TEXT: e23.sjgames.com
  Stock #82-0040
  Version 1.0 January 11, 2006
  STEVE JACKSON GAMES
  ®
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  Written by Michele Armellini • Edited by Scott Haring
  A N  E 2 3  S O U R C E B O O K  F O R
  G U R P S ®
  T H I R D  E D I T I O N
  F R O M
  S T E V E  J A C K S O N  G A M E S
  F O R  3  T O  6  P L A Y E R S
  Their Finest Hour
  The Battle of Britain
  
  CONTENTS
  1. THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN  . . 3
  THE STAGE IS SET  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3
  Doomsday Weapons?  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3
  The Fall of France  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5
  THE EAGLES STRIKE  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
  Sea Lion Plans  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
  Friendly Fire  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
  Provocations on the Channel  . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9
  Chivalry is Gone  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10
  Day of the Eagles  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11
  Blind-Man’s Chess  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12
  From Yellow to White  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14
  Mistaken Escalation  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
  Operation Cancelled  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18
  What If . . . ?  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19
  MAP OF BRITAIN AND FRANCE  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20
  THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21
  2. THE COMBATANTS  . . . . . . . 22
  DEFIANT DEFENDERS  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22
  The Royal Air Force  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22
  Air Raid Precautions  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
  Ground Defenses  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28
  Taking the Flak  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28
  Intelligence  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29
  ASSURED ATTACKERS  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30
  The Luftwaffe  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30
  German Aircraft Markings  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30
  German Unit Names  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32
  The Italian Air Corps  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35
  German Ground Forces  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35
  3. CHARACTERS  . . . . . . . . . . . . 36
  BRITISH CHARACTERS  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36
  Roleplaying  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36
  Civilians  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36
  Female Roles  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37
  GERMAN CHARACTERS  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37
  Roleplaying  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37
  Aces  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38
  ADVANTAGES, DISADVANTAGES, 
  AND SKILLS  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38
  Advantages  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38
  Aces  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39
  Disadvantages  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39
  Skills  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40
  Combat Stress  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41
  CHARACTER TEMPLATES  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41
  Help from Abroad  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
  Customization Notes  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
  Ground Crewman  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
  Home Guard Volunteer  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
  Warden/Observer  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
  Auxiliary Servicewoman  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
  Auxiliary Fireman  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
  4. THE ARMOURY  . . . . . . . . . . . 46
  PERSONAL GEAR  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46
  AIRMEN’S WEAPONS  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
  Fireworks  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
  THE MOTOR POOL  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
  British Fighters  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
  Bristol Beaufighter  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48
  De Havilland Tiger Moth  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49
  Other British Vehicles  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50
  Collimation  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50
  Dornier Do 17  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50
  Heinkel He 59  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51
  Heinkel He 111  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52
  Other German Aircraft  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54
  5. CAMPAIGNS AND
  ADVENTURES  . . . . . . . . . . . 55
  CAMPAIGN STYLES  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55
  Tally Ho!  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55
  Weary Heroes  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55
  The Grueling Grinder  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56
  British Humor  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56
  Campaign Themes  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56
  Air-to-Air Tactics  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57
  Business as Usual  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58
  CAMPAIGN UNITS  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59
  The Newcomers  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59
  The Backbone  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60
  Night Life  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60
  The Best of the Best  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62
  Radio Codes and Slang  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63
  Dogleg and Aspirin  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64
  Special Jobs  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64
  THE CONTINUING CAMPAIGN  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65
  New Theaters Await  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65
  Battle of Britain  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66
  REFERENCES  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67
  CONTENTS
  2
  About GURPS
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  Rules and statistics in this book are specifically for the GURPS Basic
  Set, Third Edition. Page references to other books are as follows: B is
  GURPS Basic Set, Third Edition, Revised; CI is GURPS Com-
  pendium I; CII is GURPS Compendium II; VE is GURPS Vehicles;
  W is GURPS World War II: W:AKM is GURPS World War II: All
  the King’s Men; W:D is GURPS World War II: Dogfaces; W:DWE is
  GURPS World War II: Doomed White Eagle; W:IC is GURPS
  World War II: Iron Cross; W:GL is GURPS World War II: Grim
  Legions; and W:MP is GURPS World War II: Motor Pool.
  ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  Michele Armellini makes a living from foreign languages, and
  he’s probably more useful if manning a dictionary than a mortar. Nev-
  ertheless, he is fascinated with military history, wargames, and role-
  playing, in whatever order. He may spend inordinate amounts of time
  studying the social forces at work behind obscure historical events –
  and trying to convert them into game mechanics! Michele lives in
  Udine, Italy, with his understanding wife Silvia, and although a native
  Italian, he has never eyed any other woman. No, seriously. Apart from
  things he published in Italian, he has written for Pyramid, contributed
  to many GURPS WWII books, and is the author of GURPS WWII:
  Grim Legions. He is the author or co-author (with Hans-Christian Vor-
  tisch) of several other products distributed by e23, including GURPS
  WWII: Doomed White Eagle and GURPS WWII: Michael’s Army.
  
  1. THE
  BATTLE OF
  BRITAIN
  THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN
  3
  In 1940, after a dazzling series of victories, the
  seemingly unstoppable Nazis were soundly defeated
  over England.
  Hitler knows that he will have to break us in this
  Island or lose the war. If we can stand up to him, all
  Europe may be free and the life of the world may move
  forward into broad, sunlit uplands. But if we fail, then
  the whole world, including the United States, including
  all that we have known and cared for, will sink into the
  abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and per-
  haps more protracted, by the lights of perverted sci-
  ence. Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and
  so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its
  Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still
  say, “This was their finest hour.”
  – Winston Churchill
  THE STAGE
  IS SET
  On June 21, 1940, the French accepted Adolf
  Hitler’s heavy-handed armistice. In the previous ten
  months, Germany had also attacked, defeated and occu-
  pied Poland, Holland, Belgium, Luxembourg, Den-
  mark and Norway. Most other European countries were
  either Germany’s outright allies, or at least nervously
  friendly neutrals. The United Kingdom was the only
  remaining enemy.
  Hitler was well aware that in terms of geo-political
  interests, Germany had no reason to wage war on Great
  Britain, which was a colonial empire and had no claims
  on the European continent. Nazi Germany’s long-term
  plan was to secure Lebensraum (living space) in the
  East. This meant war with the Soviet Union, sooner or
  later, and the sooner the better because the Red Army
  was rearming. The British had repeatedly demonstrated
  they feared the Communists more than the Nazis (see p.
  W:DWE8), so it all seemed ready to come nicely
  together: close the meaningless squabble with Great
  Britain, and turn East against the real enemy. Hitler’s
  admiration for the British Empire and the Royal Navy
  strengthened his resolve for such a course.
  The British, however, had declared war with good
  reason. Dying for Danzig might have seemed foolish,
  but preventing any one European country from becom-
  ing a lone continental superpower was an established
  policy for the insular nation. Hitler’s behavior before
  the war (see p. W11) had already shown he was bent on
  a major shift in the balance of power.
  Nevertheless, there were politicians as well as
  other influential people in London who favored peace.
  The Führer would have probably managed to strike a
  deal with them in June, 1940, as they were decent, rea-
  sonable and ordinary – and for this very reason, they
  found it difficult to see that Hitler and his regime were
  nothing of that. However, it wasn’t an ordinary politi-
  cian the new Prime Minister who had promised the
  Commons “blood, toil, sweat and tears” on May 13,
  1940. In his own party, he had a reputation as a war-
  mongering maverick: he was Winston Churchill.
  Thus the stage was set for the next German offen-
  sive. Since the Channel served as a very wide anti-tank
  moat, and the Royal Navy very much mastered the
  seas, Germany needed to take control of the air.
  DOOMSDAY
  WEAPONS?
  In the 1930s, some believed the bomber aircraft
  would decide the next war’s outcome. Dropping incen-
  diary bombs and possibly poison gases over cities, they
  would lay waste the industrial districts and break the
  
  enemy country’s will to wage war. This was the idea of
  Giulio Douhet, an Italian general. Others, including
  British Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin in 1932, at
  least expected the bomber to “always get through,” as
  intercepting it was a daunting task in daylight, an
  impossible one at night. Billy Mitchell in the USA
  thought along these lines, too. 
  Douhet was a theorist, however, and Mitchell
  something of an outsider. On the other hand, Hermann
  Göring headed Germany’s Reichsluftministerium (Air
  Ministry), and Sir Hugh Trenchard was the British
  Chief of Air Staff until 1929. They both wanted the air
  force to be independent from the other arms; the con-
  cept of the bombers as key strategic assets, or even war-
  winning weapons, suited them very well, and they had
  the power to make policy of this theory. Both Great
  Britain and Germany embarked in a costly bomber pro-
  duction drive; the Germans were the latecomers, but
  they spent more. Also, in the 1930s an aircraft would be
  obsolete in five years, thus having the most recent mod-
  els carried a disproportionate advantage.
  The ideas about the bombers’ supremacy did not
  remain on paper only. In the restless inter-war period,
  they had been enthusiastically field-tested at the
  expense of Iraqis, Abyssinians, Chinese and Spaniards
  (by British, Italian, Japanese and German-Italian air-
  craft, respectively). It all seemed to work, but the
  bombers’ accuracy, and therefore their effectiveness,
  remained a function of the quality of the defense.
  Even when the latter wasn’t totally absent as in the
  Iraqi or Abyssinian skies, it seemed to be at a distinct
  disadvantage. Post-WWI fighters still were biplanes,
  because agility, not speed, was what made them win-
  ners in the WWI-style dogfight. On the contrary,
  bombers did not need to maneuver, so they could be
  powerful monoplanes; for a few years in the 1930s, it
  was possible for a new bomber to be faster than the
  fighters. They were sturdier, too, and the average fight-
  er’s firepower was quickly becoming too little. Finally,
  the sky is a wide place and in order to engage the
  attackers, the defenders would have needed to find
  them first.
  Thus, in order to beat back these seemingly invin-
  cible doomsday weapons, a defender would need
  recent, fast, well-armed fighters, and a way to locate the
  bombers.
  A Chain to the Door
  If we can produce such apparatus it would become
  the “eyes” of our defense system, and the greatest inno-
  vation we could dream of.
  – Air Vice Marshal Hugh Dowding in 1935
  Just four years before the war, enemy aircraft
  would mainly be located by sight; bad visibility pre-
  vented that. Experiments were being carried out with
  unwieldy, highly unreliable sound locators, and even
  with infrared devices. In 1935, however, an Air Min-
  istry scientific commission explored the possibilities
  offered by high-frequency radio waves. A Scottish sci-
  entist, Robert Watson Watt, came up with a proposed
  experiment that was carried out in February of that year.
  A transmitter loaned from the BBC sent out a short-
  wave signal. The test target reflected it back, and a
  receiver displayed it on a cathode ray tube screen. Thus
  Radio Direction Finding, or RDF, was born.
  It was indeed good for finding the direction of a
  target; evaluating the distance on the basis of the sig-
  nal’s delay was difficult. However, using two signals,
  from two different stations, would make a triangulation
  possible, and a position could be pinpointed. If several
  airplanes flew in a close formation, counting them was
  next to impossible, but experienced operators could
  make fair estimations. Height was the toughest deter-
  mination to make, and mistakes would later be made
  throughout the battle; savvy Squadron Leaders would
  add a couple of Angels (see p. 63) to the directions they
  received, just to err on the safe side.
  In those four years leading to 1939, the British set
  up their Chain Home and Chain Home Low radar sta-
  tions, effectively putting a chain to their skies’door (see
  p. 28). The stations’ranges overlapped, making the sys-
  tem less vulnerable as well as allowing triangulations.
  Even if one station was knocked out by enemy action,
  a small mobile unit could partially replace it. The radar
  stations still had weaknesses, and the Germans should
  have known their purpose; nevertheless, the bombers
  had lost their first advantage, surprise.
  Be Prepared
  The Chain Home radars were revolutionary and
  unique, but they were but one part of the system.
  Behind this early-warning line, traditional methods
  were put to good use by the Observer Corps (see pp. 28,
  44). Both these elements provided the initial data, but
  these wouldn’t be very useful without a processing sys-
  tem. This was the brainchild of the man who had
  become the first Commander in Chief of the British
  fighters in 1936, Hugh Dowding. Coincidentally (or
  not), before 1936 he had been member of the Air Coun-
  cil and he had pushed hard for both the modern mono-
  plane fighters and for Watson Watt’s RDF experiments
  (see p. 4). Dowding was a difficult man whose nick-
  name was “Stuffy,” and he had been given Fighter
  Command because his well-placed rivals in the RAF
  top ranks thought that it was less important than the
  bombers; but he really turned out to be the right man in
  the right place (see p. W:AKM55).
  The air defense system he created in 1937 and
  was still improving in 1940 started with the raw data
  from the radars and the observers. These forwarded
  everything to the Filter Room at Fighter Command’s
  THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN
  4
  
  HQ in Bentley Priory. The information was sent both
  to the Operations Room of the HQ and down along
  the chain of command, to the Groups and Sectors (see
  p. 24), who had their own Operations Rooms.
  Observers Corps stations got feedback from the Sec-
  tors. Anti-Aircraft Command was also kept in the
  loop.
  Tactical decisions were taken by the Group Com-
  manders, who decided when and where to commit their
  forces, and managed by the Sectors, which guided the
  interceptions and gave orders to the squadrons.
  The system provided everybody with all the data
  they needed (while Dowding was the only one to get
  the complete picture). It was resilient and redundant, as
  it worked on telephone lines and teleprinter networks.
  Its main vulnerability was that most of its command
  centers were not contained in well-protected, under-
  ground shelters. However, those parts that could be
  damaged by the enemy could be easily replaced by
  neighboring elements and then quickly repaired.
  Apart from dispersing most of the fog of war, the
  air defense system also dispensed with the need of fly-
  ing tiresome, wasteful patrol missions, keeping fighters
  in the air, ready to intercept the enemy. Finally, it was a
  kind of preparedness the enemy had not the slightest
  idea of.
  Flying Artillery
  Born in the shadows of the Versailles prohibition,
  having grown too fast in the four years before the war,
  the Luftwaffe was a very different organization from
  the RAF. If the latter had staff rivalries, the German arm
  was riven with the typically Nazi feuds, intrigues, per-
  sonal enmities and resorting to higher patronage. Its
  commander was Reichsmarschall Hermann Göring, a
  vainglorious man of robust appetites, a morphine
  addict, a Nazi politician and a decorated WWI fighter
  pilot (see p. W:IC52); the latter qualification could
  hardly balance the rest. All of the real work was done
  by his deputy, General Erhard Milch, a ruthless
  schemer and sharp administrator who, as the Lufthansa
  chairman, had supported the Nazis in their campaigns.
  Göring had to replace three chiefs of staff between
  1936 and 1939, two of them because they couldn’t
  work together with Milch. Additionally, Der Eiserner
  (the Iron Man, Göring’s WWI nickname) appointed
  Oberst Ernst Udet as Inspector of Fighters and Dive-
  Bombers, and Chief of the Technical Department –
  both tasks for which the popular WWI pilot was
  unqualified for. Most of the previous war’s veterans did
  not realize how fast the technology was evolving.
  Meanwhile, great expectations were being placed
  on the Luftwaffe. Hitler wanted a big air arm, and he
  wanted it soon. This automatically ruled out building
  the kind of heavy, four-engine bombers that could 
  really become the city destroyers of Douhet’s theory
  (see p. 4); developing them would take time, building
  them would cost too much. Göring decided he would
  make do with a larger number of smaller bombers,
  delivered as soon as possible. Milch could and did prod
  manufacturers; indeed, he mercilessly persecuted his
  former employer, Hugo Junkers, who was not pliable
  enough. Unfortunately, the development of new
  designs was in the less competent hands of Udet, and
  this caused delays. Additionally, Hitler did desire to
  have his cake and eat it; i.e., he needed a strong military
  but did not want to disappoint his people by putting the
  German industry on a total-war footing. Thus, by 1940,
  aircraft production was not what it could have been.
  The same could be said of pilot training. The Luftwaffe
  was a sizable standing force, but had not invested
  enough in long-term planning.
  Another peculiar feature of the Luftwaffe in the
  late 1930s was its fixation on dive-bombing. While
  Göring wanted to believe an air force could win a war
  on its own, most of his officers came from the army,
  and did not buy that. On the contrary, a bomber force
  that could deliver timely close support to fast-moving
  armored units tied in well with the German new land
  warfare theories, making the panzers independent from
  slow artillery pieces. However, close air support needs
  to be accurate: it has to be delivered on small targets,
  and in the proximity of friendly ground troops. The
  Germans lacked a bomb sighting device, and Udet had
  fallen in love with a Curtiss Hawk dive bomber in
  1933. The end result was the famous Stuka (see p.
  W114). Ideally suited to serve as the panzer divisions’
  flying artillery, this dive bomber couldn’t be used with-
  out air superiority. Additionally, Udet insisted that the
  Ju 88 should be capable of diving, too. This delayed
  production, added weight and reduced performance
  (see p. W:IC87).
  Finally, very little effort had been spent on naval
  and anti-shipping resources. Torpedo bombers were
  just one step out of the experimental stage, cooperation
  with the Kriegsmarine was bad, and there were no
  bombs capable of piercing the top armor of a battleship
  before exploding.
  All of this made the Luftwaffe of 1940 ready for
  accurate but short-ranged and relatively light bombing,
  in a violent but brief campaign against tactical land tar-
  gets.
  THE FALL OF FRANCE
  After the winter of the “Phony War,” the Germans
  finally moved to settle the score in the West. GURPS
  WWII: Blitzkrieg describes this campaign in detail, and
  further information can be found in GURPS WWII:
  Return to Honor. The offensive began on May 10,
  1940, the same day Winston Churchill accepted the
  King’s appointment to form a new government. The
  THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN
  5
  
  Nazis ruthlessly attacked neutral Belgium and Holland,
  luring the French and British troops in those countries;
  meanwhile, they moved through the Ardennes and
  forced a crossing of the Meuse. By May 20, the Ger-
  mans’“sickle stroke” had reached the sea, cutting off in
  Belgium the best Allied units.
  The Allies reacted by counterattacking the exposed
  flanks of this deep German penetration, but their
  moves, though worrisome for the Germans, were unco-
  ordinated and untimely. Hitler was more concerned
  with the bulk of the French army trying to rebuild a line
  to the South, and ordered his main force to attack in that
  direction. In the pocket, the hard-pressed Belgians
  finally gave up at the end of the month, thus making the
  Anglo-French position unsustainable. The British had
  already made plans for an evacuation by sea, and had
  begun withdrawal moves. On May 25, that became a
  general withdrawal, and it was high time; in the previ-
  ous days, the Germans had taken all the Channel sea-
  ports but one, Dunkirk, and they had arrived within 15
  miles of it.
  On May 26, Operation Dynamo began; the British
  Expeditionary Force and many French soldiers were
  leaving the continent (see pp. W15, W:AKM10). Abold
  dash by German armored troops might have caught
  them between a rock and a hard place.
  Save Them for Later
  As in previous campaigns, the air component had
  played a major role in this Blitzkrieg, though mostly in
  the close support task. The Stukas had once again deliv-
  ered their pinpoint attacks, as well as their morale-shat-
  tering effects. On the other hand, fighters had had a
  secondary role. They could not rely on a centralized
  control, nor on timely intelligence, nor on a solid net-
  work of technical assistance. Additionally, the Allied air
  forces had had to fight under the threat of losing their
  forward airfields not because of air attacks but because
  of the enemy ground forces, and redeploying from
  those airfields had caused delays. 
  At the end of May, however, both the Luftwaffe
  and the RAF would move to center-stage, because
  Hitler chose not to order that final panzer rush towards
  Dunkirk. The reasons for this decision are unclear. Pos-
  sibly, he thought that the campaign had been too good
  to be true, and that the final shove towards Paris would
  cost him more. The terrain around Dunkirk was not
  very suitable for tanks, and once they were on the coast
  itself, they’d be exposed to the heavy fire of the best
  naval gunnery in the world. Political considerations
  may have had their weight: Hitler wanted to make
  peace with Great Britain, and he may have thought that
  destroying its army on the beaches would have pre-
  vented a settlement.
  Nevertheless, Hitler gave orders to keep up the
  pressure on the British: he decided that this would be
  the Luftwaffe’s task. Göring eagerly promised a victo-
  ry, and sent his bombers against the ever-decreasing
  beachhead. The German aircrews put on another
  impressive series of attacks, relentlessly pounding the
  pocket. The RAF fighters did stop many of them, but
  often out of sight of the ground troops, who would
  come home with a bitter resentment against the flyboys
  who had not protected them against the Stukas.
  That feeling was only partially unwarranted. While
  the British squadrons that were committed to the Battle
  of France and to cover Dunkirk during the evacuation
  fought hard, Fighter Command as a whole was not
  doing everything it might have done. This was because
  Dowding was always acutely aware of his task: defend-
  ing Great Britain. He stubbornly opposed plans to
  deploy more fighters in France, and he fiercely hus-
  banded his resources. Just as every soldier who left
  Dunkirk could fight another day, every Hurricane not
  lost in Belgium would be precious over the Home
  Counties.
  Operation Dynamo was over on June 4, 1940. The
  British forces, including the RAF, withdrew to defend
  their own island. The Luftwaffe had lost some 290 air-
  craft in Poland, 250 in Norway, and a whopping 1,450
  in France. Repair crews were backlogged with similar
  numbers of heavily damaged machines, and production
  wasn’t keeping up with this rate. The Battle of France
  had cost Fighter Command 300 airplanes, but many of
  their pilots had come back, and the core of the force had
  not been dented. Dowding had saved his strength for
  the battle to come.
  The Last Appeal
  On the basis of political considerations that cer-
  tainly looked sound from his point of view, Hitler
  made overtures to the British. By the end of June the
  French were out of the war, 35 German divisions were
  either demobilized or dropped to a lower degree of
  combat readiness, and peace feelers were sent out
  through several neutral countries. Hitler began talks
  with his generals about the Soviet Union. At the same
  time, he reluctantly ordered to carry on with prepara-
  tions for continuing the war against the United King-
  dom.
  Even after the British had declared war on Sep-
  tember 3, 1939, the Wehrmacht had never contemplat-
  ed the possibility of attacking them. There wasn’t even
  a feasibility study. This was ordered on July 2, and only
  on July 16, Directive #16 was issued by the Führer; a
  vague and tentatively phrased project. Its timing was
  unrealistic, as it stated that in a month all preparations
  had to be completed. The text was broadcast by Enig-
  ma-coded radio messages – and the British decrypted it
  (see Intelligence, p. 29), which put them on high alert
  and made them even less willing to consider settlement
  proposals.
  THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN
  6
  
  On July 19, Hitler appeared before the Nazi-filled
  Reichstag, and made a “final appeal to common sense,”
  advocating peace. Since he did not put forth a detailed
  proposal, the British should have accepted the current
  situation, a triumphant Germany. English-language
  leaflets, titled “A Last Appeal to Reason,” were also
  dropped over London. They failed to sway the British. 
  THE
  EAGLES
  STRIKE
  Geography and the balance of naval forces dictat-
  ed the shape of the battle.
  SEA LION PLANS
  As England, despite the hopelessness of her mili-
  tary situation, has so far shown herself unwilling to
  come to any compromise, I have therefore decided to
  begin preparations for, and if necessary to carry out, an
  invasion of England.
  – Adolf Hitler, Directive #16
  Hitler did not show he meant business until July
  13, 1940. On that date, Feldmarschall Walther von
  Brauchitsch (see p. W:IC55), Commander in Chief of
  the Heer, presented his plans. He intended to deploy
  elements of three armies, two of them in the main thrust
  between Dover and Brighton; a smaller thrust would go
  from Cherbourg to Lyme Bay. Von Brauchitsch wanted
  a first wave of 85,000 troops; the second wave would
  include armored and motorized units, which needed to
  land in ports. The operation would employ 39 divisions,
  over 500,000 men (see p. W:IC13).
  Numerous enemy landings on such a wide front
  would have created serious problems for the under-
  equipped British Army. On the other hand, defending
  the convoys from the Royal Navy along the length of
  the Channel would have been impossible for the
  Kriegsmarine; by the end of the month, Admiral Erich
  Raeder (see p. W:IC55) pleaded for a much narrower
  landing operation, in front of Calais. What’s more,
  according to him the first wave would take ten days to
  land. The generals were furious; such constraints would
  have meant a defeat on land.
  On July 31, von Brauchitsch and Raeder met
  Hitler, without any Luftwaffe representative present.
  The army and the navy insisted that, taking into account
  all the limitations, total air superiority was a precondi-
  tion. They basically  agreed to leave the overzealous
  Göring holding the baby. Ideally, the British would
  change their minds once they realized the Luftwaffe
  controlled their skies; or at least, the latter would keep
  them at bay for an almost unopposed landing. In the
  worst case, if Göring did not make it, the blame would
  be upon him alone.
  The Heer kept gathering its units and hastily train-
  ing them for what they called a large-scale “river cross-
  ing.” The Admirals knew better; they realized how the
  Royal Navy outgunned them, and were aware that the
  waves in a river can’t be compared to those of the Eng-
  lish channel. Yet they marshalled their river barges, tug-
  boats, other odds and ends. They all wanted to be ready,
  just in case – if the Luftwaffe could deliver. Time was
  running out, however; the invasion couldn’t be carried
  out in the autumn weather, which meant that the last
  days of September were the final deadline.
  FRIENDLY FIRE
  At the beginning of the war, the British air
  defense system still had a major drawback: there
  was no way of telling the sheep from the goats.
  On September 6, 1939, the so-called “Battle of
  Barking Creek” took place: because of one stray
  Dutch airplane, Spitfires from Hornchurch
  engaged Hurricanes from North Weald and
  downed two of them. Radar operators still lacked
  experience, observers and pilots were unused to
  the problems of snap-decision identification, and
  everybody was nervous.
  The friendly fire accident, however, led to the
  adoption of the IFF (Identification Friend or
  Foe) equipment; primitive, hand-made contrap-
  tions that nevertheless marked the friendly fight-
  ers’ radar signature. Additionally, the aircraft
  radios automatically emitted a signal that was
  tracked by their Sector HQ; this device was
  known as the “beep-squeak.” Thus, the positions
  of the squadrons could be known and updated
  (see p. 14).
  All of this prevented ground control from vec-
  toring friendlies against friendlies; but in a huge
  dogfight, there was nothing but the pilot’s reflex-
  es, eyes and experience (in GURPS terms, Vision
  and the Aviation skill). 
  It is important to notice that different
  squadrons, unless flying as a whole wing, would
  not normally be working on the same radio fre-
  quencies. Similarly, German bomber crews were
  unable to speak with the fighters escorting them.
  Throughout the Battle of Britain, minor friend-
  ly fire accidents continued to happen, on both
  sides.
  THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN
  7
  
  A Requisite Condition
  The British control of the sea was a formidable
  challenge for the invasion. The Kriegsmarine, smaller
  than its opponent to start with, had suffered heavy
  losses in the Norwegian campaign. They could use
  minefields and submarines to fence in the ferrying
  corridor across the Channel, but the enemy had mines
  and minesweepers too, and the grand total of available
  U-Boote was a puny 27. Assuming the landing went
  relatively well, the German ground forces would then
  face a whole army. The British were under-equipped
  and not every unit was well trained, but they’d have
  numbers, supplies, tanks and heavy artillery, all things
  the first German wave would sorely lack.
  Hitler and Göring, however, wanted to rely on
  their trump card: air superiority. They hoped that,
  once the RAF was defeated, the Luftwaffe could keep
  the Royal Navy under check by attacking it in its ports
  and in the Channel. The Stukas would replace tradi-
  tional field artillery in supporting the infantrymen.
  Everything pivoted on air superiority, an area in
  which the Luftwaffe leaders were experts. They had
  demonstrated its effectiveness over Poland. In that
  campaign, however, they had benefited from their
  superior aircraft and overwhelming numbers.
  In France, the Germans had also won the contest,
  but they only had achieved local, temporary superior-
  ity, by using the traditional advantages of the attacker:
  surprise, concentration of forces, and choice of the
  battlefield. Without an efficient command network,
  the Allied fighters had been defeated, but they had not
  been wiped out of the sky. The Germans thought that
  obtaining similar results would be possible and suffi-
  cient.
  Achieving air superiority, however, meant consis-
  tently high kill rates. The Germans, who would be
  attacking, would need to down many enemy fighters,
  day in, day out. And their fighters could not simply
  hunt their opponents; they’d need to protect the
  bombers. Fighter-only formations could not seriously
  damage ground targets, and might not be engaged by
  the British, so the bombers would be needed for the
  unenviable role of bait. 
  Also, the German aircraft couldn’t be lavishly
  expended in this task. Assuming that Fighter Com-
  mand would indeed be beaten, then both fighters and
  bombers would be necessary for covering the inva-
  sion. The Luftwaffe needed to kill a lot and lose very
  little.
  Finally, the German pilots had a very short time to
  win the battle. Even assuming that Göring was correct
  and that the RAF really only had 500 fighters, the Ger-
  mans would need 42 kills per week over a month and
  a half, just to reduce the enemy by 50% - and this fig-
  ure did not take replacements into account. 
  Poised to Strike
  At the end of June, 1940, the bulk of the German
  units began moving to take possession of the air sta-
  tions in northern France. They did so leisurely; they
  needed rest after the French campaign, and everybody
  thought the war was almost over.
  Level-flight bombers could have the major airports,
  while the fighters and Stukas, constrained by their short-
  er range, ended up in minor airfields and forward
  airstrips. Some of these had been prepared in all haste by
  the personnel of the units themselves; the Desvres air-
  field had to be mowed and leveled in this way. The Luft-
  waffe was used to operating from improvised bases, but
  bumpy landings would be especially tough for the thin,
  weak undercarriage of the Bf 109s, especially in the
  hands of newcomers; this meant frequent, dangerous
  accidents. On the other hand, the sea was close and an
  airman could go to the beach in his free time.
  Since the British did not seem in a hurry to surren-
  der, the German began putting pressure on them. Hitler
  had forbidden flights in British air space as a pointless
  provocation, but targets in and over the Channel would
  be fair game (see p. 6). On July 21, Hitler requested an
  air campaign against the stubborn enemy, and on July
  25, he decided that attacks on England would indeed be
  necessary. Attacks on cities were still forbidden.
  The air generals finally managed to convene a staff
  meeting in the Hague on August 1. Göring was there in
  a new gala uniform, and was met by all of his top-rank-
  ing officers. The men of Luftflotte 2 came from Brus-
  sels. They were led by Feldmarschall Albert Kesselring
  (see p. W:IC55). Der lächelnde Albert (“Smiling
  Albert”) had excellent communication skills, but he
  was also an organizational powerhouse and a shrewd
  planner. His only handicap was that he remained a land
  soldier at heart, and while he could conceive an air
  campaign in support of a Blitzkrieg, an air-superiority
  campaign was another matter. He was the most skepti-
  cal of the officers about the whole affair, and during the
  meeting he reminded everybody that sizable assets had
  to be set aside for covering the invasion. His subordi-
  nates made several eager and contradictory proposals,
  covering the full range of potential targets.
  Luftflotte 3, whose HQ was in Paris, was headed by
  Feldmarschall Hugo Sperrle. A huge man, difficult to
  deal with, who rivaled Göring in his tastes for good liv-
  ing, he was nevertheless a professional air commander.
  He thought that the enemy fighters would be forced to
  take off and fight if the Luftwaffe bombed the right tar-
  gets.
  That was the plan Göring finally pushed through.
  The idea was to launch several bomber raids with fight-
  er escort, to force the enemy to take off. These would
  be followed by a wave of fighters, to shoot the British
  out of the sky. In the days to come, variations would be
  attempted on this same theme.
  THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN
  8
  
  The Germans, because of their poor intelligence (see
  Intelligence, p. 29), mistakenly thought they still had a
  technological edge (they did not), and overestimated
  their advantage in numbers. Kesselring correctly deemed
  they had two advantages: ace pilots and superior tactics,
  both thanks to their greater combat experience. Reliance
  on the qualities of the individual “knight of the air” had
  been fostered by WWI veterans like Göring. But the Ger-
  mans could not lay claim to a monopoly on those two
  elements. The British were already grooming their own
  aces, too, and as to tactics, while the German ones were
  better indeed (see p. 57), it remained to be seen whether
  the British wouldn’t simply learn.
  Finally, the Germans knew nothing about the
  British defense system, knew of the radar stations but
  totally underestimated them, and had not calculated
  the kill ratio they needed to really achieve their aim.
  More than a plan, all of this was wishful thinking.
  The Luftwaffe generals had a catchy name for it,
  however: Adler (“Eagle”). It would follow the
  Kanalkampf (the “Battle of the Channel”), which had
  already begun.
  PROVOCATIONS ON
  THE CHANNEL
  If the British air space was off-limits (see p. 8),
  Göring had ordered his Geschwader to attack targets of
  opportunity, in order to familiarize themselves with the
  opponent and the environment; beginning to whittle
  down the RAF could also do no harm. The enemy was
  still carrying out coastal traffic in small convoys; this
  made a battlefield of the Channel.
  Oberst Johannes Fink, a dedicated veteran com-
  manding KG 2 (see p. 32 for an explanation of German
  abbreviations), set up shop in a bus on Cap Blanc Nez;
  he had been appointed as Kanalkampfführer, “Com-
  mander of the Channel battle.” Since Kanal also means
  “sewer,” he was nicknamed Kanalarbeiter: “sewer
  worker,” or “sewer rat.” His main tool was a mobile
  Freya radar station, which he used to locate the convoys.
  While Fink commanded the bombers, General
  Theo Osterkamp (Onkel Theo, “Uncle Theo”) com-
  manded the fighters that would be most involved in this
  stage of the battle.
  Both made the best of a difficult job. Fink ruthless-
  ly hunted shipping with Stukas. Osterkamp quickly
  realized that fighters roaming on their own over the
  British coast were ignored. He also ordered his pilots to
  only pursue sure kills. (Osterkamp may have been the
  only member of the Luftwaffe top ranks to understand
  how favorable the kill ratios had to be. On the other
  hand, if the Bf 109s had attacked only when they had
  the advantage, the campaign would have had no chance
  of success in less than two months.)
  After minor skirmishes, large actions were carried
  out on July 10 and 11. Either the German radar or recon
  flights spotted the convoys. Stukas and/or Dorniers
  were sent in, with a close escort of Bf 110s, while JG 51
  sent free-ranging Bf 109 over them. The RAF had
  standing patrols, flights of 6 fighters or less, over many
  of those convoys.
  The battle for the convoy code-named Bread, on
  July 10, was a huge dogfight. The first British unit on
  the scene was a flight from #32 Squadron, which was
  outnumbered, but the radar operator had spotted the
  large enemy formation and #56, #111 and #74
  Squadrons joined the fray. #111, in particular, jumped
  in with the most effective type of attack, a slashing dive
  pass that cut through the enemy formation and dis-
  persed it. Many kills in the whole Battle of Britain
  would be achieved in this way, though normally from
  behind; this time, the Hurricanes made the hair-raising
  head-on version. The bombers’ aim was spoiled, and
  they sank one small ship; other convoys would not be
  so lucky in the following days. The other Squadrons
  were fed into the battle one by one, and chased away
  the enemy; #64 arrived last, in time to pursue the
  retreating Bf 110s.
  The Luftwaffe lost ten aircraft in combat and three
  in landing accidents, and had twelve damaged
  machines. Fighter Command lost two fighters, one in
  an accident, and had eight aircraft damaged, one by
  friendly fire. Bomber Command lost five Blenheims
  out of six employed in a reckless, unescorted, low-level
  attack on an airport.
  On July 11, the Luftwaffe did better. The British
  fighters had been scrambled too late and with too long
  intervals, and the Bf 109s were able to fight them from
  an altitude advantage, downing three of them. A radar
  operator underestimated a raid of Bf 110s, and a small
  flight of British fighters was sent to intercept it. More
  fighters were scrambled only after the first flight saw
  the size of the raid and reported in by radio. 
  Valuable lessons were already being learned.
  Standing patrols were easy to surprise and outnumber.
  The first pass was key to success (see Air-to-Air Tac-
  tics, p. 57). The British needed to scramble fast, and
  radar information needed to be reliable to be useful; but
  even when making mistakes Fighter Command was
  able to redress them quickly. Sending in squadrons in
  waves was good tactics; it allowed flexibility, and it
  often ensured that the last one would find retreating
  enemies, low on ammo and fuel. On the German side,
  the vulnerability of the Stuka was expected and con-
  firmed, but that of the Zerstörer was a disappointing
  surprise. The Germans missed the most important
  truths: they did not realize how and why the British
  attacks were so timely, and, because of their pilots’
  inflated claims, they did not understand they were not
  downing enough fighters. These factors dogged them
  for most of the campaign.
  THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN
  9
  
