Good stories 33 as always.

Cheers Carrick!

Meanwhile, back at the air fight...

...you can barely see it now in this pic, but this is me turning in after another Spitfire which is at the coastline just inland from the small triangular cornfield in the centre of the screen.



He's moving quite slowly although not showing any visible signs of damage. In my haste to get at him, I overshoot after only a quick burst with my nose MGs. He shows no inclination to take advantage, but flies on.



A rapid orbit clears my tail and brings me around for another pass...



Like last time, I take a chance, throttle back and park myself just behind him. His only reaction when I start hitting him is to level off. This is where it helps to have 1,000 rounds per gun instead of the 300 the RAF fighters have for their more numerous but less well-supplied Brownings.



Having laced him thoroughly I break away and down. I didn't notice the other fighter higher up, to our rear, incidentally.



Rolling back in towards the Spitfire in a sort of one-blade scissors manoeuvre, I see he's now going down steadily, but apparently still under control. Manston airfield is just below, and it occurs to me that he'll try to get down there.



Ignoring some ground fire - for some reason, the airfield has only medium guns for protection, no quick-firers like the dangerous Bofors Guns - I complete my manoeuvre...



...and rake the Spit again from dead astern. Possibly I'm wasting my rounds, but I can't afford to hang around here on my own any longer and want to make sure, before departure. Incidentally the spent cases from the 109's nose MGs weren't dropped, but were collected with the empty belts in wells at the bottom of the twin ammo boxes.



In he goes! I didn't notice the odd smoke trail to my other side, which looked like a doomed aircraft saved itself at the last minute. Strange...



...but now it's time to see If I can recall the troops and lead us back home!

...to be continued!

Looking around, I suddenly realise that there’s another Spitfire turning in from my left. This looks like trouble!



But no, the newcomer has no hostile intentions and in fact, allows me to get in behind him.



By now, we’re heading for Manston at low level and I’m coming in for some more unwelcome attention from flak.



I start shooting and the Spit breaks up and left. But my first burst is my last – even a thousand rounds per gun doesn’t last forever.



I make a hasty break in the opposite direction…



…and run for home at full power.



No-one responds to my calls to re-form. My tail is clear so I throttle back a little, but no-one tries to catch up, friend or foe.

I realise my route home is taking me past Dover so being this low, I decide to take a close look at those radio masts the Tommies reportedly use to direct their fighters.

There were three masts here the last time I passed by; now, there are four. Somebody’s been at work here . I get a good pic for the Intelligence Officer with my virtual Leica.



The local flak people don’t appreciate my visit so I head for the coast at full speed, jinking a little. It would be rather silly to get shot down at this point.



I’m soon leaving the White Cliffs behind.



A few miles out, I throttle back and make a wide, slow circuit, to see if anyone rejoins. But no. I’m on my own.



So back to France I go.



Arriving at the coast, I see a small airfield and a little further inland, a larger one - Calais-Marck, as it happens.



I don’t especially like landing (or take-offs for that matter) at our tree-ringed base at Audembert, so decide to drop in at the bigger base, instead.



I manage a reasonable approximation of a three-point landing, and slip off the runway towards a fighter parked in front of a hangar, past some Heinkels (which were generally based much further inland).



As it happens, the parked 109 is from JG26 – our own First Gruppe, in fact. Perhaps I could switch to that so that JG2 can have back the machine I inadvertently borrowed from them, for this mission.

The debriefing shows that despite being only four, we’ve had a good trip, with no losses. I quickly complete my own combat report to add my own claims to our very respectable total.



I see that plans are afoot to modify the WoFF AI so that there is less determined ort persistent running away from combat, and this would be welcome in WotR, too. As would the ability to hear R/T traffic in the external view and a few other tweaks here and there - some of which it is to be hopped modders will supply, rather than leaving everything to the devs. The recent post by Pov that further work in WotR is still planned will be very welcome news for all of us who're enjoying the sim.

Nice report Sir. Those Dam(n) Tommies keep erecting those funny looking radio towers! Does Churchill think he is going to kill us with the Propaganda he is flushing over the airwaves into Europe?

Edit: check the WOTR picture thread for a little surprise!

S!Blade<><

Go easy with those pics, I hate heights!

I/JG26, Audembert, 26-28 July 1940

We draw another fighter sweep to cover anti-shipping operations, on the afternoon of the 26th...



We see the ships in question, but not a lot else...



..burn up quite a lot of fuel hanging around...



