A monumental achievement—Crete was the first major airborne invasion in history—but the cost had been high, and the strain showed. It was said he played Beethoven’s 7th Symphony so frequently in his command tent during the operation that his staff had started calling it the Crete Symphony.

“Kameraden of the Stukaflieger!” he began. “In the past two years, you have flown superbly. Your Stukas have become the very symbol of the Blitzkrieg. The Panzers may be the darlings of the Army, but they only advance because you open the way.”

He paused. “Now, you will do it again—on a scale the world has never seen. Over three million men are assigned to this operation.”

The room held its breath; they all knew what was coming.

Barbarossa

Since returning from Crete, they had been studying the operations plans. Andreas had been struck by two things: the first, the breathtaking audacity of it—an invasion of the Soviet Union. Even Napoleon had failed. The second was how familiar it all felt. The names were the same—Bock, Guderian, Hoth, Kesselring—commanders they had followed in Poland, France, the Balkans. Men who had led them to victory before.

Richthofen continued: “Once more, we strike the enemy and show them the might of modern mechanized warfare. Our VIII. Fliegerkorps is part of Luftflotte 2, under General Kesselring. You, gentlemen, are again the tip of the spear. Jagdgeschwader will protect you. Heinkels, Dorniers, and Ju 88s will fly beside you. But it is you—the Stukaflieger—who are the flying artillery for the Panzerkorps.”

He gestured to a wall map. “We support Army Group Centre, under Feldmarschall von Bock—forty-eight divisions! But your primary customers are his two Panzergruppe commanders: Generalobersts Guderian and Hoth.”

The general’s voice grew sharper. “Our roles: clear and flexible. From the opening sorties on Barbarossatag, we eliminate the Soviet Air Force. Then, systematic strikes on their army. You will hit bridges, railways, fuel dumps—cutting movement, preventing reinforcement—and clearing the path for our mobile forces.”

“To help coordinate with the Army, we now have Flivos—air control officers—on the ground. They’re Luftwaffe men, many ex-bomber crews, now riding in armoured vehicles with the Panzers. Some will brief you shortly. They know you, and more importantly—they know how to use you.”

Maps rustled. Heads nodded.

Richthofen pointed again.“On our left, Army Group North drives on Leningrad, supported by StG 77.  Another 42 Stukas from LG1 will attack Russian ports from Norway. On our right, Army Group South strikes for the Ukraine. We are the centre - the schwerpunkt! First to Minsk, then Smolensk, and finally—Moscow!”

Andreas had studied and knew the plan, but it was good to hear it described boldly and with confidence by a leader be believed in. And yet in total there was just seven Stukagruppen across both Army Groups North and Centre. The need to cover off against the English at home as well as supporting their Italian allies meant that there were less Luftwaffe combat aircraft available against Russia then there had been against France!  

The absence of the two Stuka gruppen supporting Rommel in Afrika was evident. But Andreas only heard great things about his old unit II/StG2 and his former commander Major Enneccerus as they continued to trouble British General Montgomery and give the Royal Navy hell in the Mediterranean.  The newly raised StG 3 was committed there also, not Russia. He shook his head against such nagging doubts; the additional airpower brought by Finland, Romania, Hungary and Bulgaria would surely make up their strength. 

Andreas studied the map again. Right there in the centre, west of Brest-Litowsk, was Hoth’s 3rd Panzergruppe. Among his spearhead was LVII. Panzerkorps, and within it: the 12th Panzer Division, led by Generalmajor Harpe.

His brother’s division.

Feldwebel Johann Voss, Panzergrenadier and decorated veteran of Poland and France. Once again, Andreas would go to war flying above his brother. The thought brought a smile to his face and quiet resolve to his heart.

Richthofen’s voice rang out again: “Poland. Norway. Belgium. Holland. France. Greece. Crete. Now—Russia! Coordination. Flexibility. Iron on target - that is how we win! Final deployment to forward airfields is 19 June. Until then, secrecy is paramount. You know your craft and no one does it better. Good luck, gentlemen.”

The General turned on his heel and departed, the Geschwader and Gruppen leadership trailing him as the hall erupted into discussion, the mood high.

Andreas mingled freely, catching up with acquaintances from StG 1, rarely seen outside fleeting handovers. His Staffel was now at full strength—twelve pilots, twelve gunners, and more than 150 ground personnel. He was heartened to see his veterans mentoring the new replacements in the lull before the storm.

At some point a group of the ground control officers — the Flivos — entered with map cases and frequency books, already in animated discussion with various aircrew. Andreas was chatting amiably with an officer whom he had known since Flight School, when a firm hand clapped him on the shoulder from behind.

He turned in surprise, then broke into a grin.

