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#3615968 - 07/29/12 05:04 PM IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out.  
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Well, let's give this AAR thingy a try...


The ingame date is 06/24/41. The invasion has begun and propaganda sells it as a preemptive strike to slap the Bolsheviks on the wrist. They might take the baltic states and take on Finland, but they won't subdue the Reich. Not now, not ever. At least that's what's blaring from the Göbbelsschnauzen (small, cheap radios) all across the fatherland.

II./JG-3 somehow ended up in the Lemberg sector of the front...with sparkling new Bf-109F-4s. Uparmored and upgunned compared to the F-2 and so new that the paint wasn't even dry on delivery. They can take on the Schpitfaias over the Channel, they surely can take on whatever the Red Airforce throws at it.

So far, the war has been quite uneventful. Panzers do what they do best on both sides (cluster up and get picked off by stationary guns), planes come and go and somewhere in between a squadron of Hungarians in Cr.42 adds a bit of "What the heck are they saying?" to the radio chatter.
All in all, the only thing blitzing into the Ukraine so far is our sleek Friedrichs. But I guess the Wehrmacht will take up momentum once they are through the soviet frontline...

In the previous four missions, I had nothing much to do except watching number three's back, since that's what a Katschmarek is supposed to do. This is about to change this time though.

The objective: Take out a column of russian trucks delivering supplies to the front line.
Why they didn't assign heavier, more effective assets like Stukas or 110s for this, is a mystery to me though.
Task is task, however and the MG 151 might be up to shooting a few holes into a truck on a good day.

Take off was uneventful. Start engine, set flaps, creep forward one or two metres, lock tailwheel. Apply power, wait for the rudder to get a grip on the surrounding airstream, keep the plane centred on the runway. Tail comes up, roll on, gently pull back on the stick and...airborne. Whoopee!
Retract gear, retract flaps and play catch up to the leader.


Ah, early morning. Perfect for wreaking some havoc and check whether the guys of "die andere Feldpostadresse" (the other field post code, i.e. the Soviets) are more tired than we are.




I just love the Bf-109s cockpit. No square inch of wasted space and göringfrei. There's no way that fat idiot would fit in there...




We were idly flying along towards the target zone. The Staffelführer calls out "Fünf Minuten zum Ziel!" (five minutes to target)...and then suddenly "Achtung, Jäger auf neun Uhr!".
Great, just great...expending ammo on fighters when you'd actually need it to support the guys on the ground never tingles my efficiency bone. But okay, it's just LaGG-3s. This won't take much.

Schwarm one dips low and splits up to go after LaGG one and three, while I go after LaGG number two, who stays out of the fight, presumably to sneak up from behind. Schwarm two joins in and after having four or more 109s on its tail, LaGG one goes down. The other one is a bit of a better flier though and holds off the Sauerkraut parade behind him for quite some time.

Meanwhile, I line up to get a shot at number two. One hundred fifty metres...one hundred metres...fire. The MG17s rip away, the MG151 joins in. Weapon convergence is perfect and the bullets rip into the aft fuselage - and tear it off.
"Abschuss, Abschuss!" My first kill of the campaign and my leader joins in with a congratulatory message.




The joy isn't about to last though.
"Achtung, Jäger! Zwei Uhr, hoch!" (fighters two O'clock high). Dang, LaGG flight number two joined the scene. And they've got a height advantage. Uh, oh...
The DB-601 screams as I slam the throttles forward and close the radiators to squeeze out every bit of performance. Sorry, Daimler. I hope your engine can resist a bit of heat.
I unsuccessfully try to catch up. You can't cover a kilometer of height difference without jets in a reasonable amount of time. I drop the nose a bit and wait for the LaGGs to come down. After all, there's four to six 109s down there trying to shoot down one of their comrades...an opportunity they simply HAVE to catch.
And indeed, the flight dips down and I follow suit.
The airframe starts moaning as I approach the 500 km/h mark (cool 4.11 feature), but I'm still unsure as to which target to pick. Meanwhile, some of my Staffelkameraden finally realize that they're about to get jumped and leave the fate of the still fighting LaGG from flight number one to the others.
With the element of surprise lost, the Soviets scatter. LaGG number six breaks off, LaGG number seven take on the 109s and LaGG number five decides to regain some height. Alrighty, number five it is for me.
He still has a speed advantage and I try to get inside his turns to catch up, but it's tough. Suddenly, someone yells "Nummer vier, Achtung, Hintermann!" over the radio. Crap, that's LaGG seven! Sneaky [censored]. I immediately break off my attack and start some evasive turns. Tracers zip by my plane. "Trying to make me nervous, huh? Not today. My breakfast, coffee and cigarette were splendid. I'm a drugged up fighting machine with nerves of Kruppstahl. You just *can't* kill me!"
I gain ground. LaGG number five is busy with another one or two 109s and two Kameraden have decided that it would be nice to help me out. To no effect though, but it shakes the soviet pilot up enough to make mistakes. In the meantime, the LaGG from the first flight finally goes down. I mentally applaud while I close in on my Beute (prey).
My helping hands, say Kameraden though decide that wolfpacking LaGG seven is more fun, so I'm left all alone. Perfect.
At one hundred ten meters, the LaGG starts another defensive turn...right through my crosshair. I pull the trigger.
7.7 mm and 20mm rounds slam into the fuselage...no bits coming off, no smoke, no trailing liquids. Damn.
He descends rapidly, I follow up. My Geschwindigkeitsanzeiger (speed indicator) starts its journey from the comfy 300 km/h mark to the 500 km/h mark. This is getting dangerous for the airframe...fast. What's the LaGG doing...?
The scremaing of the airframe gets too loud to ignore, so I pull up. No point in risking my plane.
The LaGG is still falling. And falling. Until the ground puts an abrupt halt to it. "Nummer vier, klasse getroffen. Treffer, das hat gesessen!" ("splendid hit, quite a punch" or so).
Kill number two. Must've been a 20mm bullet to the cockpit. Ouch.
Where are my Kameraden? Oh, tracers! Yep, that's them. Aaaaand smoke and fire. That would be the LaGG six or so. Twenty seconds later, the demise of LaGG five or whatever one there was left is made public as well. Sweet. Six kills, no losses.

