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.

Junkers Ju 87B Stuka 5.StG2 (T6+GN) 02

Game Notes

Mission1 - Infantry Position ( 4 x 50kgs)

Takeoff NSTR - HIGH ALT / VIC / Clear Wx

Approach

1 enemy contact - Nil 

2 Opp Target: Infantry. Commit to Gun strafe attack, retaining bombs for Primary

   StrAfe Dive 3= fail, AA No Effect, Strafe 5+2-1=6 DESTROYED!

   FORM ATT = 6 DEST

  FORM NOW LOOSE - no cards to fix before main attack...

3. AA Defences. Fighter Sqn support reduced by 1 (now 1)

Target

Searching FLAK Attack 6 = Fighter Sqn support reduced by 1 (now 0)

Target Reached: Lowest REL height 

DIVE 7, AA Fire nil, BOMB REL 6+3 = 9, Hit =10 DEST, PullUP 8-3 = 5

FORMATT 6+3+0-1=8 DEST

Return

1. Nil

Land 11 - 2 structural damage.

Stuka Ace: France Mission 2

Mission 2 — "Steel and Fire at Hannut"

12 May 1940 — Battle of Hannut Begins

Junkers Ju 87B Stuka II.StG2 (T6+xx) France 1940-01

The canvas of the operations tent flapped gently in the early morning breeze. The last 2 days had seen the Staffel running continuous operations in daylight hours, and maintenance and briefings before and after. The teams were tired but exuberant. 

The Belgians were collapsing and the French and British were very slow in reacting to the German invasion. Voss turned his attention from his fellow pilots to ObLt Adler as he walked into the tent  

"Good news, men—" Adler began, and the mood shifted instantly. Good news didn’t always mean safe news, but it meant progress.

The whole tent seemed to lean forward when Adler spoke of the 3rd and 4th Panzer Divisions advancing toward Brussels, and the French racing to meet them with their finest armored units. The names alone—S35s, Panhards—meant trouble. But trouble was also what the Stukas were built for.

"Fifteen hundred fighting vehicles on the field at the same time... the largest tank battle in history," Adler intoned with relish. The aircrew murmured—nervous, excited. This was history unfolding, and they had front-row seats with dive brakes and bombs. And given that this whole Northern front was a German feint, it meant that the French were falling for the deception.

Voss made eye contact with Milo across the tent. The gunner gave a half-smile and raised an eyebrow along with a steaming mug of kafe. Another big one. He didn’t need to say it aloud.

Adler’s final words brought it all home.

"Another busy day in the air—StG 77 is in the area as well, Heinkels will be smashing rear columns, and fighter cover will be tight. Our job is at the front line—slow the French advance down and give our boys room to manoeuvre. As usual*, we ignore the tanks - they move too fast to be effective targets. Focus on the infantry trucks and artillery parks. Smash those and their tanks will be isolated, and our Panzers will mop up. Good Hunting!"

(* this was Luftwaffe doctrine early in the war, Stukas went after less mobile targets and typically didn't engage tanks)

Maps were folded. Watches checked. Briefings concluded. The adrenaline buzz returned.

a rather remarkable shot of 500kg bomb immediately after release during a dive

---------

12 Mai 1940
Forward Airfield, Belgium
Feldpost 31729 B

Lieber Vater,

Grüß Gott - I can't tell you where I am of course, but I am well. I can tell you this much: today we gave the French a good kick in the trousers.

We took off just after dawn with Oberleutnant Voss leading our Kette. You’d like him, Vater. He’s sharp as a blade and flies like he’s part of the aircraft. Steady hands, clear voice, no nonsense. Reminds me of you yelling at me in the barn to keep my shoulders square with the beam. Except now the “beams” are columns of French trucks.

The mission went clean, with Voss's eyes glued to the map to make sure we got to the target quickly. Our Fighter cover glory-boys peeled off early to deal with some French planes reported to the South, but they left us a clear sky. We found our target soon enough - a convoy of infantry support trucks strung out in a lane near Hannut. Voss took us in low, real low, and we dumped our eggs right into the middle of them. I saw two trucks go up like kindling. One of them must have had fuel in the back — the fireball looked like the barn on fire when lightning struck the roof that summer. You remember that, right? Uncle Matthias never forgave the cow.

No flak, no fighters, and not even a radio jam. Just clean work and straight flying. Almost felt unfair. We were back before the coffee got cold — well, if you can call this black mud "coffee." Voss let me log the radio intercepts myself. Said I had “good instincts.” I’ll try not to let that go to my head.

The other boys in the Staffel are in good spirits tonight. Some of the older guys are even smiling — rare sight, that. We’re expecting to be up again tomorrow. Big things are happening. The officers are tense in that way that says they know more than we do.

Tell Mutter not to worry. My gear’s holding up, and my prayers are longer now than they were in training. The sky still belongs to the Luftwaffe. I miss the church bells on Sundays. All we get here are sirens and engines.