...and when nothing happens, go home.



Next day's operations are scrubbed when I reject the mission after a failed attempt to get the map mod to work for the briefing map, as well as the inflight one.

I get it worked out in time for the morning of the 28th - yay! (the briefing map is actually called RandomRegionMap.bmp, lives in the campaigns/campaign data/Nations subfolder, and while it can be a renamed copy of the alt_low inflight map that comes with the map mod, it seems to need resized (MS Paint did the job fine) so it's the same size as the file it's replacing there).

It's another fighter sweep, happily just out into the Channel.



We're soon on our way again. This time I remembered to swap my 109's skin for one belonging to the right unit. The number 1 was usually carried by a staffelkapitaen, so I think I'll stick with this one.



There's quite a lot of cloud about, but the boys keep up quite well, despite some hard climbing. I want to get up to at least 3,000 metres by the time we reach our patrol zone.



On the way, we pass some shipping that's under attack. As I can't see this from the cockpit, I carry on. None of the boys call in any enemies.



We begin our patrol, having reached 5,000 meters. Our next leg will take us back towards the ships I don't officially know are there. Perhaps we'll see them - or something else - this time?



...to be continued!

As anticipated, our next leg takes our four 109s back over the ships I chose not to see last time. The convoy seems substantially intact; as usual in WotR it has fewer, larger ships than a more representative coastal convoy would have; lacks any escort; and in this case is dangerously far out in the Channel.



This time, I can see the shipping from the cockpit.



All seems quiet though, so I lead the boys onwards.



My attention is suddenly drawn to a dark ring of smoke, higher up and left. Very odd, it looks. In fact, it’s a blazing aircraft trailing smoke and doing doughnuts in the sky. It corkscrews really tightly, round and round, on a nearly horizontal axis. How very strange.



Then one of the boys reports sighting Tommies, 11 o'clock low! Turning left and looking ahead, I see a long, spread-out string of fast moving specks, passing us on that side. There’s about four of them, headed back north to the English coast, evidently. Perhaps they’d been in action against the raid on the convoy. They haven’t troubled to get back into formation and seem in a big hurry.



I order them attacked and then turn in after the leader, who is well out in front of the others. Risky, but I’ll rely on my comrades to keep the ones coming up behind away from me.



A quick glance to my right rear shows the nearest enemies are a long way back...



...so I continue my curve of pursuit after the Tommy, relieved to hear that my number two is already engaging.



I have to use full power to close with the fast-moving enemy fighter. We're rapidly approaching England's southern coast...



...leaving the air fight developing behind me.



Another glance behind seems to confirm I'm still in the clear...



...while the Tommy grows steadily bigger in my windscreen. A Spitfire!



He doesn't seem to know I'm coming.

Well, he'll find out, very soon!

...to be continued!

Got him! The pilot bails out so quickly that I just about notice his hasty departure.



The Spitfire will reach English soil, but minus its occupant and not in one piece.



My pass takes me across the white limestone cliffs between Dover and Folkestone.



This is not a place I want to dally on my own, so I quickly complete my turn and head back out to sea. Down to my left, there's another Spitfire racing inland, and I swing around again after him. But then I see that he's got another 109 after him.



My comrade's rounds hit home and the Tommy goes tumbling from the skies, trailing a wisp of grey smoke.



Looking down, I can see a well-appointed airfield, which I don't recognise (it's a generic airbase used in several locations in WotR; the real Hawkinge was a grass airfield, which in 1940 looked exactly like its representation in the CFS3 ETO expansion, made by Pat_Pattle: https://i.ibb.co/3SwnVTK/Hawkinge-1940.png )



For a while I try to join up with the victorious Messerschmitt, but for some reason he flies inland at full speed and I can't gain on him. My calls to rejoin formation are ignored by one and all - very frustrating and happens rather too much, IMHO, for the radio-equipped aircraft of WW2.



Nothing else for it but to go home. I fly most of the way there, concerned from past experience that if I quit the mission before my remaining comrades have made it across the (notional, mid-Channel) front line, they will be counted as missing.



What I don't do is land - there's no way I'm going to risk my virtual neck trying to get down at Audembert until somebody has cut back the trees which closely hem in the base on all sides!

The debriefing shows we're claiming three victories, including my own and the one claimed by the fellow who flew off into enemy territory. Who is now posted missing, for his troubles.