  Removing the Signposts
  The British were still under the Blitzkrieg shock,
  and the Army sorely missed all the equipment lost in
  France, but they were recovering. Manpower was abun-
  dant, while training and armaments were insufficient.
  At the end of the Dunkirk evacuation, there were 24
  complete divisions in Great Britain, half of them still in
  training. Equipment included 790 artillery pieces, 167
  anti-tank guns, and a grand total of 261 tanks, most of
  which were too light and/or obsolete. However, every
  day that went by was one more for drills, and one more
  for industrial output. The Germans were aware of this,
  and it was one of the reasons for pushing for an imme-
  diate, though risky, invasion.
  Indeed, the coastal regions, the Home Counties,
  London, and the rest of Great Britain were getting
  ready. The Home Guard had plenty of recruits (see p.
  43). The most exposed beaches were being fortified,
  though the available mines, barbed wire and obstacles
  were still spread quite thin.
  In the first days of July, the government kicked in
  more robust anti-invasion measures. Wide tracts of
  coastal regions were made restricted areas, and the pop-
  ulation was even evacuated from the most exposed cen-
  ters; Margate looked like a ghost town, with grass
  sprouting from the pavements’cracks. Earthworks were
  being built on the beaches, and by August they’d be
  supplied with no less than 80,000 light machine guns
  (most of them of WWI vintage). The best defenses
  however were reserved for the ports; the wharves were
  prepared for demolition, and new bunkers covered the
  approaches. Crossroads were manned by the Home
  Guard with makeshift barricades and “fire mines”: hid-
  den barrels of petrol ready for ignition. That wasn’t the
  least creative measure taken at crossroads: signposts
  had been removed, in order to make things more diffi-
  cult for the invaders, and in some cases fake indications
  had been placed.
  A dress rehearsal of these preparations was invol-
  untarily held on September 7, 1940. The sheer 
  weight of the raids on London (see p. 15), coupled with
  THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN
  10
  CHIVALRY IS GONE
  Some Luftwaffe pilots entered WWII with a lin-
  gering, romantic self-image as knights of the air. As
  to their British counterparts, they were conscious
  that they were officers and gentlemen. Both were in
  for disappointments. In retrospect, the Battle of
  Britain doesn’t hold a candle to the slaughterhouse
  that would become the Eastern Front, but chivalry
  was already long gone in 1940.
  The most successful behavior in air combat was
  nothing like chivalrous to start with (see Air-to-Air
  Tactics, p. 57). Pilots who wanted to improve their
  score routinely sought out crippled enemies, such as
  the bombers who limped home out of formation,
  leaving behind a trail of smoke. Others would keep
  firing on goners just because a “probable” kill was-
  n’t enough for them, while the sky was full of other
  targets for their limited ammo.
  Both sides reported individual cases of pilots
  being machine-gunned while dangling from their
  parachutes. This is certainly unsportsmanlike, but it
  still is not a war crime, no more than firing at an
  infantryman who is running away. Both the foot sol-
  dier and the pilot would be back fighting in a short
  while. The exception to this was German aircrews
  parachuting over England; they would all become
  POWs, and Fighter Command explicitly prohibited
  harming them for this very reason. They were seen
  as intelligence sources.
  A more contentious issue is that of the German
  sea rescue seaplanes. These had a white paint job
  and Red Cross markings. The applicable interna-
  tional conventions provided for such vehicles for
  evacuating wounded and sick personnel, and men-
  tioned rescuing shipwrecked servicemen, but the
  status of these seaplanes remained unclear. The
  British found some of them in close proximity to
  convoys, and suspected they were radioing back
  reports. They decided the use of the Red Cross was
  a violation of the conventions by the Luftwaffe,
  and treated the He 59s as any other enemy aircraft.
  Some of the crews they captured did not include
  medical personnel, but the Germans protested
  strongly, anyway. When the RAF set up a sea res-
  cue service in 1941, the aircraft did not carry the
  Red Cross symbol.
  A few unflattering episodes may also have taken
  place on land. Home Guard members are reported as
  playing out a barbarous parade with the head of a
  German airman. Thankfully, in all likelihood it had
  been severed in the crash of an enemy bomber, not
  by the militiamen themselves from a living prisoner.
  The Guard was also trigger-happy, as some pilots,
  including British ones, would learn at their own
  expense.
  On the other hand, once surrender had been
  accepted, POWs were treated well on both sides.
  Intelligence officers made thorough attempts at
  interrogation, but did not employ threats or force,
  and they only succeeded when the prisoners them-
  selves felt talkative.
  
  intelligence data about the growing invasion fleet and
  rumors of airborne and seaborne commandos made the
  jittery British authorities to issue the highest alert. The
  bells rang, roadblocks were manned, bridges were
  blown up, but the enemy never came.
  Revving the Engines
  While the Germans were probing the enemy’s
  reaction time and capabilities with the attacks over the
  Channel, the combat readiness of the RAF was peak-
  ing. Fighter Command had lost 300 aircraft in France,
  but by July numbers were up again, and rising. Produc-
  tion was not a problem. William Aitken, Lord Beaver-
  brook, had been appointed as Minister of Aircraft
  Production in May. Industrial output was already on the
  rise, and Lord Beaverbrook, a Fleet Street tycoon,
  shamelessly took credit for it; nevertheless, his unortho-
  dox methods and bullying attitude did get positive
  results on the whole. He sympathized with Dowding
  and disregarded the priorities set by the Air Ministry;
  this meant brand-new fighters were delivered from the
  factories to the squadrons that needed them most. The
  “shadow” Spitfire-making factory of Castle Bromwich
  (Birmingham), which had had long teething problems,
  produced its first aircraft thanks to Beaverbrook.
  Dowding increased the official size of each
  squadron to a line of 20 fighters, plus two reserve
  machines. He also had almost all the 1,454 pilots offi-
  cially listed, so he decided he actually needed 1,588; at
  a stroke of his pen, Fighter Command had a shortage of
  pilots. It wasn’t a true shortage, but it soon would be; in
  the meantime, Dowding could ask for more men.
  The Channel battle continued. By the end of July,
  the Navy decided that daylight crossing of “Hellfire
  Corner” (the Dover Straits) had become too dangerous.
  While the Germans certainly couldn’t attack the con-
  voys in the dark, the Freya radar could spot them. On
  August 8, convoy CW9 (“Peewit” for the RAF) was
  leaving the narrowest part of the Channel when it was
  attacked at dawn by E-Boats (see p. W:IC90). The task
  was completed by the Stukas in three subsequent
  waves. Fighter Command intervened in force, but the
  Bf 109s were there, too. After a day of fighting, just
  four ships out of twenty remained unscathed, and thir-
  teen British fighters were on the sea bottom; the Ger-
  mans, on their part, had lost eight fighters, four Bf 110s,
  and ten Stukas. The balance could have been worse if
  Luftlotten 2 and 3 had cooperated.
  The British decided to move their coal by rail. The
  Germans had won the Kanalkampf, and downed some
  200 enemy pilots, most of them irretrievably. They
  believed Fighter Command had had to expend a sizable
  part of its strength in these opening moves, and that the
  battle would continue in this way; they were wrong on
  both counts.
  DAY OF THE EAGLES
  By mid August it was time to launch Adlertag, or
  “Eagle Day”; the beginning of the German intensive air
  campaign directly aimed at gaining air superiority over
  the south of England. It had an important prologue on
  August 12, as Erprobungsgruppe 210 (see p. 64) car-
  ried out a successful surprise attack against a key ele-
  ment of Dowding’s defensive system: four radar
  stations. Since their speed gave them away as lone
  fighters on the radar screens, no timely interception was
  attempted, and all the four stations went off the air. A
  well-protected attack by Ju 88s of KG 51 took down the
  Ventnor radars, too.
  The latter was actually the only lasting success,
  because the attack had cut off the power supply, but
  this hole could be covered by nearby stations. All
  other centers had suffered repairable damages, 
  and were operational again in a matter of hours. This
  contributed to the Germans’ impression that it was
  useless to attack the radars. In the evening, a few air
  bases were bombed, and #65 Squadron had to save its
  aircraft by scrambling from Manston while under
  bombardment. The Luftwaffe marked the airfields as
  destroyed; on the following morning, the holes filled,
  the rubble removed, they were all serviceable.
  Thus Adlertag was launched on August 13. The
  beginning was less than auspicious; the weather was
  bad over the targets but good in parts of France, and
  the lack of coordination between the two Luftflotten,
  and between fighters and bombers, immediately
  showed. Göring had ordered the mission postponed
  due to the cloud cover, but the order did not reach
  Luftflotte 3 at all. Similarly, the bombers of KG 2 did
  not receive it, but their escort fighters of ZG 26 did
  (see p. 12). The Dorniers moved in alone, and suf-
  fered accordingly. In the afternoon, the cancellation
  was countermanded, and the Luftwaffe attacked sev-
  eral airfields − most of which were not Fighter Com-
  mand bases, such as Eastchurch, Andover and
  Detling. The latter suffered heavy losses in personnel
  and aircraft, but as sad as those were, they still
  belonged to Coastal Command and left the fighter
  force unimpaired.
  August 13 was a typical day for this stage of the
  battle. The Luftwaffe mounted large, impressive
  operations, but these were not well coordinated and
  suffered from intelligence flaws. Their blows were
  painful, but far from decisive. The Ju 87s and Bf 110s
  continued to show how vulnerable they were. Most
  importantly, fourteen RAF fighters were destroyed
  and just three pilots killed, while 47 attacking aircraft
  went down. This ratio would never yield the results
  the Germans needed.
  THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN
  11
  
  Black Thursday
  August 14 was less busy, though a gaggle of Stukas
  provided bait for British fighters, which were engaged
  by the whole of JG 26. For once, the casualty ratio of
  3:1 was in favor of the Germans; but those figures were
  also the actual numbers of aircraft downed, i.e., too
  meager a result.
  On August 15, with weather improving, the Luft-
  waffe carried on with its saturation attempt. The Kent
  air bases were attacked again, with mixed results.
  Manston was too close to the coast to be effectively
  protected against low-level attacks. The Germans man-
  aged to sever the cables that powered three radar sta-
  tions, but they did so by mere chance and did not
  exploit the short-lived gap.
  Meanwhile Luftflotte 5 threw its weight in the bat-
  tle for the first time. Flying all the way from Scandi-
  navia, its bombers could not benefit from a proper
  fighter escort; they relied on the action in the South and
  a diversion towards Edinburgh, and on being accompa-
  nied by Bf 110s and Ju 88Cs (the heavy fighter version,
  see p. W:IC87). These precautions were not enough,
  and both the bombers and their heavy-weight escorts
  were slaughtered over the coast. On a larger scale, this
  mirrored the daylight Bomber Command attack against
  Denmark that had taken place two days before, where
  11 unescorted Blenheims out of twelve had been
  downed. Bombers could simply not travel alone in day-
  light any more.
  Other bombing runs were more successful; among
  them, KG 3’s attack against the Short Bros. factory at
  Rochester. This delayed the production of the Stirling
  bomber, but did not cause problems for Fighter Com-
  mand. KG 3 had been escorted by no less than three
  fighter Geschwader and preceded by a fourth, JG 26,
  which claimed many kills.
  Erprobungsgruppe 210 hit fast and hard, but unfor-
  tunately for the Germans, not its intended targets. Com-
  ing in low against airfields, they left Fighter Command
  too little time to scramble; once they had dropped their
  ordnance, the Bf 109s were as dangerous as ever
  against British fighters struggling to gain altitude. This
  did not come cheap: Hauptmann Walter Rubensdörffer,
  the energetic leader of this independent Gruppe, was
  lost that day. Additionally, the last strike was carried out
  against the wrong target: Croydon instead of Kenley.
  Croydon was within London’s suburbs. So far, Hitler’s
  order not to bomb London had been respected; but with
  this mistake, over 60 civilian Londoners were killed in
  a factory producing soap and perfume. 
  Biggin Hill also was on the target list, and was
  missed by bombers which hit West Malling. Both Ken-
  ley and Biggin Hill were not just airfields, they were
  Sector stations, critical HQs in #11 Group’s command
  network. They had been spared, this time.
  At the end of the day, the Luftwaffe licked its
  wounds. Bomber crewmen thought they knew who had
  won, and called August 15 “Black Thursday.” On the
  other hand, their leaders met with Göring and reckoned
  they could cope with the toll. They decided that KG 3
  and its four Jagdgeschwader escorts were a model,
  helped in this by JG 26’s excessive claims. From then
  on, each bomber should have one close watchdog,
  another roaming above, and a third one for the journey
  THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN
  12
  BLIND-MAN’S CHESS
  Offensive air operations by the Germans need-
  ed to be planned beforehand and then either exe-
  cuted or aborted. The Luftwaffe simply lacked the
  radars, the communication and command net-
  works and the capability to control an operation in
  real time from the ground. The radios, as it hap-
  pened, could not even be always relied upon for
  transmitting simple countermands out to every-
  body. The worst was when they only reached
  somebody (see p. 11)!
  The Germans made some attempts at directing
  a battle from the air, but even just a Geschwader
  was too much for an airborne officer to control,
  especially if he had to watch his six (over his
  shoulder), too. Bf 109 pilots did react to threats
  and even to the appearance of targets of opportu-
  nity but those were tactical decisions. On August
  18, I.JG 52 dived down to strafe Manston because
  its commander had realized a British fighter unit
  was landing to refuel there, but this was very
  unusual.
  Therefore, each raid was like a chess game
  played by a blind man. The German planners
  had unreliable intelligence both on the targets
  and on the expected threat; they would not
  receive useful updates during the attack. So they
  sent their assets out on pre-determined plans,
  setting out altitudes, meeting points between
  bombers and escorts, main targets and alterna-
  tive targets, approaches and turning directions.
  Once airborne, the units were on their own.
  Officers were expected to carry on with the mis-
  sion, whatever the situation.
  The Germans did not know how and when
  the raid would be met by the enemy, but they
  could usually be sure they would see British
  fighters. At times, they tried to stagger their
  fighter escorts, so that there would be some that
  could join the action at any time, or to have
  multiple bomber Gruppen in the air over France
  for some time, in order to swamp the enemy
  with potential raids. Both tactics worked up to a
  point, but they meant a waste of limited
  resources.
  
  back. The problem with such an approach was that
  Göring had given production priority to bombers and
  Bf 110s, and the Luftwaffe simply did not have three Bf
  109s for each bomber. By this same token, the unescort-
  ed Luftflotte 5 bombers would never again try to cross
  the North Sea.
  Göring also decided that no air base should be
  bombed again after a successful attack, and suggested
  that the radar stations were not worth the effort: two
  strategic mistakes.
  A Tough Nut to Crack
  On August 16, the Luftwaffe tried again with some
  tested tactics and some new tricks. After midday, 54
  Stukas of StG 2 attacked Tangmere, a Fighter Com-
  mand airfield, and another 51 struck less important tar-
  gets. These 85 dive bombers came with 214 Bf 109s
  and 54 Bf 110s; Göring’s instructions were being fol-
  lowed by Luftflotte 3. However, such large concentra-
  tions could not be dealt with sparingly, and eight
  squadrons scrambled. The Stukas could not be entirely
  screened by the Messerschmitts, but their bombs got
  through; Tangmere was seriously damaged and 14
  fighters undergoing repairs were destroyed on the
  ground.
  Sperrle had also decided to give the radars another
  try, and Stukas closed down Ventnor for another week.
  This made surprise tactics work, though the Germans
  failed to understand the reason. Manston was strafed by
  low-flying Bf 109s, with the loss of two fighters on the
  ground. Similarly, two Ju 88s appeared low and slow,
  with their wheels out as if going to land, over Brize
  Norton; they hit two hangars with perfect accuracy and
  destroyed 46 aircraft. This ruse would have been a
  major blow to the British defense, if the aircraft had
  been fighters. They were bombers.
  It was on this day that Churchill, paying a visit at
  #11 Group’s HQ in Uxbridge, happened to see a situa-
  tion where all the fighters were either engaged or refu-
  eling, while more hostile raids were being reported; no
  reserve was at hand − within #11 Group. He was under-
  standably shaken, but Park could always request rein-
  forcements from #10 and #12 Groups in order to defend
  his own airfields, as he would do in the days to come.
  A welcome respite followed; no attacks at all came
  on the following day. The attackers needed rest, too,
  just like the British pilots. While the flying personnel
  napped, mechanics worked like beavers repairing dam-
  aged aircraft, and airmen made cratered runways serv-
  iceable again. Meanwhile, the Luftwaffe top officers
  were informed that the enemy was estimated to have
  300 serviceable fighters. The actual number was 1,438,
  though only 850 were serviceable and deployed with
  operational squadrons. Fighter Command’s manpower
  was under strain, but it remained a much tougher nut to
  crack than the Germans believed.
  Scrambling 
  for the Airfields
  August 18 became known as “the hardest day.”
  The Germans meant serious business, and were deter-
  mined to keep the pressure up on the airfields. Around
  midday, with weather conditions improving, the radar
  operators spotted the largest plot to date, and they were
  right. There were two full bomber Geschwader (KG 1
  and KG 76), and an impressive phalanx of 410 Bf 109s
  and 73 Bf 110s from Jafü 2. KG 1 launched a conven-
  tional, high-level attack of limited success against Big-
  gin Hill, but there was a complex plan aimed at Kenley
  (both were key Sector stations). KG 76 was a mixed
  Geschwader, so its Ju 88s were tasked with dive-bomb-
  ing the hangars, most of its Dorniers would crater the
  runways, and the coup de grace would be inflicted by
  Staffel 9. This unit was specially trained for low-level
  bombing, and would arrive over Kenley skimming the
  hills to strafe and bomb whatever remained.
  KG 76 got its timing all wrong, thanks to lingering
  clouds and the usual problems of rendezvous with the
  fighter escort. Staffel 9 arrived first, after a hair-raising
  flight at 60 feet from the waves and treetops. They had
  not appeared on the radar screens. But the Observer
  Corps saw and reported them. The defenders were
  ready. The Germans were welcomed by intense 40mm
  and .303 fire from AA guns and MGs. They completed
  their bombing run, and while evading ended across a
  Parachute-and-Cable line (see Fireworks, p. 47) whose
  task was to hamper exactly this kind of attacks; a dam-
  aged Dornier was brought down by a cable. Seven Do
  17s made it away from Kenley (one of them piloted by
  Oberfeldwebel Wilhelm Illg, its navigator, as the pilot
  was dying), but #111 Squadron was over them. In the
  end, only three aircraft of Staffel 9 made it back with-
  out crash-landing, and only one had no wounded or
  dead crewmen aboard.
  Back at Kenley, the level-bombing mission had
  also hit, and the Ju 88s opted for a secondary target
  because the airfield was enveloped in smoke. The raid
  destroyed three hangars out of four, and five fighters.
  The airport would not be operational until the next day.
  However, these results were largely due to Staffel 9, and
  the Luftwaffe could simply not afford their cost. KG 1’s
  traditional raid on Biggin Hill was paid for with just one
  Heinkel; but, unbeknown to the Germans, it had done
  no damage.
  Luftflotte 3 used its Stukas, instead. They targeted
  the radar station of Poling and no less than three coastal
  airfields – none of which belonged to Fighter Com-
  mand! StG 77, at full strength, committed nearly 100
  Stukas, and lost 26. Their escorting Bf 109s also took
  significant losses, for little return. What shocked the
  Germans was not only the heavy overall casualty rate of
  the dive bombers, but the fact that one Gruppe alone,
  I./StG 77, lost 11 aircraft out of 28. The unit had been
  THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN
  13
  
  caught while lining up for the dive, and its escorts had
  engaged the attackers, but not all of them. If the Stukas
  were left alone, for whatever reason, their survival
  chances were abysmal.
  The Germans meant to end the day with raids
  against Hornchurch and North Weald, but cloud cover
  prevented this, and the bombs fell on secondary targets.
  The Bf 109s parried most attacks against the bombers,
  and not all attempted interceptions were successful.
  At the end of the day, the Luftwaffe had lost 69 air-
  craft; they had destroyed 34 fighters in the air and an
  additional 29 machines on the ground. No other single
  day had seen or would see so much destruction.
  So Few
  #11 Group was beginning to be swamped. Airfields
  could be repaired in a day, but what if the Germans
  attacked them every day? And the manpower shortage
  had begun; the pilots needed rest.
  Luckily for Fighter Command, the same applied to
  the Luftwaffe. Göring was worried about the casualty
  rates, and he summoned his commanders on August 19.
  After a round of recriminations and criticism, they
  opted for policies striving to contain the losses. The
  Stukas were to be used only in the absence of enemy
  fighters; that is, they were withdrawn from action. The
  Ju 87 would only put in one appearance much later. The
  rendezvous points with bombers would be right over
  the fighters’ bases. Fighters were to be used in greater
  numbers for each raid. This was going to increase the
  Bf 109 units’ workload.
  The Luftwaffe was ordered to focus on its direct
  opponent, Fighter Command. The series of attacks on
  the airfields would continue. Other targets would only
  feature in harassment raids in bad weather; aircraft fac-
  tories were to be bombed at night.
  Göring completed the shake-up by promoting the
  most promising fighter aces to lead their Geschwader,
  and by redeploying practically all the Bf 109s in the Pas
  de Calais. 
  All of this, together with a spell of indifferent
  weather, brought about a lull in the fighting. Dowding
  exploited it with some redeployments of his own, while
  the hard-pressed units of #11 Group could get some
  rest. On August 20, Churchil gave the famous speech
  about the many who owed so much to so few (see p.
  36). It uplifted the country’s morale, and the pilots,
  though they wouldn’t consider themselves “unwea-
  ried,” were satisfied.
  On August 24, the onslaught on the airfields began
  anew, under Kesselring’s command. He was to destroy
  Fighter Command, either in the air or in its bases, and
  he had been ordered not to lose bombers. This meant
  pushing his fighters to fly three or four sorties per day.
  North Weald, Hornchurch and Manston were hit, the
  last by ErprGr 210. By now, the Manston airfield was
  covered with rubble and unexploded bombs. For the
  first time, the British decided to evacuate an airfield.
  Two days later, the raids went out for Kenley, Big-
  gin Hill, Hornchurch and Debden. The attackers were
  pushing the fight North, but this also meant the Bf 109s
  THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN
  14
  FROM YELLOW
  TO WHITE
  The British defense network relied on its con-
  trolling links. At all three levels (Fighter Com-
  mand, group HQ, sector station), accurate plotting
  was carried out on two separate tables, one for the
  friendlies and one for the Bandits (see Radio
  Codes and Slang, p. 63). A shift of WAAF auxil-
  iaries (called the “beauty chorus”) used telephone
  headsets to receive updates, and croupier rakes to
  move wooden markers on the huge, gridded map
  on the table. Symbols, figures and colors indicat-
  ed the estimated size of the raid, its course, its
  height, and how fresh the last update was.
  Colors and lights were used to identify the sit-
  uation of air raids over individual locales and,
  most importantly, the status of the fighter
  squadrons. Yellow indicated a local warning, red
  that the attack was either imminent or “in
  progress,” green was used when the raid moved
  over the place without attacking, and white was
  for “all clear.” The squadrons had lighted panels
  on a “tote board,” that showed their status:
  “released” (not available), “available” meant it
  could take off in 20 minutes, “at readiness” (in 5
  minutes) or “standby” (in 2 minutes). When in
  standby, the pilots might be actually sitting in the
  cockpits, but more often they just hang around the
  dispersal area, waiting for the order to scramble.
  Even so, every second mattered in order to reach
  the best altitude, and the pilots knew it; experi-
  enced squadrons could take off at full strength in
  less than 90 seconds.
  The final status panel, lighted by a red lamp,
  read “engaged.” On August 15 and September 15,
  all the squadron panels at the HQ of #11 Group
  were red for some time.
  The controllers, all experienced officers,
  observed the unfolding of the raids from a bal-
  cony. There were enough of them to deal with all
  the information, and one of them actually ordered
  the squadrons to scramble when the order from
  the group HQ arrived. The fighters would be vec-
  tored to intercept; the best controllers would send
  them frequent updates, and additional intelli-
  gence, when possible. After that, it would all be in
  the pilots’ hands (see Air-to-Air Tactics, p. 57).
  
  were coming closer and closer to their range limit. #11
  Group found itself with too few squadrons, and Park
  called on #12 Group to cover the northernmost air-
  fields; Leigh-Mallory’s reinforcements arrived late.
  Nevertheless, several bomber Staffeln turned tail before
  reaching their objective, as their escorts disengaged on
  emptying fuel tanks. The bomber commanders com-
  plained that the high-flying Bf 109 did little good and
  demanded closer escorts. In the afternoon, Luftflotte 3
  launched a raid on Portsmouth; from then on, it would
  almost exclusively carry out night bombing.
  August 27 saw little action, but on the following
  day Kesselring tried some new tricks. By massing the
  bombers over Calais, and making them wait, he could
  force at least a few British squadrons to scramble pre-
  maturely; by having the big build-up split later, he
  could conceal for some time the actual targets. He
  also had an ambush raid, with six Gruppen of Bf
  110s, escorted by Bf 109s, flying as slowly as
  bombers. To a certain extent, the tricks worked.
  Rochford and Eastchurch were bombed, the former
  taking more damage; British fighters suffered serious
  losses, also because on that day the few remaining
  Defiants were committed for the last time (and were
  mauled). On August 29, there were a handful of
  bombers as bait, and all the fighters in Luftflotte 2
  (save those who patrolled their own airfields) served
  as the hook. The first squadrons to engage reported
  the situation, and Park countermanded the intercep-
  tion by other units. The British fighters took more
  losses, but Kesselring did not get the decisive results
  he was seeking, and the Bf 109s continued to pay a
  heavy price for these successes.
  On both sides, a few fighter units were flying too
  many sorties. The reasons were their greater combat
  experience, the position of their air bases, bad luck, and
  the fact that both fighter forces were fraying at the
  edges. Combat exhaustion was setting in (see Combat
  Stress, p. 41).
  On August 30, Kesselring used another successful
  tactical device. Instead of sending in two to four huge
  raids at long intervals, he launched a small attack
  every 30 minutes. Parrying all of them was hard even
  for the British defense system, and this saturation paid
  off both in terms of unopposed bombing runs on air-
  fields and of air-to-air victories; but then again, it
  meant having the Jagdgruppen fly four or five mis-
  sions in twelve hours. The Germans managed, by
  sheer luck, to cut the power of several radar stations,
  and a precision attack on Biggin Hill by ErprGr 210
  (see p. 64) came in by surprise. The Section Station
  became non-operational; while Hornchurch temporar-
  ily took over, closing down these HQs would quickly
  degrade the network. Once again, Park had not
  enough squadrons, but this time the reinforcements
  were timely and Douglas Bader’s (see Aces, p. 38)
  Canadian unit took down several Bf 110s.
  These patterns carried on for several days more.
  Airfields were bombed and strafed, fighter sweeps tried
  to pass off as bomber raids in order to lure the defend-
  ers, the aircraft factories were attacked at night and
  sometimes in daylight too. The Germans seemed deter-
  mined to erase Biggin Hill from the map, bombing it
  ten times in a week, and on August 31 they hit the Oper-
  ations Room. Once more, nearby nodes of the network
  took up the slack. The Sector station was operational
  the next day, but it was starting to look like a lunar land-
  scape. The ground crews set up an emergency HQ in a
  village shop, just in case. By September 4, only one
  hangar remained standing, and Group Captain Grice,
  realizing the Germans would come again for it, had it
  destroyed. He was censured, but not court-martialed.
  Together with most airfields of #11 Group, and
  Duxford of #12, Croydon was also on Kesselring’s list,
  and was hit with accuracy. The bombing was getting
  closer to London.
  MISTAKEN
  ESCALATION
  During the first week after Eagle Day (see p. 11),
  Fighter Command had a good 2.4:1 loss ratio, and was
  losing a manageable number of airplanes. By the first
  days of September, the loss ratio was 1.3:1, and some
  140 fighters were destroyed in a week. Prospects
  looked bleak on the English side of the Channel. The
  veterans were tired, and the newcomers were easily
  shot down on their first mission. 
  Things weren’t going well for the Luftwaffe either.
  All the units were understrength, both in pilots and
  machines; serviceable aircraft were 65% to 75% of the
  totals at hand. Ground crews were overworked, and
  spare parts hard to find. The worst situation was that of
  the fighter Geschwader. Depleted and exhausted
  British squadrons would be rotated North or West; the
  German fighters had to keep flying until downed. More
  and more pilots were reporting sick, and an increasing
  number of sorties were aborted because of technical
  failures.
  It was an endurance match, and the clock was tick-
  ing; bad weather would soon bar any idea of invasion.
  Sea Lion Day was postponed from September 15 to 21,
  but that was already stretching it. However, a major
  shift in targets changed everything.
  Bombs and the City
  Apart from the mistaken first attack on Croydon,
  the Germans had also bombed, on August 24, the
  Thameshaven oil terminal, an industrial objective.
  However, the huge fires could be seen from a distance,
  and bombs had strayed over the East End. On the fol-
  lowing night, Bomber Command bombed, and largely
  THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN
  15
  
  missed, the airport of Tempelhof. Night attacks on
  Northolt and North Weald had made the air raid sirens
  blare in London, and on August 28, Churchill ordered a
  substantial mission against Berlin. Two days later,
  Hitler’s ban on bombing London was lifted.
  Göring had boasted that if bombs fell on Berlin, he
  could be called “Meyer” (a common Jewish name in
  the capital). He actually could not stop night raids; what
  he could do was retaliate. If Göring had political
  motives, Kesselring agreed, for practical reasons. His
  recon photos showed Lympne and Manston abandoned,
  Biggin Hill flattened; he thought the enemy fighters
  were moving North. Following them up with the air-
  field interdiction strategy became exponentially more
  difficult because of the Bf 109’s range. If the British
  had given up Manston, they would not give up London;
  they would come up and fight for it.
  In the afternoon of September 7, 340 bombers of
  five Kampfgeschwader crossed the Channel, escorted
  by 620 fighters. It looked like a flying armada.
  Ground controllers were expecting it to split up
  against multiple air bases; instead, it moved straight
  ahead, towards London. The interceptions were late,
  and though each and every squadron within range
  was scrambled, there were too few of them. Leigh-
  Mallory sent in a 3-squadron wing, but when it had
  finally formed up, it was attacked from above by the
  high-flying German escorts, and could not reach the
  bombers. These underwent minor attacks, but were
  not dispersed. Their target was the immense docks
  area, but the East End was also hit. They left the place
  ablaze, and they came back over it that night, when
  the British could do very little to stop them (see Night
  Life, p. 60).
  This set the tone for the following days. The night
  raids might still force the British government to a con-
  ference table; if not, they would at least avenge the
  attacks on Berlin and begin a new siege strategy against
  the United Kingdom. The daylight action was the last
  attempt to achieve a victory over Fighter Command in
  time for Sea Lion.
  On September 8, the weather prevented big raids,
  but on the following day the Southern outskirts, togeth-
  er with nearby airfields, were bombed. This time, #12
  Group’s big wing showed up in time and bagged a few
  kills. Park also conceded something to the theory of big
  numbers, ordering pairs of squadrons to be scrambled
  at the same time. Nevertheless, the weather was not
  ideal, and the clouds prevented some interceptions.
  This was bad for the ground targets, but it also meant no
  decisive air battle was taking place. The opposing fight-
  er forces were denting each other, and the Germans
  were not delivering knockout blows.
  After another cloudy day, on September 11 the
  Luftwaffe dished out more than it took, downing 27
  fighters while losing a total of 21 between bombers, Bf
  110s and Bf 109s. The Duxford wing had really
  become a big wing now, with no less than five
  squadrons, and had some success against the main Ger-
  man formation.
  Two more days of bad weather saw only nuisance
  raids. One of them helped the British sense of national
  solidarity, because it happened to hit Buckingham
  Palace. Now the Royal Family was on the same footing
  of the East Enders. Every night, the fires were awe-
  some, and there was some concern in the government
  over whether the Londoners could “take it.” They could
  and they did (see p. 58), and the “attack against the
  Crown” made the King even more popular.
  Fighter sweeps took place on September 14. The
  Luftwaffe again came out slightly ahead. What was
  more, many interceptions had failed in the previous
  days. It was because of the weather, but the Germans
  thought that the British resistance was possibly soften-
  ing. Perhaps they were really down to their last fighters.
  Grand Finale
  On September 15 the weather was fair. Churchill
  was visiting Park’s Uxbridge HQ. Kesselring sent in
  one raid with just 27 Dorniers from KG 76 (the veter-
  ans of Biggin Hill) accompanied by no less than four
  Jagdgeschwader: JG 27 and JG 52 on a path-clearing
  sweep ahead, JG 53 on a high cover mission and JG 3
  flying close escort. Park felt under pressure to protect
  London, and he saw nothing else. He decided for a full
  commitment, asking for #10 Group to cover his air-
  fields, and the Duxford big wing to engage the enemy
  over the capital. 
  Park was worried when he saw another marker on
  the table, but by its speed he judged it a lone fighter
  sweep and he left it unmolested. They were Bf 109s
  indeed, belonging to II/LG 2, but they were carrying
  250-lb. bombs. The Luftwaffe was trying to replicate
  the precision attacks of Erprobungsgruppe 210 (see p.
  64), with the wrong pilots and the wrong targets.
  #72 and #92 were expertly maneuvered so that
  they made the lethal out-of-the-sun dive against the top
  cover. JG 53 was surprised, and engaged in the dog-
  fight. Then #243 and #501 arrived from Kenley and
  made a head-on pass against the bombers. The veteran
  German crews did not make the mistake of breaking
  formation, but began taking hits. JG 3 joined the fray,
  but had to keep close to the bombers, because four
  more squadrons showed up in pairs, #229 and #303,
  then #504 and #257. Attacked on all sides, the bombers
  made their bombing run over the railway yards of
  Clapham Junction, only to see a cloud of fighters arriv-
  ing: it was the big wing (#19, #302, #611, #310, #242).
  If the German unit was not annihilated, it was because
  there were too many attackers who hampered each
  other.
  The British lost 13 aircraft. Six bombers and 12 Bf
  109s went down, which could have been much worse
  THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN
  16
  