“Hauptmann Adler!”

Standing before him, a little grayer at the temples but still carrying himself with the same quiet command that had inspired so much confidence in the early campaigns, was Karl-Heinz Adler, his old Staffelkapitän from Poland, the Low Countries, and France. He had mentored Andreas through those harrowing first combat missions and had last been seen recovering in a Berlin hospital following a wound sustained during the Battle of Britain.

“You’re a Flivo?” Andreas asked, both surprised and pleased.

“Ja. That cushy training gig they gave me in Austria wasn’t for me—though I can’t say I minded the time with my wife. But sitting behind a desk while you boys flew over Greece and Crete? Didn't feel right. I might never fly again, but I’ve still got the skills to make sure the Army doesn’t waste your efforts. Luftwaffe forward air controller now—assigned to 10th Panzer Division under Guderian. I even get to ride around in a shiny Panzer III, so who knows, maybe I’ll add a few Russian tanks to my tally!”

Adler’s grin was infectious, and Andreas felt his own spirit lift at the sight of his old commander, returned to his element and full of fire.

“You being out there—it means a lot,” Andreas said sincerely. “The men will fly with more confidence knowing someone like you is on the other end of the radio.”

Adler clapped him on the back again. “Then let's make sure we all come back to tell the story! Now come on, we’ve got plenty to catchup up on, like that Iron Cross and Wound Badge—and I think there’s still a bar standing around here somewhere.”

Caught up in the infectious energy of the room and the joy of reunion, Andreas laughed and led Adler toward the makeshift mess. For one evening, at least, the war could wait for two comrades to share a drink.

The next morning, the adjutant's clerk delivered the handwritten letter while Andreas was enjoying his morning kaffe

Andreas,

Its been a year since you picked me up outside of Dunkirk but I haven't forgotten those drinks I owe you!

We too were flying in Greece and Crete - a pity we never got to share an airfield. 

I see we will be working closely together in the coming weeks. I'll keep my eye peeled for you whenever I can Perhaps when this next circus is done we can share some good Russian caviar!

Good flying comrade!

your friend,

Otto

II/ZG26

Andreas smiled, finished his coffee and grabbed his cap to go outside and start his morning rounds.

Things were good.

===================================================

9. Staffel – III./Sturzkampfgeschwader 2 “Immelmann”

Aircraft: Junkers Ju 87B-2

Total Aircraft: 12 (9 combat, 1 lead, 2 reserve)

Staffelkapitän: Oberleutnant Andreas Voss

Assigned Eastern Front, Operation Barbarossa.

      VIII Fleigerkorps, Luftflotte 2

---------------------------------------------------

Staffelstab (Staff Command Flight)

White 1

Pilot: Oblt. Andreas Voss (Ace)– Staffelkapitän

Bordfunker/Gunner: Uffz. Karl Moosfeld (Ace)

1. Kette

White 2: Lt. Helmut Rohr (Vet)/ Fw. Otto Sajer (Vet)- Kettenführer

White 3: Fw. Max Brenner (Vet) / Gfr. Emil Kurz (Vet)

White 4: Uffz. Leonhard Saunders (Vet) / Gfr. Jakob “Jax” Fernanz (Vet)

2. Kette 

White 5: Lt. Friedrich Klüber (Vet)/ Gfr. Peter Grantt (Vet)- Kettenführer

White 6: OFw. Emil “Ems” Weigel (Vet)/ Gfr. Klaus Schmidt (Vet)

White 7: Fw. Friedrich Stimpl (Vet)/ Gfr. Otto Scharnovski (Vet)

3. Kette

White 8: Lt. Paul Glüke (Vet)/ OGfr. Hans Glaser (Vet) - Kettenführer

White 9: Ofw. Dieter “Dackel” Horner (Vet)/ Gfr. Rolf Hozzel (Vet)

White 10: Fw. Kurt Jenster (Gr)/ Gfr. Ludwig Hentschel (Gr)

Reserve Crews & Aircraft (Flugbereitschaft)

White 11: Uffz. Franz Roka / Gfr. Erwin Kraus

White 12: Fw. Erich Stein / Gfr. Lutz Brennecke

---------------------------------------------------

Ju87 B-2, StG2, Russia 1941

Stuka Ace: Crete Mission 2

22 May 1941

Airfield outside Argos, Greece

III/StG2 Ju 87s departing Argos to attack shipping off Crete, 22 May 1941

Hauptman Brüker delivered the pre-dawn operations brief personally. 

“You did well in that complete shit-show of the last 2 days men. That drop on Heraklion was a mess, but no worse than the other three. We surpressed the defences as best we could and the fallschirmjaeger got their boots on the ground. It’s up to them now and while other Stukas will support them, today we have a different mission.