With love and mud,

Dein Sohn,
Milo

-------

Game Notes

Mission4 - Trucks (4 x 50kg)

Takeoff - NSTR- VIC/High ALT, Clear 2

Approach

1. Enemy Contract- Nil, NAVCHECK = pass

2. Fighter cover in dogfight

Searching x1 - NSTR

Target Identified

Lowest Approach: Dive 6 AA nil, REL = 7,  HIT = 8 DESTROYED

PULLUP: 2+2+6=10-3=7

FORMATTK = 9 DESTROYED

Return

1. Nil

Land NSTR

VPs 3+1=4. Really nailed that target! Lack of enemy fighters lets me prioritise my cards for the bomb run

Stuka Ace: France Mission 1

10 May 1940 — Invasion of the West Begins 

"Soldiers of the West Front! The battle which is beginning today 

will decide the fate of the German nation for the next thousand years!"

- Fuhrer Order of the Day, 10 May 1940

Target:  Field Fortifications near Albert Canal bridges, Belgium

The night had been cut short by the clatter of truck engines and shouted orders. Before the sun rose, Voss and his Kette were already seated on ammunition crates, sipping dark, bitter kafe. The wait had ended. Fall Gelb was here.

The sky lightened to a pale steel as briefing officers scrawled last-minute updates on target boards. Hauptmann Enneccerus addressed the Gruppe crisply, voice raised over the thrum of engines warming up outside.

“Our objective: artillery batteries guarding approaches to the Albert Canal. They are positioned to shell any attempts to seize the bridges intact. "They must be silent before the first parachute touches ground at Eben-Emael.

And 6th Army needs the bridges for their Panzers to cross. The good news is that our first wave of bombers caught a lot of the Belgian and Dutch aircraft on the ground this morning, so the air threat is reduced. But NOT zero - keep your eyes peeled!"

There was no time to dwell. Crews moved fast. Voss climbed into his Ju 87B, his eyes flicking to the heavy 250kg bomb beneath the fuselage and the four 50kg bombs under the wings. He gave Milo a nod. The gunner smacked the rear of the cockpit twice. Ready.

Startup was routine. The three Ju87s of Kette 2 were airborne in minutes and formed up quickly into a Vic formation

As they proceeded to High Altitude for the approach, the airspace over Belgium was alive with motion. Not just Stukas but entire formations of Ju 52 transport aircraft, lumbering east to west in staggered flights, towing gliders or packed with Fallschirmjäger. Some were already dropping into the mist below. Others flew dangerously close to the treetops, searching for their assigned landing zones. Messerschmitt fighters lurked overhead, covering them.

It was Chaotic. Dangerous. Exhilarating.

Fall Gelb Luftwaffe Junkers Ju 87B Stuka dive bombers in formation after a raid 1940 

He was focused, scanning the skies, maintaining spacing, and following his map. At one point he thought he saw enemy fighters above them, then realised they were Messerschmidt fighters providing them top cover. He waggled his wings at them.

The weather worsened, the clouds closing in around them. “Maintain formation!” Voss barked into the radio. His Kette was straining to stay tight as they entered the cloud banks

Stukas from another Gruppe were already diving — further south, supporting glider landed troops near the fortress of Eben-Emael. Voss wished them luck as the sky flashed with flak bursts and smoke trails.

Voss tightened his grip on the control stick, and double checked his map again - they were right at the Initial Point to begin their attack run. All that training and rehearsing had been effective - his Nav had been spot on.

They reached the emplacements zone just as the Belgian batteries opened up — muzzle flashes betraying their positions. They looked just like they had in the briefings

“Target identified. Prepare to dive,” he called.  They pitched downward and the sirens began to scream at the Belgians, who looked up in alarm.

Voss lined up on an emplacment near a crossroads a few miles from the river — and started his dive. The AA reached out, made him jink but was potherwise ineffective. He needed to nail this target and was confident as he let his 500kg go. He pulled up sharply, G-forces clawing at him.

The hige explosion rocked his BERTA in the air, but Voss knew it had been a good drop, confirmed by Milo's enthusiastic hollering behind him

"Take that you Belgian puppies!!!"

The Kette dioved in behind him. Textbook. Just like that had trained. Their 500kg eggs were just as accurate. The target was completely neutralised. With time the Belgians might get their guns back into action, but the fallschirmjager soldat and advancing Panzers weren't going to give them that time.

Rolling out from the target area, Voss and his kette started back to their airfield. They had other targetrs to visit today, but first they needed more fuel and more bombs.

The weather was still poor and the cloud heavy. The going was tough. Fuel was getting lower than expected - consumption against the cross winds had been higher than expected and Voss was getting concerned. That started to turn to alarm when his Juno 211 engine made some ominous coughing noises. To his great relief the splutters soon ceased, but he'd get the crew chief to double check when they landed.

Luftwaffe Ju 52s drop Fallschirmjager troops in Holland, 10 May 1940

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

They were turned around quickly once on the ground. The airfield was pandemonium with the NCOs adding an air of focus and precision, as mechanics and armament fitters ran everywhere executing tasks, and Staff Officers coordinated the next sortie.

His mechanic had just reported that his engine had checked out when the Staffel Ops Officer ran up to him

"Get back up to the Canal Area! Belgian infantry are moving up to the higher ground west of the Canals to form a defensive position. Go clear them out before they dig in too deep!"