  for the Germans. Most of the surviving bombers were
  damaged, and the German airmen had seen the RAF’s
  “last 50 Spitfires” showing up four or five times. The
  fighter-bomber attack went in and out unmolested. The
  Bf 109 pilots hated their task and dropped the bombs as
  soon as they were over a railway station, achieving very
  little.
  This action, however, was meant to exhaust the
  defenders. The real assault was just forming up. It
  included 114 bombers in five units, three in line abreast
  and two behind the left and right. There were five
  Gruppen from JG 3, JG 53, JG 77, and LG 2 to provide
  the top cover, one Gruppe from JG 54 for close escort
  together with a score of Bf 110s from LG 1 and ZG 76;
  the experienced hunters of JG 26 and JG 51 flew the
  forward free sweep. Kesselring was not interested in
  bombing; 360 fighters for 114 bombers meant he want-
  ed to win an air-to-air battle. The Luftwaffe could have
  employed more bombers, but there were not enough
  fighters to maintain the same ratio.
  Park used the same strategy again. The first
  squadrons that had been committed against the morning
  raid had refueled and rearmed. The German outrider
  fighters were engaged just beyond the coast by #41,
  #72 and #222 Squadrons, then the raiders were attacked
  every five minutes in harrowing succession. Flying
  close to the naval base of Chatham, they came under
  AA fire; contrary to orders, the batteries kept firing
  even when British fighters joined the fray.
  The bulk of the defenses, however, were in front of
  London. There, the Bf 109 pilots would soon be short
  on fuel, but the bombers would not have dropped their
  payload yet. This defense line included 19 squadrons,
  totaling 185 Spitfires and Hurricanes. Many scattered
  around the escorts, while no less than six squadrons
  made it through the two right-most groups of bomber,
  handling them roughly. The Heinkels of KG 53, in the
  center, were attacked by four green squadrons that
  employed the textbook approach (see Air-to-Air Tac-
  tics, p. 57). Against a close formation of bombers, it
  worked. On the left, JG 53 had to come down and tan-
  gle with the Poles of #303 Squadron. It was then
  attacked by #253, and could not stop #73 from deliver-
  ing a head-on pass on the bombers.
  Finally, the Duxford wing showed up at 16,000
  feet; but Galland (see Aces, p. 39) was above them. The
  ungainly large formation suffered three losses without
  having time to react, and the fighters of JG 26 made it
  away before seeing the red light telling them they had
  15-20 minutes of fuel left. The bombers, however, were
  still there.  They were now alone, but they were over
  their target.
  There was a thick cloud cover over the target, too.
  The bombers could not see the docks. The Kampfgrup-
  pen discharged over West Ham and the Bromley-by-
  Bow gasworks, or on targets of opportunity on the way
  back. (Some British pilots saw this, and believed the
  German bombers were turning tail upon seeing them.)
  The Dorniers and Heinkels still had a long way home,
  and were harassed until the escort for their withdrawal
  managed a rendezvous over Kent.
  Minor engagements took place to the West, one of
  them over Portsmouth, and #10 Group was rather
  unlucky in its interception timing, achieving little. Sep-
  tember 15, later to be known as Battle of Britain Day,
  ended with the night raids. These would go on as
  expected, with few losses for the bombers, but also
  scanty results. Nor were the German bombers the only
  ones to take off after dusk; Bomber Command did the
  same, as usual.
  Routine Bombing
  The Germans had run out of time, and it was just
  as well, because otherwise they would have risked run-
  ning out of aircraft. Regardless of the inflated claims on
  both sides, the Luftwaffe had lost 56 airplanes on Sep-
  tember 15, and the RAF just 28. Sending in more
  bombers, as Kesselring had done in the afternoon,
  meant losing more of them.
  Göring needed a political spin to the end of the
  campaign, and he built it in a final meeting with his
  staff. The story was that the British were on the verge
  of defeat, and they had clearly left most of the island
  unprotected in order to defend London, as evidenced
  by the little resistance met over Portsmouth. They
  were employing unpainted fighters straight from the
  factories and raw recruits straight from the schools;
  indeed, they could do little more than ramming the
  bombers (there had been three collisions in head-on
  attacks). Unfortunately, the weather was turning bad 
  . . . this was the one accurate piece of information in
  the German appraisal.
  The bombing campaign would continue, of course.
  Since the British were critically short on aircraft, the
  factories were to be targeted, but only at night. Cities
  would be hit, too. In daylight, fighter-bombers would
  be used, mostly for the nuisance value and in order to
  wear down the fighter force. Indeed, intercepting them
  was difficult, because they came in fast and high,
  escorted by pure fighters; scrambling on the warning
  would not give the interceptors enough time to reach
  the altitude they needed, and exposed them to attack by
  the escorts. On the other hand, fighter-bomber pilots
  loathed a true long dive, and instead dropped their puny
  payload from some 15,000-18,000 feet. At that height,
  they could not do significant damage.
  Apart from saving Göring’s face, these measures
  had nothing to do with Sea Lion. There still was some
  faint hope that the British government could be
  forced to negotiate, so the invasion became a bluff
  and the bombing the real threat. Alternatively, the
  bombing would become the first step in a sea and air
  siege.
  THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN
  17
  
  London was in for the Blitz. The capital was
  bombed almost every night for more than two months.
  Other cities were mercilessly and rather pointlessly
  bombed, too. The civilians somehow managed to take
  it in stride: they spent the night in the shelters or the
  subway, in the morning they picked up the pieces and
  went about their “business as usual” (see p. 58). The
  bombing itself became a matter of routine on both
  sides. It would ease up in the spring of 1941, when the
  Luftwaffe began moving east. 
  OPERATION
  CANCELLED
  On October 12, 1940, Hitler ordered that further
  preparations for Sea Lion would be carried out in such
  a way as to maintain pressure on the enemy, but with-
  out causing an excessive strain on the German econo-
  my. In other words, the operation was turned into a
  bluff. The barge fleets began dispersing, since they
  were massed targets for Bomber Command’s unrelent-
  ing attacks. 
  The invasion was postponed; Hitler never ordered
  it cancelled. By the end of 1940, however, Enigma
  intercepts, aerial recon photos and other reports made it
  clear to all who had won the Battle of Britain.
  Aftermath
  The Germans never managed to establish the air
  superiority they needed for Sea Lion. They never even
  came close, notwithstanding the exhaustion felt by the
  men of the best British squadrons at a critical time in
  the battle (see p. 41). The Germans simply never
  engaged the whole of Fighter Command. The alterna-
  tive objective of the Luftwaffe’s onslaught, forcing the
  British to seek a diplomatic deal, was not in the cards,
  either.
  The Luftwaffe lost nearly 1,900 aircraft in the bat-
  tle. Fighter Command lost around 1,000 fighters, and
  the RAF as a whole a total of some 1,550. The opera-
  tions carried out by Bomber Command and Coastal
  Command to forestall the invasion were vital, but the
  issue of air superiority would be settled by fighters;
  German bombers attacked the airports among a long
  list of targets, but their main task was forcing British
  fighters to scramble. In the air battle, the Germans had
  an unfavorable 1.8:1 kill ratio, an outcome that would
  never translate to true air superiority. Additionally, they
  lost many more fighter pilots than the enemy; having
  lost many bombers, each of them carrying several
  crewmen, their losses in personnel were five times the
  enemy’s. Meanwhile, the British production and train-
  ing systems consistently remained ahead of the enemy
  in churning out machines and pilots. In six months, the
  German fighter force dipped by 30%, while Fighter
  Command ended the battle 40% stronger than at the
  beginning. The margin looks narrow if one considers
  only the figures of destroyed aircraft, but that was not
  the bottom line at all.
  The War Goes on
  After 1940, different outlooks were needed on both
  sides of the Channel.
  The British became able to employ the peripheral
  strategy again, and resources could be shifted to the
  Empire’s outposts (see pp. W18-19, W:AKM88-117).
  As to the air war, Bomber Command would carry on
  with its optimistic views about strategic bombing, but
  as its losses mounted it would abandon daylight bomb-
  ing. Meanwhile, the new commander of Fighter Com-
  mand, Leigh-Mallory, eagerly tried to use big-wing
  tactics to bring the war to the enemy, attacking with
  unwieldy formations the few German fighters that the
  Luftwaffe had left in France when it had begun moving
  East and South. The outnumbered Germans repelled
  the big wings, and when they succumbed they para-
  chuted to safety; the overall outcome of the 1941 fight-
  er campaign over France largely mirrored that of the
  Battle of Britain, with the home team doing better than
  the guests. Luckily, the British were not trying to estab-
  lish air superiority. Their goal was to take some Luft-
  waffe away from the real front, away from Russia.
  On the German side, the Luftwaffe’s offensive
  capabilities were being redeployed; other means would
  be used against the stubborn British. The U-boats
  would lay siege to the English sea lanes. Only minimal
  German forces would be committed against the British,
  in North Africa, mainly to prop up the faltering Italians
  (see p. W:GL9); the bulk of the Reich’s forces would
  turn East. It was, however, a maimed air force: being
  geared for a short war, it could never make up for the
  losses incurred in 1940. The Luftwaffe never fully
  recovered from that defeat. 
  Apart from the useless daylight fighter actions over
  France, the focus of the air war would shift towards
  strategic bombing. Radars and countermeasures, heavy
  four-engine bombers with huge payloads in immense
  numbers, radar-equipped night fighters, very long-
  ranged daylight escort fighters, and finally reaction
  engines and unmanned rockets would enter the equa-
  tion in the years to come (see pp. W25, W:AKM23-24,
  W:IC13). Most of this, however, was built over the
  experience gained and the lessons learned during the
  Battle of Britain.
  THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN
  18
  
  THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN
  19
  WHAT IF…?
  Many alternate-history scenarios have been
  built over a German success in 1940. Historically,
  the chances were abysmal even assuming a beaten
  RAF; the German first wave of Sea Lion could
  have been defeated by any one of the Royal Navy,
  ground forces, bad weather or supply problems,
  not to mention a combination thereof. However,
  nobody said that roleplayers need to stick to real-
  istic scenarios!
  Uneasy Peace
  The easiest way for the Germans to “win” is if
  Churchill never comes to power and other politi-
  cians seek peace terms. Hitler would probably
  grant token concessions, but basically, the conti-
  nent would be his to launch Barbarossa from. He
  could use the full might of his land and air forces
  against the Soviet Union. Meanwhile, an increas-
  ingly unpopular pro-German British government
  would struggle with its own people, possibly
  harassing “subversives” who campaign against
  neutrality and for “Uncle Joe.” London would be
  teeming with Axis agents from the newly
  reopened embassies, keeping tabs on hostile expa-
  triates and possibly murdering some of them.
  When the Germans extort from weak continental
  governments permission to build U-boat bases in
  Iceland, the Faeroes and the Canary Islands, even
  the British appeasers should see what’s coming…
  but won’t it be too late?
  The Wish List
  For Sea Lion to succeed, Hitler would need a
  genie with far more than three wishes to grant. Most
  of the things listed here would be necessary. The
  success would yield the results described on pp.
  W:IC124-125.
  The Luftwaffe concentrates its attacks on #11
  Group airports, mainly with escorted Bf110s as
  fighter-bombers, and with night raids by bombers.
  If maintained for long enough, this might pressure
  Dowding to close some airfields and to withdraw
  squadrons to the North, creating a contested air
  space over coastal areas.
  The Luftwaffe attacks the radar stations, while
  the Kriegsmarine and/or paratroopers also carry out
  small raids against them. This levels the field by
  partially blinding Fighter Command.
  The weather stays good during the invasion, and
  only a small percentage of the barges sink in the
  Channel.
  The Kriegsmarine is even luckier than in actual
  history, losing fewer ships up to the autumn of
  1940; the reverse is true for the Royal Navy. The
  difference between them is no longer so daunting.
  The German air and naval arms cooperate to
  develop bomber crews trained for ship-hunting,
  anti-shipping bombs, effective air-dropped sea
  mines and the like.
  The British Army does not react quickly enough
  to the landing, and there are still enough Stukas to
  engage its artillery units.
  By a stroke of luck, the Germans manage to
  seize a serviceable port during the first two days
  of operations.
  They Have Come!
  Another interesting possibility for the Germans
  to buck the odds and attempt Sea Lion anyway.
  Even if the prospects are grim for the scattered,
  under-supplied and beleaguered German landing
  forces, nobody can be sure of the outcome. The
  operation will fail, but not without bloody sea, land
  and air fights.
  
  N
  20 Miles
  
  N
  THE BATTLE 
  OF BRITAIN
  20 Miles
  
  2. THE
  COMBATANTS
  THE COMBATANTS
  22
  Powerful and diverse assets were committed to the
  first all-air campaign in the war.
  What General Weygand called the Battle of France
  is over. I expect the Battle of Britain is about to begin.
  Upon this battle depends the survival of Christian civi-
  lization, upon it depends our own British life and the
  long continuity of our institution and our Empire.
  – Winston Churchill
  DEFIANT
  DEFENDERS
  Undoubtedly, British fighter pilots bore the brunt of
  the German onslaught. The RAF aircrews were the
  “few” Churchill referred to. However, many other organ-
  izations apart from Fighter Command, and even outside
  the RAF, gave an invaluable contribution to this effort;
  this section provides a run-down. GURPS WWII: All the
  King’s Men also provides useful insights.
  THE ROYAL
  AIR FORCE
  The Royal Flying Corps was established in 1912,
  and the navy branch, the Royal Naval Air Service, two
  years later. The German airship bombing raids over
  England in the last years of WWI greatly spurred the
  strengthening of air defenses, and by April 1918 the
  Royal Air Force was created by merging the two serv-
  ices; an Air Ministry had been formed a few months
  before.
  Post-war downsizing hit the youngest British arm
  hard. However, in 1919 Sir Hugh Trenchard became
  Chief of the Air Staff, and he was determined to have
  the RAF on an equal footing with the Army and the
  Royal Navy. The theory of strategic bombing (see p.
  4) tied in nicely with this aim. The RAF also demon-
  strated the theory in bush wars in Somalia, Iraq,
  Waziristan and other colonies between 1920 and
  1932; of course its opponents had little in the way of
  air defenses.
  The rearmament race that began in 1934 (after
  Hitler came to power) involved the air force, too.
  New and better aircraft models were continuously
  introduced; the total strength was repeatedly
  increased. Yet, all the emphasis was on the offense,
  not the defense. Bombers were considered the main
  weapon of the RAF. In 1936, the air arm was reor-
  ganized in four largely independent functional com-
  mands; two more were added in 1938. The war
  further boosted the recruitment drive, and by the end
  of 1940, the RAF had over 435,000 personnel,
  including 17,000 women in the WAAF.  Most of them
  had contributed, at least in a small part, to the victory
  in the Battle of Britain.
  Basic and 
  Advanced Training
  Just like any other high-technology arm, the RAF
  needed well-educated personnel to start with, and
  would invest remarkable amounts of time, skill, and
  money in its pilots. Even so, in 1940 some shortcuts
  were taken.
  After a first screening, would-be pilots were sent to
  an Initial Training Wing, or ITW (also, Initial Training
  School, or ITS). This included all the training common
  airmen would undergo (basic military skills, drills, PE,
  and so on) and classroom basic courses about the theo-
  ry of flight, technology of engines, navigation, signals,
  and meteorology. Before the war and after 1940, this
  initial training could last four months or more, but in
  1940 it was often three months or even ten weeks. ITS
  ended with a graduation exam.
  The next step was the Elementary Flying Training
  School, or EFTS. Again, a standard duration of two
  months could be cut back to six or even five weeks in
  1940-1941. At this time, the pupils would eagerly begin
  flying, on dual-control trainers such as the De Havil-
  land Tiger Moth (see p. 49). At the end of this course,
  some would be steered toward navigator duties (which
  the trainees tended to consider as flunking). The
  advanced training began with the Service Flying 
  
  Training School, or SFTS. Fighter pilots would move
  from aging biplanes to modern monoplane trainers,
  such as the Miles Master – provided there wasn’t a
  shortage. This advanced course lasted four months, but
  it could be reduced to twelve or ten weeks. 
  The weakness of this system was that through all
  these steps a pilot would spend only a handful of flight
  hours in an actual combat aircraft, if at all. He would be
  sure to fly a modern fighter only in the last stage of the
  training, the Operational Training Unit, or OTU. Taking
  into account waiting times, reassignments and the like,
  some 18 months could be needed from the enlistment to
  the first operational sortie; but in 1940, the last, most
  important stages of this long training were being hur-
  ried up. The time spent with the OTU would normally
  be three months, and later in the war it could reach six
  months, but not in 1940. Professor Frederick Linde-
  mann, Churchill’s scientific advisor, had argued that the
  finishing touches could be added once the pilots had
  moved to their combat unit. Training with the OTUs
  was cut short to four or even two weeks. 
  The consequences were grave. In December 1939,
  four trainees arrived at a fully operational Hurricane
  unit without having ever flown a monoplane. Many
  trainees reached their squadrons having logged 10 to 30
  hours with a Hurricane or Spitfire, possibly with just a
  couple of live-fire drills (which sometimes had a target
  as wide as the sea). These novices had little chance of
  surviving their first engagement.
  There were three other training systems. An
  Empire Air Training Scheme had been in the works for
  years, but it had been delayed by Canadian reluctance,
  and in 1940 the program, now known as the British
  Commonwealth Air training Plan, was not yielding its
  fruits yet. However, Commonwealth pilots joined the
  fray, either individually or as a full squadron (in the
  case of the Royal Canadian Air Force).
  Then there were the “Sunday flyers.” They began
  in the university clubs and had a natural outlet in the
  Auxiliary Air Force (AAF) with its 600-series
  squadrons. This was the air equivalent of the Territorial
  Army (see p. W:AKM40), but its pilots were wealthy
  members of the establishment. By 1939 many of them
  were very experienced. On the down side, most of this
  experience had not been acquired on fighters, the pilots
  were on average five years older than the RAF men,
  and, from the psychological point of view, they were
  unprepared for combat and its casualties. These
  squadrons became part of the RAF in 1939, and the dif-
  ferences were gradually erased.
  Finally, there was the RAF Volunteer Reserve,
  since 1936. This was similar to the AAF, but had no
  social requirements; and indeed, since officers had bet-
  ter be gentlemen, most of RAFVR men had not reached
  a rank higher than Sergeant in 1940. This might well
  have been a reason for bad blood, as some sergeants
  were more experienced than their officers. About a third
  of the fighter pilots in the battle came from this reserve.
  With all its limitations, the British training system
  would provide a steady flow of trainees throughout the
  battle. Some of them would be ill prepared to survive
  their first fight, but if they did, they could become use-
  ful replacements.
  Operations
  The fighter units that defended Great Britain
  belonged to a centralized organization, Fighter Com-
  mand. The key of its operational successes was in very
  good communications, command, and control func-
  tions that processed reliable information and fed it to
  effective combat units. The full procedure for handling
  a raid is described in the box on p. 14, From Yellow to
  White. The standard operational procedure was for
  fighters to scramble on alert, gain altitude, be vectored
  by ground control towards the enemy formation, then
  engage it. During the engagement, tactical command
  reverted to the airborne commander.
  Within this framework, tough decisions had to be
  taken. Some top RAF commanders advocated the “big
  wing” theory, which called for set-piece air battles
  involving as many fighters as possible, in order to
  inflict a shattering defeat upon the enemy. This concept
  was especially favored by Air Vice Marshal Trafford
  Leigh-Mallory, the commander of #12 Fighter Group.
  The “big wing” not only was slower to form up, it could
  also mean risking a lot in one throw of the dice. Addi-
  tionally, each German raid it might be used against
  could well later be shown to be a diversionary move,
  with a more devastating attack being carried out while
  all or most of the friendly fighters were landing, refuel-
  ing, rearming and taking off again. In a few occur-
  rences, the “big wings” did engage the enemy and
  cause heavy casualties, presumably more so than if a
  single squadron or two had been employed. On the
  other hand, sometimes the “big wing” was late, and/or
  tended to wander off in search of targets (the British
  equivalent of a Freie Jagd mission, see p. 31; but the
  Germans had no radar!). Both Sir Hugh Dowding and
  the commander of #11 Fighter Group, Air Vice Marshal
  Keith Park, preferred a more flexible and prudent hus-
  bandry of their resources. A personal rivalry between
  Park and Leigh-Mallory might have had some weight
  on the issue.
  Another operational alternative was for Fighter
  Command to wage a forward defense: engaging the
  Germans as soon as possible, in order to prevent as
  much bombing damage as possible. However, this
  would have meant more battles over the Channel, with
  British fighters taking off from exposed forward air-
  fields and attacking with a disadvantage in altitude;
  German fighters would not have suffered from range
  problems. Finally, a British pilot who had to parachute
  THE COMBATANTS
  23
  
  over England would often be in action again within a
  day; a battle over the sea would forgo this distinct
  advantage. Nevertheless, at times such early confronta-
  tions were sought due to considerations linked with the
  civilians’ morale.
  For details about the British air-to-air tactics, see
  p. 57.
  Organization
  In 1940, the Royal Air Force was organized in
  several combat commands and additional administra-
  tive and support services. While Fighter Command
  was the most heavily engaged in the Battle of Britain,
  all the commands contributed to it. Above the com-
  mands there was the RAF General Staff, and above
  that the Air Ministry. Disputes could and did 
  arise between commands as to the employment 
  of resources, be they human (pilots and crews) or 
  otherwise (airports, supplies).
  The commands were functional groupings,
  appointed with carrying out specific tasks. They were
  organized in groups, which were more of a territorial
  subdivision than actual large units. The basic unit of
  each group was the squadron. With 16-18 aircraft
  assigned to each of them (on paper, they should have
  had 22 airplanes including two reserves), this unit was
  small enough to be manageable and large enough to
  optimize organizational processes. Two or more
  squadrons could be put together into wings, but these
  were temporary units.
  The sector was much more important. An adminis-
  trative and territorial organization, it gave a remarkable
  contribution to the campaign with its battle-manage-
  ment capability. Each sector controlled a number of air-
  ports and, therefore, the squadrons based off them.
  Apart from the Sector HQ and the main airports, almost
  every sector also had satellite airfields and emergency-
  only airstrips that provided additional flexibility under
  attack and in case of damages.
  A Squadron’s sub-units are detailed under Air-to-
  Air Tactics, p. 57.
  Fighter Command
  Aseparate command tasked with controlling all the
  fighters of the RAF was established in 1936, at the RAF
  headquarters of Bentley Priory, Stanmore.
  Throughout the battle, Fighter Command was in
  the forefront (and in the limelight, some critics from
  other units would mumble). Notwithstanding the losses
  taken in France, the fighter force had made an amazing
  comeback over a very short time, and by the beginning
  of August it could largely rely on its newest models: the
  famed Spitfires and Hurricanes. Additionally, there
  were a few second-line squadrons flying on Defiants,
  Gladiators, or the experimental night fighter units (see
  p. 60).
  The following table shows the strength Fighter
  Command could muster on key dates (these figures do
  not include reserves and aircraft already produced but
  not yet assigned to combat units).
  THE COMBATANTS
  24
  Aircraft
  July 1 (1)
  July 17 (2)
  August 13 (2)
  Hurricane
  462
  331
  353
  Spitfire
  292
  237
  226
  Defiant
  37
  20
  26
  Blenheim
  114
  67
  71
  Gladiator
  12
  unreported
  2
  (1) The figures in this column are all the airplanes
  assigned to the squadrons.
  (2) The figures in these columns are actually oper-
  ational, serviceable airplanes.
  The whole country was covered by just four fight-
  er groups, each of them organized in several sectors and
  fielding a number of squadrons. #11 Fighter Group was
  the largest, and protected the most threatened area:
  from the southern half of East Anglia to London, Kent,
  and the coast where the Channel is at its narrowest. #10
  Fighter Group was tasked with the southwestern corner
  of the island. #12 Fighter Group defended the Midlands
  and the northern parts of Wales and West Anglia. #13
  Fighter Group was the peripheral unit, in northern Eng-
  land and Scotland; reinforcements would be taken from
  it as the battle attrition took its toll. 
  The table below shows the force that Fighter Com-
  mand could muster in the first days of the battle. A few
  units were fielded by mid-late August, and they are
  noted as such. Squadrons that became operational
  much later are listed separately, under “Other.”
  Squadrons were often moved, as losses mounted, air-
  ports were damaged, and the threats shifted.
  
  #11 Group
  Sector
  Squadron
  Base 
  Aircraft
  Biggin Hill
  32
  Biggin Hill
  Hurricane
  501
  Gravesend
  Hurricane
  600
  Manston
  Blenheim
  610
  Biggin Hill
  Spitfire
  Kenley
  64
  Kenley
  Spitfire
  111
  Croydon
  Hurricane
  615
  Kenley
  Hurricane
  North Weald
  25
  Martlesham
  Blenheim & Beaufighter
  56
  North Weald
  Hurricane
  151
  North Weald
  Hurricane
  Hornchurch
  54
  Hornchurch
  Spitfire
  65
  Hornchurch
  Spitfire
  74
  Hornchurch
  Spitfire
  266
  Hornchurch
  Spitfire
  Tangmere
  43
  Tangmere
  Hurricane
  145
  Westhampnett
  Hurricane
  601
  Tangmere
  Hurricane
  FIU
  Shoreham
  Blenheim & Beaufighter
  Debden
  17
  Debden
  Hurricane
  85
  Debden
  Hurricane
  Northolt
  1
  Northolt
  Hurricane
  1 (Canadian)(1)
  Northolt
  Hurricane
  257
  Northolt
  Hurricane
  303 (Polish)(2)
  Northolt
  Hurricane
  1) Operational since August 16, 1940; later renumbered 401
  2) Operational since August 31, 1940
  FIU is the experimental night Fighter Intercept Unit
  #10 Group
  Sector
  Squadron
  Base 
  Aircraft
  Middle Wallop
  152
  Warmwell
  Spitfire
  238
  Middle Wallop
  Hurricane
  609
  Middle Wallop
  Spitfire
  604
  Middle Wallop
  Blenheim
  Filton
  87
  Exeter
  Hurricane
  213
  Exeter
  Hurricane
  St. Eval
  234
  St. Eval
  Spitfire
  247
  Roborough
  Gladiator
  Pembrey
  92
  Pembrey
  Spitfire
  THE COMBATANTS
  25
  
  #12 Group
  Sector
  Squadron
  Base 
  Aircraft
  Duxford
  19
  Fowlmere
  Spitfire
  310 (Czech)(1)
  Duxford
  Hurricane
  Coltishall
  66
  Coltishall
  Spitfire
  242
  Coltishall
  Hurricane
  Kirton-in-Lindsey
  222
  Kirton-in-Lindsey
  Spitfire
  264
  Kirton-in-Lindsey
  Defiant
  Digby
  29
  Digby
  Blenheim
  46
  Digby
  Hurricane
  611
  Digby
  Spitfire
  Wittering
  23
  Collyweston
  Blenheim
  229
  Wittering
  Hurricane
  Church Fenton
  73
  Church Fenton
  Hurricane
  249
  Church Fenton
  Hurricane
  616
  Leconfield
  Spitfire
  1) Operational since August 18, 1940
  #13 Group
  Sector
  Squadron
  Base 
  Aircraft
  Catterick
  41
  Catterick
  Spitfire
  219
  Catterick
  Blenheim
  Usworth
  72
  Acklington
  Spitfire
  79
  Acklington
  Hurricane
  607
  Usworth
  Hurricane
  Turnhouse
  141
  Prestwick
  Defiant
  245
  Aldergrove
  Hurricane
  253
  Turnhouse
  Hurricane
  602
  Drem
  Spitfire
  605
  Drem
  Hurricane
  Dyce
  263
  Grangemouth
  Hurricane
  603
  Dyce
  Spitfire
  Wick
  3
  Wick
  Hurricane
  232
  Sumburgh
  Hurricane
  504
  Castletown
  Hurricane
  Other
  Command
  Squadron
  Base 
  Aircraft
  Coastal Command
  235
  Bircham Newton
  Blenheim
  Coastal Command
  236
  Thorney Island
  Blenheim
  Coastal Command
  248
  Sumburgh
  Blenheim
  Fleet Air Arm
  804
  HMS Furious
  Sea Gladiator
  Fleet Air Arm
  808 (1)
  Castletown
  Fulmar
  Fighter Command
  302 (Polish)(2)
  Northolt
  Hurricane
  Fighter Command
  312 (Czech)(3)
  Speke
  Hurricane
  1) Operational since September 5, 1940
  2) Operational since October 11, 1940
  3) Operational since September 26, 1940
  THE COMBATANTS
  26
  Bomber Command
  Established in 1936 at the same time of Fighter
  Command, this organization grouped all land bomber
  squadrons. In 1940, its HQ was in High Wycombe.
  During the battle of Britain, its bombers were used for
  retaliation against Germany, but also and more impor-
  tantly for attacking the enemy forces preparing for
  Operation Sea Lion (see p. 7).
  