"We are going to sink the Royal Navy!”, which was met by cheers and whistles and Brücker smiled at their boyish enthusiasm 

 "British naval forces, mostly Light Cruisers and Destroyers are playing havoc out there and we have a troop convoy that needs covering. 

"We are going to focus on the Kithera and Antikithera Channels - the eastern approaches to Crete from Greece and see if we can put a dent in their plans. There’s at least one Battleship out there, the WARSPITE, and two carriers including the FORMIDABLE, through they are likely to be standing off to the East and sending their Fulmar fighters in to cover the lighter naval forces. 

Be in no doubt, ships are difficult and manoeuvring targets. Keep your dives sharp - their AA guns on orders ships don’t traverse up as high as they would like to be more effective. We want to make sure the hits we do get leave a dent so the ground crews are loading 1000kg bombs. You’ll be slow and sluggish while you have them but I understand the fireworks at the end are worth it!” 

"The bad news is: no fighter cover. All the Messerschmitts are assigned to CAP over Crete - protecting our strike bombers as well as the boys on the ground. The Royal Navy is rather protective off its lovely ships so if we find ships, we WILL find enemy fighters, sooner or later. Keep your formations tight and your eye peeled - Good Hunting!” 

As they formed up at high altitude to search for British ships, Andreas was way more excited than he thought Oberleutants probably should be. He didn’t care he decided, grinning under his mask, this was a great mission! He felt the extra drag and load of the bomb bomb he carried and was determined to place it somewhere where it would do the most good. 

Looking about, he dipped his port wing to get a better look at the water below that wing. What that a ship's wake? No, just more whitecaps. Smoke haze from the battle, coupled with some morning cloud was impacting visibility. And it was getting thicker. His radio cracked - it was Brücker 

 “Andreas - take your Staffel beneath this muck and be my eyes. The Royal Navy doesn’t hide ships in clouds but it certainly does beneath them” Voss clicked in acknowledgment, signalled his Staffel and pushed the stick down. 

 Emerging from the cloud he saw two things immediately. First was an empty expanse of water containing no warships The second was a pair of Hurricanes hiding beneath the cloud and waiting for somebody to poke their head down below the clouds. They committed immediately, barrelling in at high speed. 

 Voss screamed a warning to Milo as he kicked the rudder to start an evasive manoeuvre, scattering his staffel with a radio burst. The lead Hurricane winged over and dove down on Voss as he slewed his tail around and gave Milo an angle. Milo didn't wait, spraying tracer out in the general direction. Barrel warm, he then settled his MG15 onto the bearing and squirted off another burst with barely a pause. The cockpit flooded with the acrid smoke and the stink of expended ammunition.

The RAF pilot was either green or low on ammo because he hadn’t opened fire yet, and compounded his error by driving directly into Milo’s tracer. As if he’d been stung by a bee, the Hurricane reared up and pulled off high and left, black smoke streaming from his engine. 

“Take that you Tommy Bastard!” Milo cackled gleefully. Voss watched the RAF fighters brake off the action to lick their wounds and took the opportunity to get back above the clouds to high altitude. \

“That was some good shooting Milo” Andreas praised him. 

 “Well you don’t keep me around for my charm and good looks Boss. Pity he didn't come back so I could finish the job though” 

 “Careful what you wish for my friend!” Andreas replied. At that moment, though a break in the cloud, Milo saw something 

“Smoke at 3 o'clock on the horizon - could be a ship” Andreas reported the sighting to Brücker, who got one of the better placed Kettes to investigate. Brücker was soon back on the radio 

“All Gruppe Elements, smoke is confirmed warship - possible Town Class light cruiser. Prepare to attack and watch out for escorting destroyers as well as more fighters!” Instructions follow regarding attack direction and sequence - Andreas was disappointed his Staffel wasn’t first to attack but mollified at being second. 

HMS GLOUCESTER manoeuvring to avoid Dive Bomber attack, 22 May 1941

The first wave went in and the skin burst into like with FLAK and tracer. Circling with his formation, Voss watched with great interest as the ship ducked and weaved, her stern skidding across the waves- desperately avoiding the bombs while spitting a continuous barrage up at her tormentors. It was clear to Voss that the higher the release, the more time to dodge the ship had. There was only one way to fix that. Brüker was back on the radio: 

“Andreas - you’re up. Full Staffel attack - go!go!go!” 

In they went, and Voss knew exactly what he had to do - drive his precious 1000kgs bomb almost into the ship’s deck with the lowest possible pullout. He warned his gunner 

“Milo - we have to reduce their time to weave away from the drop. I’m going for a minimum altitude release and pull-up - Hold On!” Milo grunted as if he didnt expect anything else. After 2 years of flying together, he likely didn't. Voss went through the familiar pattern: invert, reacquire, dive! 

