Stuka Ace: Mission 5

24 May 1940

Siege of Calais, France

The trap had closed 2 days before.

The medieval city of Calais — one of the last functioning ports between Boulogne and Dunkirk — was now surrounded by 10. Panzer-Division who had sprinted to the sea all the way from Sedan. They had shut the jaws around a potent Allied garrison: a full brigade of British infantry, tanks from the Royal Tank Regiment, and remnants of Dutch, Belgian, and French units retreating from the onrushing tide of the Wehrmacht. The city was sealed tight. But like any cornered beast, it was fighting back.

From the forward airfield, Voss could see smoke drifting from the Channel horizon — the black scars of naval bombardment and burning warehouses. Coastal artillery duelled with Royal Navy destroyers that darted into the harbor like wolves, snatching away soldiers under the cover of night.

Hauptmann Adler laid it out coldly in the early briefing:

“The British are evacuating by sea. If we don’t stop them now, they’ll fight us again somewhere else, maybe in England. We are going after the harbor piers and facilities, where Royal Navy motor launches and smaller vessels were trying to evacuate men. Stop them. 

And be alert for the RAF - the are particularly aggressive in their defence of the Allied soldiers.  Me109s from JG26 will provide top cover but they cant be everywhere.”

The devastation of Calais, 1940

Voss and Mil were accelerating down the makeshift grass strip when the Berta jolted hard — a punishing lurch to the left as the undercarriage slammed into an unseen rut. The airframe groaned.

“Scheiße. Something’s not right,” Voss muttered, hands tense on the stick.

Behind him, Milo let out a sharp breath. “That wasn’t just a bump.”

The Stuka staggered into the air, tail-heavy and stubborn in the climb.

A low-frequency vibration settled in as they levelled out — not enough to abort, not yet. But the engine had been running ragged since the Montcornet strikes. Coughing on start-up, minor fuel pressure dips, the sort of things that in peacetime would’ve grounded a kite for a thorough inspection. Now, they patched what they could between sorties and hoped for the best.

No deep maintenance. No time.

Even the ground crews looked like ghosts — oil-streaked, red-eyed, grabbing sleep in between engine swaps and fuel loads and relocating to the next improvised strip. 

Every hour was a mission. Every mission was vital. And Voss — well, Voss was starting to feel it.

His fingers ached. Not from injury, but from clenching too long, too often. His shoulders were tight from flying against wind shear, counter-flak evasion and 6g pullouts from bomb dives. Even his boots felt heavier than usual.

Fatigue. The kind that sits deep in the muscles. Deeper in the soul.

He forced his mind back to the task. Calais again. More ships in the harbor. More guns. More flak.

“We’re running her hard, Milo,” Voss said over the intercom, trying to shake the sluggish engine note from his mind.

“She’ll get us home, sir,” Milo replied, but even his voice lacked conviction. “She always has.”

Voss nodded to no one, watching the Channel horizon appear. The enemy FLAK opened up and he saw their Me109 escorts gain altitude to get away from the AA fire.

Attack Run on the Docks

The Channel wind was stiff with salt and smoke as Voss's Kette broke cloud cover and came upon the Calais harbour below. What he saw was an industrial theatre of desperation — ships docked bow-first, cranes swinging wildly, lorries being reversed up ramps, soldiers scrambling down gangways under shouted orders. British officers trying to restore order to a retreat.

Voss opened his radio channel “Targets visual — ships loading at the quay, far side of the basin. Attack runs in sequence. Standard pull-out, no low passes. Too many masts.”

The masts — that was no exaggeration. The harbour looked like a porcupine — forested with the spindly silhouettes of transports, trawlers, corvettes, fishing boats. And above them, a thousand damned seagulls wheeled in shrieking chaos. A birdstrike in a dive would make him crash as surely as a Flak burst would.

He winged over, pushed down the nose and began his dive down.

The Stuka whined as it tipped, siren keening above the engine’s strained note. Below, columns of men scattered — some ducked, some froze. The seaguills seemed to scatter too. Voss picked his target — a large British transport loading vehicles. Bombsight steady. Wind cross-checked.

“Bombs away — now!”

Four 50-kilogram bombs peeled off and streaked down. Voss yanked the stick back, throttling up and feeling the frame resist, then obey. The Berta screamed upward, clearing the mast forests.

Behind him, thunder. A ship’s stern erupted in fire and black smoke. One of his bombs had found a magazine or a fuel truck — it didn’t matter which. The result was devastating.

