Stuka Ace: Blitzkrieg in the West

Christmas 1939 — Voss Family Home, Braunschweig

Snow fell in soft curtains outside the windows of the Voss family home, blanketing the garden in white and silencing the streets beyond. Inside, the warmth of the hearth battled the winter chill, and for the first time in months, the three Voss men sat at the same table.

Andreas, freshly home from Poland, had shed his flight gear for a civilian jacket that still hung awkwardly on his lean frame. Across from him sat Johann, broader and more earthbound, with the calm demeanor of a veteran infantryman. His boots were polished, though his knuckles were still raw from weeks in a truck cab and trench.

Their father, a World War I veteran, poured schnapps with a steady hand, his eyes bouncing between his sons with quiet pride and lingering worry.

“I read about your Stukas in the papers as much as I saw you flying overhead” Johann said, raising his glass to Andreas. “Your lot made quite the name for yourselves.”

Andreas laughed softly. “You weren’t exactly invisible, either. Guderian made sure his tanks and infantry stayed in every communique.”

The brothers clinked glasses.

Their father cleared his throat. “You two did your duty. I only pray you’ll be spared the worst of what’s to come.”

The room was quiet for a moment — not somber, just thoughtful. Outside, carolers sang faintly down the street. Inside, the Voss family shared a meal of roast goose, potatoes, and red cabbage. For one evening, the war was far away and they enjoyed the warmth of home and the bond of family.

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Winter 1939–1940 — The Waiting Game

After the firestorm of Poland, a strange calm had settled. The newspapers called it a Sitzkrieg, the “Phoney War.” But to veterans like Voss, it felt more like the eye of a storm he knew must BREAK.

Polish veterans were granted leave in staggered waves — a reward for service and Victory. In their place came Reservists in worn greatcoats, and wide-eyed recruits with no combat experience but limitless questions. Training grounds everywhere buzzed with shouted orders while maintenance shops thrummed day and night as every engine, bomb rack, and fuel line was tested and restored to readiness.

Though the occasional aerial duel flared over the North Sea or sporadic naval encounters stirred the headlines, nothing yet moved on land. The Wehrmacht waited. So did the Luftwaffe. StG 2 was no exception.

Voss’s StG 2, now relocated near the western border, spent most days airborne. Flight schedules were relentless. Ketten and Schwärme drilled in formation flying over open farmland and patchy pine forest, tightening the spacing, refining turns, correcting for wind shear. Dive-bombing patterns were repeated over painted wooden targets or old tanks dragged into open fields. The ground controllers — mostly Feldwebel radiomen newly assigned to Luftwaffe liaison roles — practiced spotting and vectoring the Stukas onto imagined enemy lines. Sometimes they fumbled the calls. Their instructors, veterans of Poland, made sure they didn’t fumble them twice.

New pilots joined them regularly now; youngsters fresh out of flight school with barely a dozen hours in the Ju 87. Voss made sure they were paired with older, salty gunners who had seen Poland from the rear seat. In the evenings, the crews hunched over maps and shared sandwiches, stories, and the quiet truths that didn’t show up in the training manuals.

“Poland,” Adler reminded them during one chalkboard session, “was a cakewalk. A one-sided affair. Don’t expect that again. The French have real artillery. The British have Spitfires and Hurricanes. You’ll earn your medals from now on.” That stuck.

There were rumours of a coming offensive. Fall Gelb, some whispered — the big push west. But no one knew when. Or where.

Voss’s mood soured when he learned that StG 1 was being outfitted with the Ju 87R with wing-mounted tanks. Theoretically, it meant deeper strikes, more flexibility, greater glory. His men grumbled about it openly one afternoon in the dispersal tent until he shut them down.

“Learn to fly tight and drop on target, and you’ll get your chance.” he said, and doubled their flying hours. They didn't grumble again. 

But the envy lingered, especially in April when news arrived that German troops had landed in Norway — Operation Weserübung. The skies over Narvik and Trondheim saw bitter fighting. Stukas there sank British destroyers, pounded snowy fjords, and returned with holes stitched by RAF fighters.

Voss and his Kette listened to the radio reports. There was pride, of course (and occasional cheers and toasts in the mess) but also restlessness. The war had started again for someone else. And they were still waiting. Drilling. Preparing.

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

May 1940 — Odendorf Airfield, near Euskirchen, Germany
Briefing Tent, II./Sturzkampfgeschwader 2

The wind snapped at the canvas of the briefing tent as a hundred aircrew and senior ground staffers filed in and found their places. The ground outside was slick with morning dew, but inside it was warm with anticipation.

Waiting for them at the front stood Oberstleutnant Oskar Dinort, commander of StG 2, tall and stiff-backed, his presence filling the room more completely than the smell of diesel and coffee. Dinort had led them through Poland, and the men respected him. His word carried weight.

