Dogfight Over France!

A Most Suspicious Breakfast

The skies were clear over the Western Front— clear except for the enormous roaring monster that was a German Gotha bomber. The great beast was on a typical mission— to bomb a bridge and a factory deep in Allied France. Though quite well armed, the commanders had spoken, and two escorts rose along with her— none other than the Red Baron himself, once again in the cockpit of his beloved crimson triplane. He was joined by an older, yet capable Albatros D.III, a brother in its markings to the the Baron’s own pride and joy. There had been a slightly “off” taste to the morning’s sauerkraut, but neither the Baron or his wingman thought much of it. One accepted what one had here on the front, and a fine wine had washed it down all the same.

But as they approached their mission’s target zone, the aces began to doubt their vision and their decision to fly the mission. Oh, the three rising Allied attackers were not a problem— they were two-seater fighters, a threat to the bomber, of course, but no match in maneuverability or speed for the German fighters. But that fourth...object...racing in from the south...how did it fly? Who—or rather what—was its pilot? Mein Gutt! What was in that sauerkraut???

World War One Flying Ace with Favorite Beverage.

A New, uhm, “Plane” for the Dawn Patrol.

It was time again for yet another evening of Wings of War/Wings of Glory, this time at Commandant Will’s domicile. And as promised, I had a surprise up my sleeve (okay, in my miniatures box).

Yes, that’s exactly who it looks like. The Red Baron’s greatest nemesis (if he had only known)— or maybe just the result of some bad sauerkraut— the Famous World War One Flying Ace...Snoopy, and his trusty Sopwith Camel...uh, red doghouse.

(Where did he come from? How did you make him? Where do I get one? Well, that’s a different blog.)

For the purposes of the game, Snoopy was a standard Sopwith Camel (Barker’s plane being the one I replaced). I attempted to argue that Snoopy’s guns, being imaginary, could not be jammed. To which Captain Michael replied, “Snoopy’s bullets, being imaginary, shouldn’t do damage.” So I waved away the former if he would wave away the latter, and we got on with the game. (Really, Michael, you were supposed to be my ally, as you were flying British planes!)

So, after quaffing burgers with root beer (the drink of choice for the World War One Flying Ace), we took to the air.

The Dogfight Begins (Pun Intended)

First strike to Snoopy!

As you can see, the Red Baron and Snoopy encountered each other from the start. A brief burst from Snoopy’s paws...uh, guns...and the dogfight had begun.

He was trying to read the lettering on the tires.
(And apologies as I have no idea what the German is for "beagle.")

Initially, Snoopy and the Red Baron engaged in incredibly tight maneuvering, too close for either to get off a shot. The Crimson Albatros turned in to aid the Baron, a tactical error for the Germans as this fight was not actually about Snoopy, as awesome as he of course is. The Bristol/RH4 trio closed in on the Gotha, taking fire from the giant’s two guns, but responding with their own— and also catching the Albatros in their fire as well.

Snoopy takes a hit! (But Albatros makes a mistake...)

Nice flying, Snoops!

Snoopy, knowing the Gotha would require a lot of bullets to down, and unable to get a bead on his nimble nemesis, decided to go straight for the bomber. He quickly realized this was a mistake, as he wound up behind the Bristols and unable to fire through them at the bomber. Perhaps, the beagle thought, maybe his true job was to harry the German fighters and protect the Bristols while they did the task of taking out the Gotha.

A Bridge Too Close.

In the meantime, the Bristols were doing a good job of that, as a lucky strike killed the Gotha’s rear gunner, leaving the beast unable to bite the hunters on its tail. Despite this, the bomber reached its first target, a bridge that clearly served as a key supply route for the Allied lads in the trenches. Unfortunately for the Germans, bad luck continued to rule their day, as the first load of bombs were only capable of dealing partial damage to the bridge. The span would require a second pass, a dangerous delay considering that a second target also needed to be struck.

Meanwhile, Snoopy showed just how skilled he was as a pilot, executing a swift Immelmann turn to race back directly at the Red Baron. Snoopy took serious fire at this point (“Curse you, Red Baron!”), and was much concerned about the continued airworthiness of his doghouse (9 damage against a max of 13).

