Daiwilletti
Charter Member
ETO Expansion Theatre, Battle of Britain era. Running personal BoB campaign.
It is 21 March 1940 (yes I know a bit in advance of the main action) and my flight of 8 Mk ia Spitfires is scrambled from Warmwell, apparently there are enemy a/c incoming. 1130 Zulu time.
As I take off, I am surprised to discover the airfield is being shelled. No sign of the ships doing the dastardly deed, but there are craters all around the airfield. We climb as fast as we can, but are bounced by a swarming flight of 6 CR 42s, which are at about 10,000 feet.
Quite early on, I down one of the Italian biplanes. Then the good old campaign "mission goals resolved" message pops up. WTF? As soon as the message pops up, those who fly campaign mode will know my wingmen pack up and file off to the landing pattern, about 8 miles off from Warmwell. Meanwhile the surviving CR42s are just lining up to take pot-shots at my dopey wingmen, who are like sitting ducks.
Nothing for it, I have to throw myself at the enemy a/c, who are so intent with their easy targets that they in turn fall to my 8 flaming 303cal MGs..
Amazingly 5 of my wingmen land successfully. The last screenie shows a shell landing next to the runway, where the flight has lined up in an orderly fashion.
It is 21 March 1940 (yes I know a bit in advance of the main action) and my flight of 8 Mk ia Spitfires is scrambled from Warmwell, apparently there are enemy a/c incoming. 1130 Zulu time.
As I take off, I am surprised to discover the airfield is being shelled. No sign of the ships doing the dastardly deed, but there are craters all around the airfield. We climb as fast as we can, but are bounced by a swarming flight of 6 CR 42s, which are at about 10,000 feet.
Quite early on, I down one of the Italian biplanes. Then the good old campaign "mission goals resolved" message pops up. WTF? As soon as the message pops up, those who fly campaign mode will know my wingmen pack up and file off to the landing pattern, about 8 miles off from Warmwell. Meanwhile the surviving CR42s are just lining up to take pot-shots at my dopey wingmen, who are like sitting ducks.
Nothing for it, I have to throw myself at the enemy a/c, who are so intent with their easy targets that they in turn fall to my 8 flaming 303cal MGs..
Amazingly 5 of my wingmen land successfully. The last screenie shows a shell landing next to the runway, where the flight has lined up in an orderly fashion.