Reich Marshal of the Belkan Reich

RM Vol 4: War – Chapter 27: Case Yellow (Day 7 – Damaged)

Of the many classes of warships in the service of the Reichsmarine, the more often overlooked vessels in the service of the Reich are not the 'pocket battleship' that is the Hindenburg-class Heavy Guided-Missile Cruiser (CAG) or the more numerous Elbing-class Guided-Missile Destroyer (DDG). No, the ships that are not as well known belong to the Munchen-class of Light Cruisers. Despite receiving the BLOCK III upgrade, thus turning them into Light Guided-Missile Cruisers (CLG), the Munchen-class of vessels struggled to get under the spotlight. This is not because they're ineffective or are too expensive to field. It's because they are geared toward Anti-air, Anti-submarine Warfare, and Escort duties that put them in the backline most of the time. The nature of their specialization means that a Munchen-class CLG is decked out with not just a 37-knot speed, and state-of-the-art sensors, but also a plethora of weapons. Their armaments consist of Dual-purpose 150 mm guns, Goalkeeper 57 mm autocannons, Gepard 30 mm CIWS with Sea Iris short-to-medium-range missiles, 533 mm torpedo tubes, an Anti-submarine rocket launcher, and a Vertical Launching System for multiple Sea Fenix long-range AA missiles and some anti-surface and anti-sub-surface ordnances.

To put it in simpler terms: That's a lot of firepower for a supposedly Light Cruiser class.

That much firepower and the ability to track and engage multiple targets from different sources, however, means that more often than not, a Munchen is the first layer of defense for an entire fleet or a Combat Sector. More than that, it's also the first chest piece of the West Belkan Air Defense Network. When linked with the Belkan Battlenet that pooled data from multiple sensors, a singular Munchen can lock down a quarter of the North Sea's airspace. So, when the Erusean Bomber Groups dare to take the flight to bomb the lands and citizens of the Reich, they're immediately marked for deaths by not just the Belkan Air Force and Naval Aviation, but also a dozen hungry and cute Munchens that can't wait to start a feast.

Yeah, the Erusean airmen are legit fucked.

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Charlie "Chester" Nybeck considers himself a man of good luck and fortune. Yet, recent events have caused him to rethink his life choices thus far. Piloting the supposedly best bomber Erusean Pounds could buy these days, Nybeck can only look on with obvious disappointment at the second engine of their B-17 Flying Fortress, nicknamed Ye Olde Pub, sputter to its death like a chicken with a boan in its throat. Having no other choice, Nybeck has to feather the engine, reducing their overall thrust to less than ideal. The Pilot of the Pub turns to look at the engines, further reminding himself that engine four is also not doing so hot due to battle damage. With one engine gone and another at reduced capacity, Ye Olde Pub is starting to fall out of formation with the surviving bombers. Morbidly fortunate, the Pub is not the only B-17 to lag behind as four others also fail to keep up with the rest of the Air Groups. Thanks to Nybeck's Signalman communicating with these four bombers using light signals, the Pilot confirms that they too are experiencing the same crippling mobility trouble. The earlier run-in with the Belkans cost these bombers dearly, much like the Pub. Instead of flying solo, these slowed bombers decide to form a formation of their own, trailing behind the survivors'. Though this means that they won't be inside the escort envelope created by the P-38s and P-40s... If there's still any left. Suffice to say, none of the Air Groups got out of that fiasco unscathed.

Turning around to do a headcount and barking a roll call, Nybeck is relieved to know that, despite taking stray hits and fragments, members of the Pub are still very much alive, albeit battered. However, the same can't be said for the instruments aboard their bomber. The Plexiglas nose is completely shattered, causing the chilly, borderline-freezing air to be sucked into the rest of their planes. The Pub's Egg Sack is jammed, its gunner is lucky to be alive after the thing was perforated with fragments from something exploding beneath the aircraft. Unfortunately, the chap won't be getting his eye back anytime soon. Still, the Ball Turret Gunner is stable enough for Nybeck not to worry, much. The rest of his crew and even himself also sustained some level of injuries, though not as crippling.

The flight is far, far from over, and Nybeck fails to contain a tired groan at the thought of surviving both the trip to Belka and the flight back to RAF Seething. If the Belkans could go poof here and there and wipe out half of their headcounts on the ingress, how many would make it out alive?

