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Thread better than world of warplanes already
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Jan 26, 2018 16:55
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Boksi posted:Signing up as pilot or copilot Bjorn B. Bjornsson. Really enjoying the read so far. Sjs00 posted:Thread better than world of warplanes already Glad you all have been enjoying our aerial shenanigans so far! I've finished the new mission, but will wait until I have the Goon Escape votes before updating. Someone dies. And something...unexpected happens during the bomb run Realbarrow and Roeben what escape plan are you going with? If you don't decide, I'll have us go with the Charade plan and will randomly pick what you spend your prep time on.
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Jan 27, 2018 01:25
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Bacarruda posted:Glad you all have been enjoying our aerial shenanigans so far! oh no! We have a 100% hit rate. On another bomber!
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Jan 27, 2018 01:28
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Have I become the main pilot already? Better not let command find my vodoo doll of Apple. Edit: Hmmm, I guess there's a 50% chance I go first before the pilot does... RA Rx fucked around with this message at 04:40 on Jan 27, 2018 |
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Jan 27, 2018 04:11
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Sign me up as First Lieutenant Byron Slothrop Slothrop barely made it through flight training due to his borderline narcolepsy. He's brave, so brave he can sleep anywhere and will do so! Because of his napping habit the brass consider him lazy. This ought to bother him more, maybe he'll sleep on it. On a mission he chews alert pills (amphetamines) like they're candy. Happy to take any role, the narcolepsy thing can explain why a trained pilot is a door gunner 
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Jan 27, 2018 04:17
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It's gotta be Charades. And i'm just crazy enough to go balls deep and all in. For that reason I will Learn German and Make Papers, finally I set my mind to work thinking of a fun and interesting way to fool the Appel. We all know how Germans love their papers, so I better be able to spell the words properly. Roeben fucked around with this message at 10:47 on Jan 27, 2018 |
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Jan 27, 2018 10:33
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Bacarruda posted:Glad you all have been enjoying our aerial shenanigans so far! After much (okay not very much) consideration, I will accept the reality that democracy and this war are a charade. To find a way back to England and be able to woo a nice British dame, I will exercise out my frustrations with the Group Commander during the day, and I will learn Polish with Sgt. Ramhorn and forge papers with Lt. Roeben each night. I believe that makes the total: -2x Learn German (Wedgekree, Roeben) -2x Learn Polish (painedforever, Realbarrow) -2x Forge papers (Roeben, Realbarrow) -1x Pickpocket guards (Wedgekree) -1x Exercise (Realbarrow) -1x Scrounge (painedforever) -1x Tailor clothes (painedforever) -1x Make maps (Wedgekree) -1x Work out a way to fool the Appel (Roeben)
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Jan 27, 2018 10:59
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I put myself in the reserves as a Navigator Lt. Col. Johnson. This is very entertaining!
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Jan 27, 2018 16:51
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Signed up as William Hudson, Private First Class, Squad Leader as a gunner
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Jan 28, 2018 02:21
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Is the emulator thing good? I'd be interested in messing around with this game.
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Jan 28, 2018 20:58
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ilmucche posted:Is the emulator thing good? I'd be interested in messing around with this game. It is. Although setup can be a little bit finnicky. The game itself is also pretty easy to play. The module on VASSAL has everything you'd need to play it. And hey look, an update!  For two weeks, Stalag Luft I was alive with secretive activity. Wedge and Roeben slipped a carton of care package Lucky Strikes to an Oxford don turned RAF navigator. In return, they learned a lot about the Nibelungen and strudel. Wedge rather liked the bit about "die üppig Mädchen," but he did have to admit the lesson about asking for directions was more useful. Albarrow took language lessons of his own from a 303 Squadron pilot. The strange sounds took a little bit of time to get used to, but they were able to say the basics. As he walked around the camp, Albarrow kept muttering "dzień dobry" under his breath in his best Krakow accent. Unfortunately, his accent ended up being closer to Krakow, Wisconsin than Krakow, Poland. The rest of their time was filled with various legal and illegal activities. Since this is our first escape, and the entire camp is pulling for you, you're getting some extra help that lets you do three prep activities. The Escape Committee at Stalag Luft I figures the propaganda value of four American escapees will encourage the Yanks to send more escape aids to POWs. Wedgkree offered a guard a cigarette and a cup of rare real coffee. When the goon was busy puffing away and sipping joe, he managed to steal the soldier's soldbuch, travel pass, and a wad of marks. Taking the travel passes, Roeben and Albarrow worked with the camp's best forgers to create some decent travel documents. They wouldn't pass close inspection, but they'd do well enough. Albarrow became Jerzey Drobiński, a shipbuilder from Danzig en route to his next posting. Wedge would pose as Wacław Zumbach, a Gastarbeitnehmer electrician for Organisation Todt. Roeben transformed into Tadeusz Kowalczyk, a manual laborer from East Prussia. And Ramhorn took on the identity of Jan Koc, a ship painter heading back to Kiel after a short leave. Interesting historical note: Donald Pleasence, who played the Forger the theGreat Escape was a WWII POW and actually spent time in Stalag Luft I later in the war. Ramhorn scrounged around, gathering enough goodies from Red Cross packages and mess hall theft to assemble some contraband. He figured the