Brief action interlude! With awesome special effects! And one killer 'stache!

Brief inaction interlude!

Quite a fight and mighty tight!

The Bristols/RH4 continued their pursuit of the Gotha, pouring heavy fire into the behemoth of the skies, and taking fire both from it and the Albatros, and even the Red Baron (it had become quite a tight little scrum at this point). 

Back to the shooting!

Everybody dance now!

It's raining lead!

 The Albatros, however, fell away, struck down by the rear gunner of a British Bristol. 1st kill to the Allies!

1st kill! The flying half & half cookie takes out an Albatros!
(Oh, come on. That's exactly what that Bristol white & brown color scheme makes you think of, isn't it?)

Snoopy Comes Out On Top!

And then, quite unlike his typical experience chronicled in comics and television, Snoopy achieved his ultimate dream— he downed the Red Baron! Yes, the dreaded scarlet triplane plummeted from the skies, pursued by the triumphant barking of the brave beagle.

Baron down! Baron down! Bark bark bark bark bark!

Snoopy executed a victory barrel roll over his fallen foe as he sped now to aid his comrades against the lumbering Goliath— but there was no need. The steady British flyboys had done their work. The Gotha too was gone. The bridge was intact, the munitions factory in no danger. Snoopy and the lads had saved the day!

And a Round of Root Beers for Afters

This was quite an enjoyable evening. The group got a kick out of Snoopy’s appearance in the game, and I had a lot of fun flying him, hamming it up, “firing” my arms at the enemy, and making appropriate Snoopy sounds throughout. Will even pulled up the classic novelty song Snoopy and the Red Baron as the theme music for the night.

A Little Artistic Serendipity-Dog

As for Snoopy’s “banking” turns visible in the photographs, these came about by happy accident. The inside of the doghouse contains styrofoam, as I hadn’t had time to come up with a more substantial way of attaching the post from my Sopwith Camel base. Instead, the styrofoam is simply jammed on the post, with friction holding the assembly in place. As a result, a little accidental nudging caused Snoopy to appear to “bank” (and also allowed him to be easily straightened, too). I quite like the effect. I suppose in the long run I’ll need a more permanent and durable fix, but having Snoopy appear to fly was a fun little element for the game.

Up next: How I “Made” Snoopy, or Quick and Cheaply Letting Someone Else Do the Hard Parts.

But for now, thanks for reading!

--- Parzival

Death in the Clouds

The Coldest Dawn

“Mein Gott! Must we fly in this?” The new leftenant waved a thickly gloved hand through the swirling flakes that descended in the gray dawn. He glared at his crew, as if daring them to disagree.
“We fly when the Fatherland needs, no matter what God sends our way— or the Devil.” The voice was young, but there was a coldness to it, deeper than the frozen air, as of someone who had danced with Death many, many times.
The leftenant’s crew snapped to attention, as he spun around to face the speaker. “I am Leftena—” he started, but cut off his speech, his face blanching as one with the snow. “I-I- forgive me, Herr Commandant!” The glove snapped up in a salute.
The commander waved the salute away. “It is of no matter, leftenant. I am none too fond of this weather myself.” He looked up. “But it will be a fine day above these clouds, with the mother Sun behind our backs.” The veteran pilot smiled. “But do not expect her to warm them much. Icarus must have flown higher than I to catch her heat.”
“Sir, I just hope we shan’t catch our deaths in this cold!”
The commander stared at the leftenant. “It is war. Someone always catches Death. And it is always cold.”
The Red Baron turned and walked across the snowy aerodrome to his crimson triplane, which blazed like fresh blood against the snow-streaked ground.

A Flight for War and Glory

Recently my group gathered for an evening of Wings of War/Wings of Glory, featuring my as yet unblooded Gotha GV bomber. We had a new victi— that is, player— joining us, who eagerly selected the bomber as his plane of choice. A bit much for a rookie to the game, but he was insistent, and we felt we could coach him through any difficulties (though admittedly, none of us had ever flown one of the “Giants of the Air” either!). (I apologize for the fuzzy photos— aerial photography is hard!)

DOGFIGHT!