Oberstleutnant Oskar Dinort

A staff officer adjusted the map behind him — Holland, Belgium, Luxembourg, northern France — pinned and penciled with a flurry of operational arrows and target designations.

Dinort didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

“Gentlemen,” he began. “In five days, Germany will launch Fall Gelb — the offensive into the Low Countries and France.”

He paused, eyes sweeping the assembled pilots.

“This is not Poland. The enemy we face now is equipped, entrenched, and experienced. The French Air Force will fight. The British Expeditionary Force will resist. We will strike first, and hard — but we must be ready to take casualties.”

He turned slightly and gestured to the maps behind him.

“First we will smash Belgium and the Netherlands with 30 Divisions - 30! This will sucker the British and French into thinking we are re-enacting the old- Schleiffen plan our fathers marched to.  When the Allies have committed their forces to counter this force, the weight of our army will strike elsewhere.

General von Runstead will move 45 Divisions, including 7 Panzer division, through the Ardennes, and bypass the formidable Maginot Line defences— a bold move. Bold enough the enemy won’t expect it. Your job is to clear the way. Destroy bridges, soften infantry positions, halt reinforcements. Your work will be critical in creating the breakthroughs the army needs.”

A low murmur moved through the tent. Voss sat near the front, listening intently, his notebook closed on his lap. He knew these weren’t just orders — this was history being written.

Dinort nodded to a man at his right, Hauptmann Walter Enneccerus, who had taken Command of II./StG 2 in December as they reorganised after Poland. Younger than Dinort but with sharp eyes and a measured tone, Enneccerus stepped forward.

Walter Enneccerus

“II. Gruppe will move to its forward launch field on the 8th,” he began. “Operational readiness by the 9th but no local familiarisation or check flights to maintain secrecy. Your Commanders already have provisional assignments, and final targets will be handed down from Fliegerkorps VIII no later than the evening prior.

"The Army will be moving fast - faster than the infantry or supporting artillery can keep up to support them. We will be their airborne artillery- their on-call fire.  Their effectiveness stems directly from our ability to put bombs on target- fast!"

He looked directly at the junior officers, including Voss.

“Expect limited fighter escort early on. You'll be flying low. Fast. And under fire. This campaign will test every lesson you learned in Poland — and expose every weakness you still carry.”

He gave a small nod.

“You've trained hard. Now we hit harder. The world will be watching this one.”

The tent was silent for a moment before a Signals officer stepped up to review communications protocols and frequency procedures. But for Voss, the real message had already landed.

Fall Gelb was coming. And this time, nothing would be easy.

He peered more closely at the map and saw that after supporting the initial attack on Belgium, StG 2's main effort would be supporting General von Rundstedt's Armee Group A in the Ardennes. Counted among their his force was his brother's 2nd Motorised Infantry Division.

Once again Andreas would be flying over and supporting his brother Johann on the ground. That made him smile, and he knew his father would be pleased also to know that his boys were near one another.

He went back to his maps and his lists - there was much to do.

Fall Gelb - the Attack through the Ardennes

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Game Notes

So the stage is set for France as my next Theatre. At a quick glance it looks like most of the Missions are dual sorties, a few more airfields and truck convoys as targets, but still relatively low chance of enemy fighter presence (reflecting the Luftwaffe have Air Control over most of the theatre)

The Stuka Ace system is interesting - depending what Squadron you are assigned to make at the start, determines your deployments with different paths for  different Squadrons. For example StG1 goes to Norway then France then Britain, while StG2 skips Norway, goes to France and then takes a different path. But that is a story for another day, if Voss survives Fall Gelb!

Stuka Ace: Poland Theatre complete

October 6, 1939 — Forward Airstrip, near Warsaw, Poland
“Victory’s Drum”

The grass was wet with morning dew, but boots stamped it flat as the men of Sturzkampfgeschwader 2 stood in parade formation beneath the pale October sun. A rough airstrip — hastily flattened field, flanked by canvas tents and the silent silhouettes of their Ju 87s — served now as a parade ground.

Two days ago, Poland had surrendered.

Yesterday, they had paraded before the Führer himself, who had flown in from Berlin; stiff uniforms, strained smiles, and the weight  (and smell) of weeks of war under their collars.

Hitler reviews troops at the Victory Parade, Warsaw, 5 Oct 1939

Today's visit was more personal. Generalleutnant Ulrich Grauert, Kommandant of Luftflotte 1, was making the rounds of his units at forward airfields. This morning, it was StG 2’s turn.

Engines were quiet, caps were worn, and jackets were brushed. Pilots and ground crews stood in ranks. Mechanics tried to keep their boots clean. Milo had even shaved.

A Kübelwagen rolled up, followed by a staff car. Guards saluted. Officers came to attention. And then Grauert himself stepped out — tall, broad-chested, his greatcoat immaculate, boots polished to a mirror shine despite the mud. His face bore the wear of years, but his eyes were keen and watchful.