  Coastal Command
  The RAF dedicated substantial efforts to the vital
  task of maintaining air superiority over the sea lanes.
  From its HQ in Eastbury Park, Northwood, Coastal
  Command took care of anti-submarine missions, con-
  voy escorts, and long-range ground-based recon.
  Training Command
  Tasked with training all the RAF personnel, Train-
  ing Command was split into the Flying Training Com-
  mand and the Technical Training Command in May
  1940, just before the Battle of Britain. During the battle
  itself, these commands came under severe pressure to
  provide more trainees from its courses, schools and
  operational training units.
  Fleet Air Arm
  While Bomber Command and Coastal Command
  had many experienced pilots, virtually all of them were
  trained to fly multi-engine aircraft and did not know air-
  to-air tactics. Therefore, it was difficult to use them to
  bolster the British air defense. On the other hand, the
  Fleet Air Arm was the flying branch of the Royal Navy
  (it had come under naval control in 1937), and as such
  it did train fighter pilots. By early August, 68 of them
  were “loaned” to Fighter Command, and two FAA
  squadrons took active part in the battle.
  Other Pilots
  A few RAF squadrons were assigned to air co-
  operation with the Army. These would fly light aircraft
  used for short-ranged recon, observation and liaison. As
  such, these pilots could not be of much help to Fighter
  Command without additional training, but a few
  squadrons had done exactly that in the months before
  the battle; for instance, #602 had been redesignated a
  fighter squadron in January, 1939.
  The Air Transport Auxiliary was a civilian organi-
  zation of the Air Ministry whose task was to move all
  kinds of RAF aircraft across the country. Its pilots were
  not eligible for active service (many of them were too
  old), but they freed combat pilots from these duties.
  They ran the whole gamut from gruff but experienced
  professionals to amateurs.
  As Good as New
  Another very important non-military outfit was the
  Civilian Repair Organization. It had been created as a
  semi-official service, but in 1940 it was taken under the
  new Ministry for Aircraft Production. The CRO offi-
  cials, often hand-picked by Lord Beaverbrook, scoured
  the hangars, looking for spare parts to salvage. Its crews
  retrieved downed aircraft from the countryside in
  record times. Its technicians helped the RAF ground
  crews whenever needed. No less than 61% of the 
  AIR RAID
  PRECAUTIONS
  Once everything else failed, the British resort-
  ed to passive defense: ARP, or Air Raid Precau-
  tions. The first and most pervasive of these
  measures was black-out: since brightly lit cities
  could easily be seen at night by enemy bombers,
  each and every window had to be shrouded with
  heavy black curtains, street lamps were extin-
  guished, and even vehicle headlamps were
  reduced to a low-pointing sliver of light. 40 Lon-
  don pedestrians were killed in a month by such
  blacked-out vehicles (mainly buses) at night. War-
  dens (see p. 44) strictly enforced these regulations.
  Assuming the bombers did find their objec-
  tives, sirens would warn the citizenry. People then
  rushed to the shelters. These ranged from rein-
  forced basements in public buildings to concrete
  bunkers in factories; families often used their cel-
  lars or Morrison shelters, corrugated-iron struc-
  tures they placed in their gardens and covered
  with earth. They would never survive a direct hit,
  but they were useful against fragments and incen-
  diaries. Londoners also used the subway as a shel-
  ter. Although discouraged, this practice couldn’t
  be forbidden; people just bought the ticket and
  remained underground.
  When the enemy bombs had landed, firemen
  (see p. 45), rescue worker teams and ambulances
  moved in. Policemen, too, as gangs of youngsters
  would try and steal from bombed-out houses. All
  of these jobs were hazardous. In addition to the
  fires, and the dangers in entering damaged build-
  ings, the Germans also used mines and delay
  fuses.
  Putting out the fires as quickly as possible was
  of paramount importance, as they provided all the
  light the enemy bombers needed. Indeed, the Ger-
  man equivalent of Pathfinders, i.e., specialized,
  highly trained bomber crews tasked with identify-
  ing and marking the target, tended to use incendi-
  ary bombs for this purpose. Because of this, the
  British resorted to the Starfish fire decoys. As
  soon as a city or factory had been bombed, a
  decoy cluster of false buildings, placed in the
  countryside some 5 miles away, would be ignited.
  By the spring of 1941, there were more than 100
  Starfish sites, and they drew a lot of German
  bombs. Operating such a place would be a thank-
  less and dangerous job, not to mention that it did-
  n’t make you popular with the local farmers.
  For more about Air Raid Precautions, see also
  p. W:AKM26. 
  THE COMBATANTS
  27
  
  fighters that could not be repaired at their bases
  returned to combat, thanks to the CRO. This return rate
  contributed to the German underestimations of the
  strength of Fighter Command (see p. 24).
  GROUND DEFENSES
  While the first line of defense the German attack-
  ers would face was in the air, even the fighters needed
  to rely on ground control, command, and intelligence.
  Other important defensive measures were ground-
  based, as well.
  The Chains
  The RDF tower antennas had been built all along
  the Eastern and Southern British coasts. There were 18
  long-range radar stations of the Chain Home (see p. 4)
  at the beginning of the war, covering the coast between
  Portsmouth and Aberdeen. By the summer of 1940,
  four more had been built, and the stretch from
  Portsmouth to Cornwall had come under surveillance,
  too, as well as part of Wales. The Chain Home stations
  could give an early warning, spotting aircraft at medi-
  um to high altitudes while they were 100 or more miles
  away. The Chain Home Low scanners provided protec-
  tion against low-altitude surprise attacks, being able to
  detect aircraft flying at 2,000 feet out to 35 miles, and
  even sea-skimming targets coming in at 500 feet were
  picked up at 20 miles.
  The radar stations were very conspicuous; the CH
  compounds featured four 350-feet high towers for
  transmitting the signals, and additional lower antennas
  for receiving them. The CHL towers were also quite
  noticeable, being 185 feet tall. The control centers were
  ordinary buildings, not underground shelters.
  The Observer Corps
  Detecting objects in the air, over the flat surface of
  the sea, was easier than over land (where anything
  could echo back the waves, producing clutter and inter-
  ference). Besides, the radar Chains were meant as
  early-warning networks. Once the enemy sortie crossed
  the coast, it was in the hands of a largely volunteer
  organization, the Observer Corps (later honored by the
  prefix “Royal”). 
  Churchill once said that behind the cutting-edge
  technology of the radar stations, the British tracking
  methods reverted to “stone age.” It was another of his
  exaggerations; the 29,000 Observer Corps members did
  rely on their eyes, but they also had binoculars (often,
  their own property) and optical direction-finding
  devices to track the enemy aircraft, and telephone lines
  to relay the information. On cloudy days, of course, the
  1,400 observation posts had nothing more than keen
  ears and the phones. 
  THE COMBATANTS
  28
  TAKING THE FLAK
  It was in the Battle of Britain that anti-aircraft
  fire became ubiquitous and that the term “Flak”
  acquired its iconic value. “Flak” is the abbrevia-
  tion of a German term, Flugabwehrkanone, i.e.,
  air defense gun. The British used the term “Ack-
  ack” at the time.
  While the light 40mm guns (and MGs) would
  engage low-flying targets as individuals, the
  heavier ones fired by battery, under centralized
  control. They could try and carry out continuous-
  ly pointed, i.e., aimed fire, if visibility was good
  or, at night, if a searchlight was tracking the target
  (or, later on, if good radar information was avail-
  able). If a full battery is firing in this way, the per-
  sonnel serving the predictor (also called “Perry”)
  and height-finder need to make their Gunner
  (Cannon) rolls first; they are “aiming” for the bat-
  tery. Any failed roll by the predictor and height-
  finder means a miss for the whole battery. Next,
  the gun crews roll against Gunner (Cannon)+2 to
  see if they properly follow the battery comman-
  der’s directions. 
  When lacking good target information, heavy
  batteries would perform barrage fire, trying to
  place a blanket of explosions over the predicted
  path of the enemy aircraft. Evasive maneuvers by
  the target would spoil the gunners’ aim, but
  bombers on their final run could not take evasive
  action, unless they wanted to scatter their bombs
  everywhere. Thus the main merit of AA fire was
  to intimidate and distract the enemy pilots and
  bombardiers. The GM might require a Will Roll
  (see p. W97) by the aircrews, possibly with penal-
  ties for an especially thick barrage. As to the
  chance of a hit, this is best represented by a roll of
  3 (an unqualified critical success) per battery, per
  action; while seemingly harsh, this is actually
  rather generous (see p. W:IC116).
  Finally, AA batteries could also perform box
  barrages: simply firing at a given sector between
  the expected general direction of arrival of the
  enemy formation and their assumed target, at full
  rate, until ordered to cease fire, regardless of any-
  thing else. This was the most wasteful procedure.
  It could have some marginal harassment value,
  and it told the civilians that the enemy was being
  engaged. For gaming purposes, the chances of a
  hit are negligible.
  Women auxiliaries (see p. 37) were allowed to
  perform as predictors, while gun battery crews
  remained all-male.
  
  An Observers’station would be forewarned of like-
  ly incoming aircraft. Its updates about the course taken
  by the enemy would be filtered by the Observer Corps
  HQ in Horsham, then forwarded to Fighter Command
  (see also p. 24).
  The members of the Corps wore a black-and-white
  striped armband that served as evidence of their special
  constable status.  It also protected them from being
  treated as spies if the enemy landed and captured them.
  Anti-Aircraft Defenses
  Anti-Aircraft Command was an Army organiza-
  tion, but it had been wisely subordinated to the RAF. It
  controlled all anti-aircraft batteries, as well as the
  searchlights and other less conventional devices (see p.
  47). At the beginning of the war, it could rely on 695
  heavy guns, 255 light ones, and some 2,700 search-
  lights. By the end of June, these figures had grown to
  1,204, 581 and almost 4,000, respectively. The heavy
  guns included the 3.7” and 4.5” anti-aircraft guns,
  which had an effective ceiling of 25,000 feet; just some
  270 were WWI-era 3” guns (effective ceiling: 14,000
  feet). The standard light gun was the excellent 40mm
  Bofors ROQF Mk I (see p. W:MP25).
  Balloon Command
  Established in 1938 and based in Stanmore, Bal-
  loon Command controlled all the barrage balloon units.
  It belonged to the RAF, but it served largely as a ground
  defense.
  At the beginning of the war, only 624 balloons
  were available of a planned force of 1,460; by the sum-
  mer of 1940, some 1,500 were in use. These defenses
  were the aerial equivalent of minefields, and could be
  used to interdict certain areas or routes; there were even
  mobile squadrons, with smaller-sized balloons tethered
  to trucks or barges. They were only useful up to a lim-
  ited height (around 4,500 feet), and the enemy aircraft
  could therefore avoid them by climbing; but in doing so
  they would be deprived of the advantages of low alti-
  tude. The direct approaches to London were thick with
  balloons in August 1940.
  The LZ (Low Zone) balloons were expected to be
  especially effective in that they carried an ingenuous
  explosive device linked to their tether cable. If that was
  pulled, it would break free from the balloon above the
  device, which would slide down and hit the aircraft.
  On Sea and Land
  The Army and the Royal Navy are most likely to
  come into play in an Operation Sea Lion invasion sce-
  nario. They are detailed on pp. W:AKM34-37, 39-43.
  These forces also cooperated with the RAF in the
  defense against the Luftwaffe. The opening moves of
  the German assault had ships as their main objective;
  the Luftwaffe even attacked sea ports that the 
  Kriegsmarine would have needed for the invasion! The
  Army’s anti-aircraft units engaged targets of opportuni-
  ty, and provided the batteries for the RAF-controlled
  Anti-Aircraft Command.
  German airmen could also come into contact with
  British land troops . . . if they were downed. Even
  though policemen, wardens, aggressive-looking cricket
  players and unarmed civilians are reported to have 
  THE COMBATANTS
  29
  INTELLIGENCE
  The most important Allied intelligence success
  in the war, the decryption of the German Enigma
  codes (see pp. W41, W:AKM43) had no effect on
  the Battle of Britain. Fighter Command was not
  privy to the initial output of the Ultra program.
  The major breakthroughs came later, and much of
  the Luftwaffe’s strategic-level traffic was not
  transmitted by radio.
  Therefore, the RAF’s air intelligence work was
  based on the traditional, unglamorous, thankless
  methods: counting the enemy airplanes, studying
  the enemy procedures, analyzing the target selec-
  tion in order to attempt predictions, inspecting
  downed aircraft, and interrogating POWs. The
  one ace in the hole was Y Service, a radio listen-
  ing service whose Hawkinge station intercepted
  uncoded German transmissions. By June, 1940, a
  WAAF detachment in Fairlight (Sussex) had sev-
  eral German-speaking operators whose one task
  was to listen in to enemy pilots and radio opera-
  tors. These would often chatter and disclose
  meaningful details as they formed up over their
  bases or waited for the bombers.
  On the other side of the hill, the Germans were
  seriously hampered by the poor quality of their
  intelligence. The basic analysis was the so-called
  Blau (Blue) Study, which underestimated the
  British aircraft production, misjudged the effec-
  tiveness of the new enemy fighters, and made no
  mention of the radar network, even though the
  Germans had captured an intact mobile station in
  Boulogne. The only things the Germans had
  almost right were the total numbers of modern
  fighter squadrons and operational aircraft the
  British had.
  However, their expectations, based on these
  data, were immediately invalidated by the main
  mistake intelligence made on both sides: believ-
  ing the pilots’ kill reports. It is now a well-known
  fact that a fighter pilot will overestimate his catch
  no less than an angler, but in 1940 that wasn’t so
  obvious. The Luftwaffe leadership expected the
  enemy to collapse because of its calculated casu-
  alty rates – but the calculations were wrong.
  
  captured POWs, this would normally be the Home
  Guard’s business. This had been established on May 14,
  1940 as the Local Defense Volunteers, and in two
  weeks 750,000 men had indeed come forth. By the end
  of July, the organization was renamed Home Guard,
  and it was more than 1,000,000 strong. Though no seri-
  ous match for a full-fledged invasion, it could have pro-
  vided an early reaction and some co-operation for the
  Army; it handled parachuted aircrews easily. See also p.
  W:AKM30.
  ASSURED
  ATTACKERS
  An important role in the incredible early German
  successes in WWII had been played by their air force,
  the Luftwaffe; or, at least, so it seemed. Certainly its
  fighters had proven better than anybody else’s, and its
  bombers very effective; in particular, the dive bombers
  had shown unprecedented accuracy and flexibility in
  tactical close support. Besides, the black-crossed air-
  planes had featured prominently in the newsreels, and
  the Luftwaffe’s chief, Hermann Göring (see p. W:IC52)
  was favored by Hitler. It wasn’t inconceivable that an
  air onslaught, alone, could convince the stubborn
  British to come to terms. Alternatively, the German air-
  crews could at least pave the way for an amphibious
  operation across the Channel. This section describes
  these assured attackers; GURPS WWII: Iron Cross
  also provides useful details.
  THE LUFTWAFFE
  The Versailles Treaty forbade a German air force.
  This should have put many leading German compa-
  nies out of business. However, the government did
  not want to lose the national aviation industry, thus,
  instead of encouraging the industrials to convert their
  lines to other goods, they heavily supported civil avi-
  ation ventures. In the 1930s, the Lufthansa was
  among the most important airlines in the world, and
  the best in Europe. The Deutsche Verkehrsflieger
  Schule (German School of Air Transport) trained the
  future bomber pilots; the Deutsche Lufsportverband
  (German Gliding Sport Union) had 50,000 members
  who would become eager recruits. The future cadres
  were sent to the secret training base of Lipetsk, in
  Russia.
  In January, 1934, a few months after Hitler’s elec-
  toral victory, the Air Ministry ordered 4,000 airplanes,
  including 1,760 basic trainers. The existence of the
  Luftwaffe was officially announced in 1935 (see also p.
  W:IC32). The powers that had prohibited such a thing
  back in 1919 could only begin rearming their own air
  forces.
  The Luftwaffe mushroomed. Between 1935 and
  1939, it leapt from 18,000 men of all ranks to 385,000.
  The overwhelming majority of its resources would be
  deployed against Great Britain in 1940.
  Basic and 
  Advanced Training
  In 1939, the German aircrew training system was
  geared for a short war, just like their aircraft industry.
  On the one hand, they could avail themselves of the siz-
  able peacetime efforts done by Göring’s Reichsluft-
  fahrtministerium (Air Ministry, abbreviated RLM).
  Thousands of Lufthansa crewmen and technicians, the
  glider pilots of the Deutsche Lufsportverband (see
  above), and the Luftwaffe itself, the fastest-growing
  military organization in Europe, could provide the
  THE COMBATANTS
  30
  GERMAN AIRCRAFT
  MARKINGS
  German aircraft carried letter and number
  codes on the fuselage, used to identify their unit
  and position within it; here’s a brief explanation
  of their system. In the Battle of Britain, all air-
  planes save fighters used a 4-digit code. The first
  two digits were a code for the Geschwader, the
  third identified the individual plane, and the
  fourth a letter defining its Staffel or Stab. Since
  the Staffeln were numbered consecutively within
  the Geschwader, this also identified the Gruppe.
  A was for the Geschwader Stab, B, C and D for
  each Gruppe Stab, and H, K, L, M, N, P, R, S and
  T covered the 9 Staffeln. For instance, 6N and S9
  were the codes for Kampfgruppe 100 and
  Erprobungsgruppe 210, respectively.
  Fighter units needed a simpler system for fast
  identification during dogfights. The Bf 109s car-
  ried a colored number next to their Balkankreuz
  black-on-white cross; the number identified the
  individual airplane and the color its Staffel within
  the Gruppe (normally white for Staffeln 1, 4 and
  7, red for Staffeln 2, 5 and 8, and yellow for
  Staffeln 3, 6 and 9). The Gruppe was defined by a
  tactical symbol: no symbol meant the I. Gruppe,
  a horizontal bar the II. Gruppe, and a vertical bar
  the III. Gruppe. The Geschwader was distin-
  guished by its insignia.
  The British conventions are described on p.
  W:AKM77.
  
  human resources needed in the initial campaigns. Addi-
  tionally, the Germans had hugely benefited from the
  Spanish Civil War (see p. W10), which provided their
  aircrews with actual combat experience in a low-threat
  environment. They had wisely rotated personnel with
  the Legion Condor, thus spreading that experience
  throughout their units. All of this meant that by the
  beginning of WWII, German pilots averaged hundreds
  of hours of flight, and much of those in the aircraft
  model they would fly in combat; since there wasn’t a
  large number of different types, they enjoyed great
  familiarity with their own airplane. All of this was a
  definite advantage over the enemy.
  On the downside, however, the Luftwaffe training
  system was totally unprepared for replacing combat
  casualties. Four training schools had been set up in
  1935, and, notwithstanding the immense expansion of
  the air force, by 1939 just one other school had been
  added (and that was a specialized establishment for
  naval service). By 1940, these schools were on their
  way to being overwhelmed, with a trainer-trainee ratio
  of 1 to 6 or higher.
  The Germans reckoned a fighter pilot’s training
  took one year, and up to two years were needed for a
  bomber pilot (which included extensive dive-bombing
  training). Other bomber crewmen also took a long time
  in training, since they were taught to cover every station
  in case of need. This gave excellent results, as to quali-
  ty – but not as to quantity.
  The final stage, that is the advanced training, was
  carried out within the operational units. The Geschwad-
  er set a fourth unit apart for training purposes. This
  arrangement helped in giving the trainees a valuable
  firsthand input as to practical combat instructions, but it
  also had its limits. Being directly subject to an opera-
  tional Geschwader, the fourth training Gruppe could
  face increasing pressure when combat casualties
  mounted; its instructors would be the first to move back
  to frontline Gruppen. Similarly, the main trainer for
  bomber pilots was the Ju 52/3m (see p. W:IC86), which
  was also, unfortunately, the only transport aircraft avail-
  able. So bomber training units soon experienced a
  shortage of “Aunties,” as they were moved to opera-
  tional outfits. Throughout the war, the average number
  of flight hours given in the Luftwaffe training programs
  would decrease. In 1940, however, that figure was still
  high, between 220 and 250 for a fighter pilot who had
  had no experience in the Spanish Civil War.
  A specifically German concept was the so-called
  Lehr unit. While “lehren” means “teaching,” these
  were not training organizations, but rather “model”
  units, built on a cadre of trainers and experienced vet-
  erans, that set a standard for others and field-tested new
  procedures and devices. The idea worked, but the
  Lehrgeschwader were obviously subject to combat
  attrition like any other operational unit.
  Combining its accurate training system and its
  valuable actual experience, the German air manpower
  was at its peak in 1940. Its Achilles’heel was that it was
  prepared for a first-round victory, not for an endurance
  match.
  Operations
  Throughout the Battle of Britain, the Luftwaffe
  operations were plagued by the fact that the Germans
  wanted results in a hurry. Their plans had been hastily
  improvised, and Göring had just two months to deliv-
  er what he had promised. This led to frequent changes
  in procedures, target selection, and even overall strat-
  egy. The Luftwaffe attacks came by day and by night,
  at varying heights (with their accuracy being inverse-
  ly proportional to altitude), with different targets.
  Fighters could fly standard escort missions by defend-
  ing the bombers from above, or carry out close pro-
  tection duties, which were less effective; they could
  also search for targets in Freie Jagd, or “free hunt”
  sorties. Not concentrating on a specific class of targets
  meant that no lasting results were achieved. Even
  when the Germans did something right, they’d never
  do it for long enough to accomplish their mission. The
  lack of reliable intelligence feedback compounded the
  problem.
  The Luftwaffe’s operational art also had other
  flaws. The Luftflotten’s self-contained nature meant
  each of them could plan independently – and this is
  what they did on occasion, with their lack of co-ordina-
  tion clearly benefiting the enemy. Another problem was
  the tendency to assume that a bombed target would
  obviously be destroyed; the Germans didn’t expect the
  repair works to be as quick and effective as they actu-
  ally were.
  For details about the German air-to-air tactics, see
  p. 57.
  Organization
  In 1939, the German air force depended from the
  Air Ministry, through the Oberkommando der Luft-
  waffe (abbreviated OKL, the equivalent of the OKH,
  see p. W:IC28).
  The administrative territorial subdivision was the
  Luftgau (Air Region), and the operational one was the
  Luftflotte. A Luftflotte (Air fleet) was a balanced, inde-
  pendent force fielding all kinds of aircraft; its strength
  and composition would be tailored to its tasks. Each of
  these army-level formations included up to three
  Fliegerkorps (bomber divisions) and one or two Jafüs
  (fighter divisions), and possibly more specialized divi-
  sions.
  The largest flying unit was the Geschwader. This
  had its own complement of ground technicians and
  other personnel, and fielded from 80 to 120 aircraft. It
  was task-oriented: there were fighter, bomber, recon
  THE COMBATANTS
  31
  
  Geschwader and so on (see German Unit Names). It
  was organized in a Stab (a command section with 3-4
  airplanes) and three combat-ready Gruppen (with 35-
  40 aircraft each). In action, a Gruppe could split down
  into three Staffeln of 9 airplanes, but other tactical for-
  mations were used, too (see p. 57). The average opera-
  tional strength of a Gruppe was around 18. This
  included the operational units, but a Geschwader nor-
  mally had a fourth, or rarely even a fifth Gruppe. As a
  rule, the fourth Gruppe was intended for training, and
  not normally committed to operations, especially in
  1940.
  The Luftflotten
  For the Battle of Britain, the Germans had
  deployed Luftflotte 2 in the forefront, around the Pas de
  Calais; therefore, this unit had most of the available
  fighters, in order to minimize range problems. Luftflotte
  3 had more bombers and was based in Normandy or
  farther. Finally, Luftflotte 5 made a rare appearance,
  with bombers only, from its airports in Denmark and
  Norway.
  A few days after the beginning of the Kanalkampf
  and on the date of the Adlerangriff, the German strength
  returns were the following, respectively (night fighters
  not included).
  GERMAN UNIT NAMES
  German unit names, numbering system, and
  abbreviations and conventions for their air units
  could be bewildering, both for British officers at
  the time and for players today.
  The final part of a unit’s abbreviated designa-
  tion is normally a G (for Geschwader), Gr (for
  Gruppe) or Sta (for Staffel). The initial part,
  instead, identifies the unit’s function, and it is
  very often abbreviated:
  Kampf-, K: bomber.
  Jagd-, Ja-, Jg- or J: fighter.
  Sturzkampf-, St: dive bomber.
  Zerstörer-, Z: heavy fighter.
  Schlacht-, Sch: (ground) attack, fighter-
  bomber.
  Nachtjagd-, NJ: night fighter.
  Lehr-, L: used for “model” units.
  Aufklärungs-, Fernaufklärungs-, F: recon,
  long-range recon.
  Seeflieger-, Küstenflieger-, Kü: seaplane,
  coastal.
  Erprobungs-, Erpr: testing, experimental; only
  referred to Erprobungsgruppe 210 (see p. 64).
  Wetterkundlich-, WeKu: meteorological.
  Geschwader were identified by a number,
  Gruppen by a Roman numeral within the
  Geschwader. Staffeln were identified by an Ara-
  bic figure again. Both Gruppe and Staffel identifi-
  cation numbers came before the Geschwader’s,
  and were separated from it by a slash. Thus I/KG
  1 meant Gruppe I of Kampfgeschwader 1 (a
  bomber Geschwader), 4./JG 2 meant the fourth
  Staffel of Jagdgeschwader 2 (a fighter unit).
  Since Staffeln were numbered consecutively
  within the whole Geschwader, the fourth one
  belongs to Gruppe II. See also p. W:IC32.
  July 20
  August 13
  Units
  Aircraft
  Strength
  Operational
  Strength
  Luftflotten 2 & 3
  Bf 109 (1)
  809
  656
  882
  Bf 110
  246
  168
  231
  Ju 87
  316
  248
  311
  Other Bombers
  1,131
  769
  865
  Recon
  67
  48
  71
  Coastal
  82
  46
  80
  Luftflotte 5
  Bf 109 (2)
  84
  69
  37
  Bf 110
  34
  32
  34
  Bombers
  129
  95
  123
  Coastal & Recon
  105
  63
  91
  (1) The experimental/“model” Gruppen assigned to fighter-bomber duties are included.
  (2) For local defense only; these fighters’ range is too short to reach the UK.
  The table below shows the complete Luftwaffe order of battle on August 13, 1940. Of course the units were rein-
  forced as the losses mounted; in particular, almost 100 bombers were later shifted from Luftflotte 5 to French bases.
  THE COMBATANTS
  32
  
  Luftflotte 2
  Unit
  Gruppe
  Base 
  Aircraft
  I Fliegerkorps
  I/KG 1
  Montdidier
  He 111H
  II/KG 1
  Amiens-Glisy
  He 111H
  III/KG 1
  Rosières-en-Santerre
  He 111H
  I/KG 76
  Beauvais-Tilles
  Do 17Z
  II/KG 76
  Creil
  Ju 88A
  III/KG 76
  Cormeilles-en-Vexin
  Do 17Z
  I/KG 77 (1)
  Laon
  Ju 88A
  II/KG 77 (1)
  Asch (North)
  Ju 88A
  III/KG 77 (1)
  Laon
  Ju 88A
  II Fliegerkorps
  I/KG 2
  Epinoy
  Do 17Z
  II/KG 2
  St. Lèger
  Do 17Z
  III/KG 2
  Cambrai (South)
  Do 17Z
  I/KG 3
  Le Culot
  Do 17Z
  II/KG 3
  Antwerp-Deurne
  Do 17Z
  III/KG 3
  St. Trond
  Do 17Z
  I/KG 53
  Lille (North)
  He 111H
  II/KG 53
  Lille (North)
  He 111H
  III/KG 53
  Lille (Mourvaux)
  He 111H
  II/StG 1
  Pas-de-Calais
  Ju 87B
  IV(St)/LG 1
  Tramecourt
  Ju 87B
  II(Schl)/LG 2
  St.Omer
  Bf 109E
  ErprGr 210
  Calais-Marck
  Bf 109E, Bf 110C,
  Bf 110D
  9. Fliegerdivision
  I/KG 4
  Soesterberg
  He 111H
  II/KG 4
  Eindhoven
  He 111P
  III/KG 4
  Amsterdam-Schipol
  Ju 88A
  KGr 100
  Vannes
  He 111H
  KüGr 126
  Nantes
  He 111H
  Jagdfliegerführer 2
  I/JG 3
  Grandvilliers
  Bf 109E
  II/JG 3
  Wierre au Bois
  Bf 109E
  III/JG 3
  Desvres
  Bf 109E
  I/JG 26
  Audembert
  Bf 109E
  II/JG 26
  Marquise (East)
  Bf 109E
  III/JG 26
  Caffiers
  Bf 109E
  I/JG 51
  Pihen (Calais)
  Bf 109E
  II/JG 51
  Marquise (West)
  Bf 109E
  III/JG 51
  St. Omer
  Bf 109E
  I/JG 52
  Coquelles
  Bf 109E
  II/JG 52
  Peuplingues
  Bf 109E
  I/JG 54
  Guines
  Bf 109E
  II/JG 54
  Hermelingen
  Bf 109E
  III/JG 54
  Guines
  Bf 109E
  I/ZG 26
  Yvrench
  Bf 110C
  II/ZG 26
  Crècy, St. Omer
  Bf 110C
  III/ZG 26
  Barly, Arques
  Bf 110C
  II/ZG 76
  Abbeville
  Bf 110C
  I (Jg)/LG 2
  Calais-Marck
  Bf 109E
  Recon and liaison
  4 Staffeln
  various
  Hs 126
  Long-range recon
  4 Staffeln
  various
  Ju 88, He 111, He 115,
  and coastal
  He 59, Do 17, Bf 110
  (1) This Geschwader was re-training with Ju 88s and saw no actual action.
  THE COMBATANTS
  33
  
  Luftflotte 3
  Unit
  Gruppe
  Base 
  Aircraft
  IV Fliegerkorps
  I/LG 1
  Orléans-Bricy
  Ju 88A
  II/LG 1
  Orléans-Bricy
  Ju 88A
  III/LG 1
  Châteaudun
  Ju 88A
  I/KG 27
  Tours
  He 111H
  II/KG 27
  Dinard
  He 111P
  III/KG 27
  Rennes
  He 111P
  I/KG 40
  Brest
  FW 200C
  KGr 806
  Nantes, Caen
  Ju 88A
  V Fliegerkorps
  I/KG 51
  Melun
  Ju 88A
  II/KG 51
  Orly and Etampes
  Ju 88A
  III/KG 51
  Étampes-Mondésir
  Ju 88A
  I/KG 54
  Evreux
  Ju 88A
  II/KG 54
  St. André de l’Eure
  Ju 88A
  I/KG 55
  Dreux
  He 111H
  II/KG 55
  Chartres
  He 111P
  III/KG 55
  Villacoublay
  He 111P
  VIII Fliegerkorps
  I/StG 1
  Angers
  Ju 87B
  III/StG 1
  Angers
  Ju 87B
  I/StG 2
  St. Malo
  Ju 87B (and Do 17M)
  II/StG 2
  Lannion
  Ju 87B
  I/StG 3
  Caen
  Ju 87B
  I/StG 77
  Caen
  Ju 87B
  II/StG 77
  Caen
  Ju 87B
  III/StG 77
  Caen
  Ju 87B
  II(Sch)/LG 2
  Böblingen
  Bf 109E
  V(Z)/LG 1
  Caen
  Bf 110C and Bf 110D
  Jagdfliegerführer 3
  I/JG 2
  Beaumont-le-Roger
  Bf 109E
  II/JG 2
  Beaumont-le-Roger
  Bf 109E
  III/JG 2
  Le Havre
  Bf 109E
  I/JG 27
  Plumetot
  Bf 109E
  II/JG 27
  Crépon
  Bf 109E
  III/JG 27
  Arcques, Carquebut
  Bf 109E
  I/JG 53
  Rennes
  Bf 109E
  II/JG 53
  Dinan
  Bf 109E
  III/JG 53
  Brest
  Bf 109E
  I/ZG 2
  Caen-Carpiquet
  Bf 110C
  II/ZG 2
  Guyancourt
  Bf 110D
  III/ZG 76
  Laval, Dinard
  Bf110C
  Recon and liaison
  7 Staffeln
  various
  Hs 126
  Long-range recon
  5 Staffeln
  various
  Ju 88, Do 17, Bf 110
  Luftflotte 5
  Unit
  Gruppe
  Base 
  Aircraft
  X Fliegerkorps
  I/KG 26
  Stavanger-Sola
  He 111H
  III/KG 26
  Stavanger-Sola
  He 111H
  I/KG 30
  Aalborg
  Ju 88A
  III/KG 30
  Aalborg
  Ju 88A
  I/ZG 76
  Stavanger-Forus
  Bf 110C
  II/JG 77 (1)
  Trondheim
  Bf 109E
  Coastal and recon
  12 Staffeln
  various
  He 115, Do 17, Do 18
  (1) For local defense only; these Gruppen’s range is too short to reach the UK.
  THE COMBATANTS
  34
  
  GERMAN
  GROUND FORCES
  Historically, the German ground troops played
  no active part in the war against Great Britain in
  1940. Yet they remained, so to speak, an “army in
  being,” and the British commanders were only too
  aware that many enemy divisions, so far unbeaten,
  were deployed within 50 miles of Calais. All the
  plans made in London had to take this threat into
  account.
  The French, Belgian, and Dutch coasts, there-
  fore, were crowded with German troops; most were
  concentrated around ports, such as Le Havre,
  Antwerp, and Cherbourg, because the plan relied on
  conventional shipping for most of the troops. Opera-
  tion Sea Lion called for 39 divisions, and several of
  them spent a lazy summer on the coast.
  Indeed, only a minuscule fraction of these forces
  would fire a shot in anger in the Battle of Britain.
  Apart from those anti-aircraft units that tried to stave
  off the British bombers’ pre-emptive strikes against
  the invasion fleet, there were a few land-based bat-
  teries of naval guns, emplaced between Calais and
  Boulogne. Their heavy-caliber shells (380mm,
  305mm, 280mm) could reach the British island and
  sometimes did so, mainly attacking the port of Dover
  and its defenses. At that range, it was an inaccurate if
  impressive waste of ammo and barrel rifling; it
  might have had some morale effect on the civilian
  population.
  After the successful but costly invasion of Scan-
  dinavia (see p. W13), the third German arm, the
  Kriegsmarine, was down to one heavy cruiser (the
  Admiral Hipper), two light cruisers and ten destroy-
  ers. They could also rely on a rather small submarine
  fleet, mines, and light craft, but all of this paled in
  comparison to the Home Fleet alone. 
  THE ITALIAN
  AIR CORPS
  It was the end of October, 1940, when the Ital-
  ian Air Corps arrived in Belgium. Mussolini
  wanted to take part to the air war alongside his
  German ally, for propaganda reasons. So, some
  200 Italian airplanes that could have been useful
  if deployed in the desert against the winter British
  offensive (see p. W18), were wasted in a battle
  that was already over.
  Nor were those airplanes up to the task. The
  bombers were 76 Fiat BR.20M “Cicogna”
  (Stork), a recent all-metal design plagued with
  faulty engines. The fighters were 48 Fiat G.50
  “Freccia” (Arrow) and 50 Fiat CR.42 “Falco”
  (Hawk; see p. W:GL34). The first was a modern
  monoplane, but not fast enough for a Hurricane
  (its top speed was 295 mph). The second was an
  outdated biplane. Both featured the open cockpit
  preferred by the Italian pilots, not exactly a com-
  fortable battle station high over the Channel in
  November.
  Being well aware of the vulnerability of these
  allies, Luftflotte 2 initially employed them in night
  actions - which the Italians were not trained for.
  This caused as many losses in accidents as
  engagement by the enemy. Day missions were
  attempted, with disappointing results. On Novem-
  ber 11, 40 CR.42s and 10 BR.20s were intercept-
  ed over Harwich; three fighters and three
  bombers were downed, and no less than 19 fight-
  ers had to crash-land in Belgium on empty fuel
  tanks. The RAF recorded no losses in the action,
  notwithstanding the Italians’ claims.
  The Italian Air Corps began redeploying to
  Italy in January, 1941.
  THE COMBATANTS
  35
  