chocolate, cigarettes, and bread could be used for food (or bribes, if it came down to it). He used some of his proceeds to compensate the POW's best tailor, who turned two sets of USAAF uniforms into a passable imitation of a Polish laborer's outfit. Wedge, with some help from the navigationally-minded Roeben, made himself a tiny pocket map he slipped into his coat lining. No point in breaking out of camp and the getting lost, he figured. The plan was simple. The four airmen had divided themselves into two teams, figuring two small groups would arouse less suspicion. After blending in with the laborers leaving the camp. The two pilots, Albarrow and Wedgekree would use their pilfered Reichmarks to buy a train ticket to Rostock and then try to hitch a ride on a neutral freighter to Sweden. Lacking enough cash, Roeben and Ramhorn would try to steal bikes and work their way to a port and stowaway to Sweden. The night before the escape, the men lay awake, too nervous to sleep. Outside the huts, jackboots crunched in the snow and dogs barked as these sentries prowled the perimeter. Occasionally, the walls would flash as a searchlight played over the camp. Grunting profanities at the Group Commander, Albarrow did another endless set of pushups to work off his energy. Wedge mentally traced the steps he wanted to take. "Barth to Löbnitz. Löbnitz to Rostock. Rostock to Sweden. Sweden to home." Roeben rolled German phrases through his head, trying to recall the phrase for "I need directions to the..." Ramhorn did the same, rehearsing the details of his Polish cover story. "Jestem Koc. Jestem pracownikiem. Jestem z Warsaw..." -- The men watched nervously as the Polish workers shuffled wearily into camp. Sallow-faced and tired, they silently followed the instructions of their German escorts. Barking commands, the guards set them on various tasks. Some restrung barbed wire. Others set to work patching fences. A few more headed into the huts, carrying new beds for the downed airmen arrived nearly every day. The four escapers watched the workers file into a hut, then made the planned signal: whistling three bars of "My Country, 'Tis of Thee." The English had insisted that wasn't the name of the tune, but what the hell did they know? At that sign, two particularity garrulous RAAF officers strolled over to the hut, to make idle conversation with the bored German escorts. Pictures of sweethearts and a few bummed cigarettes did the trick, distracting the sentries long enough for the escapers to slip into the hut. From there. it was simple enough. A few whispered words in Polish. An offering of cigarettes and candy. An exchange of coats. By the time the new beds were built, four men had joined the column of Polish laborers, and two Poles were hidden under a bed, wearing second-hand RAF jackets. Marching in loose column, the Poles, their guards and four nervous hangers-on headed for their first obstacle: the main gate. We now come to the first phase of The Goon Escape: the Escape phase. You will need to get out through the main gate without being caught by the main guards. If the guards get suspicious, you'd better hope you can remember the German for "I swear I'm not an escaping prisoner, honest." Keeping their heads down, the four men did their best to blend in with the Poles. Wearing their tailored civilian duds, Ramhorn and Roeben got out the gate without much trouble. Albarrow and Wedge weren't quite so lucky. "Stopp!" a surly-looking guard bellowed. Squinting, he leaned over into Albarrow's face. The Major caught a foul wiff of sauekraut and bad cigarettes on the man's breath. "Where are you from?" Albarrow opened his mouth and nearly answered "Springfield..." before he could catch himself. "umm...Jeztem z Danzig, Herr Feldwebel." "Ja wirklich?" "Jawohl, Herr Feldwebel. Wir sind Polnisch," Wedgekree interjected, hoping his attempt at a Polish German accent hadn't gotten lost somewhere near Chicago. The puffy-faced Sergeant suspiciously eyed the two prisoners for a few agonizing seconds and then waved them on. You gents lucked out. You needed to roll a 5-6 to get out the gates undetected. 1-2 would have been an outright failure. You got a 4, which meant you got pulled over for closer inspection. You needed a 4-6 to pass that. You rolled a 2. Thankfully, you spoke enough Polish and German to talk your way out of that bind. With your langauge bonus, you got the 4 and were sent on your way. Now it's time for the trickiest part. Getting out of the camp is easy. Getting out of German is hard. So it's time for the Evasion phase. Marching down the tree-lined road that lead into Barth, the four POWs set into motion the next part of their plan. Whispering conspiratorially with the Polish laborers, they waited for the right spot to make their break. As the party passed around a bend, Roeben and Ramhorn were out of sight from the guards for an instant. That was enough time for them to dive behind a tree and slip away. Albarrow and Wedgekree weren't so lucky. Breaking from the formation, the two men were spotted by a German guard. Yelling, the guard chased after them. Hearing the warning, the second guard drew a bead on Albarrow's head with his Mauser and squeezed the trigger. The rifle cracked and Albarrow winced as the bullet cracked by his ear. Looking back, he saw a pleased-looking Pole getting ready to give the guard a second whack with his shovel. Another Pole gleefully picked up the still-smoking rifle and took a potshot at the German chasing Wedge and Albarrow. The rest of the Poles scattered in all directions, creating enough chaos for the two Americans to escape. Wedge and Albarrow continue to have a run of bad-good luck. You rolled a 3, meaning you were able to escape from the pack but were noticed. You managed to pass your escape check, thanks to sheer dumb luck. You only had 33% odds of getting away from the pursuing guards. Panting from their mad dash to freedom, the escapers tried to get their bearings. Hidden behind a small barn, Roeben and Ramhorn used the old Boy Scout watch and sun method to get their bearings. Meanwhile, Wedge and Ramhorn wandered through the woods until they came to a small road junction. Qucikly consulting Wedge's hidden map, they walked down the road towards Barth, trying to look as casual as possible. You both passed your navigation checks with flying colors. Nice pair of 6s. Now on to the really risky part, transport. Doling out their meagre handful of Reichsmarks, Albarrow and Wedge bought themselves a pair of train tickets for Rostock just as the