Staffel lead then calls it a day. Must've fogotten that we were actually out for some truck hunting. And I've been extra conservative with my ammo. Meh.

Alrighty, back into formation and boredom, so time for some Shift+F2-ing around.
Oh, some Bf-110s going about their business near Lemberg. That'll be interesting.
Oh no, they're on a Dnejpr bridge attack mission...that can't be good.

Lead rolls in, releases...and misses. Told you!





Then it's number two's turn, with predictable results.
Number three, though...


This time, I was applauding for real. The AI really *did* get an update in 4.11.

All is well, nothing significant happens. Except plane Dora of the 110 formation getting a direct flak hit on the way home followed by spontaneous disintegration. Ow. Ow, ow, ow!




Browsing through the Zerstörerformation, I spot plane Gustav limping home on one engine. Visual inspection shows no damage, so I suppose this is the new "engine reliability" feature at work. Neat-o!


And because of all the boredom going on, the last impression of any significance is a cluster of 109s in the pattern. Too bad formation landings aren't implemented (yet), as that would really speed up landings.



Well, so much for a normal day in the interactive Ostfront fishtank that IL-2 is.

It might be worth staying tuned for more (yes, this is a threat) from the '41 Tour de USSR.
I'd even cut down the blabber a bit and post more pics (possible promise).


And, to clear up another mystery (the first one being why there isn't a screenshot of kill number two): No, I'm not PUI (posting under the influence).

Last edited by Heretic; 07/29/12 05:15 PM.
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#3616070 - 07/29/12 08:24 PM Re: IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out. [Re: Heretic]  
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Nice 1. I like the jaunty tone...don't get too cocky now!


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#3616179 - 07/30/12 12:01 AM Re: IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out. [Re: Heretic]  
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6/27/41

Barbarossa gains steam (Who'd have thought?). Panzers have reached the sources of the Dnestr. Not long to Lemberg now, but they need to be careful. There's some Red Army tank units lurking on the northern flank...retreating, mind you, but still ready to throw their Blechbüchsen at the Heer.

In the air, things have been fairly uneventful. Well, not. Our Staffel had it's first casualty. Ripped apart by a Ratte (Rata, i.e. I-16). Having no Legion Condor veteran among us, we tend to underestimate these seemingly obsolete fighters. Not good.

Another truck hunting mission. Whoever assigns these to our fighters clearly has no idea of the front line conditions. If trucks are such a clear and present danger, getting some JaBos (fighter bomber) on the scene might be the better option.

Anyway, here we go again. Throttle forward, rudder, tail, liftoff. Gear, flaps, trim. Whee!
Aaaaand...catch up to the Staffelführer. This time, I'm number two. Yay!

Keep formation, memorize front line location for emergencies, stay alert.
"Five minutes to target." Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann.

"Achtung! Jäger, ein Uhr!"
One o'clock, same height, coming straight at us. The Schwarm scatters. I try to get an overview of the scene and pick a target. Lost my leader. Anfängerfehler (rookie mistake).
Schwarm two lags behind a bit, along with another Staffel of Friedrichs. But that's okay, it's just a flight of LaGG-3s.
"Achtung! Die Jagd, zehn Uhr!"
Not. Forgot that the Red Airforce operates in multiple flights as well. And their second one is there before ours. Four versus six. Doable, but though...as the second flight is pulling into me just as I am setting up behind a LaGG. Dang. Break and shake.
Now Schwarm two joins in and things start to get wild. I pick a LaGG that's not part of the furball and start my setup. He's got good speed and does not intend to drop it.
"Achtung! Jäger, fünf Uhr!"
Say what?!? Oh dear...
I take quick peek. Ratten. With a height advantage. Behind me. Still far away though, so no immediate danger yet.
Back to the LaGG. Richthofen propagated perseverance, but it's a fine line between this and potentially deadly target fixation.
The LaGG won't come closer. Two hundred metres...one hundered eighty metres. No wild maneuvering, except the occasional slight turn. This guy sure did his reading on anti-Messerschmitt tactics. Let's try something.
I let rip with the MG151 and my MG17s. It's a long shot, but at least it hopefully scares him.
Some rounds land in his right wing root. He dips his right wing and falls...and falls...and falls...and...oh, hi there, ground! Kill number three. Nice.
I check on the Ratas. A pair still behind me, distance about a kilometer. Another pair on my one o'clock, but higher. Where are my Kameraden? I hear them calling out for assistance and yelling congratulations over the airwaves, but I have a hard time getting a fix of them. I suppose the remaining flight of LaGGs is history by now, but the I-16s came in like another wave.
There, tracers! Not red ones, so that must be either my or that other Staffel at work. So assistance is close. Very good.
With confidence, I let the Daimler sing and try to gain some height on the I-16s above - just to notice that they're coming for me. Darnit.
I roll and pull into them, the airframe protests, muzzleflashestracersBANGBANGBANG!
Ohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrap. Another Anfängerfehler?
The Ratten zoom past me. I dip the nose down to gain some speed and distance and do quick damage check. Bullet holes all over my canopy, my ReVi knocked from its fixture, but no wounds. Phew.