In they went He lined up with the front of the ship, which seemed to skid less when the ship turned. AA Fire licked up at him but it was mostly tracer - the bigger guns not seeming to be able to traverse high enough. 

closer. Closer! CLOSER! With the masts and stack of the ship reading up for him, Andreas pulled back and felt the release of the large bomb as the Gs kicked him. As the nose came up he heard Milo whoop: 

 “DIRECT HIT - YOU GOT HIM!!!!! When he finally emerged from his attack run,Andreas had time time to look back and see the plume of smoke coming from the ship’s front end (didn't sailors call that a foc’sle or something?) Even as he regained altitude he saw his first kette going in on the slowing ship to replay the sequence. Some missed, some exploded close alongside and slowly but surely the smoke plume built and the ship began to keel over. Voss was ecstatic! 

“Great job everyone - let go home for Schnapps to celebrate!” Brüker radioed. 

HMS GLOUCESTER sinking, 22 May 1941 off Crete

As they turned for home, Voss saw a lone Merchantmen, a tramp streamer really, fleeing from Greece in the direction of Crete- no doubt packed with escaping British troops going to reinforce the defenders on the island. Voss cursed his lack of ordnance - shooting it up with MGs wasn’t going to do much. He was still considering the value of giving it a go anyway when Milo screamed a warning 

“Achtung- Fighters!!!! Voss whipped his around to see two Fulmars barrelling in- no doubt called in to and save the mortally wounded Cruiser and now wanting to extract vengeance. Tracers spat and Voss threw his Stuka around to get out of the way. The first Fumar broke left to go after the Staffel’s first Kette but his wingman shot overhead - and as he did so, Milo unloaded into his belly. Smoke immediately belched form the Fumar, which inverted and began a terminal dive. Amid Milo’s triumphant hooting, Andreas was pleased to see a white chute seperate and bloom before the Fulmar crashed into the sea. 

Confirming that the other Fulmar was breaking off, Voss radioed his Staffel “Thats enough for one day men - lets go home!” 

Back over occupied Greece, the trip back to their strip outside the ancient city of Argos was uneventful. The landing was procedural and Voss prioritised two of his Kette’s ahead of him due to fuel state, before making his own landing. 

As the front wheels touched the ground, the port housing immediately collapsed. Clipped by the Fulmar’s cannons or the Cruiser’s AA guns , or maybe structurally weakened by use, it didn't really matter - the result was the same. 

The Stuka’s left wing immediately dipped and grounded, slewing the whole aircraft off the strip. Careening out of control into the rougher ground, the aircraft was catastrophically unbalanced. The wing dug deeper into a patch of soft earth and the residual momentum of the plane flipped the Stuka - hanging almost vertically for a second before coming crashing down upside down. The last thing Milo heard was the fire engine sirens before everything went dark. 

 ————— 

Pain. The light was painful. Andreas went to shield it from his eyes and immediately regretted moving it as a raft of other pains shots through innumerable parts of his body. A woman's voice quietly but firmly shushed him and tucked his arm away again. 

The next days were a blur in an out of consciousness. At one point he thought he was on a train, but he wasn’t sure. 

Slowly but surely, he regained consciousness then strength in the following two weeks.

German Military Hospital, Berlin 

Andreas was sitting up straight in bed in neatly ironed Luftwaffe pyjamas. 

Next to his bed sat his mother, holding his hand. His father stood on the other side of the bed, standing tall in his Sunday best. 

At the end of his bed stood Oberstleutnant Oskar Dinort in full uniform and sporting a wide, comradely grin. He had taken the time to come visit Andreas in hospital and had just formally presented Andreas not only with his silver wound badge, but also with the Iron Cross, 1st Class. Having completed reading the formal words on the certificate, Dinort added 

“We are all very proud of you Andreas- not just because you took out that British Cruiser almost by yourself - though I admit that was rather spectacular! - but for the leader you have become, in Belgium, France, though your advanced training, and most recently in Greece and Crete. Your men are lucky to have you and cheered loudly when I told them I was coming to give you this piece of tin!  Brüker and I are very proud of you too” Voss mumbled his thanks as his Mother squeezed his hand and his father patted his shoulder affectionately. 

“I’m told you’ll be discharged today, so here is a 3 day pass to enjoy Berlin or wherever you want to spend it, and we look forward to having you back at the Wing soon. There’s work to be done - and you’ve been malingering long enough!" And with that, Dinort cut a jaunty salute and walked away - off to visit other StG2 members who had ended up here in recent weeks.