  3.
  CHARACTERS
  CHARACTERS
  36
  In 1940, the fastest aircraft and the most advanced
  scientific wizardries still required a man in control − or
  a woman.
  Never in the field of human conflict was so much
  owed by so many to so few.
  – Winston Churchill
  BRITISH
  CHARACTERS
  General information about the background of
  British characters can be found on pp. W39-41. Addi-
  tional details can be found on pp. W:AKM46-51.
  Any given group of servicemen fighting abroad in
  WWII would normally have much in common, since
  they would belong to the same unit and arm, with sim-
  ilar in-theater experiences. But British characters in the
  Battle of Britain may well be quite diverse, since 
  they are fighting from their own homeland. Indeed, 
  a “mixed campaign” might be both warranted and par-
  ticularly interesting.
  This is not to say that men of comparable rank in
  any British unit in the Battle of Britain came from many
  different walks of life. The peacetime background of
  recruits, and of volunteers, played an important role in
  determining what battle stations they would take in the
  war. This applied, first and foremost, to their rank.
  Working-class types could be promoted if determined,
  gifted, and lucky, but this would become more common
  as the war continued; in 1940, wartime attrition had not
  opened up many upper-rank slots, yet.
  Social standing could also influence the chances of
  joining any given unit. The RAF had more or less
  socially fashionable squadrons (see p. 58), but, since it
  still was a young service, it was seen as somewhat
  adventurous. True conservatives were more likely to
  join the Royal Navy or Dad’s good old regiment. This
  left the middle ranks of the Air Force offering more
  opportunities for either non-conventional aristocrats or
  middle-class people.
  ROLEPLAYING
  The summer of 1940 was the beginning of the
  roughest stretch of the war for Britons. With the fall of
  France, fear struck the Home Counties; the Germans
  seemed unstoppable. Nevertheless, the evacuation of
  Dunkirk (see pp. W15, W:RH9, W:AKM10) was some-
  how turned into a victory by British propaganda. The
  country had a tradition of facing off powerful continen-
  tal enemies from their shores, and a history of evacuat-
  ing armies by sea and fighting on. Churchill’s radio
  speeches and visits by members of the Royal family
  soon bolstered the population’s morale.
  In these months, British characters may well dis-
  play a quiet, stubborn determination to “show the
  Huns.” Even an almost irresponsible optimism might
  not look out of place among the rank and file; officers
  knew better but they would resort to their famous wry
  understatements (see p. W:AKM119). Civilians would
  make a point of carrying on “business as usual” (see p.
  58). The British insisted that their civilized habits be
  disrupted as little as possible by those barbarians; the
  immaculate lawns of a country house in Kent were reg-
  ularly swept by the butler, so that they wouldn’t look
  like an unseemly mess at tea-time because of the spent
  machinegun casings.
  Virtually everybody, from enlisted men to top-
  ranking officers to civilians, would refrain from the
  fiery war rhetoric that they considered typical of emo-
  tional, worked-up continentals. They knew the United
  Kingdom would win, in a matter-of-fact way.
  RAF fighter pilots would behave with typical
  swagger and self-confidence. However, as the battle
  went on, some of them became more somber because
  of the increasing toll and the growing awareness of
  their responsibility. Not all the RAF personnel were
  under the same strain, but they all did their duty with a
  self-deprecating, unassuming attitude.
  CIVILIANS
  In the summer of 1940, Great Britain was already
  on its way to full mobilization, not only of its armed
  forces but also of the nation as a whole. Such an 
  
  objective was still far ahead when it came to war pro-
  duction, but as to the civilian involvement in the war,
  that was already being achieved. The overwhelming
  majority of Britons were determined to help their coun-
  try’s war effort, and if they couldn’t volunteer for armed
  service, they would do their best as civilians. The
  Dunkirk evacuation had not only stirred a surge of
  patriotism, but more importantly, moved into top gear
  many paramilitary, civil-defense, and auxiliary servic-
  es. Part-time volunteers flocked in. “Help the war
  effort” was the byword of the day.
  Some of the duties they were appointed to, such as
  patrolling highly unlikely landing sites, were probably
  more intended to give these volunteers something to do,
  in order not to discourage an enthusiasm that could later
  be put to better use. Certainly the roles of air-raid war-
  dens, auxiliary firemen, observers, and ambulance driv-
  ers became much less academic when the Luftwaffe
  shifted its sights to the British cities. This is why such
  civilian, part-time volunteers can become interesting
  roleplaying characters and are given their own tem-
  plates (see pp. 43-45).
  FEMALE ROLES
  What goes for civilians, above, applies to British
  women, too. In 1940, they could volunteer to serve their
  country, and they did just that in great numbers. They
  were put to good use in a variety of services: they could
  be nurses, replace men in factories and in the fields
  (through the part-time Women’s Land Army), and carry
  out many other tasks. They could drive trucks and
  ambulances, and serve in civil-defense positions (see
  also p. W:AKM46). Even housewives would find ways
  to contribute to the war effort, for instance by collecting
  funds, participating in the recycling of waste materials,
  caring for refugees and evacuated children, and replac-
  ing their flowerbeds with kitchen gardens. Some of
  them would do that on their own, many others would
  coordinate their efforts through the WVS (Women’s’
  Voluntary Service).
  Agreater commitment would see a woman join the
  armed forces, since each one had its own auxiliary
  branch: the ATS (Auxiliary Territorial Service), the
  WRNS (Women’s Royal Naval Service) and of course
  the WAAF (Women’s Auxiliary Air Force). Both
  “Wren” and “Waaf” became nouns, and the protago-
  nists of many servicemen’s dreams as well. For more
  about these roles, see the Auxiliary Servicewoman tem-
  plate, p. 45. 
  GERMAN
  CHARACTERS
  General information about the background of Ger-
  man characters can be found on pp. W48-50. Addition-
  al details can be found on pp. W:IC42-45.
  The Luftwaffe, the youngest armed force in the
  German military, had seen fast growth in the inter-war
  years, first covertly, then publicly after 1935. This
  meant that its members had diverse backgrounds and
  had reached varying degrees of preparedness in 1940. 
  Despite the political position of the Luftwaffe’s
  commander, Hermann Göring (see p. W:IC52), at the
  time of the Battle of Britain the party influence was lim-
  ited and the overwhelming majority of the personnel
  was motivated by their Sense of Duty and/or Code of
  Honor (see pp. 39-40), rather than by ideology. A siz-
  able proportion of the officers came from either military
  families or at least upper-class backgrounds.
  In terms of human resources, the great advantage
  of the Germans was their previous combat experi-
  ence. A core of flight and ground crews had already
  fought with the German Legion Condor in the Span-
  ish Civil war (see p. W10), which the Luftwaffe had
  wisely employed as live-fire testing grounds; many
  others had at least experienced a brief war deploy-
  ment in Poland, France and maybe Scandinavia. This
  did not apply to all hands, especially as the battle of
  Britain continued. Administrative personnel had
  received little military training, and by late 1940 it
  was not uncommon for farm boys to reach antiaircraft
  units straight out of basic training. However, most of
  the maintenance crews had sound technical back-
  grounds, career NCOs had often worked in aircraft
  factories or in civilian airports, and they were sup-
  ported by experienced civilian personnel.
  ROLEPLAYING
  After the Battle of France, it would take a huge
  dose of pessimism for a German not to feel confident in
  victory. The successes had been uninterrupted and
  heady, especially for the younger servicemen who had
  also lived through years of Nazi propaganda; but the
  evidence was before the eyes of prudent, experienced
  officers, too. Thus German characters should behave
  accordingly, at the beginning of the campaign. Depend-
  ing upon their inclinations, they might believe in the
  invincibility of the Führer, of the Luftwaffe, or of their
  allegedly superior aircraft. They might show it off with
  a swagger if fighter pilots, carry it with a quiet confi-
  dence if senior officers, or gloat over it if faithful Nazis.
  Anyway, they’d be very confident.
  CHARACTERS
  37
  
  Things changed in a couple of months, obviously.
  While most personnel would continue to fight with
  bravery and dedication, the losses did sap the morale of
  the bomber crews, and the fighter pilots suffered both
  because of the casualty rates and of the lack of rest (see
  p. 41). The Nazi propaganda hugely backfired when, no
  matter how many enemies the Luftwaffe downed, the
  supposed last 50 enemy fighters continued to show up,
  and when Berlin was bombed. German characters may
  well begin to question the strategic purposes of the
  offensive, especially if they get wind of how unlikely
  the launch of Operation Sea Lion (see p. 7), that their
  comrades are dying for, actually is. If they do, they’ll
  need to be careful; at this time in the war, outspoken
  criticism by frontline officers was common and nor-
  mally not punished, but you never know.
  ADVANTAGES,
  DISADVANTAGES,
  AND SKILLS
  This section offers more detail for both British and
  Germans characters.
  ADVANTAGES
  These descriptions expand upon useful Advantages
  available to pilots, airmen and other characters.
  ACES
  CHARACTERS
  38
  Statistical studies show that during the Battle of
  Britain, less than 4% of the fighter pilots scored five
  kills or more, but that small percentage of aces
  accounted for over 30% of the kills. A much larger
  percentage never scored a kill; in fact, they did not
  even survive their first mission. While there was a
  middle ground of average pilots who were experi-
  enced enough not to be easy targets, but not good
  enough to score often, most aerial combat featured
  easy prey picked off by the skilled predators.
  It is easy for pilot characters to meet and be sub-
  ordinated to these aces. They might even work side
  by side with them, and in the case of cinematic cam-
  paigns, help them out of some tight spot! Here are a
  few real-life examples; the ranks are those held dur-
  ing the Battle of Britain.
  Squadron Leader Douglas Bader (1910-1982).
  Bader, a professional pilot, used  his Strong Will,
  Charisma and connections (Contacts) to get back in
  a cockpit even though he had been Legless since an
  air accident in 1931. In June, 1940, he was appoint-
  ed to lead #242 Squadron, whose Canadian pilots
  were demoralized by the losses suffered in France.
  Bader turned them into an aggressive unit through
  his example and Leadership. He had little patience
  with desk pilots, and once declared the squadron
  “non-operational as regards equipment” to get the
  spare parts he needed. He became the best-known
  proponent of the Big Wing (see p. 23), and he led the
  Duxford Wing in action several times, sometimes
  with good results.
  Flight Lieutenant Adolph “Sailor” Malan (1910-
  1963). Nicknamed “Sailor” because of his past in the
  merchant navy, as a boy in South Africa Malan had
  been an eager hunter. He took command of #74
  Squadron on August 8, having already bagged 16
  kills. He was businesslike and uncompromising, had
  some scraps with the RAF top brass, and violated
  regulations to develop what he called the “fours in
  line astern”: a British Schwarm (see Air-to-Air Tac-
  tics, p. 57). He must have had a high Gunner (MG)
  skill level and very good Vision (he achieved two
  kills in one night, see Night Life, p. 60). When possi-
  ble he’d try to close in and hit the cockpit of enemy
  bombers in order to kill the pilot (which might qual-
  ify him as Bloodthirsty).
  Flight Sergeant James “Ginger” Lacey (1917-
  1989). “Ginger” of #501 Squadron was one of the
  best shots of Fighter Command. While he would reg-
  ularly feel sick before taking off, he was nevertheless
  endowed with Fearlessness: on September 15 he
  took on a dozen Bf 109s by himself and downed two
  of them. It also took courage to climb back in the
  cockpit after having been forced to bail out or to
  crash-land nine times.
  Flight Sergeant Josef Frantisek (1913-1940).
  Frantisek, with 17 confirmed kills, was the top ace of
  the RAF in the Battle of Britain, and he achieved that
  in little more than a month: he flew with #303 (Pol-
  ish) Squadron, which became operational at the end
  of August, and he died in a landing accident on Octo-
  ber 8. The reason of this success is that he already
  was a veteran: though flying with the Poles, he was a
  Czech, and had fought in the French campaign. Hav-
  ing fled his country, Poland, and France before the
  advancing Germans, he probably had some Intoler-
  ance towards them. He also was a Loner, and could-
  n’t be relied upon for teamwork − only for downing
  enemies.
  Contiued on next page . . .
  
  Acceleration 
  Tolerance
  see p. CI19
  This is a typical Advantage for fighter pilots, and it
  is indeed a special option for their selection of Nation-
  al Advantages in their corebook template (see p. W83).
  It is important to remark that this ability to withstand
  short-term high-G forces can be acquired; a character
  can get accustomed to sudden accelerations through
  training and actual combat. A straight acceleration by
  any 1940 aircraft is never dangerous, but things change
  if there is a centrifugal force too, as in a bend (see pp.
  W150, CII131, VE153-155).
  Acute Vision
  see p. W182
  Pilots used to say the most valuable equipment
  they had was the Eyeball Mk I. Seeing the enemy
  first often was a life-or-death proposition. Acute Vision
  is also a special option in the Fighter Pilot template (see
  p. W83).
  Contacts
  see p. CI22
  Both the RAF and the Luftwaffe were growing
  fast, but in 1940 they still had a backbone of regulars
  who knew their ways and could sometimes take a short-
  cut through the red tape. The British old boys’ network
  and its German counterpart could be represented by
  means of a Reputation (see p. W:AKM47), or addition-
  al Status (see p. W:IC45); or, if the character’s friends
  only provide timely gossip, they can be considered
  Contacts of the Military sort.
  Luck
  see p. W183
  Many pilots were very superstitious and a few
  seem to have been simply lucky, surviving against all
  odds. Luck is an especially suitable Advantage for cin-
  ematic campaigns (see p. 55).
  Reputation
  see pp. W63, W179
  Only fresh recruits start with a blank slate. An
  officer being transferred from another unit will
  almost always be preceded by his Reputation, even
  though this applies to the small group represented by
  his own service’s officers. Success, bravery, luck (see
  above) and care for his men may all contribute to a
  positive Reputation.
  DISADVANTAGES
  These 
  descriptions 
  expand 
  upon 
  suitable 
  Disadvantages available to pilots, airmen and other
  characters.
  Code of Honor
  see p. W64
  Both the Officer’s and the Enlisted Man’s Code of
  Honor were common in the RAF and the Luftwaffe.
  Both had a core of professionals, and new recruits were
  indoctrinated as much as possible in their own service’s
  mystique. For the Standard form of this Disadvantage,
  worth -10 points, the following details can be added:
  CHARACTERS
  39
  ACES (CONT’D)
  Major Adolph Galland (1912-1996). A flashy,
  Charismatic Experte of the Spanish Civil War, at the
  beginning of the Battle of Britain he led III./JG 26,
  and during it he was appointed Geschwaderkom-
  modore of the whole JG 26. By the summer of 1940,
  Galland’s Tactics (Air-to-Air) skills were exception-
  ally refined. Like other veterans, Galland disregard-
  ed formalities, but also technological innovations;
  critics say he pursued his own score at the expense of
  his wingmen, but his pilots surely felt inspired by
  such a leader. He had an Addiction to tobacco, and
  had an electric lighter installed in his cockpit.
  Major Werner “Vati” Mölders (1913-1941). The
  commander of another famous fighter unit, JG 51, in
  1940 Mölders was already a Luftwaffe star (a solid
  Reputation) and a Spanish Civil War ace. In fact, he
  is credited with the invention of the Schwarm tactics
  (see Air-to-Air Tactics, p. 57) in Spain. His nickname
  means “Daddy,” and he certainly cared for his pilots;
  he had experienced being downed, captured by the
  French, and wounded by the British. He had very
  high levels both in Tactics and in Gunner (and,
  indeed, he was another ace who was fond of hunting
  and shooting). He was promoted during the Battle of
  Britain, and by the end of the year he scored his 55th
  kill.
  Hauptmann Helmut Wick (1915-1940). Wick was
  an up-and-coming officer, and indeed, while listed as
  a Hauptmann above, he entered the Battle of Britain
  as Oberleutnant and was a Major when he died; he
  climbed from acting as a Staffelkapitän to leading the
  whole JG 2. Wick was a natural-born hunter. On
  November 28, 1940, he scored his 55th and 56th
  kills, and was downed into the Channel by Flight
  Lieutenant John Dundas of #609 Squadron. He was
  never found.
  
  among one’s mates, special care should be taken of
  one’s wingman; if a ground crewman, the aircraft’s
  readiness and reliability come before any other 
  consideration.
  The Extreme form of this Disadvantage was
  rarer, which is understandable since it verges on the
  suicidal. The description offered on p. W64 can be
  fleshed out for the Battle of Britain and other aerial
  campaigns, as follows. Fighter pilots should not
  abandon the bombers they are escorting; they should
  not bail out of their planes while over their own coun-
  try’s cities. Bomber pilots, if forced to jump, should
  keep flying straight and level until every crewman
  has made it out; they should not jettison their
  bombload lightly. Most of the servicemen having this
  Disadvantage also maintain that their own laws of
  war include not shooting at parachuting enemies.
  These details do not modify the point value.
  Sense of Duty see p. W186
  While many of the men involved in the Battle of
  Britain felt an obligation towards their comrades, units,
  or country, this should not overlap with Code of Honor
  (above) or Fanaticism (Patriotism, see p. W184). If a
  character already is a fanatical patriot, he should not
  gain anymore points from a Sense of Duty towards his
  country!
  SKILLS
  Characters can be created according to templates
  (see pp. W72-85, pp. 41-45), which already provide a
  selection of Skills. However, the following notes can be
  added.
  Area 
  Knowledge
  see p. W188
  Pilots having this Skill will in all likelihood know
  the area not only from the ground (as usual, maybe
  focusing on good pubs and cafes), but also from the air.
  They will be aware of aerial landmarks (rivers, cities,
  coast lines etc.) and of any places suitable for emer-
  gency landings.
  Ground Area Knowledge can be of great help when
  a character is finding his way through the night in a
  fully blacked-out environment.
  Aviation
  see p. W188
  This skill is for airmen what Soldier means for
  ground troops (see p. W65). It represents the basics,
  such as where to step and where not to around, inside
  or over an aircraft. It also represents their general-
  purpose training, wherein complex matters (provided
  they weren’t one of the trainee’s main responsibili-
  ties) were reduced to simple three-step instructions.
  Apart from the examples on p. W188, Aviation can be
  substituted for easy, routine tasks, in place of the
  standard DX or IQ defaults. It can be used, for
  instance, for the first roll for Parachuting (see below),
  instead of Operations in order to understand the
  essentials of a briefing, or as a substitute of Meteo-
  rology for very short-term forecasts.
  Camouflage
  see p. W188
  In this setting, this skill includes the ability to prop-
  erly apply black-out measures to buildings, vehicles
  and environments, so that at night, no light can be visi-
  ble by an enemy bomber flying overhead. It also
  includes knowledge of the relevant regulations, and the
  ability to properly create smoke screens, even by using
  improvised means.
  Electronics 
  Operation
  see p. W188
  In 1940, solving problems or facing emergencies
  with sensors and communication equipment actually
  had more to do with electro-mechanical, mechanical, or
  optical devices. This included things such as the
  pedestal-mounted range-and-bearing finders used by
  observers (see p. 44), the “predictors” used to direct
  antiaircraft fire, and the complex switchboard systems
  used to convey real-time information to operations
  rooms. For want of a better definition, Electronics
  Operation (Sensors, or Communications) is the skill
  used to represent this.
  NBC Warfare
  see p. W190
  It might seem strange that even characters with lit-
  tle or no military background may have this skill (as
  evidenced by the templates, see pp. 41-45). However,
  the threat of gas attacks was perceived as very real in
  1940, and the British authorities made Herculean
  efforts in order to provide a gas mask for everybody.
  Air-raid wardens, and the members of other services,
  were trained not only to check and quickly wear the
  masks, but also to identify gases by their smell and to
  react accordingly.
  Parachuting
  see p. W190
  Flying personnel received directions on how to
  leave their aircraft and open their parachute, but per-
  functory information, if any at all, beyond that. If a
  character lacks this skill, however, the short lessons
  above qualify him for using as a default his Aviation
  skill for the first roll to employ a parachute (see p.
  W65). He still has to roll either against Parachuting or
  against the standard defaults (DX-4 or IQ-6) when it
  comes to landing well. 
  CHARACTERS
  40
  
  Professional 
  Skills
  see p. B58
  Two Professional Skills are suggested for use with
  the templates: PS (Fireman), that can be used for auxil-
  iary and full-time firemen (see p. 45), and PS (Aircraft
  Identification). The latter isn’t exactly a profession, but
  it represents the body of knowledge needed to identify
  flying airplanes from a distance, on the basis of their
  shapes, sizes, performance, symbols and markings. Air-
  craft identification tables and silhouettes were ubiqui-
  tous in air bases, Observer Corps stations, and boy’s
  bedrooms; the skill is used by observer and amateurs,
  while servicemen will normally roll against their Avia-
  tion skill, if needed. Both Professional Skills are con-
  sidered to be Mental/Average skills as per the rules.
  Scrounging
  see p. W191
  In occupied France, but also in Great Britain, the
  supply services could fail to deliver even the most triv-
  ial items. Scrounging is useful for any wartime charac-
  ter, but it’s particularly important for mechanics and
  ground crewmen (see p. 43), if they don’t want too
  many airplanes grounded by a by-the-book approach.
  Survival 
  (Urban)
  see p. CI153
  This skill can be extremely useful to firemen and
  rescue workers (see p. 45). While they won’t need to
  find clean rainwater or a place to sleep outdoors in a
  city, they may be forced to navigate crumbling build-
  ings, locate entrances, stairwells, emergency exits, and
  manholes, and generally find their way through an
  urban environment turned hazardous by bombing, fire,
  and gas or water leaks. The skill can also be used to
  judge whether a shelter or cellar can offer effective pro-
  tection against bombing raids.
  CHARACTER
  TEMPLATES
  The templates follow the rules set forth on pp.
  W68-85. The protagonists of the Battle of Britain can
  be built by using a few corebook templates only: the
  Fighter Pilot first and foremost (see p. W83), then the
  Bomber Crewman (see p. W82) and possibly the Old-
  Guard Officer (see p. W81). A more diverse campaign
  can make use of other templates, too, both from the
  corebook and from the British and German nation
  books. The Spiv, or petty criminal (see p. W:AKM48),
  is priceless in a mixed campaign featuring civilians,
  too. The Eastern Front Experte (see p. W:IC48) techni-
  CHARACTERS
  41
  COMBAT STRESS
  The Battle of Britain was the first long, sus-
  tained and not lopsided air campaign of WWII.
  Pilots and flight crews on both sides discovered
  that fighting could injure not only their bodies but
  also their minds. 
  Combat stress was caused by many cumulative
  factors. Unlike riflemen, aviators did not live in
  brutish conditions and were less subject to sheer
  physical labor. However, they suffered from sleep
  deprivation (see p. W205) and from the strain
  caused by repeated exposure to the dangers of
  aerial fights.
  This stress could often be kept in check for a
  while, but it might suddenly take its toll just after
  traumatic events, such as being downed, having
  one’s aircraft hit, or seeing one’s fellow crewmen
  wounded or dying; being downed in the Channel
  was obviously very distressing, too. These are sit-
  uations that require Fright Checks (see p. W197),
  with appropriate penalties. It would be realistic
  for characters failing their rolls to develop mental
  Disadvantages, thus giving way to the character
  erosion that is typical of a 1,000-Yard-Stare cam-
  paign (see p. W158).
  In the summer of 1940, many pilots reacted to
  combat stress by acquiring Disadvantages such as
  Callous (see p. W184), Compulsive Behavior
  (Binge Drinking) (see p. W64), Edgy (see p.
  CI90), or Post-Combat Shakes (see p. W186). An
  incapacitating Disadvantage is Flashbacks (see p.
  CI90). Other consequences of psychological
  exhaustion are listed on p. W:D122.
  If a terrifying event happens in a cinematic
  campaign, a forgiving GM might let such Dis-
  advantages to be acquired only temporarily, so
  that the players get to know “what it would be
  like,” without their characters being permanent-
  ly scarred. Recovering from such a temporary
  Disadvantage would require some off time,
  attention and care by friends or loved ones, and
  good roleplaying.
  
  cally should not appear in the Battle of Britain. How-
  ever, this template can be used as a generous guideline
  for the handful of true veterans serving on both sides,
  see Customization Notes, below.
  The other templates provided in this chapter cover
  roles not already dealt with in the corebook or other
  books.
  CUSTOMIZATION
  NOTES
  The corebook templates cover six years of war.
  These additional notes help focusing them on those few
  months of 1940.
  Fighter Pilot (p. W83)
  Electronics Operation (Sensors) and Explosive
  Ordnance Disposal were relatively uncommon, on both
  sides.
  British pilots often lacked Gunner (Bombs) and/or
  Gunner (Cannon). Meteorology was a wise investment.
  An old-timer without Savoir-Faire (Military) would be
  unheard of. These would mainly be Average airmen
  (see p. W71).
  German pilots will normally invest in Tactics (Air-
  to-Air) more points than those mandated by their rank,
  especially if they are Military Rank 3. Veterans of both
  the Spanish Civil War and the Polish Campaign would
  be at least Seasoned (see p. W71), and even just a few
  combat missions in September 1939 should give a Luft-
  waffe pilot an edge over an opponent who may be well
  trained but has never been shot at.
  Bomber Crewman (p. W82)
  Electronics Operation (Sensors) and Gunner (Can-
  non) were relatively uncommon, on both sides.
  The personnel of late-war heavy bombers, with up
  to 10 crew stations, could afford a higher degree of spe-
  cialization than in 1940, when bombers had smaller
  crews. Some of the 7 character points primarily meant
  for Optional Skills should certainly be spent on addi-
  tional Basic Skills instead (an option allowed by the
  template). This especially applies to German crews.
  British crewmen require no additional customization.
  German dive bomber pilots were among the best;
  they could be Seasoned (see p. W71) and they usually
  had high Tactics (Air-to-Ground) levels.
  Old-Guard Officer (p. W81)
  This template can be used to represent “desk
  pilots,” those ground officers (administrators, airfield
  commanders) that the flying personnel often met and
  seldom liked. The template can be customized as fol-
  lows. Increase the levels in Administration above and
  beyond what is mandatory for the rank (see p. W70).
  Replace (Land) and (Infantry) specializations 
  with (Air) and (Air-to-Air) or (Air-to-Ground). Add 
  Law (Military Regulations) and Meteorology to the
  Optional Skills.
  HELP FROM ABROAD
  Trained pilots were a valuable commodity, and
  all the more precious if they had actual combat
  experience. Therefore, it isn’t surprising if the
  RAF put them to good use, even when they
  weren’t British. Top-ranking officers had reserva-
  tions about employing these foreigners, and some
  of them, such as the Poles, had a dubious if
  unwarranted reputation because of the quick
  defeat they had suffered. Additionally, all of these
  volunteers had to learn English first, and train
  with their new Hurricanes. However, their experi-
  ence was worth the effort, as it was soon demon-
  strated, for instance, by #303 Squadron (see pp.
  62, W:DWE45).
  Fighter Command thus employed 276 pilots
  from the continent. 146 of them were Poles, who
  made up 5% of the Command’s whole force at the
  beginning of the fight. Like other foreigners, they
  did not serve just in their own squadrons, under
  British officers. Many of them felt at home in
  English units.
  The Czechs contributed the second largest
  contingent with 88 pilots, including a full
  squadron, where they tended to deal rough justice
  on their own in cases of poor performance. Many
  of the 29 Belgians already knew the Hurricane, so
  they were directly posted to British squadrons, as
  it were the 14 Free French. There were even 9
  pilots from Ireland.
  It is difficult to count the Americans in the Bat-
  tle of Britain, because some of them pretended to
  be Canadians; the USA was not at war and its
  laws forbade volunteering. Estimates range from
  6 to 11.
  Canada had its own squadron, and pilots from
  the Empire also gave a substantial contribution,
  representing some 10% of Fighter Command.
  There were 91 Canadians, but the largest group
  came from New Zealand, with 103 volunteers.
  Then there were South Africans (23, including the
  Rhodesians) and Australians (21).
  These varied backgrounds can make for color-
  ful roleplaying. For ideas about refugee charac-
  ters, see also p. W:AKM51.
  CHARACTERS
  42
  
  This template can also be used for the unit’s or air-
  port’s intelligence officer, who briefed and debriefed
  the crews and might even happen to interrogate an
  enemy pilot just out of his parachute harness. Such a
  character would have higher levels than what is manda-
  tory for his rank in Intelligence Analysis and Opera-
  tions; additionally, he might have Detect Lies,
  Interrogation, and Research.
  GROUND
  CREWMAN
  35 POINTS
  Ground crewmen were the unsung heroes of the
  Battle of Britain. Fighters were in the spotlight,
  bombers were next, but both flew because of the
  greasy-handed men who tended them. They were the
  mechanics, engineers, armorers; many took a personal
  pride in the readiness of the aircraft entrusted to them,
  and worried for the pilots until they were back. Even at
  the peak of the campaign, the RAF had more fighters
  than trained pilots; this was Lord Beaverbrook’s suc-
  cess (see p. 11), but also the result of these men’s
  obscure work. The Germans called these technicians
  schwarze Männer, affectionately shortened as
  Schwarzer (Blackmen, or Blackies), though by 1940
  their trademark black overalls were often replaced by
  blue or gray ones.
  Additionally, other air force personnel who never
  went airborne also kept an airfield running. There were
  privates for doing the heavy work, manning the AA
  guns, and patrolling the base; repairing the runways
  could be as important as maintaining the airplanes. The
  RAF and the Luftwaffe tried to impart some “soldierly”
  attitude, both to the specialists and the airmen; but bear-
  ing a bayoneted rifle was not their task, and in some
  cases the basic training for these duties was as short as
  three weeks.
  Some of the men serving on the ground might har-
  bor some resentment towards their glamorous flying
  colleagues. A few were dropouts of the flight courses,
  so they might have some piloting skills; many mechan-
  ics could taxi an airplane on the ground. Aircrew short-
  ages on bombers could give armorers a chance to
  volunteer for action as gunners.
  Attributes: ST 10 [0]; DX 11 [10]; IQ 11 [10]; HT
  10 [0].
  Advantages: Fit [5] and 25 points in National
  Advantages.
  Disadvantages: Rear Area Duty [-15] and -30
  points in National Disadvantages.
  Basic Skills:Aviation (M/A) IQ+1 [4]-12; Camou-
  flage (M/E) IQ [1]-11; First Aid (M/E) IQ-1 [1/2]-10;
  Guns (Rifle) (P/E) DX+1 [1]-12*; and one of these 
  specializations:
  Armorer: Armoury (Vehicular) (M/A) IQ+2 [6]-
  13; Explosive Ordnance Disposal (M/H) IQ-2 [1]-9;
  Gunner (Machine Gun) (P/A) DX+1 [2]-12*; Gunner
  (Bombs or Torpedo) (P/A) DX [1]-11*. Minimum MR
  1.
  Mechanic: Engineer (Propeller Plane Engine)
  (M/H) IQ-1 [2]-10; Mechanic (Propeller Plane Engine)
  (M/A) IQ+3 [8]-14. Minimum MR 1.
  Radio technician/electrician: Electronics Opera-
  tion (Communications) (M/A) IQ+3 [8]-14; Mechanic
  (Electric Devices) (M/A) IQ [2]-11. Minimum MR 1.
  Airman: Gunner (Machine Gun or Cannon) (P/A)
  DX+2 [4]-13*; Soldier (M/A) IQ [2]-11; and 4 points in
  any Basic Skills of the Rifleman Template (p. W72).
  Secondary Skills: Area Knowledge (Any) (M/E)
  IQ [1]-11; NBC Warfare (M/A) IQ-2 [1/2]-9; Savoir-
  Faire (Military) (M/E) IQ [1]-11; Scrounging (M/E) IQ
  [1]-11; and 4 points in specializations other than the pri-
  mary one, above.
  Optional Skills: Spend no more than 2 points on
  any one of the following, for a total of 6 points: Bicy-
  cling, Brawling, Guns (Pistol, Light Automatic),
  Motorcycle, Swimming (all P/E); Driving (Automo-
  bile, Construction Equipment), Gunner (Cannon, Mor-
  tar), Piloting (Single or Multi-Engine Prop) (all P/A);
  Carousing (P/A - HT); Cooking, Telegraphy (both
  M/E); Administration, Electronics Operation (Commu-
  nications), Gambling, Intimidation, Streetwise (all
  M/A); Engineer (Combat), Explosive Ordnance Dis-
  posal (both M/H).
  * Includes +1 from IQ.
  Customization Notes:
  The rules regarding Familiarity (see sidebar, p.
  B43) definitely apply not only to piloting but also to
  repairing airplanes. A mechanic working on an unfa-
  miliar model gets at the very least a -2 penalty.
  HOME GUARD
  VOLUNTEER
  20 POINTS
  The members of the Home Guard (see p. 30) were
  part-time volunteers who were too old for regular serv-
  ice, or not physically fit, or whose conscription had
  been postponed for whatever reason. While the age
  bracket was 17 to 65, many were just middle-aged men
  that were not being drafted, but wanted to do their duty
  anyway; some 40% of them were veterans of World
  War One. Thus, while the average member wasn’t
  prime soldier material, he wasn’t an ailing grandfather
  either.
  The training these men received was hasty and cer-
  tainly, in the event of an invasion, they would not have
  resisted for long; however, they could have provided an
  early reaction, a tripwire defense and some assistance to
  CHARACTERS
  43
  
  the regulars. As with resistance fighters, their main
  advantage was their intimate knowledge of their home
  area, and they were trained to exploit it by laying
  ambushes.
  Later in the war, every volunteer would receive a
  denim khaki battledress, American WWI rifles, and a
  complete infantryman’s kit. However, in those first
  months after the Guard’s creation, they often had an
  armband and maybe a cap, and the rifle could be
  replaced by a hunting shotgun or even a pitchfork or
  stick (though mostly for drills, rather than in active
  duty).
  Since the Germans never came, the Home Guard
  served by tirelessly patrolling the coastlines, the coun-
  tryside and the boundaries of restricted-access areas,
  manning local anti-aircraft defenses, helping out after
  air raids, and building fortifications.
  Attributes: ST 10 [0]; DX 10 [0]; IQ 10 [0]; HT 10
  [0].
  Advantages: 30 points in National Advantages;
  Volunteers may improve their Attributes as part of their
  National Advantages.
  Disadvantages: Duty [-10] and -25 points in
  National Disadvantages. Volunteers may take any
  Physical Disadvantages worth up to -20 points as part
  of their National Disadvantages, and still find ways into
  the Home Guard.
  Basic Skills: Agronomy (or other civilian skill)
  (M/A) IQ+1 [4]-11; Area Knowledge (Home Region)
  (M/E) IQ+2 [4]-12; Guns (Rifle) (P/E) DX+1 [1]-11*;
  Soldier (M/A) IQ [2] 10; Stealth (P/A) DX-2 [1/2]-8;
  Throwing (P/H) DX-2 [1]-8.
  Secondary Skills: Camouflage (M/E) IQ [1]-10;
  First Aid (M/E) IQ-1 [1/2]-9; NBC Warfare (M/A) IQ-
  2 [1/2]-8; Scrounging (M/E) IQ [1]-10; Spear (P/A)
  DX-2 [1/2]-8; Traps (M/A) IQ-1 [1]-9.
  Optional Skills: Spend 8 points on improving any
  Primary skill or on any of: Bicycling, Brawling, Guns
  (LAW, Light Automatic, Pistol, Shotgun), Motorcycle,
  Swimming (all P/E); Driving (Automobile), Gunner
  (Machine Gun, Mortar) (all P/A); Carousing (P/A -
  HT); Cooking, Telegraphy (both M/E); Administration,
  Demolition, Electronics Operation (Communications),
  Gambling, Orienteering, Streetwise, Teamster (all
  M/A); Animal Handling, Engineer (Combat) (both
  M/H).
  * Includes +1 from IQ.
  WARDEN/
  OBSERVER
  6 POINTS
  Both Air Raid Wardens and members of the
  Observer Corps were overwhelmingly volunteers oper-
  ating on a part-time basis; what has been said about
  British civilians applies to these roles, too (see p. 43).
  Even more often than the Home Guard men, wardens
  and observers were retired citizens who gladly put in
  many more hours than officially required. Although
  treated together by this template, they were not mem-
  bers of the same organization.
  The wardens’ main task was to enforce black-out
  regulations; they prowled the night, spying the neigh-
  borhood’s windows in search for a glimpse of light,
  eager to reproach the culprits with their typical “Put that
  light out!” cry (busybodies made excellent wardens).
  More usefully, they shepherded people into the shelters,
  reported damage and fires, and cooperated with the
  other services. They were ready and trained to deal with
  the gas attacks that fortunately never came.
  The observers were the defense system’s eyes
  inland. They would spend many boring, cold hours in
  their posts, often perched atop roofs, all for those rare
  moments when they could report a sighting.
  It may be interesting to roleplay wardens or
  observers serving in or close to target cities. Otherwise,
  these can be useful background roles for characters that
  will become involved in campaigns having an altogeth-
  er different focus.
  Attributes: ST 10 [0]; DX 10 [0]; IQ 10 [0]; HT 10
  [0].
  Advantages: 25 points in National Advantages;
  Wardens and Observers may improve their Attributes
  as part of their National Advantages.
  Disadvantages: Duty [-5] and -25 points in
  National Disadvantages. Wardens and Observers may
  take any Physical Disadvantages worth up to -20 points
  as part of their National Disadvantages.
  Basic Skills: Agronomy (or other civilian skill)
  (M/A) IQ+1 [4]-11; Area Knowledge (Home Region)
  (M/E) IQ+2 [4]-12; and one of these two specializa-
  tions:
  Warden: Camouflage (M/E) IQ+1 [2]-11; Explo-
  sive Ordnance Disposal (M/H) IQ-2 [1]-8.
  Observer: Electronics Operation (Sensors) (M/A)
  IQ-1 [1]-9; Professional Skill (Aircraft Identification)
  (M/A) IQ [2]-10.
  Secondary Skills: First Aid (M/E) IQ [1]-10; NBC
  Warfare (M/A) IQ-1 [1]-9; Scrounging (M/E) IQ [1]-
  10; Survival (Urban) IQ-1 [1]-9.
  Optional Skills: no points are allocated, but likely
  additional Skills would be: Bicycling, Motorcycle (both
  P/E); Cooking, Telegraphy (both M/E); Administration,
  Electronics Operation (Communications), Gambling,
  Orienteering (all M/A); and other civilian skills.
  * Includes +1 from IQ.
  Customization Notes:
  See p. 40 for an explanation of the Electronics
  Operation Skills for Observers.
  CHARACTERS
  44
  