The engine still purrs like a german Hauskatze (housecat) though, and that's what counts. Nothing worse than a Motorschaden (engine failure) behind enemy lines.

Ratas. Where? There. Engaged by some of our guys and splitting up. I-16 number two is still in striking distance, so I try to set up. Since he has pulled up again, he has bled some speed and I'm closing in, fast. Payback time.
I let rip, create a wall of projectiles and observe some hits. Nothing serious though.

"Nummer zwo! Achten sie auf Ihre vier Uhr Position oberhalb!" (Number two, watch your four o'clock high)

Wait wha-...more Ratten?!?
I break, I turn, I pull into the-BANGBANGBANGBANG!
[Censored][Censored][Censored][Censored][Censored][Censored][Censored][Censored][Censored][Censored][Censored]
Friedrich rolls to the left and I'm falling. Faster, faster. I cut the throttle and yank the ailerons. No response?
Three thousand metres and falling. Still rolling. Ohnoohnoohno.
Ailerons, ailerons, elevators, ailerons. Rolling slows, still falling. One thousand fivehundred. Comeoncomeoncomeon.
Ailerons, ailerons, minimal roll, elevators, one thousand...creaking,crunching, almost there...

I pull out at six hundred fifty and take a glimpse...at a hole...in my wing. I'm stunned and relieved it didn't come off.



That's it, I'm bugging off.

"...zwei...sechs Uhr oberhalb"

Rata. Crap.
Peel my glimpse away from the wing and back forward. Thank goodness for the armored windscreen!



Time for a turn. Aileron control is still there, but the hole in the wing produces quite some drag requiring constant corrections. But what about structural integrity?
I try my best to shake him without overstressing the airframe. The Soviet momentarily loses interest. Good.
Vollgas (full throttle) and ab nach Hause (going home).
Engine gauges...in the green. Further damage...
"Nummer zwei...sechs Uhr"
"Lost interest" my arse! And danger close!
"Hier nummer eins! Bin gleich da!" (Number one, I'm almost there)
Thank goodness! I'll lure him into your direction.
Turn, turn, TRACERS! No! BANGBANGBANG!
[Censored][Censored][Censored]
Wait, I'm okay! And number one is finally on the scene!
The I-16 breaks and turns away. Now or never. I turn west.

Schadenskontrolle (damage check)...nothing new. Good.

Over the front line, I encounter a flight of I-153s a kilometer below me. They ignore me, I ignore them.
Finally paying attention to the radio again, I hear cheery Abschussmeldungen (kill reports) all around. Seems to be a good day. For the others.

The airfield in sight. What now? Land? Bail? Aussenlandung (landing in a field)?
I opt for a regular landing. Except for the slight roll, the plane seems to be in good shape.
No time for a clean pattern though. I drop down, pop out the gear and the flaps. Green lights and good deployment all around. Phew!
Another flight of 109s wants to come in. Not now, guys. I need to get out of this almost-Sarg (coffin). Fast.
Speaking of fast, I come in too fast and sloppily aligned. The port wheel runs off the Grasnarbe (grass srip) and into the soft surroundings. The gear leg can't take the added friction and my 109 is swung around violently with the leg breaking off.
Then more and more parts come off and finally...silence.
I'm down. And alive.



Take a deep breath, pop the canopy, jump out and run. Just run. Run, run, run.

In the distance, I can see the Flugplatzfeuerwehr and an ambulance scrambling towards me. No fire from my plane. No injuries on my virtual alter ego.
Glückspilz (lucky basterd).

Except for my 109, the whole Staffel didn't lose another single plane.
And browsing through the event log after the mission, there were even some MiG-3s involved in the end. Fortunately, I was already gone when they arrived on scene. All in all, the Luftwaffe scored 15-20 kills on a single day. Splendid!

And the trucks trucked on unscathed.

Last edited by Heretic; 07/30/12 12:08 AM.
#3616916 - 07/30/12 11:45 PM Re: IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out. [Re: Heretic]  
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Nice

#3639117 - 09/05/12 07:44 PM Re: IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out. [Re: Heretic]  
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Things have been moving fast for me. Unlike the panzers on the ground wo aren't quite getting the concept of Blitzkrieg. At all.
Sometimes we can hear the displeasure of the Führer all the way to the front line...