train pulled into the station. But before they could make their next step to freedom, they had to get past a bored-looking policeman with thick glasses. Taking their passes with a grunt, he browsed them. Moving sluggishly, he compared the passes to a fresh-printed set of mugshots. Wedge swallowed when he caught sight of his POW mugshot. Word had gotten out about their escape. To his surprise, the policeman waved him and Albarrow onto the train and lazily took the next traveler's pass. A few minutes later, the train chugged out of the station and on towards Rostock. One more hurdle cleared. You were one point away from getting busted here. If you hadn't spent time to steal example papers and then forge new ones you'd have gotten busted. Meanwhile, Roeben and Ramhorn skulked towards the small farmhouse. A small curl of smoke rose from the chimney. Moving as quietly as they could, the two escapers slunk towards the two bicycles leaning against the wall. Snatching the bikes, they wheeled them away until they were out of sight of the farmhouse. Once they hit the road, they began pedaling away as fast as they could, trying to make the nearest port. -- Back in Stalag Luft I, the Germans were holding yet another Appell. Marching up and down the ranks, the goons counted the prisoners over and over again. And every time, they came up two short. "Two prisoners are missing, commandant" the shame-faced lieutenant stammered. "The two pilots, Albarrow and Wedge. They must have escaped with those Poles..." The commandant stamped his foot and shouted incoherently before stamping off to his office. Sandwiched between two burly Canadians, the Polish laborers just grinned at each other and pulled the collars of their RAF coats a little higher. -- Roeben and Ramhorn came around the corner and nearly crashed their bicycles into the largest soldier they'd ever seen. Swearing at them, the soldier demanded their papers. Hastily the two prisoners complied. Roeben stammered an apology in German. The man just grunted and passed their papers back to them and waved them on their way. Pedaling off as quickly as they dared, the two men caught sight of ship masts peeking above the rooftops. They were almost to the harbor. Hopping off the train, Albarrow and Wedge were stopped by a fresh-faced Hitler Youth who demanded their papers, fumbled with them, dropped them, and then asked them a question in garbled Polish and German. Wedgekree replied with a phrase he hoped was correct. The teenager paused, frowned and handed back their papers. With the last checkpoint out of the way, the two pilots headed for the docks. Trying not to look conspicuous, the escapers worked their way through warehouses and jetties, trying to find a Swedish-flagged ship. After a few minutes of searching and a near-miss with a few patrols, each group found a ship that fit them bill. Albarrow and Wedge hid between some oil drums until nightfall, then crept up the gangplank of a battered Swedish tramp steamer. Moving as stealthily as they could, stowed away under a canvas-covered lifeboat Just as they were getting settled in, the cover flew back, revealing the wizened face of a deckhand. Communicating with gestures and broken German, the two men did their best to communicate that they were escaping prisoners and needed help. Upon realizing the situation, the sailor grinned and helped them out of the lifeboat. A few minutes later, they were sitting in the ship's mess, eating hot soup and listening to the sounds of the big engines pushing them away from the dock and towards Sweden. They'd made it. Roeben and Ramhorn made a similar nighttime boarding action. Clambering aboard a Norwegian freighter, they slipped down and vacant hatchway. Moving quietly down the corridor, they bumped into an angry-looking cook. Yelling, the man grabbed both prisoners by the collars. Roeben tried to bribe him with some cigraettes, but only go a kick in his ribs for his trouble. Taking a swing at the cook, Ramhorn missed and felt a searing pain shoot into hit heat as a bosun clocked him with a monkey wrench. When he woke up again, he was in handcuffs in the back of a truck. They'd been busted. You had a run of bad luck here. You got detected trying to stowaway. You couldn't bribe the guy who caught you. You couldn't overpower him. And so you got busted. Luckily, you passed your "Gestapo shoots you in the back of the head" roll. -- Back in Hut 13, Jarrell looked at a packet of sunflower seeds, turned a little green and wheezed. His plan was almost complete... Bacarruda fucked around with this message at 11:13 on Feb 2, 2018 |
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Feb 2, 2018 08:35
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*reads, slowclaps* Barracuda, you are among the best writers on the forums here at Somethingawful. Consider me in complete awe of your writing abilities and your research. You'ev given me a few things to look up and read about of a bit of the war I've never read anything about (beyond episodes of Hogan's Heroes). Some insanely good writing here and consider me enthralled by how you do things. Worth staying up to read and catch! Also I'mb iased as I made it away, but it's nice to actually survive for once! Also I like 'good about getting bad luck'. And two out of four folks getting away from the prison is pretty good, correct? I'm not really sure what the success rate of wartime escapes was, at lesat from teh West..
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Feb 2, 2018 11:06
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Fantastic writing! I really felt the ups and downs of the Major's experience, including the relief at being able to make it to Sweden. Speaking of that verisimilitude... Once we return to England, would it be possible for Major Albarrow to volunteer for an Ops job at Group? Somebody's gotta get the ball rolling on unfucking the way things are being done before the Group Commander pointlessly sends even more men to their deaths or German captivity. Besides, how can he plan to someday punch the Group Commander's teeth in without being able to case the joint? I don't think he can climb into a Fortress again for some time, but he's no yellow-bellied lout who's going to desert from the USAAF when he can still do something to contribute to the war! (Tl;dr I have a bunch going on IRL for the next while and probably won't be able to continue following the thread super closely, but I would very much like to please still be some part of the 427th , or at least the 303rd BG!)