  AUXILIARY
  SERVICEWOMAN
  20 POINTS
  In 1940, the unprecedented conscription of women
  was still a year away. However, British girls and young
  women could volunteer for service, thus freeing men
  for combat assignments. What the recruitment officers
  looked for the most was good health, followed by
  eagerness.
  This template can be used for the women’s serv-
  ices of the three British armed forces, but it devotes
  more attention to the RAF’s own. Later in the war, it
  can be used to represent a German Luftwaffe Helferin
  (Auxiliary).
  The women’s service of the RAF was the Women’s
  Auxiliary Air Force. The WAAF was established in
  1939, from pre-existing auxiliary RAF women’s com-
  panies. In 1940, the WAAF was mainly intended for
  replacing men in clerical, administrative, and catering
  duties. However, working in the operations rooms of
  HQs during a raid could be as difficult and exhausting
  as many tasks normally carried out by men; it could
  alternately be boring and exciting. If working at an air-
  field command post or a radar station, it could also be
  dangerous. Additionally, women were already increas-
  ingly being employed for anti-aircraft defense, initially
  in units operating barrage balloons, searchlights, and
  PAC lines (see p. 47). Later on they were also included
  in actual antiaircraft batteries, even though they nor-
  mally handled targeting devices rather than the guns. A
  woman could be a general’s driver or a motorcycle dis-
  patch rider.
  The RAF had its own nurses, in the Princess
  Mary’s Royal Air Force Nursing Service. In 1940 these
  nurses still weren’t military personnel. For more about
  nurses, see p. W54.
  Attributes: ST 10 [0]; DX 10 [0]; IQ 10 [0]; HT 11
  [10].
  Advantages: 25 points in National Advantages.
  Disadvantages: Duty [-5] and -25 points in
  National Disadvantages.
  Basic Skills:Administration (M/A) IQ [2]-10, Avia-
  tion (M/A) IQ-1 [1]-9, Electronics Operation (Commu-
  nications) (M/A) IQ [2]-10, First Aid (M/E) IQ [1]-10.
  Secondary Skills: Area Knowledge (any) (M/E)
  IQ [1]-10, Camouflage (M/E) IQ [1]-10, NBC Warfare
  (M/A) IQ-1 [1]-9, Savoir-Faire (Military) (M/E) IQ-1
  [1/2]-9, Typing (P/E) DX-1 [1/2]-9.
  Optional Skills: Spend 5 points on improving Pri-
  mary Skills or on any of: Bicycling, Motorcycle, Swim-
  ming (all P/E); Driving (Automobile), Gunner (Cannon
  or Rocket Launcher) (both P/A); Hiking, Carousing
  (both P/A - HT); Cooking, Scrounging, Telegraphy (all
  M/E); Electronics Operation (Sensors), Mechanic
  (Gasoline Engine), Professional Skill (Nursing), 
  Survival (any) (all M/A); Airshipman, Cryptography
  (both M/H); and civilian skills.
  Customization Notes:
  The Airshipman skill is provided for the ground
  crews handling tethered, unmanned barrage balloons.
  The Gunner skill will most likely be used with battery
  targeting devices (see p. 29) and with PAC lines (see p.
  47) rather than with actual guns.
  AUXILIARY
  FIREMAN
  25 POINTS
  The Germans made extensive use of incendiary
  bombs when they attacked cities. The professional fire-
  fighters of the peacetime Fire Brigades would never have
  coped with the ensuing conflagrations, alone. Fortunate-
  ly, they were helped by the Auxiliary Fire Service. In the
  first days of September, 1940, London could rely on
  25,000 trained full-time and part-time volunteers, with
  their 300 auxiliary stations. They worked almost non-
  stop for about two months, putting out the blazes every
  night. They saved lives, property, and war materials,
  sometimes at the cost of their own lives.
  Women served in the AFS, too. They would oper-
  ate the pumps only in emergencies, but they rode
  motorcycles carrying vital orders and reports, and
  drove tanker trucks and mobile canteen vans through
  the Blitz nights.
  Attributes: ST 11 [10]; DX 10 [0]; IQ 10 [0]; HT
  11 [10].
  Advantages: Fit [5]; and 25 points in National
  Advantages.
  Disadvantages: Duty [-15] and -30 points in
  National Disadvantages.
  Basic Skills: First Aid (M/E) IQ+1 [2]-11; Profes-
  sional Skill (Fireman) IQ+2 [6]-12; Survival (Urban)
  IQ [2]-10.
  Secondary Skills: Architecture IQ-1 [1]-9; Area
  Knowledge (Home City) IQ [1]-10; Climbing DX [2]-
  10; NBC Warfare IQ-1 [1]-9.
  Optional Skills: Spend a total of 5 points, but no
  more than 2 on any one of: Bicycling, Brawling, Jump-
  ing, Motorcycle, Swimming (all P/E); Driving (Auto-
  mobile, Construction Equipment, Heavy Wheeled) (all
  P/A); Carousing (P/A - HT); Cooking, Scrounging
  (both M/E); Administration, Demolition, Electronics
  Operation (Communications), Gambling, Mechanic
  (Gasoline Engine), Powerboat, Streetwise, Teamster
  (all M/A); Animal Handling, Engineer (Civil), Explo-
  sive Ordnance Disposal (all M/H).
  Customization Notes:
  This template is meant for auxiliary firemen. Skill
  and Attribute levels should be liberally increased if
  using it for professionals.
  CHARACTERS
  45
  
  4. THE
  ARMOURY
  Some of the equipment and vehicles employed in
  the Battle of Britain would become long-lasting suc-
  cesses, sometimes developing in unexpected ways.
  Others were tested and found wanting. All were ruth-
  lessly pushed to their limits in a high-tech, high-risk,
  high-attrition campaign.
  PERSONAL
  GEAR
  Other books in the GURPS WWII line already pro-
  vide plenty of information about personal gear: see pp.
  W87-90, W:IC57-59 and W:AKM59. However, some
  more details are in order for the equipment worn and
  used by the pilots and aircrews of the Battle of Britain.
  Both British and German flying personnel used as
  their headgear a leather flight helmet (the Type B for
  the British, the Flieger-Kopfhaube S 100 for the Ger-
  mans). Press studs, straps and headbands were used to
  attach the oxygen mask, goggles, and a microphone;
  most models included integral earphones. They were
  similar to the standard presented on p. W87, but slight-
  ly bulkier (PD2, DR2, protecting areas 3-4, weight 4
  lbs.). The combination of goggles and mask offers
  some protection to the face (area 5): PD1, DR1. This
  might not seem a lot, but it’s much better than nothing
  in the most dreaded event: fire in the cockpit.
  The flight suit most used by the British fighter
  pilots was much lighter than that listed on p. W87. They
  weren’t out for a long night’s winter flight in a drafty
  bomber at high altitudes, so they used light cotton twill
  overalls with no armor value nor bonuses to resist cold.
  The various squadrons tended to prefer distinctive col-
  ors: blue, gray, even white. The Germans, both on fight-
  ers and bombers, tended to favor the equivalent
  summer overalls K So/34. At night, however, bomber
  crews might use the winter overalls (KW l/33 or KW
  s/34): use the stats of the Leather Flight Suit on p. W87.
  Turret gunners of the Defiants (see p. W:MP84) would
  have a very difficult time bailing out from their station
  with standard equipment, so they wore the special GQ
  Parasuit that incorporated a parachute. Add up the
  weights of a standard Parachute (p. W88) and of the
  Leather Flight Suit (p. W87). Some pilots, fearing fire,
  chose to bundle themselves in layers of clothes; treat
  this as winter clothing with PD0, DR1 (see p. W87). As
  for boots, gloves and gauntlets, the generic types
  described on p. W87 can be used.
  Both the RAF and the Luftwaffe used three differ-
  ent types of parachutes, depending on the position the
  wearer would take in the aircraft. The seat models were
  used by pilots, while other crewmen would wear chest
  or back models; functionally, there were no differences.
  It is worth mentioning that the German Sitzfallschirm
  30-IS-24B and Rückenfallschirm 12B did not feature
  the one-riser design used for the German paratroopers;
  their risers went up from both shoulders, so they give
  no penalty to the Parachuting skill as per p. W88.
  The 1932 Pattern Life Jacket used by the RAF
  had to be inflated by the wearer; therefore, the sur-
  vival chances of an injured or unconscious pilot in the
  water were next to none. The Luftwaffe had both the
  Schwimmweste 10-76A, using kapok for flotation,
  and the Schwimmweste, pneumatisch 734 10-30, that
  could be topped up by oral inflation but also had a
  small compressed-air cylinder. However, both Ger-
  man models provided more buoyancy in the back,
  which meant that an unconscious wearer would 
  easily go face down in the water. This fault wasn’t
  corrected until late 1940.
  In the Channel waters, even in summer, death
  could come not only by drowning but by hypothermia.
  After three to four hours in the water, the body temper-
  ature would drop to a fatal level. While almost all
  bombers had a dinghy, an inflatable raft that would
  keep the crew out of the sea, the only fighter to carry a
  one-man version was the Bf 109 (as part of the seat
  cushioning). British fighter pilots would not have one
  until 1942.
  Aircrews, and the two to five-man rafts, also car-
  ried survival and escape kits. For more details, see pp.
  W:MP71, 86.
  THE ARMOURY
  46
  
  AIRMEN’S
  WEAPONS
  Small arms used in the Battle of Britain have been
  covered by other books in the GURPS WWII line. Here
  is just a short rundown with references to those sources.
  For general reference, see pp. W91-99, W:AKM 60-65
  and W:IC60-65.
  For most of the battle, German pilots carried a pis-
  tol, though they never were unwise enough to use it
  after parachuting in England; the Home Guard fired on
  them – and on unlucky British pilots too – with much
  less provocation than that. The German handgun could
  be a Walther PPK (p. W94) or a Mauser C34 (see p.
  W:IC62); Lugers were not official issue but still in use
  (see p. W94). The bomber survival kits included a shot-
  gun, the Sauer Fliegerdoppelflinte (see p. W:IC62).
  British pilots were not required to pack a sidearm
  aboard, though a few did so; in that case, it might be a
  Colt M-1911 (chambered for the .455 Webley Auto-
  matic round, see p. W:AKM61), or a Webley #1 Mk IV
  revolver (see p. W:AKM62). Of course the British were
  very unlikely to land or bail out over enemy territory.
  When asked why he needed a pistol, one pilot used to
  mutter about “sharks.” This probably did not mean he
  wanted to keep them at bay with a handgun, but that he
  pictured himself bleeding in the Channel and wanted a
  convenient way to hasten the unavoidable, if need be.
  In September, new Luftwaffe regulations forbade
  sidearms; the German authorities wanted to have a
  chance of saving their pilots from the sea, even at the
  last minute.
  THE MOTOR
  POOL
  Unsurprisingly, the most important aircraft models
  used in the Battle of Britain by both sides are covered
  by other sources in the GURPS WWII line. In order to
  avoid repetition, this section offers basic information
  and book references for those key airplanes, and, addi-
  tionally, complete write-ups for less famous vehicles.
  Standard notation is used for the vehicles, see p. W100.
  BRITISH FIGHTERS
  The Supermarine Spitfire I (see p. W:AKM78) and
  the Hawker Hurricane I (see p. W:AKM77) were the
  RAF’s mainstays in the battle, and the fighters that won
  it. They were the newest designs, both recent mono-
  plane fighters. The Spitfire was faster and slightly more
  agile; it was also more expensive. The Hurricane was
  more numerous. In the summer of 1940, they equipped
  22 and 19 Fighter Command squadrons, respectively;
  eight additional Hurricane squadrons became opera-
  tional in the first days of the battle. Older or less suc-
  cessful models were relegated to marginal roles.
  These secondary craft included the Gloster Gladia-
  tor II, an obsolete biplane fighter (1 squadron, see p.
  W:FH41), and the Bolton Paul Defiant I (2 squadrons,
  see p. W:MP84). The latter was a design resulting from
  the fear that pilots of fast fighters couldn’t keep their
  weapons aimed for long enough to bring down a big
  bomber; the Defiant had a second crewman manning a
  heavily armed turret, and it was intended to close for-
  mation with enemy bombers before firing. For real sin-
  gle-seat 
  fighters, 
  however, 
  these 
  overweight
  two-seaters were easy targets; it happened to the Defi-
  ant just as to the Bf 110.
  The Bristol Blenheim IF, originally a bomber (see
  p. W:MP85), also was too big and slow for a day fight-
  er; indeed, it was large enough to carry the first experi-
  mental airborne radars, thus it served perfectly well
  with the night fighter units. Other Blenheim squadrons
  (equipped with the IVF) were employed by the Coastal
  Command (see p. 27) for convoy escort and recon 
  THE ARMOURY
  47
  FIREWORKS
  The British anti-aircraft defenses included an
  experimental measure that could be considered
  creative, desperate, or both. Since traditional AA
  guns were already being produced around the
  clock, these initiatives tried to make do by means
  of other resources, i.e., rockets.
  The Parachute and Cable (or PAC) defenses
  were meant for interdiction against low-level
  attacks. They were lines of launchers that sent up
  a steel cable by means of a rocket; at around 600
  feet, the rocket spent, a parachute opened, sus-
  pending the cable. If an airplane hit the cable, the
  impact opened another parachute at the lower
  end; the combined braking effect would make the
  airplane stall. The PACs were seldom used and in
  the rare instances in which a wing hit a cable, it
  might just slip away. It is, however, a good role-
  playing device, as a German PC might suddenly
  see multiple vertical smoke lines in front of him...
  He might try to dodge them (in itself a potential-
  ly dangerous bend, see p. W150). Or, if the air-
  craft does hit a cable, that would be a Hazard with
  a -4 penalty to the Control Roll (see p. W151).
  
  missions; long range was more important than agility
  on those duties, and anyway, fighters escorting convoys
  out at sea would be needed to chase away German
  reconnaissance and anti-shipping aircraft, not fighters.
  Finally, the Fairey Fulmar II (see p. W:MP86)
  equipped one of the Fleet Air Arm squadrons; the other
  had Sea Gladiators, though in October, 1940, it
  switched to Grumman Martlets (better known as Wild-
  cats, see p. W:D81).
  Generally speaking, when Germans encountered
  British fighters, these were either Hurricanes or Spit-
  fires. But the potential for variation is there, for the cre-
  ative GM.
  BRISTOL
  BEAUFIGHTER
  The Bristol Beaufighter was a two-seat, twin-
  engine fighter based on components of the Bristol
  Beaufort torpedo-bomber. Its name was formed from
  “Beaufort” and “fighter.” 5,584 were built until 1945 in
  several marks. 
  The Beaufighter I was introduced in July 1940. It
  was powerfully armed with four cannon and six
  machine guns, but slightly underpowered, and thus
  slower than the Hawker Hurricane (p. W:AKM77).
  Deemed unsuited as a day fighter, it was assigned as a
  night fighter. After August 1940, many samples of the
  Beaufighter I received a 3-mile radar to replace the
  makeshift Bristol Blenheim IF night fighter (p.
  W:MP85). By the end of 1941, ten RAF squadrons
  used this version. As the night raids over Britain were
  scaled down, it was used as a night intruder over main-
  land Europe. Some 553 of these were built. It was re-
  designated the Beaufighter IF after the Beaufighter IC
  was introduced in 1941.
  The Beaufighter was considered difficult to handle;
  in particular, wild swings on take-off were reported (the
  GM may assign a -2 penalty on Pilot rolls on take-off).
  It lacked an autopilot and was relatively unstable,
  requiring constant trimming. On the other hand, it was
  rugged, fast at sea level, and quiet on approach (in the
  Far East, the Japanese dubbed it “Whispering Death”). 
  The aircraft has a roomy cockpit with excellent
  view to the front, and a rear-facing observer’s station in
  the dorsal position, separated by an armored door. The
  radio operator/observer also has to switch the heavy 60-
  round drum magazines of the cannons when they are
  empty. 
  Armament of the Beaufighter I consists of four for-
  ward-firing 20mm Hispano-Suiza II autocannons in the
  belly, and six .303 Browning II machine guns in the
  wings (four in the right wing, two in the left wing).
  The engines burns 123.1 gallons of aviation gas per
  hour at routine usage. Fuel and ammo cost $410.
  Bristol Beaufighter I
  Subassemblies: Medium Fighter-Bomber chassis +4;
  Heavy Fighter-Bomber wings +3; 2×Large
  Weapon pods 1-2 [Wings:F] +2; 3×retractable
  wheels +1.
  Powertrain: 2×1,044-kW aerial HP supercharged gas
  engines with 2×1,044-kW props [Pod1-2] and 660-
  gallon self-sealing tanks [Wings]; 4,000-kWs bat-
  teries. 
  Occ: 2 CS Body Cargo: 34.6 Body
  Armor
  F
  RL
  B
  T
  U
  Body:
  3/5
  3/5
  3/5
  3/5
  3/5 
  Wings:
  3/5
  3/5
  3/5
  3/5
  3/5
  Wheels:
  2/3
  2/3
  2/3
  2/3
  2/3
  Pods:
  3/5
  3/5
  3/5
  3/5
  3/5
  Pilot:
  0/+10
  0/+0
  0/+25
  0/+0
  0/+25
  Observer:
  0/+25
  0/+0
  0/+0
  0/+0
  0/+25
  Weaponry
  4×20mm LAAC/Hispano II [Body:F] (240 rounds
  each).*
  6×Aircraft LMG/Browning II [Wings:F] (1,000
  rounds each).**
  * Linked. ** Linked.
  Equipment
  Body: IFF; 0.5-man/day life-support system, naviga-
  tion instruments; large radio receiver and transmit-
  ter. 
  Statistics
  Size: 42’×58’×16’ Payload: 3.6 tons
  Lwt.: 10.5 tons
  Volume: 448
  Maint: 29 hours
  Cost: $48,660
  HT: 7. HPs: 210 Body, 450 each Wing, 20 each Wheel,
  120 each Pod.
  aSpeed: 309
  aAccel: 6
  aDecel: 20
  aMR: 5
  aSR: 2
  Stall Speed 88.
  gSpeed: 195
  gAccel: 10
  gDecel: 10
  gMR: 0.5
  gSR: 2
  Ground Pressure Extremely High. No Off-Road Speed.
  Design Notes
  The wheels retract into the engine pods, but were
  placed in the wings for design purposes (as was a slight
  overflow of the engines). Designed with 990×20mm
  rounds. The historical 503-sf wing area was used for per-
  formance calculations. Lwt. was reduced by 6%, aSpeed
  by 3% to the historical figures. aMR was reduced from
  designed 7.5 to 5 (this is realistic, given that the histori-
  cal wings had only 83% the surface of the design wings). 
  THE ARMOURY
  48
  
  Variants
  The Beaufighter IC (1941) was used by Coastal
  Command as a maritime long-range day fighter, first
  operating from Malta in the Mediterranean. It was also
  used by Australia. It had 749-gallon tanks, no wing
  guns, and replaced the radar with a radio-direction find-
  er. 397 were made.
  The Beaufighter VIC (1942) was used by Coastal
  Command for maritime strike missions. It had 1,245-kW
  engines, 749-gallon tanks, no wing guns, 250-lb. wing
  hardpoints, and a radio-direction finder. 693 were made.
  The Beaufighter VIF (1942) was a night fighter
  variant with radar, mainly used in the Mediterranean
  and the Far East, equipped like the Beaufighter IF
  except for the 1,245-kW engines. It was also employed
  by a few USAF units in North Africa until replaced by
  the Northrop P-61 (p. W:MP108). 1,079 were made.
  The Beaufighter X (1942) was the main production
  version, designated a torpedo-fighter. It had 1,294-kW
  engines, 749-gallon tanks, and a surface-attack radar;
  Lwt. 12.7, aSpeed 318. Intended as a torpedo-
  bomber/fighter, it had a 2,200-lb. fuselage hardpoint for
  a 450mm or 569mm torpedo (p. W:MP16) and 250-lb.
  hardpoints for bombs or rockets under the wings. It also
  received dive brakes. It was armed with four Hispano-
  Suiza V (20mm Long Aircraft AC) with 283 belted
  rounds each, as well as a rear-firing, trainable .303
  Vickers G.O. I (Aircraft LMG) with 960 rounds for the
  observer. The Beaufighter X could carry a third crew
  member to assist torpedo-dropping. 2,205 were made. 
  DE HAVILLAND
  TIGER MOTH
  In 1928, the RAF decided it needed new trainers.
  The De Havilland Gypsy Moth (D.H.60), a light
  biplane civil model, was commercially available. The
  RAF requested a few modifications (including better
  visibility and easier access to the front seat), and the
  Tiger Moth was born. It was highly durable and maneu-
  verable, easy to fly and to maintain. Between 1934 and
  the end of the war, it was the most common aircraft in
  RAF Elementary Flight Schools all over the world.
  Most British pilots in the Battle of Britain would be
  familiar with this light and highly agile but slow and
  unarmed biplane.
  The Tiger Moth II or D.H.82A (1932), the most
  common version with over 7,000 aircraft built, wasn’t
  just used as a trainer. The British Expeditionary Force
  had six of them for liaison duties. At the very beginning
  of the war, a few were assigned to Coastal Command
  for anti-submarine patrolling; though unarmed, the
  mere presence of an aircraft overhead was expected to
  force the U-boats to dive away. Other trainers saw some
  special adaptations. In the Far East, #224 Squadron cut
  an access to the small cargo locker and the empty rear
  fuselage space, thus creating a medical-evacuation ver-
  sion that could carry one stretcher. Replace one of the
  exposed crew stations with a passenger seat; it must
  have been quite harrowing for the claustrophobic.
  It was, however, in the wake of Dunkirk that pos-
  sible combat roles were studied even for these light
  biplanes. 1,500 plywood bomb racks were built and
  distributed to Flight Schools. The Tiger Moths were
  expected to carry 8 21-lb. bombs under each wing, but
  the German landing they would have had to attack
  never came. 
  Luckily, weirder proposals were shelved: these
  would have included scythe-equipped airplanes for
  attacking the German paratroops’risers and canopies as
  they came down, and crop-dusting equipment convert-
  ed into chemical-weapon delivery systems. Instead, the
  Tiger Moths continued providing sterling service in
  their main role as basic trainers throughout the war.
  The instructor and the trainee sit in tandem
  exposed seats. The Tiger Moth uses 4.85 gallons of avi-
  ation gas per hour (Filling the tank costs $3.80). An
  optional 10-gallon standard tank can be fitted in the
  cockpit for extended range.
  De Havilland Tiger Moth II
  Subassemblies: Recon Plane chassis +2; Recon
  Plane wings with Biplane option +3; 3× Fixed-
  Strut wheels +0.
  Powertrain: 97-kW aerial HP gas engine with 97-kW
  old aerial props [Body] and 19-gallon standard
  tanks [Wings]. 
  Occ: 2 XCS Body, one with Ragtop option
  Cargo: 7.4 Body, 1.6 Wings
  Armor
  F
  RL
  B
  T
  U
  Body:
  2/2C
  2/2C
  2/2C
  2/2W
  2/2C
  Wings:
  2/2C
  2/2C
  2/2C
  2/2C
  2/2C
  Wheels:
  2/3
  2/3
  2/3
  2/3
  2/3
  Weaponry
  None
  Equipment
  Body: Navigation instruments; backup driver option. 
  Statistics
  Size: 24’×30’×9’ Payload: 0.4 tons
  Lwt.: 0.9 tons
  Volume: 96
  Maint: 127 hours
  Cost: $2,480
  HT: 12. HPs: 15 Body, 50 each Wing, 2 each Wheel.
  aSpeed: 109
  aAccel: 3
  aDecel: 44
  aMR: 11
  aSR: 1
  Stall Speed 43.
  gSpeed: 93
  gAccel: 6
  gDecel: 10
  gMR: 0.5 
  gSR: 2
  Ground Pressure High. 1/6 Off-Road Speed.
  THE ARMOURY
  49
  
  Design Notes
  Design empty weight was within 1% of the histor-
  ical value. The actual top speed, stall speed and loaded
  weight are provided here.
  The cloth armor option is used almost everywhere,
  save on the fuselage top, where wooden armor repre-
  sents the light plywood used for that part.
  On many trainers, the trainee’s seat could mount a
  detachable hood that was used for instrument flight
  training. When fitted, it gives the seat No View (see p.
  W144).
  For the attack version, add two 168-lb. hardpoints;
  when they are loaded, with just one pilot aboard, apply
  these performance figures: aAccel: 2, aDecel: 36, aMR:
  9. The data provided for the German 22-lb. HE bomb
  can be used for the ordnance (see p. W:IC68).
  Variants
  The first model, the Tiger Moth I (D.H.82; 1931)
  had an 89-kW Gipsy III engine. 101 were built.
  The D.H. 82C (1937) was a winterized version
  built in Canada; it featured an enclosed cockpit, wheel
  brakes, a tail wheel instead of a skid, and the possibili-
  ty to mount snow skis or floats instead of wheels. The
  engine was upgraded, too: it was the 108-kW Gypsy
  Major IC. 1417 were built. The USAAF also ordered a
  batch as the PT-24, but the 200 or so planes built were
  diverted to serve with the RCAF.
  The D.H. 82B Queen Bee was a radio-controlled
  drone used for AA fire training. Its construction
  replaced steel tubing with all-wood elements. The fuel
  tank was larger. Electricity for the on-board radio was
  provided by a wind generator. Some 380 were built.
  OTHER BRITISH
  VEHICLES
  Several other British vehicles, apart from fighters,
  can be found in other books of the GURPS WWII line,
  and can be useful in a 1940 campaign. Bomber Com-
  mand was busy retaliating against the Germans’
  attacks, chiefly with the Armstrong Whitworth Whitley
  (see p. W:MP83), but also with the Bristol Blenheim
  (see p. W:MP85). Coastal Command employed, among
  others, the Short Sunderland (see p. W:AKM82). In the
  Channel, a variety of boats were of great help in rescu-
  ing downed pilots, and the Fairmile Motor Launch is a
  good representative (see p. W:AKM87).
  Improvised armored trucks like the Bedford
  “Armadillo” (see p. W:AKM70) saw service on the air-
  fields under attack, hopefully offering protection
  against strafing runs and fragments. 40mm antiaircraft
  guns (see p. W:MP25) gave a more active defense. The
  Standard Beaverette Armored Car (see p. W:MP37) can
  come in handy for a Home Guard campaign.
  DORNIER DO 17
  The Do 17 began life in 1934 in answer to a
  Lufthansa request for a commercial plane carrying six
  passengers or mail. The three prototypes proved unsuit-
  able for passenger service due to the narrow fuselage,
  but the high speed (coming mostly from the plane’s very
  clean lines) interested the Luftwaffe and the plane was
  developed further as a medium bomber. Dubbed the
  “Flying Pencil”, the lightly armed E-1 and F-1 versions
  were tested with the Legion Condor in Spain starting in
  1937. By 1939, the definitive Z model had flown, and it
  was this version that was primarily used during the inva-
  sions of Poland and France and the Battle of Britain.
  Although bristling with machine guns, the Do 17
  suffered heavy losses over England while delivering
  only half the bomb load of the Ju 88 (p. W:IC87) and
  He 111 (p. 52). By the end of 1941, most Do 17s had
  been pulled out of frontline service. Some 1,700 Do
  17Zs were built in 1939 and 1940.
  THE ARMOURY
  50
  COLLIMATION
  With wing-mounted machine guns, there is a
  sizable distance between the left-most and the
  right-most weapon. If they were all pointing
  straight ahead, the fire would be similarly spread
  out. In order to prevent this, the 8 MGs of the
  Spitfires and Hurricanes were collimated, or as
  the British put it, “harmonized.” They were
  installed with a slight convergence, giving a point
  of concentrated fire at a given distance. At the
  beginning of the war, this distance was mandated
  by the Air Ministry and set at the factory: 400 to
  500 yards depending on the production run.
  However, the pilots soon discovered that if
  they wanted to hit, they needed to come up closer
  to the target. So they soon asked their unit armor-
  ers to collimate the MGs at 150 to 250 yards; the
  innovation spread by word of mouth through the
  squadrons, starting with the veterans. When the
  Ministry got wind of that, it tried to oppose to the
  change.
  GMs wanting to add this detail might optional-
  ly rule that when engaging at the collimation
  range, the outcome of just one throw of the die,
  possibly with a +1 bonus, will determine the
  result of all the MGs; when engaging at any other
  distance, individual rolls will be required for each
  gun, thus representing the individual spread.
  German pilots had much less of a problem
  with this, given their weapon array (see p. W119).
  It is worth mentioning that suddenly exploding
  targets sometimes damaged their attacker with
  fragments and/or coated its windshield with oil
  and fuel.
  