His visitors left after more smiles and hugs, and Andreas was dozing contentedly when there was a sharp rap on the bed frame— firm, familiar.

Andreas looked up and saw Milo, freshly shaven, grinning like he’d just won a card game, and wearing his flight jacket over a pressed shirt with the top buttons undone. Andreas noted the new Wound Badge on the left pocket of his tunic.

“Took you long enough to wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” Milo said, strolling in as if it were just another morning briefing.

Andreas laughed — a real one this time, despite the sharp pain in his ribs. They were quiet for a few beats, the kind of silence only shared by men who’ve seen death skim past them and then moved on.

“Ops over Crete and Greece are done and the Staffel’s been grounded for maintenance. Then we're redeploying back to Germany” Milo said

There was a knock, and a nurse popped her head in, politely but sternly reminding them that visiting hours were over.

Milo stood then paused. “Oh — and you owe me a drink when you’re out of this place for dragging your arse out of that wreck.”

Andreas chuckled. “Done.”

The door closed behind him, leaving Andreas with a quiet sense of peace. He wasn’t entirely whole yet but Milo was well, the Staffel was intact, and the war wasn’t finished with either of them.

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Historical Note: 

HMS Gloucester was one of the last batch of three Town-class light cruisers built for the Royal Navy during the late 1930s. Commissioned in August 1939 shortly before the war, the ship was initially assigned to the China Station and was transferred to the Indian Ocean and later to South Africa to search for German commerce raiders. She was transferred to the Mediterranean Fleet in mid-1940 and spent much of her time escorting Malta Convoys. Gloucester played minor roles in the Battle of Calabria in 1940 and the Battle of Cape Matapan in 1941. She was sunk by German dive bombers on 22 May 1941 during the Battle of Crete with the loss of 722 men out of a crew of 807. Gloucester acquired the nickname «The Fighting G» after earning five battle honours in less than a year.

I also found conflicting information about StG2's operational bases during this period. Brücker and 10 aircraft were moved to the island of Scarpanto but it is unclear which ones. The rest appear to have been operating from Peloponnese bases - for ease I've left Andreas at the base outside of Argos (and also because I've always loved the Greek mythos of Perseus, King of Argos and slayer of Medusa and the Kraken!)

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Game Notes

I was really looking forward to playing out more of the infamous Stuka Attacks on the Allied navies evacuating Crete, but thats the way the cards landed. Andrea's serious wound seems a good place to put a pause on this campaign and begin prepping for the next one: Barbarossa.

As I move to the Russian Campaign, I'm going to put a bit of a twist to my game mechanics...well in fact the game that I'm playing. I quite like Stuka Ace but its really a game about you as a pilot, and there is significant abstraction about the men you are leading. 

So I've picked up Storm of Steel, by Compass Games. Its also a Stuka game but its more focused on Staffel level management. Its also exclusively set in Russia. I'm going to see if I can merge the games a bit - and integrate the elements - should be a fun experiment!

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Crete Campaign Mission #5 - Light Cruiser

first time with a 1000kg bomb! Heavy Load penalty

Enemy Presence 0 = almost certain (RAF CAP over their Naval Force)

Weather Hazy - smoke and cloud from the battle impacting visibility

TOFF - NSTR

Approach

1. Dense clouds = LOW ALT

2. Enemy Contact! Hurricanes! Dogfight!

EVADE 2+6-1-1=Enemy HIT! Damage: Damaged, + 1 Stamina. Combat ends

Form SUCC = HIGH ALT

Target Reached - LOWEST Profile!

Dive 2+3=S AA 5+1=6 -1 REL 2+2+3-1=6 HIT 6+1 DEST!!!!

FORM ATT 3+2-1+1= DAM

Return

1 Opportunity Target MERSHIP I = No bombs! FORM Fail - remain loose

2 Enemy Contact! Fumar from HMS FORMIDABLE

3+4-1=6 Enemy Hit! Damage: SHOT DOWN!!! +1VP

Land = 12 - Crash! Seriously Wounded!!!

VP 4(halved)=2+1=3

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Stuka Ace: Crete Mission 1

20 May 1941 – Mykene Airfield, outside of Argos, Greece. Crete Invasion Staging Area

Operation Mercury, Morning

Andreas Voss was in a foul mood.

It was already mid-morning and the invasion of Crete—Operation Merkur—was underway in full force. The skies were choked with aircraft: silver chains of Ju 52s lumbering south across the Aegean, their bellies full of paratroopers, flanked by buzzing Bf 109s, Stukas, Heinkels, and anything else the Luftwaffe could spare. The number of aircraft aloft here today, was impressive: 550 Luftwaffe Combat aircraft, plus another 50 from the Italians, and for troop transport 520 Ju52s and 70 DFS 230 gliders - well over a thousand aircraft!

