Mission Report - Stalingrad Scud Run

[ft]

Stalingrad, December 1941
The winter cold was biting, as always. The besieged city of Stalingrad endured  as always. It was, however, becoming clear to even the most blissfully unaware people in the city that something was going to happen soon  one way or another. It was desperate times.

I was the commanding officer of a unit of I16s at the airbase just outside the industrial area in southern Stalingrad. Unit, as the three worn aircraft under my command didnt really fit into any accepted military description. The german fighthers had taken their toll. Our aircraft survived, hidden in their shelters around the base. Probably not for long, they were four until yesterday when one of the shells randomly bombarding Stalingrad around the clock found its shelter.

The I16 was a very nice aircraft to fly, a true pilots aircraft. Handled like a dream, although it could bite if provoked. In the air above Stalingrad, outnumbered by the much superior German Messerschmitt Bf109s, it couldnt really achieve anything  even if our fuel supplies would have allowed us to get any kind of fighter cover into the air. Over the last week, the skies had belonged to the Germans. Their fighters had shelled our troops and the Ju-87 Stukas had howled as they tore down on our lines, gull-winged horsemen of apocalypses through high explosives.

In their wake, the Germans were moving in closer. They could already bombard parts of the city with mortars. Their lines were just outside of town. A few more days, and we would have to abandon the base, retreat further north and lick our wounds.

Today, the shelling was the only sound heard though, the explosions dull and muffled by the snow covered landscape and the snow falling through the air. All too close, but still sounding distant in the howling wind, which swept across the base. The snowstorm kept the German aircraft on the ground. The sky felt empty without the drone of aircraft engines, even though it meant a days respite.

The mechanics were out in the shelter around my aircraft though, keeping the kerosene heater under the engine going, converting the engine oil back into a fluid from the near solid the cold turned it into. Desperate times call for desperate actions, and an idea had formed in my mind. The risk was overwhelming, but the possible reward great.

It was known since some time that the Germans kept their fighters at the airbase near Malie Derbety. On a day like this, they werent flying so the fighters were on the ground for maintenance and repairs. They certainly wouldnt be expecting to be attacked from the air. Only a madman would fly on a day like this. Maybe, just maybe, I could find the airbase in the blizzard. And maybe& I was enough of a madman to try.

It wouldnt be easy. The first challenge would be getting my I16 off the runway in the blizzard, heavy with rockets slung under its wings. The front was near and while the Germans reportedly lacked winter boots and other equipment, we knew through bitter experience that this lack did not include anti-aircraft weaponry. Any Russian aircraft flying behind the German lines below 2000 meters was sure to find deadly fingers reaching up towards it from the numerous 20mm guns and the even more lethal quad-barrel whirlwind mobile AAA dispersed densely over the landscape. Furthermore, navigation would be no easy task today. The ceiling was at a mere 500 meters.

Scud running under the overcast was not an option. I would have had to follow rivers and road if I was to find my way, and along those the AAA was too deadly. I would have to fly on top and find my way through dead reckoning. I plotted a course from our base to the enemy airfield. 57 kilometres, 165 degrees true. I would have to climb over Stalingrad, I wanted to cross the German lines with a bit of altitude under my wings to avoid the AAA. That meant I could count on around 300 km/h of true airspeed, meaning about eleven and a half minutes of flight time to target. I decided to descend after eleven minutes as steeply as possible, using the flaps to steepen my glide. This would minimize the time spent in the jaws of the AAA. I elected to fly a slightly more southerly course than 165 degrees and use a river going east to west south of the airfield to find my position after my letdown through the overcast.

By 15:45, the day was already turning into dusk as I sat in the cockpit at the end of runway 06, doing my final pre-flight checks. The giant engine was shaking the aircraft idling in front of me, all but obscuring my view of the runway. The wind was at 30 degrees, probably up to 60 or 70 km/h in the gusts. The takeoff would be hairy, as predicted. Completing my checklist, I extended the flaps and waited for them to come out fully.

I slowly advanced the throttle until the plane began pushing on the brakes. I pulled the stick into the pit of my stomach, to get additional pressure on the tail wheel and a bit of extra directional stability, and advanced the throttle a bit more. As the engine overpowered the brakes and the aircraft began its takeoff roll, I eased off the brakes. I kept the rudder hard right and modulated the right brake to keep the aircraft rolling straight down the runway until the rudder got enough air flowing over it to keep the aircraft straight. Then, I slowly released the backpressure on the stick, letting the tail of the aircraft lift. The runway rose into view as I snaked down it.