Not a bad rate of exchange, but with so many other pilots having mysteriously not come back on top of known combat losses, even a single loss is one too many! I've a good mind to take the unit off operations for a few days, until enough replacements arrive to get us back up to something a lot nearer full strength.

Well there is the reason your boy went off over England all hap hazard. He is missing the 'e' from the end of his name, it is right there in the report, plane as day Kamerad. It seems a few of the other boys from the staffel told him that Britain had an over abundance of 'e's' and that he should make a stop in London and pick one up.

I must admit 33lima, I am a little disappointed in you. You won't even land at your Aerodrome just because of a few trees? Really Sir, you are going to have to bolster yourself Kamerad or I am afraid you will be asked to hand in your 'man card'.

Nice report and a good victory, except you are one of the bad guys!

S!Blade

32 Squadron, Biggin Hill, 13 August 1940

Since yesterday was the 80th anniversary of the Battle of Britain's official start date, and reading about planned commemorative events, prompted me to start another campaign, back with the RAF this time. The Luftwaffe campaign ended badly - a boring fighter sweep up to the Thames Estuary (again) prompted me to descend and strafe Manston on the way home. The Spitfires parked there must have been bullet-proof decoys and I ended up running into the ground trying to destroy them. And to cap it all, I used the wrong key for screenshots and ended up with none! Grrr!

Anyway this time I decided to fly a Hurricane and start after the convoy phase - on the day the German balloon went up in fact - Adlertag, 13 August. Unfortunately, FRAPs doesn't seem to like to capture WotR's briefing screens, so we start on the airfield for our first mission, which is a scramble, to intercept a raid down near the coast to the south.

I'm flying GZ-P, at the head of twelve Hurricanes.



Canopy locked back, brakes off, and away we go.



Time for a quick look at the map, to check our route...



...then its gear up as 'Biggin on the bump' falls away astern.



Canopy closed, I climb away...



...glancing up at the extensive cloud cover. Not sure I like the look of that.



I come around onto a course to the south and begin the long climb. The Bandits are reported to be at Angels Fourteen. I hope that will be well above the clouds. I don't much fancy playing blind man's buff amongst that lot.



...to be continued!

We're soon in formation and climbing through the clouds.



As we near the coast, still climbing hard, a vector from the Controller confirms we're still in business.



At about fourteen thousand, we're above much of the cloud and the view above us improves. Up on our left I can now see nine aircraft on a roughly parallel course. From their formation, heading and lack of hostility, it's fairly clear they're ours, possibly tasked to intercept the same raid. Squadrons didn't generally share frequencies at this stage, so we have no way of communicating with them.



I level off at about sixteen thousand. Some of the cloud is still higher, and below, we can only see through a few gaps.



This is awkward. I want the raid below us, but not hidden in the cloud at the moment we meet it. Nervously, I request another vector from the Controller. The Bandits are still up ahead of us, still thirteen miles out.



Nothing else for it but to plough on. Even the other squadron on our left is flitting in and out of clouds. This is going to be awkward.

...to be continued!

We get to about five miles out and still, none of us can see the Bandits. To make matters worse, the rest of the squadron starts peeling off, down to the right. They're leaving, not attacking. calls to rejoin are ignored!



What a useless shower! Have they got one-oh-nine-itis? Well, their leader isn't ready to give up yet. I get a vector from the Controller. What happened to the original one I don't know, but he now has trade for me seventeen miles out and somewhat to the left of my present course.



The other squadron on my left is still on the same heading so I decide to join them.



They speed up and cut across me, as if they've seen something. This looks like it!



...to be continued!

The other squadron - Hurricanes too, as it happens - is coming around behind a group of nine bombers, flying in three neat vics. I begin to do likewise, aiming to fit in an attack of my own.



I can see that the Huns are Heinkels, and that they don't have any escort. The leading Hurricane attacks straight out of a steep dive and the party is on.



Now it's my turn. I single out the bomber on the left rear.



I get plenty of hits, the Heinkel pulls up slightly and I break off low just in time to avoid a collision.



Got him! The crew bails out, at exactly the same time as another crew from another stricken bomber just to his right



Even as the two Heinkels go down, another attack is coming in from astern of the rest of the bunch. Now that's the way to do it!



...to be continued!

The attacking Hurricane presses home his attack so closely he almost rams his target, which goes down trailing smoke. On the right, one of the Huns seems to have lost his nerve and breaks formation.



By the time I'm running in for my own pass, there's not much left to choose from. Just three bombers are still in formation.



The one in the middle seems closest, so I line up on him.