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Feb 2, 2018 11:49
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Oh god my sides! This had me at the edge of my seat, and then in stitches. What a story! What an ending! What a series of rolls! Definitely the greatest escape in the history of people escaping from places that they shouldn't be escaping from...
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Feb 2, 2018 12:59
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 One by one, the 303rd Group’s bombers pulled away from the tarmac and clawed their way skywards. Up in the cockpit, fragments of the briefing echoed in Major Apple’s ears. “The target for today is the docks at Lorient…heavy flak…stiff fighter opposition…maximum effort.” The last phrase kept replaying over again. “Maximum effort. You must hit the target.” Following Officer’s navigational advice, Major Apple worked The Goon Bird into formation. From all over southern England, Seventy-three other B-17s from the 1st Bombardment Wing streamed towards their aerial rendezvous. The green-painted bombers worked themselves into squadrons of six or seven, then into groups of eighteen or nineteen. And then into one massive formation boring a hole in the sky, contrails streaming from their engines. Like the last mission, the Goon Bird was flying in the middle of the lead squadron today. Lieutenant Colonel Robinson, the Group operations officer, was leading the mission today in Joe Btfsplk. Word had it that Robinson was due to become a full bird any day now and was a cinch to get his own group. But if anything happened to him, Major Apple and the crew of The Goon Bird would have to take the lead.  For the first few hours, everything was calm. In the waist, Crotch and Brownie scanned the skies for any sign of German fighters. Behind them, Bunting’s Sperry ball turret whirred as it spun. Inside the cramped space, Bunting felt the cold nipping at his toes. His lucky socks had plenty of holes in them, but they also had plenty of luck. And after that briefing…he wanted all the luck he could get. Behind his oxygen mask, Geste whistled a few bars of ‘Lili Marlene’ and wondered if the chow tonight would go better with red wine or white wine. [We made it all the way through Zone 5 without encountering a single fighter. Lucky us! We’re almost to the target] Officer was the first to see them. With sunlight glinting off their canopies, thirty fighters prowled in search of prey. An entire Geschwader, headed right for them. “Navigator to crew, fighters 1 o’clock high!” Officer yelled over the intercom. He and O’Ginger grabbed the cold grips of their machine guns and swung them towards the oncoming fighters. Up in his turret, Gatz felt his breath quicken. There were too many fighters to count. He remembered those old Westerns he used to sneak into. The ones with the wagon trains being attacked by hostile Indians. Except this time, there wasn’t any cavalry. A Messerschmitt made the first pass, gunsmoke trailing from its wings. A second later, the flight deck exploded. Gatz felt cold air rushing by his legs. His breath came in gasps and he felt weak at the knees. Glancing down from his guns, he could see nothing but air and twisted metal on his left side. His oxygen bottle looked like a broken egg, its life-giving oxygen violently dissipated.  “Sir! I need some oxygen! Mine got busted!” he yelled over the intercom. Still stunned from the explosion, Rex looked over his shoulder at the engineer and gawped for a moment. When he’d gathered his wits, he passed the engineer one of the small portable bottles the crew used for moving around the airplane. It wasn’t much, but it would hold off suffocation for the moment. [We lucked the gently caress out there. We rolled a 5, which knocked out the Engineer’s oxygen. If we’d rolled a 6 and we’d have had a fire, plus lost the pilots’ oxygen. Worst case, the bomber burns up and we have to bail out. Best case, we’re out of oxygen and have to descend, making us easy picking for fighters.] Three more fighters slashed into the tight formation, passing just a few yards between the densely-packed Fortresses. Like wolves, they were trying to break apart the herd. It took all of Major Apple’s concentration to keep the damaged Goon Bird flying in formation. With a white-knuckled grip on the yoke, he could feel The Goon Bird shake as the damaged right aileron fluttered in the slipstream.  Minutes later, another wave of 109s came in from 12 o’clock, trying to break the nerve of the 303rd Group’s pilots. Despite the terrifyingly-close passes, discipline prevailed. But the 303rd still paid a price. Back in the tail, Geste watched fighter after fighter dive into the high squadron. One Fortress in particular was taking a beating. Hell Cat, Oran O’Connor’s ship, was getting the personal touch from the Luftwaffe. The prop on the starboard No. 4 engine windmilled wildly until one of the pilots managed to feather it. A 109 made a pass, leaving the port side’s No. 1 engine smoking. With two engines gone, the Fortress clawed futilely for altitude. Powerless, Geste could only observe the wounded bomber slowly fall out of the squadron.  “Tail gunner here, Hellcat’s hit! She’s going down.” Bunting swiveled his tail turret to get a better look. Hellcat was going down fast, pursued by a swarm of fighters. “Come on you guys, get out! Get out!” One by one, tiny specks fell from the falling Fortress. Geste counted them as they went, willing each man to get out, dammit, get out! He only saw eight chutes before the bomber disappeared from sight. Then, the fighters seemed to melt away. The crew’s momentary relief was quickly replaced with the knowledge a new ordeal was coming: flak. Even the Luftwaffe wasn’t bloodthirsty enough to fly through their own 88s…  A thick wall of flak greeted them over the target. O’Ginger took a swig of whiskey and squinted through the Norden. Major Apple and Officer had flown them perfectly to the IP. This time, they might actually hit something… “JESUS CHRIST!” Snowden screamed over the intercom, swearing for the first time in his life.  A Flying Fortress filled his vision like a terrifying aluminum overcast. Its bomb bay doors were open, still stuffed with evil-looking five hundred-pounders. Major Apple and Rex jammed their rudder pedals as hard as they dared, slewing The Goon Bird to the right. They nearly collided with Bad Check’s* vertical stabilizer, missing their wingman by a matter of inches. A heartbeat later, a stick of bombs fell right where The Goon Bird had been. Some idiot navigator in the group above them had fouled up. Now they were bombing Lorient and the 303rd.  Back in the waist, Brownie saw chaos unfolding. Bombs falling. Fortresses scattering. Flak bursting. One stick of bombs cut off Beats Me’s tail and obliterated the tail gunner’s position. Geste and Brownie watched wide-eyed as the Fort flipped over and spun out of control, spilling out men and bombs. They only saw three chutes. Far below The Goon Bird, Ellis Sanderson’s Green Hornet flew right into a flak burst. Leaving behind smoke and engine parts, the Hornet lost airspeed and dropped out of formation, right into a waiting Staffel of Focke-Wulfes. Geste caught sight of only eight chutes. From the looks of things, the pilots rode her in.  Then it was The Goon Bird’s turn. A flak shell burst just off the port waist, deafening Crotch and Brownie. Shell fragments showered the two gunners. Luckily, their flak vests took the brunt of it. The bomber felt the pain, though. Shrapnel severed one set of control cables. Thanks to the wisdom of some Boeing engineer, the B-17 has two sets of control cables, so The Goon Bird could press on. [We got lucky here. The waist is packed with three gunners, so about 30% of the outcomes for a waist hit lead to someone getting hit…or killed] In the nose, O’Ginger pickled the bombs as best he could. But with the evasive maneuvers and the flak damage, his best just wasn’t enough. Five thousand pound bombs splashed into the harbor, dousing the crew of a flak lighter and ruining its fresh coat of paint. [O’Ginger can be excused for this one, even if the crunch says he had a 66% chance to hit. The real 303rd got bombed by another group and ripped up by flak during their bomb run, so they missed the target completely] As soon as the flak faded and the 303rd turned for home, the fighters came back with a vengeance. Their Combat Box broken, the scattered Forts were easy pickings. Off The Goon Bird’s port wing, Harry Robey’s Susfu got caught in the crosshairs of an FW 190. Major Apple, watched his wingman go down. In their bullet-riddled cockpit, Robey and McDermott were keeping their plane on the ragged edge of control, trying to buy time for their crew to get out. This one stung even more than the others. Susufu, like The Goon Bird was a 427th Squadron aircraft. They knew these guys. The engineer, Sulcofski, even bunked with Gatz back in Molesworth. But there wasn’t any time to grieve.  Another 427th B-17. Out their port windscreen, Apple and Rex saw Ehle Reber’s Jerry Jinx take a hammering from a pair of fighters. Gritting his teeth, Reber banked the dying Fortress out towards the Bay of Biscay. “Don’t try to ditch, get out!” Apple yelled futilely at his wingman. “Get out, dammit!” “They must have wounded aboard,” Rex guessed. “Don’t want to leave them behind.” Within a matter of minutes, the 303rd had lost five bombers and fifty men. All for nothing. Her wingmen gone, The Goon Bird was even more exposed. And the Luftwaffe took notice. Three fighters made a pincer attack on The Goon Bird. The first Focke Wulfe made a textbook attack from 12 o’clock, scoring a hit that harmlessly punched some sheet metal. His wingman made a pass from 3 o’clock level, but Bunting saw him off with a nasty burst. The last 190 zipped in from 3 o’clock level. In the right waist, Crotch fired off a burst and then ducked as tracers headed for his head. “Brownie, get dow….!” Brownie winced as a bullet creased his left arm. Crotch hustled over to him with a field dressing and tied in around his arm. “You ok, partner?” Brownie just nodded and turned back to his gun. Checking his stopwatch and maps, Officer radioed some good news up to Apple. “Navigator to pilot. Ten more minutes until we hit the Channel, boss.” [We’ve reached Zone 5. One more zone and we’ll get some fighter cover.] “Focke Wulfe, 10 o’clock high!” Gatz called on the intercom. Officer pivoted his .50 cal towards the attacker and squeezed off a burst. Shell casings and spent links clattered into the growing mountain at his feet. One machine gun didn’t feel like much against four 20mm cannon, but at least it was something.  