Speaking of, when I had the morning following my near death experience off, I borrowed a Kamerad's camera and a bicycle from a russian peasant and took it for a leisure ride behind the front line.
The landscape around Smolensk is something to behold and looking even better bfrom the ground basked in the early morning light.
I came across a Flak unit with their heavy AA and stayed for a chat. They didn't have much to do, but according to them, their Kameraden stationed around airfields and industrial targets are working quite hard and tend to curse us for always missing incoming Red Airforce raids. I concurred. The Abfangjagd (interception) isn't seemingly very high on the local Luftwaffe command's priority list, but there's nothing I, being on the receiving end of the Befehlskette (chain of command), can do about it.
Oh well. Command has to have a plan. They did in Poland, France and the Balkans and so far, this camapign is also going quite well.
I snapped a few photos, wished them well and went back to base.




The desperaion of the Red Air Force is apparent if you read reports from other Geschwader. Apparently, anything with wings and capable of carrying a few presents for us has to head out to the front line. Even these monstrosities:


Needless to say that they don't stand the slightest chance against our advanced aircraft.


Speaking of "advanced aircraft", our Ersatz-109s (replacement) arrived two days after mine was lost. All of them came straight from the factory. All but one...

I wasn't flying when they arrived and about to grab something to drink from the dining tent, when I got the word that the replacement aircraft were coming.
"Well, is the Reichsluftfahrtministerium finally taking our needs seriously?", I mumbled to myself.
"- Nah, it's most likely just erroneus paperwork", an equally surprised Obergefreiter next to me replied.
We exchanged laughs and I stepped outside to the flightline, coffee mug in hand, to see what we were getting.
It was F-4s all right, even straight from the factory...

...well, except for one.

"Now that's odd", my mechanic, also present to witness the event, replied.

Instead of the factory fresh coat of Tarnfarben, it looked like having been dragged all the way from Augsburg to the front. The camouflage pattern didn't match the remaining 109's at all, the standard high visibility identification marks were varying, with their paint faded and dulled out and paint was starting to come off here and there.
The pilot jumped out, saluted and wanted to report to the Staffelführer to introduce himself.
"No need, Kamerad, I'll bring him here. He's got to see this."

A few minutes later, the Oberleutnant was on the scene. He was just as surprised as us.
"Well...looks like it's our turn to suffer the logistical wrath of the RLM. If this goes on like this, I'm going to rename our Staffel to "Meiers fliegender Zirkus" ("Meier's flying circus")."
My mechanic interrupted him.
"On the upside, the paperwork. Looks good. Our misfit friend here was used on the Kanalfront (channel front), suffered combat damage and a belly landing, got shipped back to the factory to be patched up and somehow ended up in the "replacement aircraft" pool without getting much of a new paint job. New propeller, new engine..."
"At least something", the Oberleutnant replied.
"Herr Oberleutnant, why don't we name it? I mean, it's the odd one out anyway...", I said.
"Well, what do you have in mind?", he said.
I took a second.
"What about umm...Rattenfänger (rat catcher)?"
- "Heh. A personal matter?"
"Jawohl, pretty much."
- "Fair enough. Do it."
"Jawohl, Herr Oberleutnant."

We had the name painted on within the hour. Hopefully, one of the russian pilots still getting to fly can read german. And spread the word.


The next days were uneventful. One Geleitschutz (escort) mission after another, while the Soviets merrily bombed our airfields and mopped up industrial targets they didn't manage to dismatle and burn down.

On the upside, we finally got some JaBos assigned to our sector.

And the Panzer, well...



Lazy, lazy. Where is Rommel when you need him?

In all this unexcitement, landing the 109 remained the most terrifying part of every mission. You never knew when a gust would blow you off on final or where new potholes came into being on the runway.




Things, however, were to pick up again really soon. In the air.


StuKas were quite in demand to pick off clusters of Blechbüchsen threatening the flanks of the advancing columns with varying success.
The execution in this sequence is excellent, but the result is useless if your aim is off by half a Fussballfeld (football field).







As for me, things got exciting again!

Be it burning LaGGs...






...tailless LaGGs...



...scared, swiss-cheesed IL-2s (one of two for me that day)...



...or I-16s turned into Feuerwerk (fireworks)...


I was racking up kills.

Last edited by Heretic; 09/05/12 07:47 PM.
#3639140 - 09/05/12 08:08 PM Re: IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out. [Re: Heretic]  
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Are you playing 'dead is dead'? Would be good to know this story could have a tragic ending! cool


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#3639151 - 09/05/12 08:20 PM Re: IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out. [Re: Heretic]  
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hahaha

The pithy tone is a chuckle. smile


It's a Game. smile
#3639190 - 09/05/12 09:27 PM Re: IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out. [Re: Heretic]  
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Lovely, just a simple request...

Mods and patch in the use?

Thank you!