I start snapping out short bursts at long range, to test my aim.



By the time I break upwards, the Heinkel is on fire and clearly doomed.



That leaves two, I reckon, who are doing their best to shoot me down. Ammunition supply permitting, I plan on returning the favour as soon as I can get back into position.



...to be continued!

I chase after the two Heinkels that seem to be all that's left of the raid. Another Hurricane is ahead of me, also racing after them.



Possibly having bombed, the Heinkels turn left to run for home. The Hurricane in front takes the opportunity to cut the corner and attack the leading bomber.



The crew bails out and the Heinkel rolls right, out of its turn, before going down. Now it's up to me!



But I get off only a short burst before my ammo runs out.



The Hun's been hit...



...but so have I. I've done what I can - it's time to go home, before something important stops working.



...to be continued!

A glance at the instruments shows nothing amiss, as I head back inland...



...gradually losing altitude.



Change of plan. Something's leaking and my map shows that the nearest airfield is behind me. So that's where I decide to put down - there's no point needlessly risking life, limb and aircraft.



The airfield is actually Friston, perched atop the white cliffs of the Seven Sisters near Beachy Head. I don't want to roll over the aforementioned cliffs if I have any difficulty stopping. So I roll right, intending to land on the east-west runway, instead.



Undercart and flaps down, I come in off a curving approach. 'Action Stations' number 9 tells me Friston, 'a dog leg-shaped piece of fairly level grassland', was a pre-war private landing ground which became an Emergency Landing Ground for Fighter Command during the summer of 1940. Well, my kite is damaged, so I reckon this is an emergency.



I didn't notice at the time, but there are several distant specks in the sky. Fortunately, they don't show any hostile intentions.



I'm more worried that someone has put a ruddy great hill, with a church and spire on top, at the end of my chosen runway, like the butts on a shooting range. Well, at least I won't be rolling off the end of the runway and over the cliffs.



But all is well and I'm able to slow down with plenty of runway to spare, opposite some Hurricanes parked in front of the rather basic sheds.



As it happens, the Hurricanes are from my own squadron. Well may the pilots cower in their cockpits. I'm going to tear strips off them, for deserting their leader and disobeying perfectly clear R/T instructions.



At least their aforementioned leader has been able to file claims for two kills. If I'd noticed who the other squadron was, I'd have considered putting in for a move. But I'll just have to see if I can lick this lot into shape, instead.

Ahh, that's the part I always forget!



Heh, do not be too hard on them! The fewer men, the greater share of honour, and all that!

Always a blast to read!

No photos I'm afraid, but the first mission of my new Spitfire campaign was rather eventful!

P/O Tam McGuire is on his second day of operations with No 74 Squadron based at Hornchurch. The day is 11 June 1940 and things appear to be heating up. The call to scramble was heard and the squardron took off forthwith, vectored towards a convoy sailing at full speed by Southend - only a few minutes away at climb power. Having reached our rendezvous point with the convoy, the flight flew a slow protective circle at Angels 15 as the convoy made its way hastily along its planned route. Not 10 minutes into the sortie, Red leader announced bandits sighted at 11 o'clock, Angels 13.

A modest formation of He 111s could be seen approaching, accompanied by a small escorting force of 109s and 110s slightly above and behind. Unfortunately it seems our flight took little interest in the bombers and immediately set about breaking up the escorts. Our two formations merged head-on and our machines were immediately entangled in combat. I sighted a 109 below, hastily performing a diving turn onto his six - I was travelling much faster. I let off an accurate 3 second deflection burst which peppered the fuselage of the 109, though I had to pull into a loop to avoid collision. We were now at an equal velocity and I to his direct six o'clock. I fired a quick burst when his port wing was seen to explode and fold up - my guess is I hit his port ammo drum. The pilot made no hesitation in jumping out. Immediately I checked my rear and saw a 109 passing below me, on which I had no problem lining up in my sights. I emptied every last bullet into his fuselage, which was seen to belch a sheet of flame, then black smoke. The 109 dived directly into the sea. 2 victories on my first sortie!

Now rather far out to sea, and now out of ammo being trailed slowly by a 109, I threw the Spitfire into a dive towards land. Clocking 400 mph IAS I had little issue in shaking the Messerschmitt, and was now heading towards Hornchurch in a fast cruise where I made a buttery smooth landing

Although we destroyed no bombers, only one tanker was damaged and almost the entire escorting force was eliminated to no losses of our own. Both of my claims were confirmed the next day!