For simplicity’s sake, our scenario was simple: The rookie bomber pilot would have two targets for his bombs; a factory placed in the center of the table, and a bridge placed towards the farthest corner from his entry point. If he could succeed with both bomb drops, the Central Powers (Germany) would win; if he was shot down without achieving this goal, victory would go to the Allies (Britain).

The table, as you can see, is triangular, making for an unusual set up. We took advantage of this to create a three-point entry situation: The Gotha from one corner, the Allies (all Brits) from another, and the German fighter cover from the third (as if on advanced patrol near the targets).

We paid no attention to points, but merely allowed each side to select their favored aircraft. As the rest of us were experienced pilots, and we felt the bombing run was rather simple, we allowed the Allies fighters (Michael and Chase) to take four planes (two per player), while Will and I commanded three— Will, a lone Albatros D.II, and myself an Albatros D.Va and the famous crimson Fokker Dr.1— the Red Baron himself. The British planes were a Bristol F.28 two-seater fighter, an R.E.8 two-seater, and two Sopwith Snipes. (Clearly, we also didn't pay attention to concurrent service years, either.)

I had not packed my traditional green felt table cover, so we used the table’s existing white pad as our surface, which we decided represented a snowy dawn over France, with enough break in the clouds to reveal the bomber’s target (“The Devil always leaves a path for Death,” says the Red Baron).

Duel above the clouds! Or the snow! Take your pick!

The fight started off with a rather lengthy approach (due to table size), which included the Rookie inevitably miss-plotting and turning back across (and off) the table. In our group we call that “pulling a Fleming,” for the hapless pilot among us who first pulled this error (and still does, from time to time).

Not this Fleming, but not the other one, either. "The rookie did it!"

"Of course I can fly it. See? I turned around all by myself!"

Having corrected for this mishap by allowing the bomber to return to the field, the fight began in earnest. Early hits went to the German aces, but soon the first victim plummeted through the clouds to the frozen lands below— the Red Baron himself! (Truly, the Fokker Dr.1 is just too fragile an airframe, maneuverability or not. Though admittedly losing that maneuverability in the first fracas didn’t help!)

No! Not the Baron!

Jammed rudders suck.

After the death of the Baron, the fight finally reached the Gotha, and she began taking hits— and dealing them. But not before a second German plane went down— prompting its pilot to abandoned his loyalties and take up arms for the other side! (Will claimed one of the extra Allied craft so as to stay in the game— a poor excuse for treason as ever there was!)

Another German down! So sorry, Will. You shall be avenged— uh, Will? Why are you in a British uniform?

But the Central Powers pressed on, and soon the first British plane spiraled into the ground— and the bomber reached her first target. Down went the bombs, and the factory was ablaze. “That one’s for the Baron!”

British take a long fall.

BOMBALAMA BOOM BOOM!

On to the bridge, a desperate chase— the Allied suffered another loss, the Albatros finally making good on its presence. Fire continued to pour into the Gotha, but on she flew, inching ever closer to victory— closer, closer, almost there... (Wait, wrong movie.)

Stay on target...

Stay on target......

And down she went, just shy of that final break in the clouds. The Devil got his due, but the Kaiser did not.

Well, so much for that!

The lone Albatros abandoned the field, returning to bring news of mourning to the aerodrome.

Final Briefing
It was generally agreed that had not the bomber “pulled a Fleming,” the victory might well have gone the other way. The delay in reaching the first target certainly allowed the Allied planes the time to close. We were stunned at the amount of hits the bomber took— he kept drawing card after card after card— but the tale of the deal showed that many were 0s, resulting in no actual damage to the craft. As the British had chosen planes armed with weaker B guns, this had much to do with the Gotha’s longevity in the fight.

A lotta bullets and a lotta blanks.

Wings of War (or Wings of Glory, as it is now sold) is always a satisfying game, and a real pleaser for rookies. We’re already set up for return engagements of the game. I for one, relish getting in the cockpit again— though not the Dr.1. No, I have something (and someone) more exciting to fly...but that surprise will have to wait.

‘Til then, thumbs up and watch your six!

—- Parzival, the Wargamesmonger