Generalleutnant Ulrich Grauert

The General stepped up onto a wooden platform beside their staffel commanders.

“Men of StG 2,” he began, voice steady. “The campaign in Poland is concluded. Your efforts — your courage — were vital to its success. You struck hard. You struck fast. You struck with precision.”

He paced, slowly, letting his gaze pass over the assembled ranks.

“Infantry advanced because of you. Armoured columns moved because you cleared the path. Bridges fell. Fortifications were broken. Resistance was shattered. You opened the door to Victory"

A pause.

“You have made the Luftwaffe proud. And I am proud of you”

There was a stillness in the air, the quiet weight of recognition. Voss felt the pride swell in his chest — pride mixed with exhaustion, with memory, with relief.

Then came the awards.

Officers’ names were called. Decorations pinned. Grauert personally shook each man’s hand.

When Oberleutnant Adler stepped forward and was presented the Iron Cross, First Class, the men of his Staffel broke into spontaneous applause, rules forgotten for a moment. Voss clapped hardest of all.

 …The applause for Adler was just beginning to die down when General Grauert paused, then glanced at a staff officer holding a clipboard.

“One more,” he said, loud enough for all to hear. “Leutnant Andreas Voss. Step forward.”

Voss blinked. His boots felt rooted to the soil for a second too long before he moved — heart thudding, collar suddenly too tight. He stepped from the line and approached the platform, throat dry.

Grauert regarded him with a faint smile as the Iron Cross, Second Class, was removed from a velvet-lined case.

“For leadership under fire,” the general intoned, “and for bravery and effectiveness as Kettenführer during the operations around Warsaw.”

Voss stood at rigid attention as Grauert pinned the black-and-silver cross to his tunic. The general extended his hand.

“Well done, Leutnant.”

Caught off guard, Voss grasped the hand firmly and muttered, “Th-thank you, Herr General.”

The corner of Grauert’s mouth curled in a knowing smirk, and with a pat to the shoulder, he moved on.

As Voss returned to his place, cheeks warm, he saw Adler grinning from the line, a broad, proud smile on his face. The Oberleutnant gave him a slow, exaggerated wink.

Milo nudged him from behind with an elbow. “Look at you,” he whispered. “A hero now, are we?”

Voss didn’t answer. He just looked down at the medal on his chest, then out to the clear sky above the airfield.

For the first time in this war, he felt more than just relief. He felt valued. He felt seen.

---------

Game notes

This theatre was a real learning experience and I could focus on the basic mechanics, bombing and strafing procedures.  The feeling of complete air superiority gave me licence to take risks in card and stamina management, knowing I was HIGHLY unlikely to get bounced. As it was, I didn't see an enemy aircraft at all (I think I'll come to rue those words...)

The game plays very quickly and its easy to do a couple of missions in one session.

There is real depth in the cards, and the way that some Action and Flight cards are changed at different levels and with different theatres. I think that will help keep it fresh.

Voss actually qualified for his EK2 at the end of Mission 6, with the Railway Yard being worth +1 Prestige Point. But as it had no impact on gameplay I decided to hold it over. The big Victory Parade in Warsaw in front of the Fuhrer was quite the spectacle to the world, so I wanted to tie it around this historic event, and introduce the real commander of Luftflotte 1.

So Voss finished the Poland Campaign as a Kette Leader with an EK2 and no wound badge. I call that a success, and am looking forward to a new Theatre. For StG 2 there is much refitting and training to do first.

A rather fascinating read from 3 Oct 1939!

Stuka Ace: Poland Mission 7

Mission 7 – Gun Emplacement, Siege of Warsaw

Date: Late September 1939

The city was burning.

Warsaw, once distant and shrouded in mist and maps, now loomed in full view beneath their wings — gutted tenements, shattered rail lines, roads clogged with debris and fleeing civilians. The siege was entering its final, brutal phase.

Leutnant Andreas Voss sat in Berta’s cockpit, sweat already trickling down his collar despite the crisp autumn air. His Kette was on standby, engines warming, the pale morning sky just beginning to brighten.

The target was a Polish heavy gun emplacement dug in near a crossroads southwest of the city — one of the last major artillery positions resisting the German advance. Their orders were clear: destroy it. No finesse. No second chances.

They lifted off into smoky skies.

A trio of Ju 76Bs carrying 500kg bombs launch from an airstrip in Poland, 1939.

As they neared the target, Voss called over the radio:
“Eyes sharp. We go in fast, line astern. I’ll mark the drop.”
His voice was calm, but he felt the responsibility in every syllable.

The gun emplacement was well-camouflaged but betrayed itself with its muzzle flash — it was still firing.

Voss rolled into his dive. The wind howled past the canopy. Sirens screamed.