The wind wanted to lift my left wing, but I kept control by pure willpower as much as by piloting. Eventually, at around 180 km/h, the aircraft lifted off almost by itself as always.
Lift off was noticed mainly by the aircraft turning away from the wind and drifting off to the side than  it was always a non-event in the I16. I neutralised the rudder and put in a bit of crab to continue tracking down the runway, careful to remain coordinated throughout my correction. Low altitude, low airspeed, flaps extended, heavy aircraft  this was not the right time to mess up!

Not wanting to spend more time close to the ground than absolutely necessary, I didnt wait for 200 of height before starting to crank in the landing undercarriage. 23, 24, 25 turns of the crank and the red lights came on on the dash, indicating undercarriage in and locked. I let the airspeed build for a few moments, then selected flaps up as the outskirts of the battered city of Stalingrad swept by underneath me, already almost invisible through the blizzard.

I turned my attention to the instruments, pulling back slightly to avoid loosing altitude as the flaps came in. The aircraft gained airspeed, slowly, oh so slowly, but finally mainainted altitude without any stick pressure and then, finally, I could begin climbing.

I was by now flying on instruments alone and entered a slow climbing left turn. Now and then, Id catch a glimpse of the airbase or Stalingrad through a hole on the blizzard but all in all, it was a complete whiteout  or rather a greyout, dark enough to make me turn on the instrument lights.

I remained in this climbing turn until I reached 1,250, when I straightened out on my predetermined heading, started my stopwatch and flew towards the German lines. I knew Id reached them when a ear-shattering barrage of  20 mm AAA ripped the air apart just below me. 1800, not above their effective ceiling but high enough to be relatively safe. Chances were they were firing at the sound of my engines  the probability of them actually seeing more than a fleeing glimpse of me was slim. Distracted by the AAA and by having my head in the cockpit double-checking my navigation, Id let my heading drift to 140 degrees. The aircraft had an unusual slight left-turning tendency. I cursed myself, navigation was critical on this mission. I couldnt let myself be caught offguard like that! At around 2,200, the explosions stopped. I kept climbing until I reached the relative safety at 2,600, where I reduced power for level flight.

Checking my clock, I saw that a few minutes remained until top of descent. The low sun shining through the disturbed atmosphere was a sight to behold, and I allowed myself to relax a little& and drifted off my heading again! In my head, I could hear the words of my flight instructor: Never EVER relax while flying an aircraft in combat! My anger with my own performance sent adrenaline surging through my veins, sharpening me up and also warming my now rather cold limbs a bit.

As my clock reached eleven minutes, I slowly retarded the throttle to 30% and extended the flaps. Pushing the stick forward to maintain 270 km/h or so, I began a rapid descent through the clouds. After a while, when the engine had cooled a bit from the higher power setting, I retarded the throttle almost to idle and the descent steepened even more.

Coming down through 1,700, I was greeted by another barrage of 20mm AAA. I had hoped to go unnoticed for just a few seconds more. This wasnt my lucky day. Passing through 550, I raised the flaps and increased power, flattening my descent. I stared into the grey white wall ahead of me, trying to pierce it with my eyes and find that elusive part of terra firma which would be my door back from this dream world, full of the soft shapes of clouds and murderous pieces of high-velocity shrapnel. I was lucky to slow my descent. All of a sudden, the ground rushed up at me out of the murk. I pulled out at less than 50 above it.

I had come out above a vast snowfield. At first I mistook it for a frozen lake, and flew in circles for a while looking for a beach I could recognise to get a fix on my position. A few times, I thought I had beach ahead but only since 20 mm and Whirlwind fire greeted me, prompting me to break away.

As a Whirlwind opened up, I thought I could see light reflecting off ice breaking up along a shoreline. I broke off from the Whirwind and paralleled this shoreline for a while before turning back towards it. Then, I realized my mistake. The shoreline was in fact a river, and a river going east-west. This could only be my intended landmark. Trying to find a bridge, which would lead me onto a road heading towards the German base, I followed it west for a little less than a minute. Realizing that I was following it in the wrong direction, I turned back just as yet another Whirlwind opened up ahead of me. The Germans sure had managed to turn our beloved Mother Russia into a rather inhospitable place!