  The Do 17Z-2 has a crew of four. The pilot flies the
  plane. The navigator drops the bombs and operates one
  of two windscreen-mounted MG 15s. The radio operator
  fires either a ventral MG 15 facing the rear or one of two
  lateral MG 15s. A gunner fires either a dorsal MG 15
  aimed to the rear or one of two nose-mounted MG 15s.
  The Do 17Z-2 uses 67 gallons of aviation fuel per hour.
  Do 17Z-2
  Subassemblies: Medium Fighter-Bomber chassis +4,
  Heavy Fighter-Bomber Wings +4, 2×Large
  Weapon Pods +2, 3×retractable wheels +1.
  Powertrain: 2×746 kW aerial HP gasoline engines w/
  746-prop 
  each 
  [Pod:F] 
  with 
  409-
  gallon self-sealing tanks [Wings]; 4,000-kWs bat-
  teries.
  Occ: 4 CS 
  Cargo: 19 Body, 6.7 Wings 
  Armor
  F
  RL
  B
  T
  U
  All:
  2/3
  2/3
  2/3
  2/3
  2/3
  Crew:
  0/0
  0/0
  0/+20
  0/+0
  0/+20
  Weaponry
  4×Aircraft LMG/MG 15 [Body:F] (750 rounds each) 
  2×Aircraft LMG/MG 15 [Body:B] (750 rounds each) 
  Aircraft LMG/MG 15 [Body:L] (750 rounds) 
  Aircraft LMG/MG 15 [Body:R] (750 rounds) 
  10×110-lb Bombs [Body:U]
  Equipment
  Body: Large radio receiver and transmitter, direction
  finder, IFF, autopilot, navigation instruments,
  bombsight, environmental control, 2,200-lb bomb
  bay. Pods: Fire extinguisher.
  Statistics
  Size: 52’×59’×15’ Payload: 2.96 lbs.
  Lwt.: 8.7 tons
  Volume: 448
  Maint.: 26 hours.
  Price: $60,100.
  HT: 7. HP: 210 Body, 450 each Wing, 30 each Wheel,
  120 each Pod
  aSpeed: 255
  aAccel: 5
  aDecel: 37
  aMR: 9.25
  aSR: 2
  Stall speed 77 mph.
  gSpeed: 190
  gAccel: 9
  gDecel: 10
  gMR: 0.5
  gSR: 2
  Design Notes 
  The historical wing surface of 592 sf was used.
  Unloaded weight was increased 5% to match historical
  unloaded weight. Many Do 17Zs lacked two of the 
  forward firing MG 15s, as they were installed in indi-
  vidual aircraft in the field.
  If required, a 236 gallon auxiliary fuel tank could
  be fitted in the fuselage. 
  Variants 
  Until the Z model, halve crew armor and used stan-
  dard fuel tanks.
  The Do 17E-1 (1937) was the initial production
  version, with only two MG 15s, both firing to the rear
  and a crew of three. Bomb load was only 1,100 lbs and
  top speed was 220 mph with two 559-kW engines.
  The Do 17F-1 (1937), similar to the E-1, was
  designed for reconnaissance and added two cameras
  and extra fuel, which reduced the bomb load to 550 lbs. 
  The Do 17K was used by Yugoslavia. Except for
  the engines (731-kW), it was similar to the Do 17M.
  The proposed Do 17L would have used 671-kW
  engines and performed the role of pathfinder. Only two
  prototypes were built. 
  The Do 17M-1 added a third MG 15 firing to the
  right windscreen and could carry 2,200 lbs of bombs
  internally.
  The Do 17P was another recon version. Using 652-
  kW engines it reached 249 mph.
  Two planes used for engine tests were designated
  Do 17R.
  The three Do 17S were high-speed recon proto-
  types.
  The fifteen Do 17U-0 and Do 17U-1 were used as
  pathfinders, carrying two radio operators as part of an
  increased five-man crew.
  The Do 17Z represented the most produced type.
  The Z-0 was similar to the S, but used 671-kW engines.
  The Z-1 added a nose MG 15 but, being underpowered,
  could only carry 1,100 lbs of bombs. The Z-3, of which
  22 were built, was another reconnaissance version. The
  Z-4 was a dual-control trainer. The Z-5 was similar to
  the Z-2, but had flotation bags in the body and rear of
  the engine pods. The Z-10 was a conversion of 9 planes
  to the night fighter role; it mounted four MG 17s and
  four MG FF (20mm Short Aircraft AC) forward and
  one MG 15 to the rear. A radar set was added. Howev-
  er, due to the low performance of the Do 17, no further
  conversions were carried out. The single Do 17Z-6
  Kauz I was similar, with one less MG 15 to the front in
  a nose from a Ju 88C-2.
  The Do 215 was the export version of the Do 17,
  reaching 292 mph with two 820-kW engines. However,
  except for two Do 215B-3s sent to Russia in 1940, all
  Do 215s were operated by Germany.
  HEINKEL HE 59
  When Germany began rearming in the early
  1930s, the Heinkel He 59 was one of the first military
  seaplanes it built, although the first prototype used
  fixed-wheel landing gear rather than floats. It was a
  large twin-engine biplane which entered production
  in 1932. Over 1,400 were built before production
  ended in 1936.
  THE ARMOURY
  51
  
  The He 59B-2 saw use in bomber and anti-ship-
  ping roles with the Legion Condor in the Spanish Civil
  War. In 1940, several were used to transport 60 troops
  to help seize the bridges at Rotterdam. The seaplane’s
  main purposes during the war, however, were recon-
  naissance or search and rescue operations. The capabil-
  ity of carrying out both tasks under the Red Cross
  insignia sparked off bitter controversy during the Battle
  of Britain (see Chivalry is Gone, p. 10). This aircraft
  was already old in 1940, but in 1943 three squadrons
  were still flying the obsolete He 59.
  The He 59B-2 has a crew of three: pilot, forward
  observer/gunner (who mans one MG 15) and rear
  observer/gunner (who fires either the dorsal or ventral
  MG 15). It uses 42 gallons of aviation gas per hour.
  He 59B-2
  Subassemblies: Medium Fighter-Bomber chassis +3,
  Heavy Fighter-Bomber Wings with Biplane option
  +3, 2×Large Weapon Pods [Wings:F] +2, 2×sealed
  Medium TD Pontoons [Body:U] +2, 2×fixed skids
  +1.
  Powertrain: 2×492-kW HP aerial gasoline engines
  w/ 492-kW prop each and 399-gallon standard fuel
  tanks [Pontoons]; 2,000-kW batteries.
  Occ: 3 XCS, 1 CS 
  Cargo: 34 Body
  Armor
  F
  RL
  B
  T
  U
  Body:
  2/2C
  2/2C
  2/2C 
  2/2C
  2/2C
  Wings:
  2/2W
  2/2W 2/2W
  2/2W
  2/2W
  Pods:
  2/2
  2/2 
  2/2 
  2/2
  2/2
  Pontoons:
  2/3
  2/3 
  2/3 
  2/3
  2/3
  Weaponry
  Aircraft LMG/MG 15 [Body:F] (750 rounds) 
  Aircraft LMG/MG 15 [Body:T] (750 rounds) 
  Aircraft LMG/MG 15 [Body:U] (750 rounds)
  Equipment
  Body: Medium range radio transmitter and receiver,
  navigation instruments, autopilot, 2,200-lb hardpoint.
  Statistics
  Size: 57’×77’×23’ Payload: 1.6 tons
  Lwt.: 8.4 tons
  Volume: 448
  Maint.: 35 hours.
  Price: $32,400.
  HT: 8. HPs: 210 Body, 300 each Wing, 180 each 
  Pontoon, 120 each Engine Pod.
  aSpeed: 134
  aAccel: 4
  aDecel: 25
  aMR: 6.25
  aSR: 2
  Stall speed 44. 
  wSpeed: 24
  wAccel: 4
  wDecel: 10
  wMR: 0.1
  wSR: 2
  Flotation Rating 9.25 tons.
  Design Notes
  The historical wing area of 1,651 sf has been used.
  Performance numbers do not include a loaded 
  hardpoint. 
  The weight (and thus cost and HPs) of the pon-
  toons and wings were divided by two to reduce weight.
  For better realism, aMR and aDecel were reduced from
  their design values of 12.75 and 51. 
  The He 59 needs a head wind of at least 3 mph to
  take off.
  The body uses the cloth armor option and the
  wings the wooden armor option.
  All He 59s carried an inflatable raft.
  Later in the war, the MG 15s were replaced with
  MG 81s.
  Variants
  The He 59B-1 (1932) was a limited (16 plane) pre-
  production version which added a single MG 15, in the
  nose, to complement the dorsal MG.
  Some B-2s replaced the nose MG 15 above with a
  MG 
  FF 
  (20mm 
  Short 
  Aircraft 
  AC)
  when operating in the anti-shipping role.
  The He 59B-3 dropped the nose MG 15 and added
  fuel tanks to the fuselage to increase range for recon-
  naissance.
  The He 59C-1 was stripped down (with weapons
  removed) for training and long-range patrols.
  The He 59C-2 was the sea rescue version. It had no
  weaponry and no hardpoint; it could carry medical sup-
  plies and an additional inflatable liferaft. This was the
  aircraft that downed German pilots hoped to see in the
  Channel.
  The He 59D-1 combined the roles of the two C
  versions.
  A trainer for torpedo bombing was designated the
  He 59E-1. The E-2 reconnaissance trainer carried three
  cameras.
  The final version was the He 59H, which was a
  navigational trainer converted from D-1s, with
  improved radio equipment.
  HEINKEL HE 111
  The Spaten or “Spade” (so named because of the
  distinctive tail shape) was the most common German
  bomber during the Battle of Britain, though it was
  already starting to show its age. It was derived from a
  mid-1930s civilian aircraft but, like most German air-
  liners of the period, was designed from the start with an
  eye towards future military use. The He 111 entered
  mass production in 1939, though small numbers had
  been in use since 1937, with thirty He 111B-1s used in
  Spain. While the bomber was faster than most fighters
  it went up against in the Spanish Civil War, it was
  quickly learned that the three machine guns of the ear-
  liest models were completely insufficient.
  THE ARMOURY
  52
  
  Unfortunately for the Germans, by the Battle of
  Britain there were very few fighters slower than the He
  111, and the Hurricane and Spitfire were both over 50
  mph faster. The only bright spot was that it took a lot of
  .303-caliber bullets to bring down an He 111 and, for
  most of the battle, this was the only weaponry carried
  by the Spitfires and Hurricanes. As the war went on, the
  He 111s were used less as bombers and more as trans-
  ports. By the end of 1944, some 7,000 He 111s had
  been built for the Luftwaffe, with 236 He 111Hs con-
  structed in Spain during the war.
  The He 111 has a crew of five. The pilot sits in the
  cockpit. The bombardier sits in the nose and operates
  the forward MG 15s (one at a time). The
  navigator/radio operator fires one rear MG 15. A gun-
  ner lies in the disliked gondola position and fires the
  MG 17. The waist gunner operates the left or right
  mounted MG 15s. The He 111H-3 uses 80.6 gallons of
  aviation fuel per hour.
  Heinkel He 111H-3
  Subassemblies: Heavy Fighter-Bomber chassis +3,
  Light Bomber Wings with STOL option +2,
  2×Large Weapon Pods, 3×retractable wheels 
  Powertrain: 2×895 kW aerial HP gasoline engines
  w/ 895-prop each [Pod:F] with 898-gallon self-
  sealing tanks [Wings]; 2,000-kW batteries.
  Occ: 5 CS 
  Cargo: 26 Body, 3.3 Wings 
  Armor
  F
  RL
  B
  T
  U
  Body:
  3/5
  3/5 
  3/5 
  3/5
  3/5
  Wings:
  3/5
  3/5 
  3/5
  3/5
  3/5
  Pods:
  3/5
  3/5 
  3/5 
  3/5
  3/5
  Wheels:
  2/3
  2/3 
  2/3 
  2/3
  2/3
  Crew:
  0/0
  0/0 
  0/25* 0/0
  0/0
  * Protects all crew but waist gunner from rear and
  only waist gunner from the front
  Weaponry
  2×Aircraft LMG/MG 15 [Body:F] (750 rounds) 
  Aircraft LMG/MG 15 [Body:B] (750 rounds)
  Aircraft LMG/MG 17 [Body:B] (750 rounds)
  Aircraft LMG/MG 15 [Body:L] (750 rounds) 
  Aircraft LMG/MG 15 [Body:R] (750 rounds) 
  8×550-lb Bombs [Body:U]
  Equipment
  Body: Large radio receiver and transmitter, IFF,
  autopilot, navigation instruments, bombsight,
  environmental control, 4,400-lb bomb bay, 4,400-
  lb hardpoint. Pods: Fire extinguisher.
  Statistics
  Size: 54’×74’×13’ Payload: 5.8 lbs. Lwt.: 13.9 tons
  Volume: 640
  Maint.: 23 hours.
  Price: $72,600.
  HT: 8. HP: 525 Body, 413 each Wing, 50 each Wheel,
  120 each Pod
  aSpeed: 258
  aAccel: 4
  aDecel: 7
  aMR: 5.25
  aSR: 
  Stall speed 65 mph.
  gSpeed: 165
  gAccel: 8
  gDecel: 10
  gMR: 0.5
  gSR: 2
  Design Notes 
  Design speed was 235 mph. Historical surface area
  was 943 sf. Unloaded weight was decreased 9% to
  match historical unloaded weight. The underbelly gon-
  dola has been modeled as part of the body, to simplify
  design. As it was retained on almost all He 111s, this
  should not be a problem. Some had a fixed, remote-
  controlled MG 17 in the tail firing to the rear. The sec-
  ond forward-firing MG 15 was installed in the field and
  thus many He 111s lacked it. The MG 17 was also
  optional and not found in all aircraft.
  The hardpoint was used for torpedoes or large
  bombs (the bomber could not carry anything larger than
  a 1,100-lb bomb in the bomb bay), but if any ordnance
  was carried on the hardpoint, the bomb bay was not
  usable.
  Variants 
  Like many German aircraft, the He 111 was built in
  a bewildering number of variants and subvariants. Only
  a few are listed. Over 7,300 He 111s of all types were
  built before production ended in 1944.
  The He 111A-0 was the initial military version,
  with 10 models produced. It was armed with three MG
  15 (Aircraft LMG) in the nose, dorsal and ventral posi-
  tions. They were found wanting in performance and
  sold to China.
  The B-1 followed (1936) with 656-kW engines,
  which brought performance up to an acceptable level.
  The B-2 increased this to 708-kW engines.
  The He 111E-1 (1938) used 746-kW engines and
  carried a 3,750-lb bomb load, increased to 4,400-lbs in
  the E-3. The E-4 could carry an additional 2,200-lbs on
  racks under the fuselage and the E-5 added 221 gallons
  of auxiliary fuel tanks in the fuselage.
  The He 111G introduced a slightly redesigned
  wing.
  The He 111H-2 was the first model produced in
  large numbers. It lacked the cockpit armor. To the orig-
  inal three MGs were added one nose MG 15 and one
  MG 15 in the ventral gondola.
  The He 111H-4 replaced the 4,400 hardpoint with
  two 2,200-lb hardpoints for bombs or torpedoes.
  The He 111H-6 added a fixed MG 17 in the tail and
  an MG FF (20mm Short Aircraft AC) with 180 rounds
  firing forward in the gondola.
  The He 111H-8 were H-3 and H-5 aircraft fitted
  with a device on the nose to prevent entanglements with
  THE ARMOURY
  53
  
  balloon cables; they could also hopefully sever those
  cables.
  Armament was greatly changed in the He 111H-11,
  with a fully enclosed MG 131 in the dorsal position, a
  20mm MG FF in the nose and a MG 81Z in the gondo-
  la. When the beam MG 15s were replaced with MG
  81Zs, the planes were designated He 111H-11/R1.
  Only a few He 111H-12 and H-15s were built,
  without the gondola, in order to carry surface-to-air
  missiles.
  The He 111H-16 (1942) was based on the H-11
  model, but could carry up to 7,165-lbs of bombs using
  rockets for a take-off boost. The 1,007-kW engines
  gave a top speed of 227 mph. The R1 had a rotating tur-
  ret for the dorsal MG 131. The R2 was
  equipped for glider towing and the
  R3 had improved radio gear to
  serve as a pathfinder.
  The He 111H-18 pathfind-
  er version had modified engine
  exhausts for night missions. 
  The He 111H-20 was primarily used to carry 16
  paratroopers (R1) or tow gliders (R2). The R3 and R4
  subvariants were used as night bombers.
  When the H-20s received supercharged engines,
  they were designated He 111H-21. 
  The He 111H-22 was modified to carry and launch
  a pair of V-1 rockets.
  The J series were intended as torpedo bombers and
  powered with 708-kW engines.
  The most unusual He 111 variant was the He 111Z
  (1942), which was two He 111H-6 joined together, with
  a fifth engine mounted to the new wing section joining
  them. Two prototypes and ten production He 111Z-1s
  were used to tow the massive Me 321 glider.
  OTHER GERMAN
  AIRCRAFT
  The other bombers used by the Luftwaffe in the
  Battle of Britain, apart from those listed above, were the
  Ju 87 (see p. W114) and the Ju 88 (see p. W:IC87). The
  former, better known as the Stuka, was the specialized
  German dive bomber; it equipped nine Geschwader,
  but it soon showed its weaknesses. The sturdy Ju 88
  outfitted 16 Geschwader, counting those deployed in
  Denmark and the re-equipping KG 77, and it was large-
  ly used as another level-flying bomber.
  The German protagonist of the battle was of course
  the Bf 109 (see p. W119), simply called the
  Messerschmitt by the British (and
  sometimes nicknamed
  “snapper”). It was
  just a tad slower than the Spit-
  fire, faster than the Hurricane, and
  slightly less robust than both. The Bf 109 equipped all
  the fighter units and also a couple of experimental out-
  fits that were field-testing the concept of fighter-
  bombers. The German heavy fighter, the Bf 110 (see p.
  W:IC88) was in use with seven “destroyer” Geschwad-
  er, and it turned out to be a great disappointment. It
  could be more useful for long-range escort missions
  when the Bf 109 couldn’t make it, with recon units, and
  with the fledgling night fighter units.
  One understrength unit used the Fw 200 Condor
  (see p. W:MP77) from Brest over the Atlantic. The
  meteorological and long-range recon units used a mix-
  ture of slightly modified aircraft of the above-men-
  tioned models; the short-range recon and air
  co-operation Staffeln used the light Henschel Hs 126.
  THE ARMOURY
  54
  
  5. CAMPAIGNS
  AND
  ADVENTURES
  CAMPAIGNS AND ADVENTURES
  55
  There was a job to do; for the Germans it meant
  ending the war, for the British, preventing the end of the
  world as they knew it.
  What losses might we not suffer if our refuelling
  planes were caught on the ground by further raids of
  “40 plus” or “50 plus”! The odds were great; our mar-
  gins small; the stakes infinite.
  − Winston Churchill
  CAMPAIGN
  STYLES
  The Battle of Britain provides an ideal setting for
  any kind of campaign style. It is a classic, well-known
  WWII setting, which most players will feel comfortable
  with. Additionally, it provides opportunities for unique
  campaign themes. For more about campaign models,
  see pp. W157-160. General advice for the British and
  German sides, respectively, can be found on pp.
  W:AKM118-120, W:IC110-115. Ideas and background
  information for air campaigns can be found on pp.
  W:162, W:AKM23, W:IC116.
  TALLY HO!
  The Battle of Britain lends itself to a full cinemat-
  ic campaign, where the quintessential roles are those of
  fighter pilots. Ideally, each player would be in control
  of a high-powered character (around 150 points) and of
  the best fighter available to their side. By adding a cou-
  ple of suitably heroic NPCs, the GM should be able to
  put together a nearly invincible flight or Schwarm, as
  the case may be.
  Acinematic campaign will probably focus on com-
  bat, with our heroes going up in the boundless sky
  against all odds. British characters are therefore more
  suitable, as the GM can then describe the endless waves
  of enemy bombers glistening in the sun. Additionally,
  British fighters had the advantage provided by the
  radars and the ground control, which will be invaluable
  in realistically making the characters more survivable
  and effective than their counterparts. The latter could
  either be chivalrous opponents, ready to jostle one-on-
  one, or faceless Nazi war machines who coldly kill
  parachuting pilots and only attack when the odds are in
  their favor.
  “Tally Ho” campaigns might make use of the cine-
  matic rules on pp. CII176-177, keeping in mind that if
  the characters are to survive unscathed for long, the
  enemy should rarely line up a shot on their tail; GURPS
  WWII fighter firepower is realistically murderous. The
  GM should never be afraid to employ miraculous
  events and wartime propaganda clichés. Given that his-
  torically, air combat tended to create a minority of
  exceptional high-scoring pilots, the characters may well
  belong in that category.
  WEARY HEROES
  The realistic, gritty style opens up more options
  within this setting. The characters may be above-aver-
  age, but not exceptional individuals who just carry out
  their duties − with that extra bit of dedication. Combat
  can be more realistic, keeping in mind that several
  pilots used their parachutes or crash-landed more than
  once or twice; therefore, the enemy may well destroy
  the aircraft, but the GM will let the character make it
  through with a sprained ankle. Additionally, character
  types may be more varied: bomber crewmen and
  ground personnel were, in their own ways, heroic.
  Balancing realism and exceptional deeds, the GM
  may alternate combat and non-combat scenes; gritty
  campaigns will feature arguments with “desk pilot”
  officers about the “correct” tactics, problems with spare
  parts, and interaction with civilians, just as often as air
  engagements. The latter may vary a lot, too: from the
  huge, confused melee where the characters will have
  
  maybe one chance of lining up a shot, to the merciless
  ambush on an unwary enemy . . . or the reverse.
  Characters will need 75 points or more, while the
  GM may use the templates as they are for their adver-
  saries. The GM will probably do well not to employ the
  suggestions provided under Combat Stress (see p. 41),
  but, for a little dose of realism, he could apply the rules
  for sleep deprivation (see p. W205) from time to time.
  THE GRUELING
  GRINDER
  On July 19, 1940, #141 Squadron was committed
  for the first time with nine of its Defiants (see p.
  W:MP84). An hour later, four of them were back, and
  of these, one crash-landed, another was so damaged
  that it was written off. This may be the worst-case out-
  come, but it was not uncommon for fresh, untested
  fighter units to take extremely heavy losses on their first
  sorties. Being experienced was no guarantee either, for
  crews flying bombers or Bf 110s, i.e., potential targets.
  A realistic campaign style has to take into account
  these prospects, and the fact that if air combat created a
  minority of aces, it also created a majority of victims.
  The characters should become aware of their mortality,
  and the point can be driven home by the disappearance
  of their NPC friends. Combat Stress (see p. 41) would
  certainly play a role in these campaigns, and Fright
  Checks would be common; characters would fly often
  and be tired most of the time. With some playing
  groups, this environment is probably best suited for
  one-shot adventures.
  Notwithstanding this heavy toll, this style can
  have its own ways of satisfying the players, first of all
  with the knowledge that this is the way things were.
  Additionally, the characters should experience the
  joys of their historical counterparts: the primeval
  relief of making it back in one piece, the simple
  pleasure of flying, the little victories over the estab-
  lishment, the roleplaying interactions . . . and finally
  the exceptional, rare satisfaction of having their first
  kill acknowledged. Bomber crewmen, ground per-
  sonnel, and characters such as London firemen or
  simply civilians should all feel happy indeed for just
  making it through alive.
  BRITISH HUMOR
  Just by backing a step or two away from the front-
  line, the Battle of Britain can become an interesting
  backdrop against which to enact a humorous campaign.
  Defiant or Stuka pilots probably aren’t the ideal roles
  for such a style, even though it must be said that the ser-
  vicemen did their best to laugh their fears away. A
  minor accident, a crash-landing, or a mistake like 
  forgetting to extend the undercarriage for landing (it did
  happen) made a pilot the butt of many jokes. 
  A play-for-laughs campaign could mainly focus on
  roleplaying, in a British fighter squadron that for some
  reason (maybe the ineptitude of its senior officers, or
  maybe because it was equipped with obsolete aircraft)
  is never or seldom committed to real action, although it
  continuously carries out pointless patrols, silly drills,
  and routine procedures. Another setting could be a
  training unit equipped with Tiger Moths that is sudden-
  ly equipped with plywood bomb racks and parachute-
  cutting scythes (see p. 49) and ordered to train with
  these devices. A “Dad’s War” campaign, finally, with
  civilians or part-time servicemen as characters, could
  easily take on a humorous tone.
  In such a campaign, combat is rare. If there is a
  huge fire on the ground it’s not London but a decoy
  site (see p. 27), and accidents are catastrophic but
  always non-lethal. Officers will be pompous, hide-
  bound and/or dim-witted, and German pilots to be
  captured by our heroes will haplessly parachute in 
  the most inconvenient places and talk like Nazi face-
  less foes (“the glorious Third Reich vill vin!”; see 
  p. W:IC115).
  CAMPAIGN THEMES
  Within the general style categories listed above, a
  campaign set in the Battle of Britain can develop sever-
  al themes, depending primarily on the duties and roles
  of the characters.
  Sortie After Sortie
  The quintessential Battle of Britain storyline deals
  with a handful of brave, beleaguered fighter pilots.
  Their adventures can be played out with any of the pro-
  posed campaign styles (see p. 55), though they are ide-
  ally suited for cinematic heroics. This is the theme for
  players who dream about laying their hand on the throt-
  tle. The GM should be able to describe the physical sen-
  sations of piloting a cutting-edge fighter aircraft: the
  cramped Bf 109 cockpit, the blinding glare of the sun
  above the cloud ceiling, the shudder of the Spitfire
  when it comes close to its stall speed, the terror of trac-
  ers out of nowhere nearing the windscreen. The charac-
  ters will spend much time in the air (which is not
  unrealistic, as at the height of the battle fighter pilots
  might be flying three sorties a day), and they’ll proba-
  bly be out to improve their own score. The players
  would need to learn the right air combat tactics (see Air-
  to-Air Tactics, p. 57). The GM would do well to be
  familiar with the vehicle rules on pp. W150-156, or 
  he might use the Space Opera Combat System that can
  be found on pp. CII106-111 for fast-paced, cinematic
  dogfights.
  CAMPAIGNS AND ADVENTURES
  56
  
  AIR-TO-AIR TACTICS
  In most air engagements between fighters, the out-
  come was determined by who saw whom first. The
  surest way to achieve a kill was diving out of the sun
  onto an unwary opponent and taking him out even
  before he realized an enemy was there; surprise,
  height advantage, and the sun in the target’s eyes were
  key elements. Once a dogfight had developed, it
  became much more difficult to keep an alerted enemy
  in the sights, and the larger the fight the more likely it
  was to end with inconclusive results. Altitude was a
  safety factor; one was less exposed to attack and could
  choose when to engage. He could also exchange
  height for speed in a dive. 
  Therefore, the best tactics was anything that
  allowed a pilot to spot the enemy first, from above if
  possible. Being vectored by ground control could be
  very useful to the British fighters, because they might
  get a general idea where to look. On the other hand,
  being scrambled in a hurry could mean having foes
  above. However, these were only details if compared
  to the tactical formation used.
  The German fighters entered the Battle of Britain
  flying in the Schwarm formation of four aircraft. They
  had adopted it in Spain, that is, in battle, against the
  agile Soviet biplane fighters (see Aces, pp. 38-39). It
  consisted of two Rotten of two fighters each. Once a
  target was spotted, the leader would choose how to
  engage it. The wingman would fly some 200 yards
  behind, and higher; his only task was to follow the
  leader and to watch his back. Meanwhile, the leader
  could concentrate on the target. The Schwarm was
  flown with enough space between all the aircraft, all
  flying at slightly different altitudes. This gave the best
  chances of spotting an enemy closing in from behind.
  The RAF fighters’ task had been defined as engag-
  ing bombers: slow and easy targets, which could
  absorb a lot of damage. For this job, the tight V for-
  mation (called “vic”) was employed. Three fighters
  could deliver a lot of concentrated fire on a bomber
  formation; however, two of them were flying so close
  to their leader that they had to keep an eye on him,
  instead of on their backs. Flying at the same altitude
  also increased the chances of not seeing the enemy
  first. Some of the squadrons that suffered heavy loss-
  es in their first engagement were ambushed while fly-
  ing in vics. Finally, against a small target, only one
  aircraft out of three could bring its guns to bear (as
  opposed to one out of two with the Rotte). 
  Certainly, the vics looked neater than the haphazard
  Schwärme, and RAF regulations strictly mandated the
  vics. Independent-minded commanders thus had bet-
  ter survival chances. As a limited improvement over
  the vic, the fighter squadrons tried to employ
  “weavers.” These would shuttle back and forth behind
  the vic, watching their six. This meant they could eas-
  ily fall back (or burn more fuel to stay with the vic);
  also, the weavers tended to be vulnerable fresh
  trainees. In practice, they were often killed without
  even having time to yell a warning, and then the
  attackers would set their sights on the vic.
  Once a dogfight had begun, the rule was to turn,
  never to fly straight – in other words, don’t be a good
  target. Diving could take one away from danger and
  increase one’s speed, and that is why dogfights gradu-
  ally descended. Many dogfight shots happened at a
  deflection: that is, the target crossed the firer’s path.
  Deflection shooting was very difficult, as one had to
  anticipate where the target would be; only the best
  pilots achieved hits in this way. Firing at a target that
  was moving in the same direction was much easier,
  and that is why one had to watch his tail. Head-on
  engagements also had no deflection, but there were
  only a couple of seconds before collision.
  When fighters engaged bombers, they often had a
  choice as to the side to attack from. The tail was the
  easiest to target, but also the most defended. A frontal
  assault was good because the nose wasn’t as well
  defended, and also because it often broke the
  bombers’formation as their pilots instinctively tried to
  avoid collisions. The tight formation meant a deadly
  crossfire from several aircraft, either downing the
  bombers on the spot or damaging them to the point
  that they could be chased and brought down as they
  limped home. Bomber gunners weren’t as ineffective
  as they are sometimes portrayed, and if firing at a
  fighter attacking their aircraft, they had 0 deflection;
  but when a gunner hit, the most likely result was only
  minor damage, as he was hitting with one or at most
  two MGs. It might be enough to scare the fighter
  away, though.
  The Zerstörer had a tactical problem of its own; it
  wasn’t agile enough to get rid of a British fighter on its
  tail, and its rear-facing MG was not enough of a deter-
  rent. When engaged in a dogfight, the Bf 110s thus
  formed a defensive circle; each one defended the next
  with its main forward-facing weaponry. Of course,
  sooner or later they’d need to break and run for it, and
  then they’d be vulnerable.
  The Stuka had the same problems, and it was slow-
  er and less well-armed, too. It was safe during its dive,
  as any fighter without dive brakes would simply over-
  take it or lose control. Just before the dive, however,
  the Stukas formed in single file (the reason why Ger-
  mans called bomber sections Ketten, or “chains”), and
  after it they were low and slow; ideal targets in both
  situations.
  CAMPAIGNS AND ADVENTURES
  57
  
  The Thankless Jobs
  For a different tack, the characters might be
  bomber crewmen. The bombers are a good choice for
  players wanting a more realistic campaign, and for
  gaming groups who like their characters to always
  stick together: a full bomber crew is perfect for that.
  Additionally, they’d be the underdogs here. Bomber
  missions would start with the tiresome, boring, and at
  the same time dangerous tasks of readying for action,
  taking off, gaining height, closing formation, and mov-
  ing off over the Channel with the growing certainty
  that the Schpitfeuer will appear sooner or later; and,
  “Where are our fighters?” The flak will distract the
  bomber and the pilot. Not all missions need to be the
  same, especially if the crew belongs to an elite
  Geschwader (see p. 61); there might be terrifyingly
  lonesome recon missions, hair-raising low-level
  attacks, and then the switch to night bombing, which
  provides challenges of its own. Much of the same
  applies to British Bomber Command or Coastal Com-
  mand personnel, with the added frustration that all the
  praise is going to the fighters.
  Back for Tea
  Though there were hectic days, airmen still spent a
  lot of time in civilized places, in comparison to
  infantrymen on the front. For this reason, a campaign
  can focus on non-combat roleplaying, with combat act-
  ing as a backdrop. Such a theme might work with all
  kinds of characters, and is the best choice with ground
  crewmen and personnel. Players who like nothing bet-
  ter than to really act the part can develop relationships
  as members of an interesting, tense, and focused micro-
  cosm: an air base during the Battle of Britain. Charac-
  ters, from maintenance repairmen to WAAF radar
  operators to mere airmen, would need to do their best as
  small cogs in the machine, with the knowledge that
  every little detail contributes to the score of the locally
  based squadron. Then there would be their precious
  free time: at the NAAFI canteen, the local pub, or just
  behind the hangar for a smoke. Possibly, the pilots are
  NPCs only, and the protagonists live the battle through
  their accounts . . . and worry for them every time they
  take off.
  Dad’s War
  An intriguing and unusual campaign might have a
  cast of civilians and part-time volunteers: members of
  the Home Guard or of the Observer Corps, for instance.
  Again the Battle of Britain proper would provide a
  looming, noisy backdrop, and such a home-front theme
  could actually carry on well into 1941-42. The charac-
  ters will not only worry about bombs, poison gases, and
  parachuted “Huns,” but also and chiefly about the inva-
  sion threat. Roleplaying interactions and everyday life
  problems during a war will be other mainstays in this
  campaign. This might be done in any of the proposed
  styles (see p. 55). A humorous campaign, with the
  CAMPAIGNS AND ADVENTURES
  58
  BUSINESS AS USUAL
  When bombs began falling on cities, some of
  the inhabitants moved to the countryside. They
  were a minority, though when possible children
  were sent away from danger. The people who
  remained under the German bombsights took
  pride in doing so, and shopkeepers began putting
  out signs that read “business as usual.” Such signs
  could be seen even when the shop had been seri-
  ously damaged; it would be placed in the window
  as an act of defiance. Other people put up the
  day’s score.
  A campaign set in London during the Blitz
  might begin with the end of August and it would
  be a harrowing experience for ordinary civilian
  characters who might be volunteers in any British
  organization, including the Auxiliary Fire Service.
  During the day, they would need to get on with
  their jobs and everyday necessities, possibly nego-
  tiating with the damage done by “the Huns”; the
  occasional stray bombs flattened buildings in all
  neighborhoods. They might have to deal with the
  first spivs (see p.W:AKM48), assorted authorities,
  patriotic neighbors, nervous refugees. In the
  evening, they would stand to duty; most auxiliary
  fire stations had only a nominal shelter, and
  observers would be exposed atop roofs. Interven-
  ing as soon as possible after a raid was vital,
  because the fires guided the second wave. The fire-
  men drove out in their engines, but policemen,
  ambulance drivers, wardens were out, too. In the
  narrowest London alleys, manhandled carts carry-
  ing the hoses had to replace true fire engines; these
  would sometimes hitched up to the typical London
  cabs, thus the volunteer firemen would ride a taxi
  to the fire.
  Fires on the docks were usually infernoes, and
  the most that could be done was to attack their
  edges and try to contain them. On the other hand,
  small incendiaries would be scattered every-
  where, and countless untrained civilians saved
  whole blocks by reacting quickly and smothering
  them. Other hazards included gas leaks and crum-
  bling buildings; power failures and damages to
  the water network would be additional problems.
  Motorcycle dispatchers were needed too, because
  the phone lines between HQs and stations were
  often cut. The Germans also dropped mines and
  delayed-fuse bombs with the specific purpose of
  harming the emergency teams.
  