Click to reveal..
"Himmiherrgottksakramentzefixhallelujah!"
Para_Bellum

"It takes forever +/- 2 weeks for the A-10 to get anywhere significant..."
Ice

"Ha! If it gets him on the deck its a start!"
MigBuster

"What people like and what critics praise are rarely the same thing. 'Critic' is just another one of those unnecessary, overpaid, parasitic jobs that the human race has churned out so that clever slackers won't have to actually get a real job and possibly soil their hands."
Sauron
#3639191 - 09/05/12 09:29 PM Re: IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out. [Re: Heretic]  
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And then there was one of these days...again.


Luftkampf. Of course and, as usual, against I-16s.
My combat success with our hässliches Entlein (ugly duckling) netted me the basic privilege of nearly exclusively flying it. Unless you're Schwarm- or Staffelführer, your assigned aircraft varied from mission to mission.

Anyway, I was getting good hits on a Ratte, but it kept flying and I overshot. I tried to get away from him as quickly as possible,but the Russe shot.
And he shot well.
The sound of projectiles hitting metal should be no surprise for me by now, but I was terrified down to the bones.
Because it went quiet.
Too quiet.
Much, much too quiet.
The DB-601 had stopped purring.
Motortreffer (engine hit).
Behind enemy lines.

Not wasting another second being frozen up in horror, I immediately peeked over my shoulder.
The Rata turned away, trailing smoke. Phew!

I returned my attention to the engine and tried to restart it.
But nothing happened.
The other guy had just turned the most lethal asset of the Luftwaffe into a helpless glider. Great, just great.

Bailing wasn't an option. The Hauptkampflinie (main front line) was, judging from the surrounding landmarks, at best ten, fifteen kilometers away. Too much to cover on foot and armed with nothing but a P38.
The altimeter provided some comfort. I had about three kilometers between me and the ground. That should do.

Keeping the speed at about 200 km/h, I floated on, unnoticed by possible enemy fighters in the area.
I had about 800m altitude left as I overflew the front line.
Now, this is situaionally limited luxury!
Bail, land...bail, land...
Can I make it over that river and settle onto the meadow adjacent to it?

Oh yes, I can! Nice! Altitude is 300m, time to set down.
Klappen (flaps): Combat.
Hold it, hooold it.
Speed: Enough.
Klappen: Take Off.
Don'ttouchthegearlever,don'ttouchthegearlever,don'ttouchthegearlever...
Speed is about 150 km/h.
Altitude: 50m. 40m. 30m.
Pull back on the stick.
Gently...geeeently...
Looking goo-
RUMBLERUMBLERUMBLESCREECHRUMBLERUMBLESCREECHRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMBleeee




I'm down. Heck yeah!

The Gurtzeug (seatbelt) snaps open quicker than one can spell deutsche Qualitätsarbeit (german quality work), the canopy fortunately isn't buckled and can be opened without any increased effort and, the best of all, the plane isn't on fire.
Taking any risks now would be foolish though, so I make up on the Führer's promise that the german youth is as quick as Windhunde (~greyhounds). Running as fast as I can with my parachute still attached, I get away from my 109 and dive for the deck.
No sign of fire.
I roll around, get up and discard any excess gear, panting like Blondie. Then, it's cigarette time.

Now do I get back to my airfield...?


Fortunately enough, a Kradmelder (motorcycle messenger) came investigating and, long story short, by evening, both me and my plane were back on our airfield. For a suprise.


That evening, the Gruppenführer had us pilots report in. There was an order from weiter oben (further up). Every Gruppe in the middle sector of the eastern front was to send experienced, but no veteran, pilots to I./JG-5*, stationed in Finland. Apparently Heeresgruppe Nord was within reach of St. Petersburg and needed extra air assets to deal with the fortifications around and the city itself.
I fit the roster.

"Any volunteers?", the Hauptmann asked.
Silence.
"What about you, Herr Rattenfänger? Maybe a stint in the north will cure your bad luck with Ratten."
He looked me in the eyes.
"I...umm..."
- "You umm...what?"
"I...I..."
His gaze got more intense. I got uncomfortable.
"You have done well so far, but your seem to take the enemy on too easily, leaving your Rottenführer exposed to enemy action. Even your plane sticks out of this Staffel like a Kommunist at a party rally...what are you trying to say?"
Words like surgical knives.
"Herr Hauptmann...I was just about to volunteer!!" I nearly screamed with the best impression of decisiveness and confidence I could muster.
His unpleasant gaze faded as quickly as it came and his expression of authority flipped into a disgusting, jovial grin.
"Sehr gut, Herr Oberfeldwebel...sehr gut. As an extra motivation, and to have you get your sense of duty and cameraderie in check, I have recommended you for a battlefield promotion into the officer's corps. The papers should arrive tomorrow. Regarding further instructions, you will be briefed by your Staffelführer. Wegtreten (dismissed)."
We stood attention, waited till the Gruppenführer left and dispersed.
Except me, the Oberleutnant and a few others I got to know fairly well over the last two weeks.
"You know", the Oberleutnant said, "he is kind of right. You do tend to let yourself off the leash of your Rottenführer quite often. That's why I'm usually having you as my Katschmarek. I can handle myself, but most of the others need that extra pair of eyes and guns near them."
"Ja-...jawohl.", I replied, still shaky from the chew-out.
- "Don't let yourself down though. You've clearly shown some potential out there and you'll probably do better in a drawn-together Staffel instead of being a Neuling in a bunch of alte Säcke (~old guys). You'll survive up there. Just watch your back and don't overshoot."
He chuckled and patted me on the back. The others laughed.
"The Gruppenführer would kiss Göring's arse to get all the way to the top, so don't mind him. Instead, be glad to be away from his Nazi party polished head.
Also, you're going to keep your plane as a souvenir. The damage isn't too extensive and the Mechaniker (mechanics) will get it up and running until noon. Your mechanic, however, is not transferring."
- "Thank you and too bad to hear, Herr Oberleutnant. I liked Herrn Franz."
"I know.
Well, I've still got paperwork to do regarding your transfer. Go and have a nice evening, you and you other guys, as we all might just die tomorrow."