Everything that could fly, was flying—except his Gruppe.

He and the rest of III./StG 2 had spent the morning standing idle on the heat-hazed tarmac, grinding their teeth as they watched their comrades in I./StG 2 take off one by one. Their Ju 87s banked over the bay and vanished into the southern sky, toward the battle. Voss had watched them go in silence, hands on hips, feeling that particular, impotent ache familiar to soldiers kept on the sidelines.

There wasn’t enough airfield space, the Ops officers had said. Not enough deck crews, not enough refueling trucks, and certainly not enough aerial capacity over the target zones. So III./StG 2 was grounded until the afternoon wave, stacked in reserve like the ground crews' spare tools.

Voss stood near the flight line with a cold enamel mug of ersatz coffee in hand, watching the glinting sky traffic above. It was a fine day for flying. Clear skies. A sea breeze. And he was pacing the gravel like a caged dog.

The reports coming in over the field radios were chaotic. HF chatter from the wireless tent painted a picture of hell: Fallschirmjäger units taking massive casualties, parachuting into withering fire from British, Australian, New Zealand, and even Greek troops. Someone had underestimated the enemy—again. The Royal Navy had apparently managed to evacuate Greece and reinforce Crete far more effectively than expected.

Frustrated, Voss crushed his cigarette under his boot and walked the line of aircraft, exchanging quiet words and half-smiles with his pilots. They were wound tight as piano wire. A walk, a joke, a cigarette shared—it helped. It reminded them who they were, and why they were here. It would help him as well.

At 1430 hours, the Gruppe’s senior officers were summoned to the Ops tent. Map updates, wind readings, and a new tone in the voice of Hauptmann Brücker. He got straight to the point.

“It’s a mess over there,” Brücker said, tapping a smudged map of Crete. “Initial waves on the Western end have run into fierce resistance. The transports carrying the paras we’re meant to support at Heraklion? They haven’t even launched yet. Their H-Hour has been pushed back.”

He looked up, letting that sink in.

“So instead of flying in behind landed troops to support them, we’re now clearing the way for them. Hit their flak, crush their barracks, silence the airfield. Whatever we knock out, our boys don’t have to fight through on foot. But we have to do it blind, without ground observers and troops keeping their heads down”

A young Leutnant from Voss's Staffel raised a hand. Andreas nodded in approval - he liked his men to be engage the commander and not be afraid to speak their minds. “So we’re flying in ahead of our own drops Sir?”

“Exactly. The Heraklion defenders won’t be expecting it. They’ve had no action yet today. All the fighting’s at Maleme and Chania—the western end. The RAF will be watching that sector. We’ll be flying in from the north, low and fast. With luck, we’ll have the element of surprise.”

He paused, then added grimly “Intelligence has underestimated the defenders. Big surprise. The Fallschirmjäger are doing the impossible—and paying for it. We owe them support. We hit Heraklion hard and clean, and open the gate.”

He pointed to a watch pinned on the mapboard. “Takeoff remains as scheduled. 1510 hrs. Time on target: 1600. Sunset at 1921. We will get a couple of runs in before dark.”

Brücker straightened.

“Let’s show them how wrong they are to think we’ve forgotten the eastern end of the island.”

-----------

Despite the significant and short notice change to the plan, the first sortie ran like clockwork.  Just as Brüker had said, the RAF was focused on the first 3 German waves on the Western end of Crete. The Weather was clear and the run into Heralkion was like a training run. Then the FLAK opened up as they approached the harbour.

The British weren’t amateurs. They had waiting until the echeloned formation entered their kill zone and then opened up with everything they could bring to bear. One of Voss’s Stuka’s had a near hit by something large calibre, damaging the aircraft badly. Voss ordered him to jettison him bomb and abort the mission. He really hoped he'd see that crew again once he got back to Argos. Focusing back on the Mission, he scanned the ground, and saw the defensive perimeter around the town - the primary target. Cueing his Staffel by radio, he led them in.

The memory of his botched run at the Hot Gates continued to rankle him and he wasn’t going to let this be a repeat. He needed to inspire his men for accuracy and excellence, if this parachute drop was to be successful. In he went and the Flak opened up- lighter calibre but accurate.

Down he went, down, down. The 40mm shells clawed up at him. One burst close off his standard wing, nudging him sideways

“Superficial. I think:” Milo said. Voss only had eyes for his gauges and the target, as he corrected their trajectory. Lower, and Lower still. He toggled the payload release and the bombs fell away and the Gs kicked him in the gut. A familiar if unwelcome acquaintance. 