Nybeck's morbid thoughts are shaken away when his Co-pilot alerts him of a worrying development. One of the damaged bombers in their small formation, the Missing May, is having one of its working engines catching on fire. To avoid losing their B-17 altogether, the crew of the Missing May fires a flare of distress before maneuvering their aircraft for a steep dive. Albeit it's a severely desperate method, it's one of the few ways to put out an engine flame. Nybeck and his crew can only hope the best for the Missing May as the latter disappears behind some clouds. However, a sudden red flash catches their eyes, and just like that, the Missing May is gone. A sinking feeling can be felt by Nybeck and his crew. They don't want to believe it, but the Belkans are back for more.

Flak bursts bombarded the B-17 Combat Boxes, and even Nybeck's formation of straggles also received their share of devastation. Some bombers take a direct hit from large-caliber anti-air guns, if not exploding in giant fireballs outright then they're pushed into an irrecoverable dive. Others have streaks of smoke and fire slamming into their fuselage or wings, destroying the whole planes or sheering off the only thing keeping the B-17s going. Multiple distress flares are launched, much more so than the amount of visible parachutes. It seems to the Eruseans that they have just flown into the path of Belkan warships, and they're paying the dear price of such a transgression.

As the Pilot of Ye Olde Pub and the leader of his crew, Nybeck is forced to face the grim reality that they won't be able to survive flying to Belka. It's straight-up impossible with how their planes are being shot down every time Nybeck blinks. Instead of pursuing a futile course of action, Nybeck chooses to act with the survival of his men in mind. Shouting down to the Bombardier who is no doubt freezing by the broken Plexiglass nose, Nybeck tells him to dunk the bomb into the ocean. If a flak burst just so happened to hit the belly of the Pub, it won't be able to set off a chain reaction if there's no bomb left. Nybeck tells the crew of the Pub that he's taking their B-17 home, and asks the Signalman to communicate his words to the remaining bombers in their formation of stragglers. Scratch that, Lucky Derby just got hit, and that B-17 lost the entirety of its front to something that rams into it. There's only the Pub and the Mary Ann left, with both B-17 turning back the way they came from. In a way, this decisive decision to ditch a hopeless cause spares the Pub from taking a direct hit from a 150 mm shell due to its sudden maneuvering. The HE-VT shell, fired from a Munchen-class cruiser, detonates near the aft of Ye Olde Pub, shredding half the rudder and injuring many crew members. The Tail Gunner, being in the direct line of fire, perishes by perforation as the supersonic fragments cut him apart from below.

Injured and affected by the frost, things seem to get even worse for the crew of the Pub when another flak burst peppers them with another deadly metallic shower. More fragments damage and scorch the critical parts of the Pub. The bomber's internal oxygen, hydraulic, and electrical systems are damaged, and the port elevator is also gone. Engine three on the Pub took a nasty hit, reducing it to half of its power. At this point, Ye Olde Pub has effectively, at best, 40% of its total rated power available. Other than the dead Tail Gunner, the Navigator is critically wounded in the leg by shrapnel, the Bombardier's feet are frozen due to shorted-out heating wires in his uniform, the Ball Turret Gunner receives an additional cut to his head alongside his blinded eye, and the Signalman is wounded in his right shoulder. Worse, the remaining morphine syrettes carried onboard are also frozen, complicating first-aid efforts by Nybeck's crew. The loss of the Plexiglass cone has come to bite them in the arse at last. At this point, bailing out is getting more and more tempting. Yet, before any of them can voice their opinion in panic, another explosion, another jolt, and all of a sudden, they find Ye Olde Pub going down on a steep bank to the left.

Nybeck and his Co-pilot struggle to regain control of the Pub, but the ruined control surfaces of the B-17 fight them at every twist and turn. Then there's also the lack of breathable air. The punctured oxygen tanks mean that the Pilots aren't able to breathe properly, making them lose their strength rapidly. Being kilometers above sea level surely doesn't help their case.

Gasping for air, exhausted, and upside down, Nybeck's vision starts fading fast. The last thing Nybeck thinks is regret that he can't get his friends back alive and that he has unfortunately used up all of his luck elsewhere.