I almost flew into the frozen river after briefly suffering vertigo after checking my map for a second. These conditions certainly were not suited for low altitude flying! After backtracking, the bridge loomed in the dusk ahead of me guarded by more AAA fire, some of which came far too close for my liking. As I would experience, the Germans manning these guns knew what they were doing.

I turned off and followed the road north from the bridge, taking fire from two Whirlwinds at once. One guarding the south end of the bridge, the other just off the road north of it. All of a sudden, glass fragments hit my facemask as a grenade tore into the fuselage of my I16, just ahead of the cockpit. I was relieved that I didnt seem to be hit and that I still had control of the aircraft. I thought I could hear a strange sound from the engine but it could have been my imagination. Anyway, I was close to the German field now and under fire. I would have to worry about that later! Further along the road, I got caught in crossfire from two AAA emplacements and something struck my empennage.

I found the turnoff towards the small village just south of the target field. Soon, I saw the village  but not the field! This was very worrying! I did not want to be forced to spend more time in this suddenly very hot environment than necessary. Searching for the field could prove disastrous.

I frantically looked around, straining my eyeballs to the utmost. Then, out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw something to my right and turned towards it. Sure enough, there it was! If I wasnt sure before, the cascades of AAA erupting ahead of me confirmed it. Out of the ashes, into the fire& but now I had my target in sight! I could see the shapes of aircraft on the ramp, some in camouflaged shelters, others out in the open. I even thought I saw a fuel truck among them!

Jinking as much as I could dare without risking to loose my aim, I approached the airfield. It was moving in slow motion, every detail registering on my retinas. The Ju-52 parked on the left side of the ramp, the fuel tanks, to Fieseler Storchs and a few trucks to the right, the radio truck by the threshold& and the AAA, now streaming up at me from all directions. I took hits, a few in the cowling& My first salvo of rockets went off, aimed at the middle of the gathering of fighters. Blasted! They went high! Aim again, aim again, dont panic& another pair, correct left, and another& three Bf109 fighters erupted into fireballs as I flew past them, close enough to feel the explosions in my own aircraft. Miraculously, my engine was still doing its job. Blessed be these big radials!

---------------------------------

Then, suddenly, the world stuttered and my vision froze. I held the stick back and hoped for the best but alas& by the time the world began moving again, impact with the frozen plain beyond the field was unavoidable.

Those who say the stutters arent a problem are clearly only flying microsorties with two-minute ingress flights&

Mvh,
 /ft

[ft]

Jag och Ray gav oss på samma uppdrag i co-op. En del frenetiskt räknande på tider och hastigheter under utresan och säkert även en marginell (ja just det ja...) del tur resulterade i att vi dök ner genom molnen precis söder om den tyska basen. En rask hundraåttigradare och vi gick till anfall. Tyvärr hade något pucko till lead lyckats misslyckas med att få raketer hängda på sin kärra men Ray räddade dagen genom att spränga Bf109:or till höger och vänster.

Samma lead hade dessutom räknat med att ta sig hem på 25% soppa efter att ha flugit ut på reservtankar. Om det var en bränsleläcka eller inte må vara osagt, men halvvägs hem utbröt en öronbedövande tystnad i nosen på hans flygplan och en nödlandning i snöstormen på fientligt territorium blev konsekvensen. Inga problem, ner på stället på en liten väg... alldeles i närheten av en LV-kanon som sköt sönder flygplanet så att det, trots de tomma tankarna, exploderade och dödade den flyende piloten. Jäkla surt. :(

Kort sagt, inkompetensen hos ettan var häpnadsväckande i alla avseenden förutom navigationen. Ray räddade dagen. Och kul var det, en mycket annorlunda utmaning!

mvh,
 /ft

[RAY]

Det var riktigt skoj! :)
o jag måste säga att arga biet är riktigt kul o flyga när man väl får upp den från marken ;)
(tog mig 3 - 4 försök i det där usla vädret)

jag e redo för nya uppdrag ikväll, hitta den här sidan  http://srm.racesimcentral.com/il2.shtml  o tänkte man kanske skulle kunna testa nått uppdrag därifrån?

eller om du eller nån hinner snickra ihop nått ?

[ft]

Sådär, tog och installerade de uppdragen så vi har lite att jobba med :)