A loud rumble behind him and Milo reported that the collection of 50kg bombs, now fitted with the new Dinort Rod mechanisms, were right on target. The staffle followed and was similarly accurate. Voss had no ideas what troops were below him - British, ANZACs, Greeks- but whoever it was wasn’t enjoying their damned “afternoon tea”. 

The trip back to Argos was challenging as they were routed away from the main fight to clear the parachute drop zone. Fuel was proving challenging and then their fighter escorts got pulled away to protect the JU52 transports from the RAF who was beginning to wake up. 

Then they were back. Refuelling and rearming while a ground crewmen checked his wing damage and reported it was nothing serious. Voss was pleased to see that the crippled Stuka that aborted the first sorties was sitting on the airfield - hastily pushed to one side to clear the area, but it meant the crew were safe. With the tank topped off and new bombs loaded, the next wave was quickly planned. Their target was the harbour AA batteries - the ones that had caught them on the way in the first time. 

“None of that daredevil shit against AA batteries Andreas”, Brüker warned him and emphasised with a pointed finger 

“You need to set a good example for the younger pilots on this one - no unnecessary risks”. 

Again the takeoff was uneventful but from there it got messy. The radio was jammed up with controllers changing plans but stepping on eachother’s transmissions so that it became garbled. They were rerouted twice and Voss was unsure of his Navigation when he saw the smoke plumes above Heraklion and steered for them. No doubt the AA batteries would announce themselves shortly also. 

This time there was no heroics. Standard release. By the Book. But as he led the formation into the dive, he saw the British had started fires - burning diesel he presumed - to obscure their positions. He managed to get his own bombs away but by the time his Kettes began their wing over dives, the smoke was impenetrable and they had to drop blind. No doubt they did some damage but there was no way to confirm the outcome, It was a clever ploy by the Tommies!

Again by comparison, the return trip was uneventful as they left the aerial scrap behind them. As they flew North then West, Voss saw a British Merchant Ship, no doubt packed with war material, steaming towards Crete. The irony of having wasted all their bombs only to find a great target now with nothing to throw at it rankled him. Back at Argos, the landing was rough. Really rough. All the additional takeoff and recoveries today, including the laden Ju52 transports, had torn up their temporary airstrip. Voss now landed in a new rut, jarring and bouncing the aircraft badly. They was a crashing noise behind him and a grunt. Then nothing. 

As soon as the Stuka was stopped and the engine spooling down, Voss was ripping off his harness to look behind him. Milo was slumped in his harness and the MG was askew. It looked as if it had come off its mounting during the landing and hit Milo in the head, knocking him unconscious. Voss yelled for the medics, who quickly arrived and dragged him to the ground. Voss was relieved when they told him Milo was just unconscious, probably had a mild concussion, but was otherwise OK. Nothing serious - nothing permanent. But out of today's fight.

When Voss got the Ops tent it was as abuzz with reports and wireless traffic and field telephones jangling as it had been earlier in the day. Brüker was there, face dirty and still wearing his flying helmet.“We’re going back to finish off those AA batteries Andreas - they are giving the transports hell. At least half a dozen shot down, probably more. Let’s go” When he got back to his STUKA, Voss saw that the MG had been replaced and strapped in behind it as his temporary wireless operator/gunner was young Feldwebel Habel - the aircrew from the Ju87 damaged in their first attack that day. 

"Hope you don't mind Sir, but I heard you had a spare seat and I've been missing all the fun today. Remembering his bad mood that morning all too well, Voss knew just how he felt, He gave him a hearty slap and began his start-up sequence. They were airborne shortly afterwards. 

Visibility was deteriorating. The combination of low sun, cloud and the pall of smoke that now hung over Crete was making things difficult, right at the time when Andreas was feeling fatigue kicking in. Finally, as the cloud thickened nearer the target, he had to give up and drop to low altitude. Their accuracy would differ, but it was that or not find their targets. 

The AA Batteries were again obliging in announcing their presence, and the puffs began to bloom around them. But the visibility was poor and the low altitude gave no time for the pilots to adjust on their shallow dives. Voss’s experienced hand was able to put his ‘eggs in the basket’ but he saw that his greener pilots weren’t able to do so. Still, it gave the British gunners something else to shoot at for awhile instead of Ju52s -Voss saw at least a half dozen of them scattered around Heraklion. Broken and burning.

Heraklion under Luftwaffe attack, 20 May 1941

Operations Tent 21:45 hrs

The air was humid and smelled of sweat, cigarettes, and dust.

