Battle Report January 1945 over Belgium
Allied:
1X RAF D H98 Mosquito F Mk2
1X USAAF P38L Lightning
Axis
1X Messerschmitt Bf110 F1
1X Messerschmitt Bf109 G4
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The Sun was setting, bathing the landscape in a yellow glow as Max Schutze in his 110 and Fredreich Muller in his 109 headed back to base after a routine anti-MTB patrol over the sea. They were looking forward to a few glasses of Hungarian Plum Brandy before getting their heads down, thankful that they had avoided contact with the omnipresent USAAF fighters. Freidreich dipped his nose slightly to add a few MPH and did a double take.
"Black 5, White 3, Tommies 12o clock low, Mosquito!"
"Jawhol, He is alone. Lets get him!"
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The BF110 began a gentle diving turn to the left and the 109 kept the power up and howled forwards. Max flicked off the safetys on his cannon.
In the Mosquito, the navigator Sgt Chumbly Warner lit up a smoke and glanced back over his shoulder.
"Bloody Hell! Jerrys!"
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"Cripes! Ok Sarge, Hang on tight!" snapped Pilot Officer Blenkinsopp. The Mosquito was at height 8 and really too low to dive away. They were going to have to fight. The F Mk2 sucked round in a punishing left turn.
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Freidreich was lining up on the Mosquito when suddenly Max , in an attempt to cut off the Mosquito dived straight in front of him.
"Dummkopft!" Screeched Freidreich "Break! You are in my Guns"
Max however had the Mosquito lined up and opened fire with his 13mm's and his 20mm cannon. Bullets smashed into the Mosquito stitching up its wing.
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With The 110 almost chewing the 109's tail off Max sideslipped hard right to clear Freidreichs line of sight, in doing so he lost altitude but Blenkinsopp having bled off speed in his turn had dipped the nose taking the Mossy down to Height 5. Freidreich dropped altitude as well. and overcooked it. Within seconds he had flashed beneath the Mosquito and Blenkinsopp opened fire with all 4 Hispanos and four brownings. The wings and fuselarge of the 110 was peppered and a 20mm smashed into the wing root almost knocking the stick from the Germans hand.
Max Tracked the mosquito and let rip a long burst which punched into the Mossys port engine . Immediattly the Merlin started stuttering and a stream of coolant sprayed out.
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In a flash the 110's speed now touching 450mph carried it across the Britons path, Max's 109 hacked round as he tried to get a beam attack in. Once more the cannon and MG's roared blowing the tail of the Mosquito to shreds
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"Hang in there Limey!" called a new voice. Twin Allison Engines snarled and Lt O'Flannerhy who had been passing by suddenly streaked into the fight.Right up Max's tail.
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Tracers zipped over Max's shoulder.
"Achtung! Lightning! I'll handle him, you get the Tommi" snapped Max.
Freidreich split S his 110 reversing his direction. Max bashed his control column to the right and aileron turned as tight as his Messerschmitt would stand.
O Flannerhy however had great range with his lightnings weapons and they were four tightly packed fifty calibers and a 20mm cannon all boresighted to deliver a shattering impact. A hail of metal ripped the 109's Damiler engine to peices. The propellor seized and Max cursed.
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Freidreich lifted the nose of the 110 and the two heavy fighters went nose to nose. The 110's shells blew chunks off the Lightnings left boom and the Lightning ripped multiple holes in the structure of the 110. It was a game of chicken, but with one factor the German had forgotton! Blenkinsop!
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The 110 banked hard left and the P38 banked hard right as they started to eneter a rolling horizontal sissors. In this fight it would be touch and go who gained the advantage. But as the 110 narrowed the angle on the 38, sliding up behind him came the Mosquito, its remaining Merlin thundering with power.
The 110's rear gunner sprayed wildly, but within seconds eight guns from the mosquito had smashed fist sized holes all over the already damaged Zestorer.
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Unable to think, with no way out, Freidreich opened his throttles and banked right for Germany. The game was up though. The Yank and the Tommy led his slow turning machine and 5 cannon and 8 heavy machine guns blasted the 110 into a shttered hulk. The wing ripped away at the root and it span into the Belgian fields exploding in a fireball.
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Max drifted down on his chute. Tonight there would be no celebrations in the mess. Just three more empty seats.
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