The Goon Bird’s fire did nothing to deter the German pilot. With uncanny aim, he walked a long burst down the limping B-17. The first shell exploded in the radio room, tearing Snowden a new window, but doing no real damage. The next shells plowed into the flight deck, covering Apple and Rex with shattered plexiglas and broken instruments. The Apple brushed the bits off his jacket and said a silent prayer. The last shells bit into the nose. The nose bubble smashed into a million pieces. The slipstream ripped away the shattered chunks and snatched away the broken Norden bombsight. O’Ginger collapsed liked a sack of wet cement, clutching a gushing wound at his neck. Shocked, Officer rushed to help the fallen bombardier. O’Ginger just shoved him back and took a swig from his flask. Then, with a shaking finger, he pointed out the jagged hole that used to be the nose “Look…” Another Focke Wulfe was just coming out of bank at one o’clock level. Its nose and wings winked with gunfire as it started a firing pass. O’Ginger swore and threw his now-empty flask at the oncoming fighter. Fumbling for his .45, he got off a few shots just before the cannon shells hit. Three shells connected with The Goon Bird. Two harmlessly hit the wings, poking holes in aluminum. But the last shell burrowed into one of the starboard wing’s big Tokio tanks. Fanned by the 160 mile an hour slipstream, flames licked over the surface of the wing. Apple and Rex looked down at their fuel gauges. “poo poo,” Rex growled. Apple looked at him, nodded and pressed the bailout alarm. One of the starboard wing tanks was empty of fuel, but still full of fumes. Once the fire reached that tank, it’d probably blow the wing off. Once that happened, they were all dead. “Pilot to crew, bail out! Bail out!” Apple shouted over the intercom. “Get out now!” At the rear of the plane, the gunners wasted no time. Geste wormed his way out of his tail position, dragging his chest pack behind him. For a heart-stopping second, he felt the bulky parachute snag on a something. Wrenching it with all his might, he felt something give way. Relieved, he scrambled forwards as fast as he could. His arm still smarting from the bullet wound, Brownie grunted as he helped Bunting out of the ball turret. With the short gunner out of his round coffin, the two made a beeline for the rear crew door to make their leap for safety. In the waist, Crotch and Geste took a moment to buckle on their chest parachutes. “What are the odds of this? Twice in three missions!” Crotch chuckled to Geste. In response, Geste just shrugged and headed for the rear door. Meanwhile, Officer was bent over O’Ginger, trying to buckle a parachute onto the bleeding bombardier. O’Ginger batted him away. “Go! I’ll be ok!” The dying officer pulled out his belt buckle hip flask. Taking a mighty swig, he wavered a little. Screwing the last of his courage to its sticking place, he drunkenly fired off his last few .45s at a swastika-painted fighter. Swallowing hard, Officer turned away and headed out the crew hatch. On his way out, he bumped into Major Apple. The pilot grabbed him by the shoulder and yelled into his ear. “Where’s O’Ginger?” Officer just shook his head and looked down, hoping the pilot couldn’t see the tear welling in his eye. All in all, nine men made it out of The Goon Bird. Long after the war was over, every one of them would swear they saw the nose .50 firing at Nazi fighters until it hit the ground. Hitting the ground, the crew shrugged out of their parachute harnesses and made themselves scarce. Apple and Officer came down next to each other…right over a German flak battery. Snowden, Crotch, and Geste had better luck, for a while. But a man in a bomber jacket doesn’t blend into Occupied France too well. After a few hours of high-stakes hide-and-seek, some German MPs rounded them up. Clutching his arm, Brownie wandered aimlessly, still stunned from the violent death of The Goon Bird. He was easy pickings for a German patrol. After a few hours of bumping around in the back of a truck with a Luger jammed into his ribs, they took him to a hospital where a rather Wagernian nurse stitched him up and doused the wound in iodine. After watching his life flash before him for a few seconds, Brownie was dragged off to join the others in the POW cage. Rex and Bunting landed in a forest. Dangling from a tree, they spent several fruitless minutes trying to cut themselves down. When they heard voices in the distance, Rex went for his .45 but managed to drop it fifteen feet into a pile of leaves. When he saw the nervous maquis approaching him, he stoically reflected that this might have been good luck after all. If they saw him brandishing a pistol, he might have ended up with a few new holes in some interesting places. After much whispering and cursing, the Frenchmen managed to get the two airmen down and escorted them back to camp. To their surprise, they found Gatz sitting glumly by the fire, grumbling something about “the drat Group Commander…” A few days later, they watched from the deck of a rusty fishing smack as the English coast appear on the horizon. “Welcome back, mes amis.” --- This was the 303rd Bomb Group’s eleventh mission and its bloodiest one yet. Twenty-one bombers went up. Five never came back. All five B-17s were lost over the target, thanks to the SNAFU I alluded to in the narrative. One of the other groups accidentally bombed the 303rd during its bomb run. This broke up the Combat Box formation and made the 303rd easy pickings for Luftwaffe fighters.  Loss One was a 358th Bombardment Squadron ship, Hell Cat was (relatively) lucky. After getting shot up by fighters, the entire crew managed to get out. The co-pilot, Eldon Ruppe, and the navigator, Bruce Gordon, managed to evade capture and get back to England with the help of the Resistance.  