The Man Cave: Stuka Ace: France Mission 3

08 June 2025

Stuka Ace: France Mission 3

Mission 3 — “Break the Line”

13 May 1940 — Strike on Sedan Defensive Positions

Target: French artillery and fortified infantry along the Meuse River

The stink of engine oil and scorched powder still clung to Voss’s flight suit as he stepped into the briefing tent at the new airfield. At Dawn that morning the Gruppe had relocated to a forward airstrip at St Trond in Belgium - occupied Belgium - Voss corrected himself. Being that much closer to the front would give them additional flexibility.

A Ju 86B-1 of StG 2 rests in a temporary assembly area in St Trond, Belgium

His arms were stiff, fingers raw from a repeated bomb releases, high G pull-ups and hard landings in previous days. Hannut had been a trial by fire — smoking French vehicles, fields cratered, and forests littered with twisted hulls. But the French had pulled back, leaving their dead and over a hundred tank wrecks on the field. The Panzertruppen had lost more vehicles but were now recovering them and getting them back into action.

But today was different. He felt it the second he saw the maps. Not Belgium. France. The Ardennes. The Meuse. Sedan.

Adler stood by the mapboard with a mug in hand, already mid-sentence when Voss entered. His voice was calm, but clipped — energised.

"Guderian reached the Meuse two days ago. Days ahead of schedule, naturally. Yesterday, the French finally woke up — too late. They're shifting divisions but their main line is still forming. And while von Rundstedt’s got 41,000 vehicles with him, they’re choking on those forest roads. Traffic jams twenty kilometers long!"

He turned and jabbed a finger at a red-circled portion of the map — Sedan.

"Today, we punch through the line where it matters most. The Schwerpunkt will hit with no less than three Panzer Divisions and we will be right there with them. We go to the Meuse. We go to Sedan. Likely targets are defensive infantry and artillery positions but standby for the Air Controllers to call you in as needed."

Adler cracked a grin. “Your Fathers were there in the last war, and your Grandfathers gave the French a pasting there in 1870 too. Lets go make it German once again!"

13 May 1940 — Sedan Sector, Meuse River
Target: French Infantry & Artillery near the River Crossings

Clear skies stretched above like polished glass — a rare gift. Voss buttoned the last clasp on his flight harness, the morning already warming into the promise of a hot day. He took a deep breath. Today would matter.

Formation was tight — a clean Vic at high altitude, the three Ju 87s climbing smoothly into the blue. Below them, the forests of the Ardennes rolled like a dark sea. Somewhere down there, von Rundstedt’s spearhead — tens of thousands of vehicles — was still fighting to unclog the traffic jams of steel and rubber. But further west, Guderian had crossed the Meuse - amazing!

And the French had finally noticed.

Reports crackled over the wireless as they moved toward the target area. Enemy fighters sighted. Their escort peeled off swiftly — 109s banking away to meet the threat head-on, outside the flak corridor.

That left them alone, but Voss trusted the Kette. They were honed now, sharpened across Hannut and the canal. He’d seen them perform under fire and today he would lead them again.

Halfway to the objective, Milo leaned forward and tapped the canopy. A dust trail below — movement. A column of trucks and infantry bunched together in a makeshift laager beside a grove. Voss saw the telltale blue uniforms of the French Army; a Target of opportunity. Voss keyed the mic:

“New target. Strafing run. Prepare to break formation.”

He nosed down sharply and lined up on the rear of the position. Their .30s and rifles opened up — harmless. Voss’s Stuka screamed low, and he opened up with his wing mounted MGs. Tracers connected his Berta to the running men. Dust kicked up and bodies toppled.

Behind him, the rest of the Kette rolled in with surgical precision. One truck turned into a fireball. An anti-tank gun limbered beside a tree burst apart like kindling.

They pulled up, clean and calm. Not a scratch.

Back into the climb.Voss checked his map — the real target lay just beyond. No time to get back into formation.

The French infantry had dug in along the Meuse, stiffening the line against Guderian’s assault. Riflemen and machine gunners lined the slopes leading down to the river.

Then came the flak.

As they crossed into range, the French opened up. Heavy batteries — well-sighted — began peppering the sky with black clouds. Tracers stitched past his wing. Milo cursed behind him as the aircraft shook.

No time to think. “Tighten up. Begin the run.”

At 3,000 meters, Voss rolled inverted and began the dive. The Meuse sparkled below, the French positions clear against the scrubby embankments. He aimed for a cluster of foxholes just in front of the ridgeline. The scream of the Jericho Trumpets kicked in — that unholy sound that tore into the nerves of everyone below.

Lower - Lower - Lower again - Bombs away!

The four 50kg bombs tumbled straight down and struck with a bone-jarring detonation. Earth and men vanished in a single pulse. He pulled up hard, G-forces crushing his chest, teeth gritted.

The Kette followed in clean succession. One, two — all bombs on target! The infantry position was wiped from the hill. Resistance collapsed into smoke.

Mission success.

But fate had one more test once they returned home

The forward airfield near Bouillon had taken damage the day before and was now little more than a widened strip of clay and gravel. As Voss came in, the approach felt steady. But just as his wheels touched, the right strut slammed into a hidden rut. The Ju 87 kicked to the left violently.

He yanked the stick to correct — Milo shouted. For a moment, they skidded sideways, then the gear caught again and bounced them back on axis.

They stopped in a cloud of dust. The engine stuttered. A mechanic sprinted over, eyes wide.

“You crack a tooth back there?” Milo joked as they climbed out.

Voss gave a short laugh, his boots crunching dry gravel.
“No. But we cracked the gear strut at the least. Tell the Hauptfeldwebel she’ll need some love

Behind them, the rest of the Kette landed cleanly. They had struck hard — again. Another spear thrust to clear the way for the Panzers.