Through the scope, he saw the square of sandbags, the grey glint of steel.
500 meters.
400.
He toggled the release.
The 500kg bomb dropped.

He pulled out hard, the Gs rattling his bones. Milo grunted behind him. The shockwave caught them as they climbed.

“Hit!” Milo called, but added: “Still firing!”

Voss craned his neck. The emplacement was damaged — smoke rising, one flank collapsed — but the gun still barked defiantly.

“Second and third — finish it.”

His wingmen came in cleanly, dropping in sequence. Two more detonations, and the gun was gone.

Just a crater now.

Destroyed Polish Artillery position, Battle Burza 1939

Voss felt the tension release in his chest. They were learning. They were operating like a unit.

On the flight home, he looked over both shoulders. His Kette was in tight formation. Tired. But unbroken.

Back at the airstrip, he dismounted and shook hands with each of them, grease-smudged, grinning like fools. He didn’t need to say it out loud. But he felt it in his chest:

We’re becoming a team.

--------

Game notes - rather straight forward mission overall. Still getting used to the formation rules

3 VPs (2 for me plus 1 for the formation also destroying the target) which will get me to another skill

Thats Voss's 7th and final mission in Poland 

Stuka Ace: Poland Mission 6

Mission 6 — Siege of Warsaw

Primary Target: Field Fortifications
Secondary Target: Railway Yard

The bombardment of Warsaw continued. The past week had seen Stukas, Heinkells and other bombers drop ordnance from the air as the Army's artillery conducted its ceaseless barrage

Voss had settled into the rhythm of command but the war was quick to remind him it allowed no room for comfort.

Dawn came grey and damp. The Kette launched early toward Warsaw yet again, the smoke already rising above the city in distant plumes. Their target: a string of reinforced Polish positions dug into the outer defences southwest of the capital. More fieldworks. Gun pits. Anti-tank nests — all holding up the Army's advance.

Within partially ruined city, the defenders had grown desperate. They fought hard. Between missions Voss thought of his brother fighting with the German Infantry and wondered where he was. If he was 

Voss led the Kette in low. Too low, maybe, but he wanted the bombs to count.

He sighted his target — a concrete bunker with an anti-tank gun at its mouth — and released his 500kg bomb at . The detonation was devastating. The entire gun position vanished in a cloud of black dust and twisted timber.

But his wingmen were less precise. Langer’s bombs fell short, throwing up plumes of dirt, and Dietz overshot — his blasts hitting behind the trenchline. The target was damaged but not out of action.

Voss pulled them up and out, scolding them sharply over the radio. There was no second pass — they only carried the one bomb each and were already catching light flak.

As they turned for home, Voss felt the first shudder through the airframe. The engine coughed. Milo immediately began checking gauges.

“She’s overheating — oil pressure’s jumping,” he warned.

Voss throttled back and trimmed the plane as gently as he could. The engine stayed alive, just, and they limped home at reduced power. He was glad that the skies were empty of any Polish fighters.

At the field, the crew chief met them before the propeller even stopped spinning. A coolant leak. Minor damage, repairable within the hour. The chief yelled and the ground crew got to work feverishly.

Voss chewed through a piece of bread and cold sausage while the mechanics worked. Adler appeared with new orders before he’d even swallowed.

“Rail yard east of the city. Still active. Secondary target. We hit it.”

He looked to Voss.

“Fuel up. Bomb up. You go again. Now”

The second sortie was faster, more focused. They climbed into clean afternoon air and reached the city again, smoke marking their previous strike zone.

The rail yard lay beyond — dozens of boxcars and tankers crowded on siding tracks.

This time, the Kette flew like a blade. Langer and Dietz were keen to make up for their errors that morning

Voss laid his bomb pattern down the central line of cars. Flames took quickly — fuel or munitions, it didn’t matter. The explosion cracked the air. His wingmen followed with perfect spacing, laying ruin to the turntable and the rolling stock lined up to use it.

They turned westward, leaving the burning yard behind them, and made for home.

This time, Voss felt it in his chest — not pride exactly, but a growing belief. His kette had nailed their targets hard. They had made a difference. Surely Poland would surrender soon.

-----------

Game notes

Second mission leading a kette and I think I'm getting the hang of the formations

Dual sortie - dropped some VPs when the formation only damaged the target, but picked up some neat extras with the Railway, including a 3rd Prestige Point.

One more Mission remaining for me in the Poland Campaign. Hopefully Voss will get to reunite with his Brother for Christmas...

Stuka Ace: Poland Mission 5

Mission 5 — Infantry Positions, Siege of Warsaw

18 September 1939 – "No More Retreats"

Two days had passed since the Soviets crossed Poland’s eastern frontier, sealing the country’s fate. Andreas wasn't sure yet how he felt about his nation's new allies.Now, the Wehrmacht had tightened its grip on the western side of the Vistula. Only Warsaw held out this side of the Vistula River. A defiant island of resistance amidst the collapse.