He swung around to watch the others.

His Kette came in one after another — disciplined, steady. Their training and recent weeks of experience clear. No one panicked, no one pulled too early. One strike cracked the quay edge, flipping a lorry like a toy. Another splashed squarely amid a cluster of evacuees, forcing a corvette to sheer off its moorings.

It was brutal. It was clean. No wasted ordnance. No missed targets.

“Directs across the line,” Milo reported in his usual detachment. “You got the big one, sir. She’s done.”

Voss exhaled, adrenaline spiking as they banked out over the Channel, the sky clearer now — no enemy fighters, no new flak.

“Good work comrades,” he said simply, clicking to the rest of the Kette. “Lets go home"

He didn’t need to say more and the Kette turned inland. Behind them, Calais burned and the Royal Navy’s withdrawal stumbled.

The Defence of Calaise, by Terence Cuneo

Depicting members of the 1st battalion The Rifle brigade in the defence of Calais in 1940 during which for four days they held off the repeated attacks of German tanks and infantry thus facilitating the successful evacuation of the British Expeditionary Force from the beaches of Dunkirk

Then it all went wrong.

Over Calais – Moments After the Strike

They were 5 miles inland leaving the burning waterfront behind, when the sky shattered.

“Achtung! Spitfire! Six o’clock high!”

Milo’s voice cracked through the intercom just as the first .303 tracers zipped past Voss’s canopy. The British fighters — Spitfires or Hurricanes, too fast to tell yet — came screaming down like executioners, sun flashing off their wings.

“Break! Break now!” Voss barked into the mic.

The tight Vic formation scattered. His Kette peeled away in separate spirals, but it was already too late for Schmidt off his port wing. As he watched, a burst of machine gun fire stitched along the other Ju 87’s fuselage. The aircraft burst into fire mid-roll, nosing down in a sickening spiral. No parachutes

“Schmidt’s hit! Going down!”

Voss’s heart pounded, mouth dry. He juked left, pulling every inch the airframe could handle. Behind him, Milo engaged the closest RAF fighter with short bursts, then a shouted curse.

“Another jam! Gottverdammt—!”

A shadow streaked overhead — fast, black, angled. The howl of a Messerschmitt diving down to engage the British.

But the tide didn’t turn fast enough. above and to his right, Voss saw Ebeling’s machine — his other Kette wingman — trying to dive away low. A Spitfire was on him like a wolf. Ebeling jinked, wobbled, levelled out...and caught a wingtip on the edge of a rooftop trying to ditch — and disintegrated.

“Ebeling’s down! Mein Gott…”

Voss’s mind burned with helpless fury and frustration.

He throttled up. The Berta’s wounded engine protested, but she still flew.

Two 109s slashed into the furball, fending off the remaining RAF attackers. One of the Messerschmitts took a hard hit to the oil line — smoke pouring as it limped west, nose dipped low.

“Stuka flight, you’re clear — RTB, RTB,” advised the Messerschmidt flight leader in a clipped voice through static.

Voss didn’t answer. He finally pulled away, altitude dropping, eyes behind and ahead at once. No sign of pursuit. Milo was pale, face tight.

“They came for blood,” the gunner said quietly.

“And they got it,” Voss replied, equally quiet. “They got it.”

Debriefing – Evening, 23 May

That night, with the low hum of engines still buzzing in his skull, Voss sat with Milo by the aircraft, watching mechanics patch holes and tinker under the engine cowling.

“The city’s going to fall,” Milo muttered. “Not tonight. But it’s bleeding.”

Voss nodded. His own voice was distant, hollow. He thought of the thousands trapped in Calais — infantry holding ruined streets, tank crews firing into flames, sailors pulling soldiers from piers under falling bombs.

The British were brave. But this was war — and in war, mercy came in briefest moments, if at all.

“It has to fall,” Voss finally said quietly, thinking about the four letters he had to write to four grieving mothers

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Royal Air Force – Operational Record Book (ORB)

No. 501 Squadron (Fighter Command)
Date: 23 May 1940
Location: Detachment at Saint-Inglevert Advanced Landing Ground, Pas-de-Calais
Aircraft: Hawker Hurricane Mk I
Weather: Broken cloud with intermittent haze; visibility moderate to good; wind SW, light

Summary of Events:

0645 hrs: Received notice via Fighter Command that Calais was under heavy aerial bombardment. RN evac operations observed under pressure; German dive-bombers were striking the port with precision. Army liaison signalled urgent request for air cover over the evacuation zone.

