Battle of the Channel video - Masters of the Channel

[=IRFC=kotori87]

Huge shoutout to No.23_Farmer who made this video. It was collected from the 3-week-long Battle of the Channel 1918 multiplayer campaign, hosted by No.10/J18 Squadron. The event was an absolutely stunning experience. The video above captures only a few highlights from the event. Hopefully we will get to play again soon.

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It starts early in the morning. I wake to my alarm, and practically leap out of bed. Today is the big day. The Germans are crossing the English Channel! It's a special multiplayer event that has been planned for months, and it's finally here. After a quick breakfast of a bagel sandwich and hot cocoa, I log on to Discord. Other pilots are stumbling in and chatting. Soon, GenMarkof calls the briefing room to order. The scenario for today's event is bleak - the 1918 German Spring Offensive was a stunning success, capturing vast swathes of territory in northern France. This puts German fighters within range of Dover and other major cities in the south of England. Bomber raids, previously unescorted and vulnerable, will now be accompanied by fighter escorts, and will attack during the day to improve their navigation and accuracy. Our own Royal Flying Corps will be outnumbered roughly two-to-one, because not enough players signed up for the British side. Understandable, flying the big twin-engine bombers in big formation raids is a lot of fun.

Before I know it, the briefing is over, the server is up, and I'm typing in the server password.  I run through a quick systems check while the mission loads. VR goggles are running fine, audio check is SAT, and discord communications are working fine. My computer is humming along quietly, my bladder is empty, and I've got water and a few candies in easy reach. I select my plane. It's a Sopwith Snipe out of Hawkinge Airfield. Today I am flying with my brother Gascan. Our task is to get above the bomber stream, and above their escorting fighters as well. Our planes are well-suited for the task: their 230HP rotary engines provide outstanding climb performance, and lose little power at altitude. Of course, nothing comes free. The enormous engine rotates around the crankshaft, so it has a massive gyroscopic effect when turning or changing throttle. All this flashes through my head as I prepare my machine, load it with fuel, and select my classic Imperial Royal Flying Corps paint scheme.

My heart is pounding already, and I haven't even started my engine. There is a 15-minute wait at the beginning of the mission so everyone can connect to the server. As they spawn in, the airfield becomes busy. Sopwith Camels, SE5a's, and two-seat Bristol Fighters crowd the flight line, and the distinct crackling sputter of engines warming up rises all around me. I've been flying for years, and I know my controls are perfectly set for my flying style. But just to calm my nerves, I do a control check. I throw my flight stick left and right, and watch the ailerons respond. Then it's forward and back on the stick as the elevator goes up and down. I throw my rudder pedals left and right, and watch the great fin behind me sway back and forth. It didn't help, I'm still nervous. The clock ticks down slowly... slowly... and then it's here. A bright green flare shoots across the field, marking the official start of the mission. At the same time, sirens start blaring and nearby flak guns open up. There's already a Gotha bomber approaching the airfield!
Gascan and I nod to each other and firewall our throttles. Our previously purring engines snarl with rage. I have to stomp on the rudder to keep my plane straight as the engine's enormous torque tries to spin me into my brother's plane. Then my tail is up, and a second or two later my main wheels are clear of the grassy earth as well. We roar up into the sky at our best climb speed, more than 80 miles per hour.

*****

We reach our patrol altitude quickly, then ease back the throttle to conserve fuel. Gascan and I slowly cruise back and forth across our assigned sector of the Channel, keeping a sharp lookout for German bombers. It takes a while for heavy bombers to climb up to altitude, so nobody is expecting any action for the first 30 minutes. By 40 minutes, everyone is getting concerned. Surely we would see them by now. Is that a speck on the horizon? I look closer, but realize it's just a speck on my VR goggles. I clean it off and look again. Nothing. 45 minutes, and still nothing. Where are they?
*****
Contact! Possibly. Someone thinks they saw something on the far side of the Channel. They aren't sure, but call it out in the team-chat anyway. Now the team commander has to decide. Do we start converging on the contact report? Is it a diversion? A mistake? If he's wrong, it could cost us the entire mission. A dozen pilots wait with bated breath for the order. After probably 30 agonizing seconds, the decision is made. GO! Gascan and I wheel our planes around to the rendezvous point. I glance at the fuel sight glass. Right in the middle, we've got plenty to burn. I waggle my wings at Gascan, then throttle up to full power.

*****

Tally on the contact. It's at ten o'clock, very distant. Initially it is just a glint of sun reflecting off a wing. As we close in, things start to become more clear. There's a central group, around which other smaller specks swirl and dive. That has to be their main attack, there's so many of them. Other British fighters come into view as well. A four-plane flight of Camels heads towards the German formation at the same level. A flight of SE5a race in from the other side. Bristol Fighters climb as hard as they can to reach the formation from below. Our engines roar, the minutes tick away, and a truly incredible number of planes converge over the white cliffs of Dover. The German formation slowly becomes more clear. A half-dozen two-engine Gotha heavy bombers, almost a hundred feet across, with two swept-back decks of wings trussed together with wires and struts, cruise in a distinct box formation. Above and behind them, several groups of Fokker D.VII fighters cruise, waiting to dive in to protect the lumbering behemoths below. But they've made a critical mistake. Gascan and I are approaching from the front and the side, and they won't be able to intercept us before we attack the Gothas. A few of them turn towards us, but it is too late. We roll in on the bomber formation and DIVE.

Attacking a bomber formation is a terrifying thought. The bombers bristle with machine guns, and they densely pack their formations to maximize the firepower on incoming planes. Staying close to the bombers is suicide, so your only hope is speed. As I push the stick forward, my Sopwith Snipe responds eagerly to my command. The engine revs higher as the plane accelerates, going from 1200 RPM up to over 1500 RPM. Faster, faster! I need to DIVE! The sound of the engine seems to fade as a new sound takes over. Wind howls around my open cockpit, and the carefully tensioned flying wires sing as I dive almost 5,000 feet at 40 degrees down. Faster, faster still! There are Fokkers diving after me, but thoughts of pursuit fade. Focus! I'll only get one chance this good, I've got to make it count. The defensive gunners swivel around, and tracers reach out towards me. Never mind that, I'm committed. The rest of the formation fades from view as I settle my Aldis gun-sight fills with a view of the #2 bomber. I focus in on the starboard engine and squeeze the triggers. Twin boosted Vickers machine guns spit fury, and the engine bursts into flame. I rake my fire across the fuselage for a moment or two, and then I zoom past, extending away from the rapidly disintegrating plane behind me. I glance back to see Gascan pulling away as well. In just a few seconds we are over a kilometer beyond the bomber stream, so I pull up into a zoom climb to convert our incredible speed back into altitude. We pull around for a second pass. We're now at the same altitude as the bombers, but other British fighters are attacking as well and we're coming in from almost directly ahead. My twin boosted vickers rattle again as we zoom through the formation. This time, I hear a thwack-thwack-thwack as German bullets smack into my wing. Several frames are damaged and a flying wire is cut. We pull away from the formation again, followed by a Fokker escort. By the time we've sent the Fokker down in flames, the main formation is far ahead. What's left of it, anyway. Only two heavy bombers remain, and a Bristol two-seat fighter has taken station underneath them. Its twin Lewis gun turrets fire up into the bellies of the behemoths and, with no surviving escorts to help, the last two giants fall.

Gascan and I turn towards Hawkinge Airfield. We both need ammunition and petrol, and I need some repairs. Our first sortie for the day is soon done, but there's plenty of time left in the mission. The Germans will be back.