Leutnant Voss, now Kettenführer, stood at the map board that morning with two other pilots under his command — Langer and Dietz. Both were young. One too quiet, the other too eager.

Oblt. Adler had laid it out in his usual clipped tone.
“Target: infantry emplacements dug in on the western perimeter of Warsaw. They’re holding up the final link in our encirclement. Hit them and keep moving. No loitering — the flak around Warsaw is thick, and it’s getting thicker.”

Voss nodded, silent. Inside, he felt the gnawing unease of the added burden — not just to fly and kill, but to lead. He didn’t say it out loud, but he wasn't sleeping much.

All set for my 1st sortie as Kettenfuhrer

They lifted off midmorning under a sharp, high sky, white streaks of cloud like bayonets overhead. The Kette climbed steadily, Jumo 211S engines purring in sync.

But twenty minutes into the flight, Voss felt it creeping in: a prickling sensation of doubt. The terrain below looked unfamiliar. His map didn’t match what his eyes saw. He tapped the compass. Rechecked his landmarks.

"Milo", he radioed back on the internal intercom, “Confirm heading. I think we’ve overshot—”

“Negative,” came the reply after a moment. “Right on course. That’s the city outskirts up ahead.”

Voss exhaled. Not lost. Just nerves.

But the formation was ragged. Dietz was drifting out of position and Langer had crept too far forward. Voss clicked his transmitter — short, sharp instructions. Hands steady. Eyes darting. It took two more minutes to tighten them up into proper spacing. He was sweating more than usual.

Get it together, Andreas.

The flak started as they neared the front lines — black bursts over rooftops, probing and hungry. Below, the Polish lines zigzagged through the fields: foxholes, trenches, and machine gun nests.

“Second Kette — attack pattern. Four fifties on the first pass. Follow me in.”

He nosed down into the dive.

A scream as the jericho trumpets sprang to life, old friends now, and the ground rushed up. He thumbed the release and watched the four 50kg bombs fall in sequence. One, two, three, four — stitched across the infantry line like a row of punctuation marks.

Impact. Earth and bodies flung upward. Craters tore through the defenses.

Langer and Dietz followed in turn — their own bomb lines bracketing the enemy. Smoke began to rise from the Polish position, and some of the tracer fire ceased.

That’ll do.

Climbing back into formation, Voss took a long look back toward the burning stretch of field.

The flight home was smooth. Uneventful. The chatter on the radio relaxed. No one shot at them.

Back at the strip, as the crews clambered out, Dietz gave a quick thumbs-up.

Voss returned it, slower — but it was real.

Maybe, he thought, I can do this after all.

--------

Game notes: 

First sortie as Kettenfuhrer so had to learn a few new rules for managing formations. Liked the additional decision points.

Inbound leg events: Navigation Check, which I only just passed. And a loss of formation, which required me to burn a card to get back into Vic formation to optimise the strike

Strike: I got a target destroyed outcome and so did my formation only damaged it, gaining me bonus VPs.

Stuka Ace: Poland Mission 4

Mission 4 — Field Fortifications near Włocławek

4 September 1939 “Now the Whole World Watches”

The news had spread in hushed tones that morning: France and Britain had declared war on Germany. No shock. Just confirmation of what they all suspected. Still, hearing it out loud — this was no longer a local conflict. This was now war on a continental scale.

Andreas Voss tried to ignore the weight of it. He focused instead on his Ju 87B, watching as the armorers loaded her with a mixed payload: four 50kg bombs under the wings, and one fat 250kg demolition bomb slung beneath her fuselage.

Ground crews rearm a Ju87 at a forward airfield, Poland 1939

Oblt. Adler gathered the Ketten airmen under a linden tree beside the operations tent. The day was already warm.

“Polish troops have dug in along a ridgeline outside Włocławek. Trenches. Bunkers. They’re slowing up the tanks. We hit them, hard.
Primary target: fortified gun positions on the ridge.
Secondary targets: infantry covering the defensive line and moving up to reinforce it.”

Then the kicker:

“This time, no second guessing. You see resistance? Break it.”

The Ju 87s roared off the field in staggered pairs, wheeling east into the sun. The sky was clean. Voss flew with his Kette confidently now, no longer untested.

As they approached the target zone, Milo called out from the rear seat:

“Column of Polish infantry, marching quick. Ten o’clock low.”

Voss dipped a wing to look. Dust kicked up behind boots. Dust kicked up behind marching boots. Forty, maybe fifty soldiers — heading to reinforce the ridge.

A crackle came over the radio - “Hit the infantry! Strafing runs only. Save the bombs for the main target”

He peeled off into a shallow dive. The MG17s in his wings barked, stitching the ground with tracer fire. The column scattered immediately — some diving into drainage ditches, others returning fire with rifles. Milo let off a long burst with his MG15 as they passed overhead.