0700 hrs: Two sections scrambled under emergency orders to intercept Stuka formations reported inbound on the Calais sector. Aircraft airborne from Saint-Inglevert at 0703 hrs.

Contact established at 0751 hrs approximately 5 miles south of Calais. Sighted 3 x Ju 87s egressing post dive sequence over the harbour waterfront. 4–5 Messerschmitt 109s flying above in CAP position.

Engagement details:

F/Lt. Simmonds led the Blue Section directly into the Stukas during egress; successful firing pass observed, one Ju 87 seen to catch fire and spiral into the Channel.  Second Ju 87 shot down by F/Sgt. Grady. Both kills confirmed by ground observers.

P/O Lacey of Red Section engaged Bf 109s. Reported damage inflicted on one Messerschmitt, though Lacey’s own aircraft sustained radiator puncture and returned leaking.

Losses:

Own: 1 Hurricane (P/O Thompson) force-landed west of Calais after light damage to ailerons; pilot safe.

Enemy: 2 Ju 87 confirmed destroyed; 1 Bf 109 damaged

Ground reports indicate multiple direct hits on the docks and troop embarkation zones from enemy bombs. 1 fuel lorry and several transport vehicles destroyed.

Assessment:

Stuka activity was concentrated and well-disciplined. Escorting 109s aggressive but engaged late. Reports from naval signals suggest at least two transport ships damaged/sinking at quay, though evacuation continued. Troop morale remains steady despite bombardment.

Operational Tempo:
Pilots flying multiple sorties per day. Aircraft maintenance stretched. Request made for additional spares and relief crews.

Signed:
S/Ldr. John W. Holden
OC No. 501 Sqn
23 May 1940 – Saint-Inglevert

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Game Notes

WOW - this was my first dogfight and it was BRUTAL. And it felt very thematic that my fighter coverage had just been degraded by AA fire when the Spitfires rolled in! At first the mechanics felt weird - I managed my evade roll, but my wingmen didn't and they kept being depleted by Enemy fighters, as did my own fighter cover. Eventually I made the Formation Evade roll to end the dogfight.  

So it felt weird watching my guys get chopped up and not being able to to intervene at all. In fact, it similar to doing you own dive bomb attack: squeezing every + and minimising every - to get maximum impact on the target. And then watching helplessly as your wingmen fluff theirs. I'm sure that is a realistic feeling for flight leads watching their squadron mates get shot down and being ineffective.

The diverting rabbit hole then, is that these rules don't reflect different categories of wingmen - Rookies, Experienced, Vets etc, in being calculating their effectiveness either in the attack or in the air. As aspect to think about.

Finally, this mission was adjusted from one of the Missions in the France Campaign to suit this historically - changing out the target type and making the enemy fighter presence 4+ instead of 6+ . Very easy to do and felt right.

As an aside, the rules don't mention wingman losses, instead tracking 'formation efficiency' - I decided to interpret this as combat losses, which is why the narrative is written that way.

One more mission to play in my French Campaign - Dunkirk!

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Mission 1 with substitute of Docked Ships target (with AA=0) to reflect scenario - not usually available

Enemy Presence adjusted to 4+ to reflect RAF efforts to protect the Calais Pocket, and retaining Support Fighters 2

Take Off Damage - structural damage

Clear Weather / High Alt/ VIC form

Approach

1. engine not working - nothing significant

2. terrain check + 1 stamina

3. close call - 1stamina (fatigue)

Target

Searching - FLAK - Fighters-1

Target - Mdm profile

DIVE 2+1+3=6   AA=3 REL 2+4+6 HIT 10+1-1 = DEST PULLUP 2+6=8

FORMATT 3+6-1=8 DEST

Back to VIC

Return
1. enemy contact!!! Dogfight Enemy Fighter 1 Squadron Support1

EVADE 3+5 = success

FORM EVADE 1 =Formation efficiency reduced by 1 (=kette Ju 87 shot down?)

FIGHTER - Fr-1

FORM EVADE 1 = Formation efficiency reduced by 1 (=kette Ju 87 shot down?)

FIGHTER No effect

FORM EVADE = end of dogfight

Land - NSTR

VP 4+1=5

My first DogFight! Very thematic and I equated the losses in formation efficiency as Ju 87s being shot down (which was par for the course in Calais and Dunkirk)