the Spring Offensive - the Race for Ace above Flanders Fields

 

To prepare for the Memorial Day holiday here in the United States, it's time to get out our collection of clothes pin WWI airplanes. We are using the excellent rules by Matt Fritz, which are simple and easy to expand, as you desire.

   

 Hauptmann Krebs flying a borrowed Fokker Triplane engages Capitano Frank

 The dance begins

             

              The Italian pilot gets a critical hit on the triplane's engine

 With limited maneuverability the Hauptmann is shot down, but walks away from the                                                                        crash

 Hauptmann Krebs gets his favorite candy cane striped Fokker Tri and goes hunting

                                                           for Capitano Frank

                                  Another dance begins 

 The Hauptmann pulls off an impressive Immelmann turn to shoot down his rival,                                                        who was killed in the crash

 Capitano Frank the younger brother flies an Ansaldo A.1 plotting revenge on the                                                                    Hauptmann

 After inflicting major damage on his opponent, Hauptmann Krebs signals the young                              Capitano offering an escape route off the board.

                   The Capitano declines the offer and is shot down and killed

                                                

                         

                         In Flanders Fields

                                           By John McCrae

                                            In Flanders fields the poppies blow

                                            Between the crosses, row on row,

                                            That mark our place; and in the sky

                                            The larks, still bravely singing, fly

                                            Scarce heard amid the guns below.

                                            We are the Dead. Short days ago

                                            We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

                                             Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

                                             In Flanders fields.

                                             Take up our quarrel with the foe:

                                             To you from failing hands we throw

                                             The torch; be yours to hold it high.

                                              If ye break faith with us who die

                                             We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

                                              In Flanders fields.