Loss Two was the Green Hornet, from the 359th Bombardment Squadron lost all three engines to flak, then got bounced by FW 190s who made head-on attacks. Eight crewmembers got out. The pilot and the co-pilot only had one parachute left and decided to stay with their plane and go for a crash landing. Despite the fact that he’d had some of his fingers shot off, the pilot First Lieutenant, Ellis Sanderson, managed to crash the Hornet into a hillside and survived to be captured. His co-pilot, Horace Bowman, made it too. Amazing enough, four of the crew managed to evade capture and make it back to the 303rd. The rest ended up in the slammer. The tail gunner, Staff Sergeant Joseph Markiewicz, landed safely in his parachute, but died of his wounds a few days later in a German hospital.   Beats Me in December 1942 at Molesworth. Radio Operator T/Sgt Charles L. Roth is installing one of the nose guns. Loss Three was Beats Me from the 360th Bombardment Squadron got hit by a bomb that ripped off the tail and instantly killed the tail gunner, Staff Sergeant Wayne Stevens. The ship flipped upside down and made a nose dive and Haas and co-pilot 2nd Lieutenant Roy Christianson managed to right her in time for three men to get out. German fighters swarmed all over the straggler. One strafing run killed or wounded Haas and Christianson. Beats Me spiraled out for control and crashed, taking the rest of her dead or trapped crew with her. The saddest part of this story might be that Haas wasn’t even supposed to be on this mission. Louis Schulstad, the regular pilot had a cold and Haas was filling in for him.  (Back L-R) Pilot 1Lt Louis M. "Mel" Schulstad [not on mission], Co-Pilot 2Lt Roy W. Christianson (KIA), Navigator 2Lt John H. Embach (POW), Bombardier 2Lt Reinaldo J. Saiz [not on mission] (Front L-R) Engineer T/Sgt Antone Pacheco (KIA), Right Wast Gunner S/Sgt John Sherman, (KIA), T/Sgt Charles L. Roth (POW), Tail Gunner, S/Sgt Wayne O. Stevens (KIA), Ball Turret Gunner S/Sgt Peter Soria  Loss Four was the appropriately-named Susfu (“Situation Unchanged, Still hosed-Up”), from our very own 427th Bombardment Squadron. It got jumped by a 190 that blew off the nose and killed the bombardier, Roy Moser. Another shell blew a massive hole in the vertical stabilizer. While the B-17 was still controllable, the pilot, 1st Lieutenant Harry Robey, rang the bailout alarm. Once his crew was out, he hit the silk. While he descended to earth, a German pilot gunned him down and shot up his chute. With his chute gone, burned into the ground. He was buried in a French churchyard, in a ceremony presided over by a French priest and a German honor guard that saluted the dead airman. Two of his crew, co-pilot Mark McDermott and radio operator Sebastian Vogel were able to evade and make it home. Vogel's evasion story is well worth a read  (Back L-R) Pilot 1Lt Harry A. Robey, Jr (KIA), Co-Pilot 2Lt Benjamin H. Burma (not on mission due to illnness), Navigator 2Lt Charles R. Grice (POW), Bombardier 2Lt Roy R. Moser (KIA) (Front - not in order) Engineer T/Sgt Francis Sulcofski (POW), Radio Operator S/Sgt Sebastian L. Vogel (Evaded) (2nd from left); Right Waist Gunner Sgt Donald H. Rutt (KIA on another bomber), Ball Turret Gunner Pvt Edward T. Levering, Tail Gunner Sgt Morel D. Bradley (KIA another bomber)  Loss 5 was another 427th bird, the Jerry Jinx was hit by fighters and lost two engines. With two engines gone, she couldn’t keep altitude and dropped out of formation. The pilot, 1st Lieutenant Ehle Reber turned the Jinx for home and tried to nurse his plane back to England. They didn’t make it. Reber had to ditch the B-17 into the Channel. This is purely conjecture on my part, but I suspect that with two engines out, the Jinx hit the water with one wing low and cartwheeled on impact, which tore the plane apart and killed the crew. (Back L-R) Pilot 1Lt Ehle H. Reber (KIA), Co-Pilot 2Lt Allan D. Mitchell (KIA), Navigator 2Lt Jarold J. Byrom (KIA), Bombardier 2Lt Robert J. Swindle (KIA) (Front - not in order) Engineer T/Sgt Duke L. Hamilton (KIA), Ball Turret S/Sgt Irwin D. Blankenship (KIA), Radio Operator S/Sgt Darius R. Gray [not on mission], Right Waist Gunner Sgt Victor G. Hand (KIA), Left Waist Gunner Sgt Luther N. Gross (KIA); T/Sgt Donald A. Nicholson [passenger, not on mission] Substitute crewmen (not in photo) on the mission were: Radio Operator S/Sgt D.A. Mayo (KIA) and Tail Gunner Sgt Roger W. Milford (KIA).   Pilot Ehle H. Reber is in the center of the photo, on the left front fender of the Jeep. Right Waist Gunner Victor G. Hand is on the left shoulder of the top man.  First Lieutenant Ehle H. Reber (left) and Captain Lloyd R. Cole, of the 303rd Bomb Group, relax in Reber's quarters. This image was taken by an Associated Press. By the time it was passed for publication on January 25th, 1943, Reber and his entire crew were already dead. You can read Reber's diary here Bacarruda fucked around with this message at 04:09 on Feb 5, 2018 |
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Feb 2, 2018 15:42
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Great writing! Good to have two of our boys back. Was the cook Norwegian? (Just curious, since I'm half Norwegian and a citizen.) Hopefully the other mates took his name down regardless. RA Rx fucked around with this message at 15:51 on Feb 2, 2018 |
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Feb 2, 2018 15:42
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Sign me up as a Navigator! Lt. Nate "Hedge" Hogg. Born in raised in Boston. Thick red hair, thicker glasses. Brave but quiet, tries to hide his Southie accent best he can. Dreams of making it back home and opening the largest coffee and donut chain in the Northeast. Maybe there will be dunking involved.