Quickly briefing his Kette, Voss leapt back into the cockpit and they got airborne directly. Directly back through thick clouds, navigation to the new target was challenging with terrain masked. Voss was increasingly anxious as his map failed to be useful. A feeling that also grew as visibility worsened, forcing Voss to led his Kette back to low altitude to get his bearings.

Finally, he got a fix on a prominent landmark - the Albert canal!

Milo reported in to the Army Air liaison Officer on the ground, who fired flares to direct them to the target position. Wings waggling, Voss tipped over and led his Kette into the dive. The dance of death began ter again.

The Infantry has no AA to speak of - it seemed child's play compared to just an hour earlier over the forts. He pickled his bomb load and pulled out gracefully. Below, the bombs struck — direct hits. Infantry positions disappeared in flame and dust. Belgian soldiers staggered out of the dust, hand clamped to their ears.

Behind him, his Kette came in quickly. One overshot slightly, missing the target. The other clipped the remaining infantry position with a near-miss that threw the dirt skywards.

It wasn’t perfect. But it was enough.

“Kettenfuhrer to forward controller - Infantry position neutralised” Voss reported on the radio.

On the return flight, the sky seemed less chaotic. Transport aircraft had departed. The radio channels buzzed with early reports of bridge seizures and heavy resistance. Voss held tight formation all the way back to their airstrip near, eyes peeled for enemy fighters.

They touched down safely.

After shutting down, Voss pulled his goggles back and looked across the airfield, watching new sorties prepare. His Kette had done their part and followed his lead. He gave his aircrew a big smile as the groundcrews began the refuelling and rearming.

Fallschirmjäger waive to a passing Junkers Ju 87 dive bomber during Fall Gelb. Near Venlo, Limburg, Netherlands. May 1940.

StG 2 Briefing Tent — 10 May 1940

Time: 19:45 Hours
Location: Forward Airfield, near Aachen, Germany

The generator powered lights cast long shadows against the field tents and aircraft as the men gathered. Oil-smeared, sweat-soaked, and still keyed up from the adrenaline of multiple combat sorties in a single day, they stood in a rough semi-circle as Oblt. Adler stepped up onto a wooden crate.

"Gentlemen—listen up."

He lit a cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled slowly before speaking. He looked across their faces, pausing at each of the Kettenführer, his eyes lingering a moment longer on Voss.

"Today was the start of something bigger than Poland. Fall Gelb is not just a campaign—it’s the knife plunging into the heart of France. To do that, we needed the Albert Canal bridges. And to get those bridges, we had to silence the forts and clear the ridgelines."

He jabbed the cigarette toward them like a pointer.

"You did that."

He paused to let that sink in.

"That’s how this works. Teamwork and coordination with the Army. Responsiveness. Discipline. Initiative. The Army seized their objectives and a number of prisoners. The Belgian line between Hasselt and Liège has dissolved.”

A long drag on the cigarette. Another exhale.

"It didn't all go out way though. Our paratroopers suffered in Holland, mainly to AA defences. Tomorrow we’ll face better flak, faster fighters, and weather that turns on a pfennig. But today—we did our job. And it mattered."

A thin smile crossed his face as he stepped down.

"Get fed. Get some sleep. Sunrise is at 0553 tomorrow - we launch at 0530 with morning brief at 0430. That’s all."

As the men began to disperse, he clapped a hand on Voss’s shoulder as he passed.

“Well flown today, Andreas. You’re leading them well. Keep it up.”

--------

Game Notes

Target Field fortification (1 x 500kg bomb)

Good Wx - launch NSTR. Into VIC Formation at High ALT

Approach 

1 - Vis worsens to REDUCED 1. Remain at High ALT

2- Enemy Contact. Neede d a 6 for contact - Got a 5. Close call!

Target Reached - direct, no Nav problems - reflects training and rehearsals

near pullup height selected

Dive 5 -1 for cloud =success! AA 5 = -1 rel, REL =7, Target Destroyed!

PULLUP= 4

FORMATTACK: 5+3-1-0=7 Target Destroyed!

Return

1. Low Fuel - spent a Stamina: 5-1=4. Loose a Card (that was close!)

2. Engine coughed - no impact (1)

Landed, Refuelled and Rearmed

Secondary Target Infantry Position (armed 4 x 50kgs

Launch NSTR - VIC/ High ALT

Approach

1. Nav Checked. Failed. -1 card (ouch!)

2. Dense clouds - descended to Low ALT

Target Reached

near pullup height selected

DIVE5-2 = FAIL, no AA, BOMB REL = 7-1=6 = SUCESS, HIT= 6+1=7 DEST

Pullup: 6-1=5

FORMATTACK: 2+3-2-0=3 Attack Ineffective

Outbound 

1. TOO Airfield  - declined (no bomb, only 1 card left, poor weather, at LOW Alt and Loose formation

2. WX improves to CLEAR 2

Landed: NSTR

VPs 3+1, 2 halved = 5

Stuka Ace: France - 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.

---------

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 that force was the 2nd Motorised Infantry Division, and his bother.

Once again Andreas would be flying over and supporting 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!