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 engaged with the commander and not 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.”
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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 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 to the new threat.
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 taank 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 the fight for the day.
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 Feldweber Habel - the crewman 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 low sun, cloud and the pall of smoke that now hung over the island of 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 gunner something else to shoot at for awhile instead of Ju52s -Voss saw at least a 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 down near Heraklion. More unaccounted for. We've still got paras landing without air cover. It's a goddamn 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 remember Witzig - 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 and waved him away.
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 General Ringel’s HQ. They’re requesting a status update on the evening 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. Stukas will 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, 2 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
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Land & refuel - launch with 6 cards, 4 stamina
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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!
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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
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