(Half of them did within the next few months.)

The rest was standard military transfer protocol. Get drunk, exchange stories, exchange best wishes, exchange promises to stay alive and meet up someday when the war is over.

I got field "promoted" into the officer's corps the next morning (into the rank of Fähnrich).
By early afternoon, I was out and flying north.
By late afternoon, I was landing on Klyuchevoe airfield near Vyborg, Finland.
By early evening, I got a familiarization flight of the area.
By late evening, I got to know most of my new Staffelkameraden, my mechanic and my superiors.
By night, I was dreaming of new challenges.




[*Anachronism: JG-5 didn't exist until 1942. But I didn't know that when I chose it.]

#3639198 - 09/05/12 09:34 PM Re: IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out. [Re: Heretic]  
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Originally Posted By: HeinKill
Are you playing 'dead is dead'? Would be good to know this story could have a tragic ending! cool


It's a single character story, so...maybe?



Originally Posted By: komemiute
Mods and patch in the use?


4.11.1




Plus a briefing text and rank mod and a "shorter speech" mod.



The rank mod messed up my current campaign, hence the transfer.
After a intense file editing session, I even got my kill count back, so no worries.

Last edited by Heretic; 09/05/12 09:37 PM.
#3639271 - 09/05/12 11:48 PM Re: IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out. [Re: Heretic]  
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komemiute Offline
Hell Drummer
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Hotshot

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Thank you!


Click to reveal..
"Himmiherrgottksakramentzefixhallelujah!"
Para_Bellum

"It takes forever +/- 2 weeks for the A-10 to get anywhere significant..."
Ice

"Ha! If it gets him on the deck its a start!"
MigBuster

"What people like and what critics praise are rarely the same thing. 'Critic' is just another one of those unnecessary, overpaid, parasitic jobs that the human race has churned out so that clever slackers won't have to actually get a real job and possibly soil their hands."
Sauron
#3639296 - 09/06/12 12:18 AM Re: IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out. [Re: Heretic]  
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"So you were flying in the Smolensk sector? I heard things are going quite slowly down there."
- "Yep. Blitzkrieg is a lie. Even Göring would be faster than our Panzers."
"Not good.
Well, look at the bright side. At least you get to do your part in something meaningful now."
- "As long as the Stoppelhopser (slang: infantry) don't stop dead cold in front of the city..."
"They won't. The Führer won't let the opportunity to take one of Stalin's biggest assets slip by."
- "I guess you're right."

Leningrad. Former capital of the russian empire, back in the zarist days and before the rise of Moscow.
A city filled with culture, history and good loking women. More than a regional capital and home port of the Baltic Fleet.
The gate into Russia for the Finns. And we are to help them kick it open and install saunas in every house.
Although they could do it well on their own, judging from their performance last winter. Resilient bunch of people.
Their air force is a bit on the weak side though, so we're helping out.

The objective is isolating, then capturing Leningrad. Which won't be easy.
Southern elements of the Heeresgruppe Nord have turned north and are driving the Red Army back towards the city with the added objective of splitting the enemy forces still present near the baltic coast in two halves.
The northern elements of Heeresgruppe Nord are meanwhile marching on Tallinn to pry another important city from the collective hands of the Bolschewisten (blocheviks).
Concentration of enemy ground forces is getting high, as more and more units are clustered up in less and less space.

We are to keep the Red Air Force on the ground and create air superiority over the city and surrounding area to ensure safe missions for our StuKas and Bomber.

First mission: An early morning freie Jagd.
I was just as excited as Pimpfe (~10-14 year olds in the NS youth organization) before an afternoon with Herr Schnauzbart (you know who I mean) about that one, as it was very rare over Smolensk.




It was a beautiful sunrise, the baltic sea was glistening in the early morning light and the impressive, awakening monstrosity of a city named Leningradpeeked at us from a distance...perfect to ruin someone's breakfast with an Alarmstart (scramble).
But, as usual with high expectations, no Feindkontakt (enemy contact) was made. Frustrating.
At least we got to know something new though.
Something that was sporadic at best down south.
Flak.
Quite a lot of it.
This is going to be unpleasant.

Things stayed quiet the remaining day, so it was a perfect opportunity to pass the time with the new Kameraden and the finnish Waffenbrüder (brothers in arms). The latter have a squadron of Blenheims stationed here and the odd few german speaking pilots aren't too hesitant to warn about the cities defenses against aerial intrusions.