  Home Guard embarking on wild-goose chases in the
  night because of yet another false alarm, is perfectly
  possible. After several such pointless stunts, the chari-
  table GM will let the huffing and puffing volunteers
  actually find a German pilot, though he will be suitably
  harmless and ridiculous, shivering in the pond he fell
  into. On the other hand, if the characters are auxiliary
  firemen and ambulance drivers in London, a realistic or
  outright hellish style would be in order.
  United We Stand
  A final possibility is to have all of the above at the
  same time. A British family could well have the father
  in the Home Guard, the mother tending the home fire,
  an uncle in the Observer Corps, a daughter in the
  WAAF, and a fighter pilot son. This is an ideal solution
  for gaming groups that find it difficult to meet regular-
  ly or whose members also like individual adventures.
  From time to time, some of the relatives might meet
  and investigate the black marketeer who cheated Mom,
  snoop around a suspicious-looking new neighbor, or
  save a boy from a crumbling building. Each of them
  would then be able to talk about his own experiences in
  the battle − or wouldn’t he? Maybe the daughter’s work
  with the radar sets is top secret. Will she be able to with-
  stand Mom’s curiosity?
  CAMPAIGN
  UNITS
  Fighting in the Battle of Britain could mean a great
  number of different things, depending not only on the
  task a serviceman was appointed to, but also on the unit
  he was assigned to. These sample campaign units will
  serve as examples of the various styles, tones and level
  of experience that this setting can provide. The section
  also includes small adventure seeds.
  THE NEWCOMERS
  Inexperienced personnel faced lethal dangers when
  thrown into battle. The most dangerous sorties are the
  first ones. Air combat has its own ruthless natural selec-
  tion; veteran hunters can spot a newcomer’s hesitant
  behavior and pick him as their prey. Players who love
  daunting challenges might thrive on making it through
  these initial missions.
  Fresh Trainees
  The Luftwaffe shifted some units between the Luft-
  flotten, but there were no totally inexperienced
  Geschwader by this time; they of course had to replace
  losses in all the units. The RAF moved new units to #11
  Group, and sent individual replacements to under-
  strength squadrons. However, the lone new guy in is
  probably more suitable for the German side.
  Roleplaying newly arrived trainees will be an
  uphill struggle for the players, first and foremost for the
  high likelihood of being downed on their first sortie, as
  mentioned above. An old cliché is to have the Staffel
  commander show the new boys a bullet-ridden, blood-
  stained Heinkel and exclaim: “Don’t worry, in a couple
  of days it will be patched and you’ll fly it!”
  Additionally, not all of the old hands saw the
  trainees as a valuable resource; they could be consid-
  ered as baby-faced intruders who usurped the good old
  chaps’ place, or, worse, as liabilities and expendable
  pawns. The RAF tended to use them as weavers (see
  Air-to-Air Tactics, p. 57), and both sides placed them in
  the rear ranks of any formation, i.e., in the sights of any
  attacking enemy. A tough campaign tone will be suit-
  able for this kind of experience.
  Sunday Flyers
  The squadrons of the Auxiliary Air Force (see p.
  23) were not newcomers in the sky; many of them were
  wealthy people who loved to fly (#601 was nicknamed
  the “Millionaires’Squadron”). They were older than the
  average recruit, and more experienced as peacetime
  pilots. However, they were not experienced fighter
  pilots, and they were new to the strictures of RAF reg-
  ulations and wartime necessities. They would wear
  school ties instead of black ones, and would have their
  uniform jackets lined in red silk. One of these
  squadrons examined a volunteer through a formal din-
  ner (see also p. W:39) to make sure he could at least
  behave as a gentleman, though not being one by birth.
  At their first engagement, these “Sunday Flyers”
  might avoid simple piloting mistakes that fresh trainees
  might make, but they would still be vulnerable to
  aggressive German tactics. Additionally, the fact that
  they knew each other very well and tended to consider
  their squadron as a flight club was a double-edged
  sword. In action, this would make them cohesive; but in
  case of heavy losses, it meant losing many long-time
  friends. #601 Squadron lost four chums on one day, and
  it was a severe shock. The survivors did not lose their
  edge, but they did lose some of their nonchalant attitude.
  Working with old pals and on informal terms had
  its own disadvantages, however, as when this same
  squadron was sent to defend the ships of “Bosom” (a
  convoy code name), and it ended up patrolling the sky
  over the village of Bosham, including its pub, The Ship.
  #72 Squadron
  This squadron was not an inexperienced unit. It
  included professionally-trained pre-war pilots, and it
  had seen its share of action over Dunkirk. However, it
  CAMPAIGNS AND ADVENTURES
  59
  
  was a newcomer unit for the forbidding environment of
  #11 Group, when it moved South to Biggin Hill on
  August 31, 1940. What’s more, it was still flying with
  the old linear vics (see Air-to-Air Tactics, p. 57). In its
  first six days, #72 Squadron lost 13 Spitfires and five
  pilots, over-claiming 14 kills. Characters flying and
  fighting in that way will not survive long, so shrewd
  players will begin to offer drinks to veterans of other
  squadrons - they just might learn the right tactics by
  word of mouth. Historically, this unit did adapt to the
  Messerschmitts’ hunting grounds, and in fact ended the
  battle with 61 confirmed kills.
  Adventure Seed:
  Learning on the Job
  The characters are trainees hastily assigned to a
  combat unit. They still have not invested all the points
  required by their templates in the relevant skills (see pp.
  W82-83). They have to learn the ropes in their new sta-
  tion, from how to procure better food to acquiring
  familiarity with aircraft they might never have set foot
  in before. All the while, that first combat mission is
  looming over them: they see battered aircraft crash-
  landing all over the countryside. The unit commander is
  hard-pressed and wants them to go; maybe some senior
  NCO provides them with a hasty lesson in the air, and
  the veterans offer them advice, ranging from the useful
  to the ominous. Finally, there will be the first real mis-
  sion, where they’ll bring up the dangerous rear, and
  prove their mettle or die trying.
  THE BACKBONE
  Several air (and ground) units formed the back-
  bone of the forces fighting on both sides. Unsurprising-
  ly, these formations flew and fought a lot, and
  characters campaigning with them will see plenty of
  action. This will also mean both significant losses and
  good chances of scoring high; therefore, these units are
  suitable for all kinds of campaign styles.
  #17 Squadron
  This low-numbered squadron was one of the pro-
  fessional peacetime units of the RAF, and had a very
  experienced cadre. Being equipped with Hurricanes in
  June 1939, characters flying with #17 may have an
  interesting 1940, participating in the confused dog-
  fights over Belgium and then withdrawing to Brittany
  and the Channel Islands before making it back to Tang-
  mere. They also flew from Martlesham, and on August
  15 they were surprised while scrambling from there by
  an effective fighter-bomber attack (see p. 64) of
  Erprobungsgruppe 210. The squadron would repeated-
  ly suffer on the ground because of these tactics, but
  downed many in the air. One of its last field days was
  November 11, when it took part in the turkey shoot
  against the Italians (see The Italian Air Corps, p. 35).
  #17 served in the hottest spots of the Battle of Britain
  for its whole duration, placing itself in the thick of
  things at every opportunity.
  CAMPAIGNS AND ADVENTURES
  60
  NIGHT LIFE
  While the diverse elements of the British air
  defense system provided a formidable obstacle,
  the business end still relied on the fighter pilots’
  eyes, which were next to useless without light.
  Once the Germans changed tactics to night
  bombing of cities, both the head of Anti-Aircraft
  Command, General Frederick Pile, and Dowding
  himself came under intense pressure to do 
  something.
  There was little the AA guns could do without
  effective radar fire direction; the Gunlaying
  Radar Mark I, which some batteries had, could
  only provide range information. This forced the
  gunners to resort to barrage tactics (see Taking
  the Flak, p. 28).
  Fighter Command had two main methods of
  night interception: ordinary day fighters guided
  by ground control, and experimenting with the
  new Airborne Interception (AI) Radar Mark I.
  Attempting to use Hurricanes in this role was a
  waste, often in the literal sense: in a month, 28
  pilots, unused to these dangerous “cat’s eye” mis-
  sions, had accidents. Six of them died. They spent
  many fruitless hours on patrol, hoping to catch a
  glimpse of the enemy in the moonlight or in the
  cone of a searchlight (which could dazzle both
  friends and foes). Engine exhausts could be seen,
  too, but only from a very short distance.
  The AI radars were used by dedicated night
  fighter units, initially on Blenheims and later on
  Beaufighters (see p. 48). The Blenheim was too
  lightly armed and not fast enough to catch its tar-
  gets, but the Beaufighter had what it took, plus a
  more advanced airborne radar. Unfortunately, it
  did not become operational until mid-September,
  1940. Ground control vectored the fighters
  towards the enemy formation until the airborne
  radar operator got a contact. He would then give
  directions to the pilot until visual contact was
  established, often at very close ranges. The
  bombers would try to evade, and sometimes they
  were successful − if they survived the first bursts. 
  The night fighters had a minor influence over
  the outcome of the Battle of Britain, but their
  meager successes drove home the message that
  not even the night was safe for the enemy
  bombers. Night fighting would develop into a war
  of its own in 1941 and the following years.
  
  #249 “Gold Coast”
  Squadron
  This unit is ideal for a short but intense campaign.
  Initially  equipped with Spitfires, the squadron was
  soon switched to Hurricanes, and characters will be
  able to mutter and complain about it no end. Opera-
  tional on July 3, it stayed out of the way at Church Fen-
  ton, with #12 Group, but by mid-August it was moved
  South. As usual with reinforcements, it had a hard
  beginning; on August 16 three fighters were lost, but
  #249 also meted out punishment, both on that day and
  the day before. It was lucky to be initially assigned to
  #10 Group for two weeks, where it was able to get grad-
  ually up to speed. On September 1, when the squadron
  was moved to #11 Group, the pilots had learned the
  tricks of the trade and six of them would become aces;
  the squadron downed 75 enemy aircraft. Pilots of #249
  Squadron can have varied backgrounds, from Poland,
  Ireland, Canada and Australia; being moved among the
  Groups can also be interesting in itself. Flight Lieu-
  tenant James Nicholson of #249 was the one fighter
  pilot to be awarded the Victoria Cross in the Battle of
  Britain. He deserved it not for an especially high num-
  ber of kills, but for the “exceptional gallantry” shown in
  attacking and downing an enemy fighter − while he and
  his plane were on fire.
  Airport Personnel
  The airmen who never took to the air were as
  important as the flyers, and the Battle of Britain can be
  played from the point of view of ground crews (see the
  template on p. 43). It would be a campaign focused on
  non-combat activities; the characters would need to
  concentrate on their thankless, exhausting job of keep-
  ing the aircraft ready for action and their airport
  patrolled and defended. Meanwhile, there would be
  roleplaying interactions with hidebound commanders,
  nosy intelligence officers, and tight-fisted quartermas-
  ters. On the one side there would also be overeager for-
  eign volunteers and meddlesome officials from Lord
  Beaverbrook’s Ministry (see p. 11). On the other side
  there would be visits by Nazi dignitaries. 
  Of course, an interesting relationship could
  develop on both sides with the pilots. They could be
  infuriatingly swaggering, but they also rely on their
  technicians, and sometimes they will be on the brink
  of collapse (see p. 41). Occasionally, ground person-
  nel could also experience real excitement: when a
  pilot they like tries to land while wounded, when one
  of them is accused of negligence over an engine 
  failure, or when their airport comes under attack.
  Adventure Seed:
  Under Attack
  The characters are airport personnel, ground crew-
  men, maybe even civilian employees or WAAF auxil-
  iaries. They carry out their necessary, unglamorous
  tasks, but they probably feel left out of the action as the
  NPC pilots brag about their exploits. The PCs might
  even be looked down on by high-status officers. Then
  the base comes under repeated, incessant attacks; the
  enemy is determined to close it down. Low-level
  bomber runs, night bombing, and sudden fighter-
  bomber strafing and bombing attacks put everybody’s
  nerves on edge, damage buildings, and cause losses. Yet
  the orders are to keep the airport operational. The PCs
  may get their limelight time as others refuse to leave the
  shelters. They can do their duty under fire, replace offi-
  cers in critical tasks, and maybe even take a fighter to
  safety by taxiing it through the farm fields or bring
  down an enemy with accurate MG fire. 
  Jagdgeschwader 53 
  “Pik As”
  The “Ace of Spades” was a unit of quality fight-
  er pilots who served together throughout the battle.
  Its III Gruppe had been commanded by Werner
  Mölders until June. The Geschwader was in the fore-
  front of the confused fighting of Eagle Day (see p.
  11), and in countless other engagements, both with
  close-escort duties or hunting freely. Its sub-units
  were frequently moved between airfields, and at the
  end of August it was transferred from Luftflotte 3 to
  Luftflotte 2. This allows characters serving in this unit
  to experience various background environments, to
  land and take off from more or less difficult terrain,
  and to see the command styles of different senior offi-
  cers. For an interesting variation, two of the Gruppen
  spent some time on the Guernsey, in the Channel
  Islands (see p. W:AKM11), the one place where a
  non-POW German pilot might talk with a British
  civilian.
  Zerstörergeschwader 26
  “Horst Wessel”
  This unit, named after a Nazi hero, flew the
  “destroyer” Bf 110 heavy fighters. They were led by 
  a formidable one-legged WWI aviation veteran, 
  CAMPAIGNS AND ADVENTURES
  61
  
  Oberstleutnant Joachim-Friedrich Huth. These Zerstör-
  er took part in many key battles, starting with the July
  10 attacks on Channel convoys, where they began to
  serve in the difficult job of close escorts for the
  bombers. On that day, they were chased back to France,
  and learned that their single rear-pointing MG was not
  enough of a defense. On Eagle Day (see p. 11), they
  received the cancellation order and, unable to commu-
  nicate with the bombers they escorted, they had to leave
  them alone. Characters serving with this unit will start
  out thinking of themselves as hunters, but they’ll
  painfully learn they risk becoming prey. They can expe-
  rience attempts at free hunting raids, but if they want to
  survive in those, they’ll need to master the defensive
  circle maneuver. Historically, the personnel of Z26 dis-
  liked fighter-bomber missions, but PCs might well find
  them challenging.
  VIII Fliegerkorps
  Acampaign confined to the Battle of Britain in this
  corps, largely made up of Stuka Geschwader, might be
  short and frustrating for the players . . . and deadly for
  the characters. However, the protagonists may end up
  here after participating in the initial, successful cam-
  paigns of Poland and France, and learn over the Chan-
  nel that they are no longer the terror of the skies when
  the enemy fighters are up to the task. The Ju 87s of this
  unit, led by General Wolfram von Richthofen, were
  quite successful in the first stage of the battle, launch-
  ing massed attacks against convoys. They were also
  used against a variety of other targets, and their casual-
  ties grew steadily. After the heavy losses incurred on
  August 17 and 18, the Stukas were withdrawn from
  action. This will be a sour anti-climax for characters
  flying them, and they might react by seeking a posting
  elsewhere. Coupled with the death of so many friends,
  it would also be a good starting point toward skepticism
  about the Nazi cause (see p. W:IC113).
  Adventure Seed:
  Channel Trousers
  The Kanalhosen
  (Channel trousers, see p.
  W:MP71) were the outfit one had to rely on when
  plunging in the cold sea. This was a fearsome experi-
  ence (see Combat Stress, p. 41), but not uncommon.
  The pilot needs to break free of his parachute harness,
  keep his cool, and rely on his training and equipment
  (see p. 46). The GM may keep the players sweating for
  a while, as the character grows cold and thinks he sees
  a shark fin. Finally some help will show up, and its
  insignia will mean the difference between long years as
  a POW or being back in the afternoon. This is where a
  coal barge may be the most wonderful sight, though its
  crewmen may have a word of two about the “Bryl-
  creem boys” who have not protected them. A He 59
  (see p. 51) may be more welcome to German pilots. A
  British airman saved by that seaplane may be a POW,
  but only for a short time, as it might be forced down in
  turn by RAF fighters. For an interesting twist, the first
  floating thing the PC sees may be a small dinghy . . .
  with an unconscious enemy in it. Afinal alternative was
  provided by the four-man Rettungsbojen (Rescue
  buoys); the Germans anchored them close to the French
  coast, but they often drifted away.
  THE BEST
  OF THE BEST
  A few units on both sides were highly-trained and
  specialized; fewer still consistently had outstanding
  performances. These were the elite of their forces, and
  they may suit players who like a cinematic campaign
  style or at least a good chance of roleplaying heroes.
  #92 “East India” Squadron
  The personnel assigned to this squadron had been
  “Sunday flyers” (see p. 23) coming from #601
  Squadron. Characters flying with this squadron can
  have a very interesting 1940. They had been assigned to
  the drudgery of piloting the twin-engine Blenheim Is;
  but thanks to donations from East Indian patriots, they
  switched to Spitfires in March, 1940. After intensive
  training, they had their baptism of fire covering the
  Dunkirk beaches; by 1940 standards, this made them
  seasoned pilots. 
  Deployed out of the way in Pembrey, #92 intercept-
  ed attacks against Cardiff and Bristol; a detachment flew
  dangerous “cat’s eye” night missions (see p. 60) from the
  small airstrip of Bibury. On September 8, the squadron
  moved to the bombed-out airport of Biggin Hill, where
  the ground crews had to work under very difficult condi-
  tions. The Squadron was now squarely in harm’s way,
  and in a week it lost 9 Spitfires – but downed 19 enemy
  airplanes. #92 fought throughout the battle; its com-
  manders led from the front, and three of them were
  wounded in September. The final tally of 94 confirmed
  kills places this squadron close to the top.
  #303 “Kosciuszko”
  Squadron
  The Polish refugees forming this squadron (also
  known as “Warsaw”) were battle-hardened pilots; by
  the summer of 1940, they had already had quite an
  adventurous war (see p. W:DWE45). They champed at
  the bit throughout August, while their British com-
  manders had them patrol the rear areas and made sure
  they could understand orders in English. On August 30,
  a flight of #303 was on a training drill when its pilots
  sighted the enemy; ignoring orders, they engaged and
  downed a Dornier. The British authorities reacted by
  CAMPAIGNS AND ADVENTURES
  62
  
  declaring the squadron operational. Indeed, it was. In its
  first four days of continuous combat, #303 downed 24
  aircraft, and by the end of the battle it had 126 kills on
  its roster – the highest score – largely achieved in just a
  month of fighting.
  This squadron can serve as a campaign unit for
  Polish characters (see p. W:DWE45), but it may be very
  interesting for British officers. They will find the Poles
  proud and unruly, but also very effective, and notwith-
  standing their reputation for recklessness, they did not
  suffer heavy casualties. Polish pilots, of course, will
  tend to disregard inexperienced officers, and they could
  not care less about vics and RAF regulations.
  Jagdgeschwader 26
  “Schlageter”
  Named after an Alsatian nationalist hero, this unit
  had proved its mettle during the campaign over France.
  In the Battle of Britain, it was based in forward airfields
  in the Calais area, on the very frontline. Halfway
  through, it came under the command of Adolf Galland
  (see Aces, pp. 38-39). This was a unit with many bud-
  ding aces, and it flourished under Galland. It had a
  favorable claims-to-losses ratio of over 5:1; even taking
  into account overclaiming, this is what the Luftwaffe
  needed to win. It is unsurprising that these hunters were
  often sent on free-ranging missions. On August 15, they
  preceded the bombers and ambushed #151 Squadron,
  causing heavy losses. On the “hardest day”, Oberleut-
  nant Gerhard Schöpfel, carrying out such a hunt, sur-
  prised a vic (see Air-to-Air Tactics, p. 57) and downed
  four Hurricanes in two minutes. 
  Occasionally, JG 26 had to defend the Calais bases
  against enemy counterattacks, and this is a prelude to a
  continuing campaign (see p. 65). Indeed, characters
  serving with this unit will be among those who don’t
  leave for Russia; they’ll become known as the
  “Abbeville Boys,” and they’ll scramble against the
  British Circus Operations in 1941 (see p. 65). Players
  who love air-to-air fighter combat and a cinematic tone
  to their adventures will find this Geschwader a stimu-
  lating environment for their characters.
  CAMPAIGNS AND ADVENTURES
  63
  Any realistic campaign will be enhanced by the
  players learning and using the historical code words
  and slang terms employed by the two sides. Shouting
  “Tally ho!” may seem odd, but it’s still great fun!
  British Radio Codes
  Scramble: take off for interception
  Angels: height in thousands of feet
  Orbit: circle on position
  Vector: course
  Bogey: unidentified aircraft
  Bandit: enemy aircraft
  Tally ho: enemy aircraft sighted, readying to attack
  Bounce: attacking an unwary target
  Liner: at cruising speed
  Buster: at high cruising speed
  Gate: at top speed
  Pancake: land, refuel and rearm
  German Radio Codes
  Bodo: own base or airfield
  Zirkus über (circle over): circle or assemble at
  given position
  Kirchturm (church tower): own height in hundreds
  of meters
  Hanny (“Johnny”): enemy height in hundreds of
  meters
  Indianer (Indian): enemy aircraft
  Konkurrenz (competition): danger, enemy present
  Pauke-pauke (kettledrum): attack
  Horrido: enemy aircraft shot down
  Rotlicht (red light) or Durst (thirst): short on petrol
  Halbzeit (half-time): breaking off
  British and German Slang
  The slang terms are not only a touch of color for
  GMs and players, but they also reveal a lot about the
  attitudes of the men who used them. For instance, the
  British pilots referred to their squadron comrades as
  “chaps,” as though they still were at their public
  school, and with typical understatement they short-
  handed the very rare cases of cowardice as “LMF,”
  that is, “lack of moral fibre.” What they thought of the
  Stukas can be seen by the nickname of the attacks on
  these bombers: “Stuka parties.”
  The Germans also had a disparaging term, calling
  the V formation (see Air-to-Air Tactics, p. 57) the
  Idiotenreihe (line of idiots). The Germans showed
  their hierarchical mentality with the terms applied to
  those who attacked the Idiotenreihe: Rotte also means
  pack, so the Rottenführer (Rotte leader) was the alpha
  dog leading the pack, while his wingman was his
  Katschmarek (a Polish term indicating a family ser-
  vant). Indeed, the wingman would watch the senior
  officer’s back, and often become a target, while the
  latter would have all the chances of improving his
  score. Those higher scores allowed an officer to cure
  his Halsweh (sore throat), i.e., to cover his throat with
  a Knight’s Cross.
  RADIO CODES AND SLANG
  
  Adventure Seed:
  Freie Jagd
  Characters belonging to the best German fighter
  units might be sent out time and again on “free hunt”
  missions. Historically, this was the task the Bf 109
  pilots preferred, not being bound to slow and vulnera-
  ble bombers. And it may also be to some players’ lik-
  ing; however freie Jagd had problems of its own.
  Free-ranging fighters were identified by their speed,
  and time and again the PCs might be frustratingly
  ignored. When the enemy chooses to challenge them, it
  will probably be with the advantage of surprise, since
  the radar-led British will know where to look! Fighters
  on freie Jagd might be ordered to carry out opportunis-
  tic attacks, forsaking their commanding altitude to
  sweep down on an airfield where their opponents have
  just landed; the nap-of-the-earth strafing run will be a
  hair-raising experience. Being hunted across the Chan-
  nel by a fresh enemy while the whole Schwarm is low
  on fuel can also be challenging. The PCs will be able to
  participate in some monumental dogfights in the clos-
  ing stages of the daylight campaign, and to improve
  their personal scores.
  SPECIAL JOBS
  On both sides, there were especially thorny tasks to
  carry out, and special men for them. These men some-
  times came from dedicated, highly trained, elite units −
  or sometimes they were just whoever was available at
  the moment, expected to learn on the job and muddle
  through.
  The Radar Stations
  The “eyes” of the British defense employed RAF
  ground personnel, WAAF auxiliaries, and the occasion-
  al civilian technician or Air Ministry bureaucrat. All of
  them could not talk about what they were doing with
  anybody outside the AMES (Air Ministry Experimen-
  tal Stations). Working there could be exhausting, and at
  the same time exciting and boring. The former, because
  the personnel soon understood the critical importance
  of accurate and timely data; the latter, because the
  action was elsewhere. Save, of course, when the station
  itself was attacked! The buildings where the personnel
  worked were ordinary above-ground structures, so the
  PCs will have to rely on their helmets and ducking
  under the furniture. Other bits of adventuring may
  include manning anti-aircraft MGs, hunting parachutes,
  smothering incendiaries, or climbing on the tall, sway-
  ing masts for on-the-fly repairs, aware that a second
  raid might be on its way, and that the squadrons are
  temporarily “blind.”
  Kampfgruppe 100
  This independent bomber Gruppe was the Luft-
  waffe’s specialist pathfinder unit. Its highly trained
  crews mastered the use of the very accurate radio direc-
  tional aids their bombers were equipped with (see Dog-
  leg and Aspirin). In the first stages of the battle,
  Kampfgruppe 100 was sparingly used, but once the
  Luftwaffe changed tactics, it became the vanguard of
  many night strikes. Its payload was largely incendiary
  bombs that would be seen by following waves. Indi-
  vidual Staffeln also carried out precision bombing
  against important targets, including the Spitfire factory
  of Castle Bromwich, near Birmingham. On August 17
  the Kampfgruppe was reassigned from Kesselring to
  Sperrle.
  This is the unit for bomber crewman characters
  who want to be more than targets. Recon and raid
  assessment missions may add variety. The navigator
  will need both a high skill in Navigation and Electron-
  ics Operation (Communications)-15+.
  Erprobungsgruppe 210
  This was the one Luftwaffe unit put expressly
  together for this campaign; it had a Staffel of Bf 109s,
  one of Bf 110s and one of Ju 87s. It was a field-test unit
  (see German Unit Names, p. 32) whose symbol was a
  DOGLEG AND ASPIRIN
  If a directional radio beacon could assist navi-
  gation and even landing in bad visibility, the same
  principle could be applied to assist bombing. The
  Luftwaffe adapted the Lorenz navigational aid by
  making it more sensitive and accurate, and called
  it the Knickebein (“bent leg”). Powerful radio sta-
  tions transmitted a beam the bomber could ride;
  another radio beam warned the crew when it was
  time to release the bombs. Another later and more
  refined system, using no less than four radio
  beams, was the X-Gerät (“Device X”). If the
  equipment was well calibrated and the crews
  highly trained, these systems were very accurate:
  X-Gerät could deliver bombs within a 100-yard
  radius.
  The procedure would have been a serious
  threat, but the Germans began training with these
  radio beacons too early, and the British picked
  them up. By the autumn of 1940, #80 Wing (a
  ground RAF unit and another specialist outfit)
  began disturbing and jamming the German sig-
  nals. On the night of the Coventry raid, the jam-
  ming was unfortunately out of frequency, but
  many other British cities only suffered inaccurate
  bombings because of the “war of the beams.”
  Since the British operators said the Germans gave
  them a headache, their spoofing device was code
  named “Aspirin.”
  CAMPAIGNS AND ADVENTURES
  64
  
  bombsight over Great Britain. Thanks to a combination
  of utter dedication, intense on-the-job training, and the
  fact that their kind of raid was objectively difficult to
  intercept, these men were highly successful. Characters
  serving with this unit would learn to come in fast and
  low, or alternatively in the shadow of a large bomber
  formation going elsewhere, in order to reduce the
  enemy’s reaction opportunities. They would then carry
  out precision attacks against airfields and radar stations;
  they became regular visitors of Manston, Biggin Hill
  and, initially by mistake, Croydon, among other targets.
  Manston was closed down in no small part because of
  ErprG 210’s attentions. Once the Bf 109s had delivered
  their bombs, they’d climb to engage enemy fighters; if
  the Stuka Staffel was present, the Bf 109s might serve
  as their dedicated escort from the start. Being the only
  Gruppe capable of such effectiveness, it was soon over-
  worked; sometimes it made it back unscathed, but in
  the long run its losses were heavy, especially among the
  Bf 110s.
  Adventure Seed:
  Precision Bombing
  Accurate bombing could be delivered by Stukas,
  fighter-bombers, or even level bombers flying so low
  and slow to be nearly suicidal. Erprobungsgruppe 210
  could uniquely employ Stukas and fighter-bombers at
  the same time. The commander would make it clear
  that at this critical juncture, accurately hitting the
  hangars, the runways and the fighters on the ground is
  vital. Such a mission could be played out in detail: the
  difficulties begin with timing the take-off and approach
  of the different units, and continue with risky nap-of-
  the-earth flying. The bombing run would be carried out
  in the face of intense low-altitude AA fire, then the Bf
  109s would need to revert to their pure fighter role to
  fend off the enemy reaction, while Bf 110s might be
  expected to go down again to strafe the targets. The
  withdrawal across the Channel would not be safe,
  either!
  THE
  CONTINUING
  CAMPAIGN
  Hopefully, the brave protagonists who served in
  the Battle of Britain campaign will survive. If this was
  not meant to be a one-shot adventure, they can soldier
  on; the war is still young.
  NEW THEATERS
  AWAIT
  For the night bombers and fighters, the war largely
  went on in the old places. If the characters belong to
  these kind of units, they may keep flying from the same
  airfield for years to come . . . as long as they aren’t
  downed. For night fighters, it will be a story of techno-
  logical innovation, with more advanced airborne
  radars, jamming devices, and countermeasures. For
  bomber crews, it will be long, cold flights, the terror of
  searchlights and flak, and blazing cities below.
  Day British fighters will be committed over France
  in 1941-42, in the Circus Operations that mirror Freie
  Jagd missions; it will be a difficult, costly task. The
  “Abbeville Boys” of Jagdgeschwader 26 will remain
  there to face them, switching from their Bf 109s to the
  sturdier Fw 190s.
  CAMPAIGNS AND ADVENTURES
  65
  
  Many other units will redeploy. The bulk of the
  German forces will move East and South, to attack
  Russia and bomb Malta; characters will have no say in
  this, of course, and it should be remembered that from
  now on, the beleaguered Luftwaffe will not be able to
  keep all Geschwader cohesive. Individual Gruppen
  will be sent here and there, and often redeployed.
  British pilots may be posted to the Western Desert Air
  Force (see p. W:AKM38).
  For more about the continuing air war, see also pp.
  W25, 162, W:AKM24, W:IC116.
  BATTLE OF
  BRITAIN VETERANS
  The personnel who fought for the English skies in
  1940 ended up sharing a sense of comradeship. This
  always happens among men who have fought on the
  same front, however, campaigns normally take more
  time to develop this kind of bond. The Battle of Britain
  was seen as a unique experience, on both sides.
  In the battle, the British people found a new spirit
  of unit and determination that lasted through the Blitz
  and throughout most of the war; it is only natural that
  they cherished “the Few” who had achieved that suc-
  cess for them. Fighter pilots enjoyed their popularity;
  many of the aces would have brilliant careers, and
  influence the way the RAF would fight the rest of the
  war thanks to the costly experience they had earned in
  the Battle of Britain. It was thanks to men like Malan
  (see p. 38) that effective tactics replaced the old hand-
  books. Bomber crews would always resent their role
  being underestimated, and they went on with their
  thankless, risky job of bringing destruction to the
  enemy.
  For the German aircrews, the Battle of Britain was
  an awakening. They had taken losses over Poland and
  France, but nothing like over England. For Germany as
  a whole, it was the first defeat, proof they weren’t
  invincible. Luftwaffe top officers, like Kesselring, tried
  to pass it off as something of a draw, caused by the fact
  that the time constraints had prevented them from win-
  ning. Others blamed Göring. But the pilots knew the
  truth, and for years to come, a standard, bitter joke
  among veterans was asking to see the other’s appen-
  dicitis scar. At the end of the offensive, with losses
  mounting and morale faltering (see p. 41), some of
  them had indeed stayed out of the fray for a few crucial
  days because of “health problems” such as appendici-
  tis. This did not prevent German pilots from going on
  with their own war, especially in the easier, target-rich
  environment of the Eastern Front.
  Both British and German characters should enter
  1941 with a sizable increase in their point value. Aces
  with 10 kills or more should invest points not only in
  skills, but also in a promotion (a higher Military Rank)
  and in a Reputation from medals. They might reason-
  ably be halfway between the Fighter Pilot template (see
  p. W83) and the Eastern Front Experte template (see p.
  W:IC48).
  CAMPAIGNS AND ADVENTURES
  66
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  REFERENCES
  REFERENCES
  67
  History Books
  Bekker, Cajus. The Luftwaffe War Diaries.
  The German Air Force in World War II (Macdonald,
  1967). Dated and biased, but useful for the Luftwaffe’s
  point of view.
  Bungay, Stephen. The Most Dangerous Enemy. A
  History of the Battle of Britain (Aurum Press, 2000).
  Probably the most complete, exhaustive, up-to-date
  account.
  Caldwell, Donald. The JG26 War Diary 1939-1942
  (Grub Street, 1996). Short on ambiance and war stories,
  but overflowing with hard data, military history, and
  photos.
  Collier, Richard. Eagle Day. The Battle of Britain,
  August 6 – September 15, 1940 (1968). The classic
  story, brimming with atmosphere, personal accounts
  and anecdotes.
  Cormack, Andrew and Volstad, Ron. The Royal Air
  Force 1939-45 (Osprey, 1990). The main source for
  British uniforms, personal gear and equipment;
  includes details on the WAAF.
  Deighton, Len. Fighter. The True Story of the Bat-
  tle of Britain (Jonathan Cape, 1977). Inaccurate in a
  few details, but goes a long way in showing the rela-
  tionships between men and machines, careful planning
  and wishful thinking.
  Price, Alfred. Spitfire Aces 1939-41 (Osprey,
  1996). The iconic fighter and its best pilots.
  Price, Alfred. The Hardest Day (Arms & Armour
  Press, 1988). Painstakingly details all the events, raids
  and fights of one day, August 18, 1940.
  Price, Alfred and Pavlovic, Darko. Britain’s Air
  Defences 1939-45 (Osprey, 2004). A recent and agile
  treatment of the defense system, with plenty of photos
  and technical details.
  Stedman, Robert and Chappell, Mike. Luftwaffe
  Air & Ground Crew 1939-45 (Osprey, 2002). The Luft-
  waffe’s flight suits, equipment and uniforms, but also
  organizational data.
  Vasco, John. Bombsights over England (JAC Pub-
  lications, 1990). The history of Erprobungsgruppe 210.
  Wood, Derek and Dempster, Derek. The Narrow
  Margin. The Battle of Britain and the Rise of Air Power,
  1930-1940 (Arrow Books, revised edition 1969). The
  margin was not narrow as far as victory goes, but it was
  narrower than it was believed when this book was first
  published. It deals with the pre-war buildup and the
  actual losses.
  Memoirs
  Galland, Adolf. The First and the Last (Bantam,
  1978). Highly opinionated, but it provides invaluable
  insights and it’s a good read.
  Townsend, Peter. Time and Chance (Methuen,
  1978). Very useful for the atmosphere and mindset
  information, though it perpetuates some myths.
  Film
  The Battle of Britain (MGM/UA Studios, 1969). A
  classic movie using the mosaic-of-stories approach, it
  stars Michael Caine, Curt Jurgens, but most important-
  ly many original aircraft and impressive air scenes.
  Internet
  The Royal Air Force – History Section provides
  exhaustive information on the history of the RAF, and
  it also includes the following as a sub-section. Available
  at: www.raf.mod.uk/history/index.html.
  The Battle of Britain is the RAF’s official 
  history of the campaign. Information about the
  squadrons, the aircraft, the airfields. It includes 
  data about the opposition, too. Available at
  www.raf.mod.uk/bob1940/bobhome.html.
  The Luftwaffe 1939-1945 is a non-official site
  detailing the German Air Force’s organization, orders
  of battle, and unit histories. Available at www.ww2.dk.
  The Battle of Britain 1940 is the site of the Battle of
  Britain Historical Society. It contains extensive quotes
  from original documents. Available at www.battleof-
  britain.net/contents-index.html.
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/GURPS Classic/SETTING/WWII/WWII - Their Finest Hour.pdf