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.
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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
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