The next day, I was up as Katschmarek of the Staffelführer. He is a Leutnant who just got command of the Staffel and seems to be a bit...unused to it.
Which turned out to be to my benefit.

We took off, headed south across the Gulf of Finland towards our target, Siverskaya. The airfield was just overrun by the Heer and we were to ensure that anything with a Red Star stayed away from it.
Because a grass runway is such a high value target.

In the Jagdgebiet (huntin ground), there was nothing much to do except trying not to run into someone during turns, but things got out of hand fairly soon.
"Achtung, die Jagd, ein Uhr unterhalb!"
"Ratten!"
A bunch of I-16s tried to sneak into the target area at a lower altitude and Schwarm zwei went after it. We stayed up high at first, but then went in. I claimed an I-16.
Hail to the Rattenfänger, Bolschewik!
Suddenly, while sneaking up on another Rata, I saw dots against the sky off to our one o' clock.
Lots of dots.
Big dots.
"Möbelwagen, ein Uhr oberhalb! (Moving trucks, one o' clock high!)", I shouted into my Kehlkopfmikrofon (~laryngeal microphone).
What happened next is open to interpretation.
The Leutnant shouted "Horrido, Angriff frei! (Free to engage)" and I slammed the throttle forward and engaged in a climbing turn towards the bombers.
Apparently, this was the sign some Ratas on the run, but I took it as the go-ahead to engage the bombers.
In a bout of bad airmanship and excessive target fixation, no one noticed that I was going off on my own.
Since I could now make out the bombers as SB-2s, fairly outdated light bombers, I did not check upon the others as well. Too juicy.
Next to defenseless Zweimots (twin engined aircraft).
Ten of 'em.
No escorts.
Way...too...juicy.
They were heading south, probably coming from the bigger airbases at Leningrad or all the way from Tallinn (and trying to sneak around us) with the mission to drop a bit of explosives on an unsuspecting Wehrmacht helmet.
Well, let's make sure they don't.

I was above and behind the formation, eased on the throttle and dove down.
Above, same height or below...above, same height or below...above, same height or below...slightly below.
The Fahrtmesser neared 600 km/h as I came below the formation. I pulled out of the dive, increased power to the engine again and closed in on the last bomber in the formation.
300 m...200 m...150 m...aaaand here come the triggers!
The 109's nose lighted up in muzzle flashes and most rounds zoomed past the SB-2's port engine.
Zoomed past.
Dammit.
Finger off the trigger.
The bomber was unpleasantly large in the ReVi.
Uh, oh.
I pulled up. Hard. The airframe protested.
Too close for comfort.

No response from the gunners. Well, that's odd...
I was high above the formation now, so I pushed the stick forward. My body rewarded this with a red curtain in front of my eyes.
Ow, ow, ow.
Okay, I'll take it easier now.

I came in for another attack.
This time, my rounds slammed into the port wing and engine. A cloud of black smoke puffed out of the engine and the bomber dropped away, out of the formation and towards the ground.
Some gunners in the other bombers noticed me now, but their fire was way too inaccurate.

Well, this is going to be good. Onward!
I attacked the next bomber.
And the next one.
And the next one.
And the next one.
And...everything fell into a blind clockwork of climbing, rolling, diving, firing, climbing, rolling, diving, firing, etc...all the while subconsciously noting how many bombers succumbed to gravity and/or a fiery death.
There were reckless close calls...




...there was fire...




...and more fire...



...and hits to my airframe, which I didn't notice until the clicking of my empty MG-17s was tearing me out of my bloodlust. My cannon ammunition was long gone.

And my mental counter stopped at eight. Make that nine with the I-16.

I felt exhausted.


A quick cross check with the map told me that I was over enemy territory. My fuel gauge didn't look too pleasant as well.
In a gesture of unimaginable generosity ony worth of the knightliest of knights, I let the remaining two bombers get away and turned north.
No sign of friendlies.
I was alone.
And out of ammo.
Flying on economy cruise setting, I snuck around the clusters of Flak along the coast and out over the sea.

Quite a ways before crossing the finnish coastline, I spotted two dots in the sky off my 1 o'clock.
Was that the revenge exercising communist party committee inviting me for a swim in the Baltic?
Adrenaline level at 120%. I felt so aware that part of my mind was pretty sure I was comatose and dreaming. Or dead. Or both.
I pushed the throttle forward. I'd rather go for a walk in the woods than for a swim.
The dots grew larger.
Their shape got familiar.
109s.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
They came up alongside me, but it was quiet.
Too quie-...oh, right. I had my radio switched to another channel to concentrate on the bombers.
"...zwo, Verbindung, Verbindung (~comm check)."
- "Viktor, Viktor (~copy, reading you)."
"Gottseidank (thank god), zwei! Where were you?"
- "Well, I...got lost."
Too much to explain for now.
"Oh dear.
Anyway, the Leutnant and Schwarm zwo are nearly home and we were sent out to look for you."
- "Looks like you've found me then. I'm glad to see you guys, as I'm out of ammo and low on fuel."
"Well, so are we. Let's go home."
- "Yes, let's..."