Looking back, Voss saw a number of bodies lying broken on the road while others scattered - good enough. Onto the primary target

Climbing back to formation altitude, the Kette reformed for the main strike.

From above, the Polish fortifications looked crude, perhaps rushed, but well-placed — sandbags, timber bunkers, some camouflaged netting barely hiding gun pits.

On the heels of his leader, Voss dove down. Sirens screaming. Sky shaking.

He dropped the four 50kg bombs — watched them slam into the earthworks. Smoke. Debris. But the bunkers still stood. The machine gun position on the far right was still active, spitting tracers skyward.

“Target not destroyed" Milo advised 

"Standby to Reattack,” he replied, and Milo didn’t protest.

Voss climbed fast, looped wide, and set his Berta into another dive — steeper now, straighter. His thumb hovered over the 250kg bomb release. Awake now, AA fire reached up to him and Polish MGs began to spit.

He picked the central artillery position.

800 meters.
600.
500 — tracers zipped past.
Bomb gone.

He pulled hard — the Gs punched into his spine, Milo grunting behind him. The blast behind them was massive — a thunderclap and a bloom of black earth.

When they levelled, the artillery position was simply gone — only a smoking crater where once Polish gunners had fought.

Back at the strip, Adler met them with an unreadable face.

“Infantry scattered before they reached the ridge. The Panzers are rolling again. Bunkers are gone.”

He paused. Then, with a nod to Voss:

“That second pass was risky. But it got the job done. Just don’t make a habit of it”

Voss took off his gloves and sat in the shade behind his aircraft, drinking from his canteen.

The world was burning. But for today — he’d done his job.

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

That evening, as the sun dropped below the treeline and the buzz of the day's operations faded to the distant murmur of generators and muttered card games, Voss was crouched by Berta’s starboard wing, wiping oil streaks from her flaps with a rag more black than khaki. Nearby, Milo regaled the airfield fitters with some outrageous tale of a night in the red-light district of Hamburg.

Footsteps approached behind him — boots with purpose. He turned to see Oblt. Adler, still in his flight jacket, battered officer's cap on his head, cigarette clamped between his lips and burned nearly to the filter.

“Andreas,” Adler said flatly. “Walk with me.”

Voss stood, wiping his hands on his thighs, and fell in step beside him without a word.

They passed the perimeter of the bivouac in silence, the two of them walking beneath a broad Polish sky gone lavender with twilight. The field smelled of crushed grass, petrol, and cooked tin-ration pork.

Finally, Adler exhaled smoke and spoke.

“We lost three birds in the last forty-eight hours. Two crews with them. Third's grounded — flak damage wrecked the undercarriage. Command’s shifting the Staffel structure to cover it.”

He glanced sidelong at Voss. “You’ll take over as Kettenführer. You’ll lead Second Kette, effective tomorrow.”

Voss blinked. “I—”

“You’ve earned it,” Adler cut in. “Your flying’s tight, your decisions sound. You kept your head in the dive. You’ve shown you can think on your own and act without waiting for orders.”

Adler stopped walking, looking out across the darkening fields.

“It’s not a medal, Leutnant. It’s a burden. You’ll be leading two aircraft now. That means five lives in addition to yours — lives that might go in front of you, behind you, into the ground because you told them to.”

He met Voss’ eyes.

“Don’t forget that.”

Voss swallowed, throat dry. “No, sir.”

Adler nodded once, the briefest of gestures.

He flicked the cigarette stub into the dirt.

“Briefing at 0430. Get some sleep, Kettenführer.”

And with that, Adler turned and walked back toward the glow of campfires and the battered silhouettes of their resting Stukas.

Voss stood for a while, the weight of new responsibility settling on his shoulders like a second flight harness.

He didn’t sleep well.

------

Game Notes

Earned 5VPs, taking me to a total of 17. Spent 15 of them on upgrading my hand to 6 cards - I think that should give me more flexibility at this stage, rather than just getting a specific skill

EDIT - Also realised that I should have upgraded to Kitte Leader for this mission. Oh well - will do that for the next sortie

Air & Space Museum, Washington DC

Last week I had the chance to spend a few hours at the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum in Washington DC. I’ve been previously but not for a decade. Lots of renovation currently underway so only about half the exhibits are available, but the sensational Space exhibits were all on show.

The Crown Jewels of the exhibit are of course the Freedom 7, Gemini 7, and Apollo 11 capsules

Freedom 7 was the first US manned flight of the Mercury program, lofted by an Army Redstone rocket. On 5 May 61 Alan Shepard made a 15minute sub-orbital flight in this capsule. Interestingly, Alan named the ship, starting the NASA tradition.