A string of bulbs swung from the ridgepole, casting long shadows over the map table, where Brücker stood hunched, one hand planted on Crete, the other holding a pencil he hadn’t used in twenty minutes. The corners of the canvas walls snapped in the breeze outside. Radios squawked occasionally—ghost voices from Heraklion, Maleme airfield and other drop zones. Each one brought more bad news.

Andreas Voss sat on a camp stool nearby, helmet off, uniform jacket unbuttoned. A tin of sardines sat untouched on the crate beside him, next to an ashtray overflowing with half-smoked cigarettes. He watched the flame of a Zippo dance as a young Staffelkapitän lit another with shaking hands.

Hauptmann Brücker broke the silence.

"Fourteen Ju 52s confirmed shot down at Heraklion, most before dropping their paratroopers. More unaccounted for. We've still got paras landing without air cover. It's a verdammt meat grinder over there!"

No one responded.

A staff Feldwebel entered with a clipboard "Haupman Witzig’s team is scattered across a vineyard outside Knossos. Some stuck in trees. Some captured. They say British artillery is already repositioning."  Voss remembered Witzig well - he had captured Fort Eben-Emael last May, while Voss and his Kette had flown in support. Witzig had won the Knight's Cross that day, and thoroughly deserved it.

Brücker just nodded silently.

Someone handed Voss a mug of coffee. He sipped it. It was more mud than drink, but it was hot and it gave him something to hold. He looked around at the other men: young, sunburned, silent. 

A field telephone jangled in the corner. The feldwebel picked it up, mumbled a greeting, then stiffened.

“Sir… it’s Fliegerkorps HQ requesting a status update on the suppression sorties.”

Brücker took the phone and turned away. His voice was calm, clipped. “Yes, General. Direct hits on two batteries, partial suppression on the others. Yes, we can return at first light. Weather permitting.”

He hung up and turned back to them.

“We’re flying again at dawn,” he said simply. “Briefing at 0430. Try to get some sleep.”

He didn’t sound hopeful.

Voss stood slowly, joints aching. “Milo’s still out cold,” he muttered. “Doc says he’ll wake up sometime soon and likely just have a bad headache.”

Brücker looked at him for a long moment. “Good. He’s one of the sharp ones.” Then, softer: “Get your boys ready, Andreas. Crete isn’t broken yet.”

Crete Cuff Title (Ärmelband Kreta)

Historical Notes

The delay in the Heraklion attack, and Hauptman Brücker leading a Gruppe level attack at 1600 ahead of the drop is all historically correct

Game Notes

WOW - what a Mission! Easily the most tense I have played thus far. Damage aplenty, almost lost Milo, and barely pulled out of dives...twice!

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Sortie 1 - 4 x 50kgs bombs

TOFF NSTR

Approach

1 Enemy presence - NSTR (all occupied Western end of island ?).

2 Clear sky - draw a card -  (all occupied Western end of island ?).

3 enemy ? no

4 Altitude check

Target

1. FLAK! Structural damage - FORM EFF -1 (now 2)

LOWEST! DIVE 3+2+1=S AA 3-1=NE REL 5+1+3=9 HIT 9+1=DEST PUP3+6=9

FORM ATT 6+2+1 = DEST

Return

1 Low Fuel - lose stamina

2 Support fighters in dogfight

----

Land & refuel - launch with 6 cards, 4 stamina

----

Sortie 2 - AA Battery - 500kg + 2 x 50kg bombs

TOFF NSTR

Approach 

1 Form up = SUCCESS

2 RADIO Coord FAIL = +1 Approach

3 NSTR

4 Nav check 5+1-1=SUCC

5 ALT Check = PASS

Target

1. Enemy Contact! Nil

2. near profile! 

DIVE 3+1=S AA 5+2=7 2 STRUCDAM REL 3+0+2=5 HIT 5+1+1=DEST PUP 2+1-1-2+4=4!

FORM ATT 1+2-2+1 = nil

Return

1 Support fighters in dogfight

2 Opportunity Target MERSHIP II but no bombs left!

---

Landing 2 STRUC DAM  - MG and Gunner Wounded

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Sortie 3 - 4 cards, 4 stamina

TOFF NSTR - no MGs, No Gunner. AA Battery - 500kg + 2 x 50kg bombs

Approach

1 Vis worsens - dust/darkness, smoke

2 NSTR 

3 enemy contact - nil

4 dense clouds - LOW Alt  FORM fail - remain at LOW ALT

Target

1. FLAK! NSTR

BASE attack DIVE 6+1=S AA 2+1=NE REL 1+6=7 HIT 7+1=DEST PUP2+1+1=4

FORM ATT 5+2-1-2=0 MISS

Return

1 AA Defences reduce fighters

2 FLAK NSTR 

Landing NSTR

VPs 2+1, 4 halved, 4 halved, = 3+2+2