I only realized what I had done on the other side of the Gulf very slowly and I was still quite shaken up from the extreme Tunnelblick (tunnel vision) and the adrenaline fountain.
No victory flybys, no announcing nine claims, no more chatting than necessary.

I landed, taxied and parked.



My mechanic came running up as I was climbing out of the cockpit.

"Herr Fähnrich! I was kind of worried about you when I didn't spot your plane landing after the Leutnant's! Where were you?!?"
- "I...I don't know."
"Damn, that must have been something over there. Your face would make an antique statue proud.
You need a cigarette!"
He grabbed into his pocked, pulled out a pack of Glimmstängel (slang: cigarette), lit it up and gave it to me.
It took me three drags to get partially back into relaity.
"There...were bombers..."
- "Stalin's new, secret and terrifying ultra heavy bombers?"
"No, no...I attacked..."
- "That's what you're there for! But why the shock?"
"Two got away..."
- "I see, I'll get the paint for the kill marks. How many shall I paint?"
"Nine."
His eyes got wide. The disbelief in them was screaming at me.
He fell silent for a few seconds.
- "Nine..."
"Nine."
Silence.
- "You know what, I'll wait for the official report and verification. Last time I've checked, this isn't the first of April."
"Okay."

Without another word and blankly staring to the ground, I made my way to the Staffelführer.
With strength that would make a zombie proud I saluted and announced my return.

"Herr Leutnant, I'm reporting back from Feindflug (mission)."
He turned around.
- "Look who's here! Finally found your way home, I guess."
"Jawohl, Herr Leutnant."
- "See, this is what happens when you leave your wingman's side. If it wasn't for your good combat record, I would file a Disziplinarvarfahren (disciplinary action) against you!"
"Jawohl, Herr Leutnant."
- "Now, do you have any Abschussmeldungen (kill claims)."
"Jawohl, Herr Leutnant."
- "Well...?"
"One I-16..."
- "Yes, we saw that."
"...eight SB-2s."
A perfect imitation of my mechanic's reaction.
- "Are you trying to fool me, Herr Fähnrich?"
"Nein, Herr Leutnant."
- "Then give me some details. Me and the Gruppenkommandeur want that verified!"
"Jawohl, Herr Leutnant."

A cup of coffee brought me back on track enough to file the report about my killing spree.
It was now the task of the Wehrmacht and other Luftwaffe units in the combat area to find the wreckage and/or attest my claims.
The reports about the bomber wreckages over friendly territory came in the next day, verifying four of my claims, while a recon aircraft on a frontline surveillance mission cleared up the mystery the day after.

I was the man of the day and got a congratulatory telegram from Berlin.


This camapign seems to be good.

#3639298 - 09/06/12 12:19 AM Re: IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out. [Re: komemiute]  
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Heretic Offline
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Originally Posted By: komemiute
Thank you!


Almost forgot: I'm also using a "repainted default maps" mod.


I don't have the disk space for HSFX, hence the rather small collection.

#3639452 - 09/06/12 11:36 AM Re: IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out. [Re: Heretic]  
Joined: May 2009
Posts: 7,033
komemiute Offline
Hell Drummer
komemiute  Offline
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Hotshot

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Posts: 7,033
Looks pretty good to me! wink


Click to reveal..
"Himmiherrgottksakramentzefixhallelujah!"
Para_Bellum

"It takes forever +/- 2 weeks for the A-10 to get anywhere significant..."
Ice

"Ha! If it gets him on the deck its a start!"
MigBuster

"What people like and what critics praise are rarely the same thing. 'Critic' is just another one of those unnecessary, overpaid, parasitic jobs that the human race has churned out so that clever slackers won't have to actually get a real job and possibly soil their hands."
Sauron
#3639533 - 09/06/12 02:14 PM Re: IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out. [Re: komemiute]  
Joined: Oct 2006
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Originally Posted By: komemiute
Looks pretty good to me! wink


I basically just need the updated 109 models and cockpits anyway. I'm not flying anything else. :B

#3639540 - 09/06/12 02:23 PM Re: IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out. [Re: Heretic]  
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Posts: 107
theox Offline
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Very nice! Makes me want to load this back up...

#3639604 - 09/06/12 04:15 PM Re: IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out. [Re: Heretic]  
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carrick58 Offline
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tanksalot Good story and pics

#3639788 - 09/06/12 09:09 PM Re: IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out. [Re: Heretic]  
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Heretic Offline
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Heretic  Offline
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The pics are actually just a poor form of bait to make people read the text. Ha!

Last edited by Heretic; 09/06/12 09:27 PM.
#3639816 - 09/06/12 10:10 PM Re: IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out. [Re: Heretic]  
Joined: Apr 2001
Posts: 2,122
theKhan Offline
resident pacifist (sic)
theKhan  Offline
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Member

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Love your AAR!!


I used to work for a living, but then I took an arrow to the knee.
#3640266 - 09/07/12 05:28 PM Re: IL-2 '46. Schmitting Messers. Day in, day out. [Re: theKhan]  
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Heretic Offline
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Originally Posted By: vonKhan
Love your AAR!!


Thanks! I'm not taking input commands or battle advisory though. wink biggrin


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