I've previously seen this capsule in 2008 displayed at Annapolis Naval Academy (Alan Shepard being a distinguished alumnus) but it has relocated to be part of this historic collection .

Gemini 7 which took astronaughts Frank Borman and Jim Lovell aloft for a 14 day endurance test in December 1965. 

The critical aspect of the mission was to demonstrate the ability to conduct orbital dockings, which it did with Gemoni 6- this was a crucial enabler for the Apollo Missions

The historic Apollo 11 Command Module CM-107 Columbia

Cockpit layout for context, from the Smithsonian Institute

And the flight suit of Astronaut Michael Collins, in my mind a broadly unsung hero of the Mission. in his 2001 biography he wrote " "I am alone now, truly alone, and absolutely isolated from any known life, I am it. If a count were taken, the score would be three billion plus two over on the other side of the moon, and one plus God knows what on this side."

Joining these incredible artefacts, and new for me ,was Neil Armstrong’s space suit that walked on the moon in 1969. Having suffered over the years with degradation of its rubber seals and other components, it has been extensively restored over many years and is now on show in a sealed, climate controlled environment right next to the Apollo 11 command capsule.

Nearby, I thought this depiction of the different Moon race rocket systems was very interesting to depict the scale and power increases acheived.

From right to left in historical order: Army Redstone (early sub-orbital Mercury Missions - height 25m/83ft) , Mercury Atlas (Mercury orbital flights - 29m/95ft), Gemini Titan II (Gemini missions - 33m/108ft), Apollo Saturn 1B with 2 stages (Apollo 7, Sky’s 2,3,4, Apollo-Soyuz Test Project - 67m/225ft) and of course the mighty 3 stage Saturn V (Apollo 8-17, Skylab Orbital Workshop), 111m/363ft). The latter is quite something to behold in real life: there are a couple still in existence, including at Kenney Space Centre, Cape Canaveral.

As ever standing next to an R1 engine from a Saturn V rocket is impressive. It would be interesting to see a side by side with a SpaceX Raptor engine. 

This specific Lunar Rover ( technically it was called a "Lunar Roving Vehicle”) was the test and qualification one used by astronauts in training. It was transported in a folded configuration, unpacked on the surface, and left on the surface at the end of the mission. Note that it is controlled with a hand controlled rather than a steering wheel.

I also spent a bit of time looking at the early satellite and probes including Mariner and the Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter (LRO). LRO has helped mapped the moon’s surface with high res imagery since 2009.

A most uplifting couple of hours, which also reminded me of seeing the Soviet LK-3 luna lander (the Roscosmos equivalent of the Apollo LEM) and Lunakhod rover, during their temporary London exhibition "Cosmonauts" in 2015.

Midguard Troy

Recently I had a quick work trip back to Oz and caught up with a few of the lads when club mate Gav treated me to a demo game of Midguard, set in the Trojan Wars era.

Patroclus challenges Glaucos!

Really enjoyed the rules and the way that heroes are at the forefront of decision making. Their inspiration (or lack of) can make decisive impact both immediately overall to Force morale.  Particularly apt for Homeric warfare but equally at home in Dark or Middle Ages.

Ajax the Mighty surveils the field!

Sarpedon and his Lycan Warriors

6 players with lots of figs and the game system didnt struggle 

Interesting to see mechanics from many sets of rules (like 

Lion Rampant and SAGA) which meant these felt rather familiar

Greek and Trojan Chariots and light Cavalry clash on the flank

Definitely want to play these rules again!

Stuka Ace: Poland Mission 3

Forward Operating Field — Near Grudziądz, September 2, 1939

By the time the sun broke through the September mist, Leutnant Andreas Voss had already sweated through his flight suit. His squadron — battered, half-deaf from yesterday’s sorties, and reeking of fuel and gun oil — had received orders to relocate east, closer to the front.

The panzers were rolling fast, and the Stukas had to keep pace. And then the logistics train had to keep pace with them. Inevitably, the fuel supplies, bomb trucks, spare parts, and the myriad of other support equipment, including their field kitchen, were scattered in a line behind them somewhere, mixed up with the other tendrils of the advancing army.

Their new “airfield” was a patch of farmland near Grudziądz — hastily flattened, marked with white linen strips, and just dry enough to land on without swallowing a landing gear whole. A few canvas tents, a single radio truck, a fuel bowser already leaking. That was it.

Voss' eyes were on the field hospital tent already going up across the way. The sight of stretchers being offloaded from trucks sent a chill through him.

---

They had maybe an hour on the ground after moving up. Mechanics scrambled to refuel the birds while pilots pissed in bushes, inhaled cold sausages from ration tins, and tried to rest their eyes for even five minutes. The air reeked of smoke, oil, and metal.

Oblt. Adler stood over a map stretched across the hood of a staff car, his cap off, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and grime. He barked a few instructions to the crew crew chiefs, then waved the pilots over. He tapped the map sharply with a grease-blackened finger.