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Feb 2, 2018 16:45
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Geeze Ginger, you could'a used some of those lucky pennies.  You gonna respawn? Maybe your next character will be paid back all the luck. Glad I landed with you, Bunting. All those rabbits and pennies were good for something! The luck may be coming from Gatz though... Congrats on surviving three missions! You're going to be covered in medals at this rate. Btw, do we gain experience or anything on our flights, or is that just for gunners and bombardiers (iirc they get more accurate after five kills for a gunner)? We should probably find a luckier name for our third plane, so far I've seen three B-17s with the name Goon get shot down in two separate games. That and bring some SMGs and phrasebooks for the next few times we get shot down. Really gotta commend you on the long updates and history lessons! Tragic to read about that poor Susfu pilot who got murdered by some flyboy rear end in a top hat. Anyway, Rex will sign back up for more missions. Will try to get promoted to main pilot if possible. RA Rx fucked around with this message at 17:57 on Feb 2, 2018 |
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Feb 2, 2018 16:46
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Wow, the 303rd's luck hasn't changed.. We got so close. RIP O'Ginger. You will be missed.  (The last mission was one of the most tense and occasionally horrifying updates that I've read in an LP, well done! O'Ginger's final stand was equal parts tragic and awesome.) Snowden's escaping ASAP. He can't bomb any nazis from a POW camp and the goons have a 50/50 escape rate so far, so what could possibly go wrong? PenguinSalsa fucked around with this message at 17:59 on Feb 2, 2018 |
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Feb 2, 2018 17:35
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Captain Officer will not attempt to escape from the Germans. Porucznik Zbygniew Prlwytzplofsky enters the fray! This fearless Polish pilot fled after the Polish capitulation, and ended up in Britain. Not deterred by his complete incapability to speak English, the Brits put him to work. He makes his own rakia and smoked meat in the barracks and constantly babbles into nowhere whenever he is flying. Dance Officer fucked around with this message at 19:29 on Feb 2, 2018 |
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Feb 2, 2018 17:38
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Welp that could have gone better. Major Apple will attempt to escape captivity!
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Feb 2, 2018 18:08
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From the hilarious to the somber. Good read.
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Feb 2, 2018 19:18
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Salud to you, brave Goons. May you get your revenge on the wretched Huns for your losses. Also I presume Wedge given his recent return probably won't be put back on immediate duty unless there's a big loss. Feel free to put him on desk/support duty so other goons can get a chance to fly or can rotate him in as you need him (i'm going on vacation for a week so won't be around). Feel free to use him as you need but presume having gotten back as an escaped POW he's not going to be flying quite as soon if ever again.
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Feb 2, 2018 23:49
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Glad you folks enjoyed this one. We were so close to getting fighter escort right before we went down. The dice seem to have it our for us. Any suggestions for our new bomber?
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Feb 2, 2018 23:50
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As in names? "Goon Fishin'" I should really make a bomberman. Jimmy "President" Polk has been added to the roster!
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Feb 3, 2018 00:05
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Lets go with "Goon with the Wind"
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Feb 3, 2018 00:38
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Every plane with "Goon" in the name has died quickly and horribly. So yeah third time's the charm I like Goon Fishin'
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Feb 3, 2018 01:18
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This is some phenomenal writing and research. Well done, Bacarruda.
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Feb 3, 2018 02:44
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Seconded on the quality of research and writing, Bac. This has been quite a ride. Now...is there anything Beau Geste can do to aid other prisoners in escaping? Instead of dedicating his time to forging his own papers and whatnot, maybe start up a black market operation so his fellow bomber crewmates can get to Sweden a little easier (and the friendly Stalag guards get a little drunker).
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Feb 3, 2018 04:44
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 Re-joining the 303rd as a pilot or co-pilot, CPT. Jackson Jaksoff, second generation Russian-American who entered the USAAF as a plea deal for a public indecency charge, then found out he was quite good at flying aircraft. While a naturally cautious fellow, his probation officer has repeatedly threatened him with jail should he abort any missions. pinchofginger fucked around with this message at 09:59 on Feb 3, 2018 |
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Feb 3, 2018 06:10
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So Barry, am I out for now? I'm okay with letting other people have a turn before I re-register, but Ramhorn isn't dead yet. But he is back in the camp, having failed once. Mind you, didn't the guys from The Great Escape also get caught several times before they did the Great escape with Steve McQueen?
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Feb 3, 2018 08:06
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Goon of the Skies Because if we're going to be jinxed. might as well be REALLY jinxed.
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Feb 3, 2018 08:35
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loving love Fiona Apple posted:Lets go with "Goon with the Wind" Seconding this
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Feb 3, 2018 09:11
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loving love Fiona Apple posted:Lets go with "Goon with the Wind" Thirding this.
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Feb 3, 2018 10:13
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painedforever posted:So Barry, am I out for now? I'm okay with letting other people have a turn before I re-register, but Ramhorn isn't dead yet. But he is back in the camp, having failed once. You and Roeben have been chucked in the cooler. Since a whole bunch of other goons have been shot down, I think another Goon Escape will be happening soon. Ramhorn is welcome to try his luck a second time. But if you get busted a second time, it's off to Colditz...
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Feb 3, 2018 10:20
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Loving this, loving all the writing. Throw Graft Cheeseman onto the pile. Radio operator, alcoholic, dour budding journalist drafted into the long war. Dutch-Scots, he's well schooled, but he's pretty much just an idiot.
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Feb 3, 2018 10:48
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Concrete glider out of Colditz, goons. Let's make this happen.
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Feb 3, 2018 10:54
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Gordo will be making an escape attempt, but he needs nap before deciding how.
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Feb 3, 2018 11:00
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Can we send the escapes some care packages through the Red Cross? Too bad our bombers don't reach that far, we could cause a dangerous distraction if it was closer... And I was serious about bringing phrasebooks on our bombers if we may, maybe a civilian jacket each too, and an SMG each. If you're caught once already you might want to max out your skills before failing a second escape. Good thing we have a professional Stalag merchant now, we have like double the characters there compared to at the airfield. I look forward to finding out whether Gatz is just lucky, or a luck vampire.  In case anyone missed it, our Engineer is the only person to escape capture, twice.Is it too much to ask to be shot down over the channel next time?
RA Rx fucked around with this message at 11:16 on Feb 3, 2018 |
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Feb 3, 2018 11:09
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nth-ing the great writing Bacc, this thread is a lot of fun!
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Feb 3, 2018 11:40
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