“Polish units are falling back toward the Vistula crossings. We're to hit one near Świecie this afternoon. Another bridge - this time we destroy it to trap the Poles on this side where Guderian can finish them off. Expect flak.”

He gave his pilots a quick glance as he passed over the aerial photos.

            "Go for the center span. No delays. No second passes.” 

Afterwards, Voss leaned against Berta’s wing under the camo net and chewed his lip. He wasn’t tired — not yet — but his bones had started to feel it. Like the adrenaline could only carry him so far before the crash came. He was used to flying but not with this intensity, and he wouldn't be the weak point of the Staffel.  Knowing the G forces he needed to pull soon, he skipped lunch and had cold coffee while he studied the aerial photos again.  Next to him a single 500kg bomb was being loaded— nothing fancy this time, this was a brute-force demolition task.

JU87 B-1 of StG2 camouflaged at an airstrip in Poland, Sep 39

Mission 3.  Afternoon Strike — Near Świecie, 2 September 1939

The Stukas lifted off after midday into clear skies. The initial nerves of their first day of combat behind them, Voss and his wing mates slipped quickly and easily into a textbook formation.* The skies remained empty of friend and foe alike, almost like another training exercise. A band of cloud build up at low altitude, and their Kette went over them to obscure them from ground observers and hopefully throw any expected FLAK off.**

Then, through a gap in the clouds, Voss saw their target. A big, dual lane bridge of steel construction and multiple pylons***. It would take quite a beating before it dropped, and Voss wanted to be the one to do it.

Following his Kette Leader to the target, winged over in sequence and started screaming down onto the bridge, centre span in his reticle. He had one shot to get this right.

Some FLAK reach up toward them - it was light but accurate and he felt some of the effects jostling him around, making his dive a little erratic. Refocusing, he corrected and sank into his dive, sirens screaming as the Poles beneath him scattered in terror. 

400feet, he ignored a Polish truck frozen on the bridge below, possibly trying to flee across, 350 feet, 300...

"Pull Up Voss!" Adler ordered over the radio

Voss toggled the bomb release and felt the sudden weightlessness as the 500kg payload left the belly of the plane.

Pull up. Pull up. He jabbed his control stick as deeply into his belly as he could. He could hear Milo grunting behind up and the Gees built.

Then — crump!
The blast behind him lit the horizon.

Milo whooped into the intercom. “Direct hit! You split the bloody thing in half!”

Voss's face split in half too, as he smiled fiercely. The trip home was uneventful, almost routine, after that.

Sochaczew Bridge during the German invasion of Poland, 1939. 

--------

Adler was angry. He paced in front of them, map rolled under one arm, flying goggles pushed up into a matted tangle of blond hair. His voice carried without needing to shout.

“Świecie was a success. Bridge destroyed. Confirmed by reconnaissance. Guderian’s spearhead crossed the river two hours later — unopposed. That’s on us.”

A small pause, his eyes scanning the group. They were young, even for this war. Some still had that first-mission shine in their eyes. Others — like Voss — were shedding it fast.

He continued.

“Leutnant Voss.”

Andreas straightened, boots clicking.

“You hit the center span. Exactly as ordered. I saw the blast from altitude. You made the bridge impassable — textbook work.”

A few of the others clapped him on the shoulder, Milo gave him a grin that could split concrete.

“But—” Adler stepped closer, voice low but unmistakably firm. “You were a second late on your pull. I know the flak was tight. I know the temptation to ride it in. But you pull late, and the man behind you might never get a clear run. Or worse — he runs out of sky before he can deliver his own strike. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Herr Oberleutnant,” Voss said quietly.

Adler nodded once, satisfied. No berating, no humiliation — just a statement of fact, and a truth earned in blood before Spain and reinforced now in Poland.

He turned back to the group.

“You're flying well. All of you. But remember — the bridge doesn't matter if we don't make it back. None of this matters if you don't fly smart and disciplined. That was the difference between dead men and survivors in Spain, and it'll be the same here.”

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

*Perfect Formation event - additional action card

** Worsening Weather event

*** Bridge -1#HIT

**** FLAK value 0 but #AAFire was a 6, giving  a -1 to release.

I had a good hand of action cards this time, including an extra one from the PERFECT FORMATION on approach. One of those was a +3 for Pull up, so I felt daring and went for the lowest Pullup to maximise the chances of taking out the target with the single 500kg bomb. I also through some extra Stamina into the Release. The results speak for themselves but I didnt have much left for any Targets of Opportunity.

Getting a bit of a false sense of security without any any enemy fighters around. Yet...

Victory Points

    Target destroyed (Bridge) + 4 VPs

    Cumulative VP total: 12

Prestige Points): 1

PS Next instalment will be delayed due to work travel- sorry!