Tag: John Willson

Here’s a full synopsis of our epic most recent session, courtesy of one of the other players, and told from his airwoman’s point of view.  I’ll post his brief AP first, then the TV-trailer version, then the full synopsis.  Grab your popcorn, it’s a long one!

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We had an incredible, INCREDIBLE run of luck. Most of the first part of the session, we were rolling 12s, 13s, 14s and 15s on everything. Not only successes, better than maximum successes. Impossibly good luck, which did not last.

On the last mission, three sets of snake-eyes in a row. Even with the mission-pool points, there was nothing that could be done. The last mission in the 4th Duty Station, was a guaranteed advance, which also means it was very deadly. Three planes went out, none made it back. All airwomen were injured, and it seemed only 2 survived. Dasha & Gallia made it through “Behind Enemy Lines” but it won’t be a happy homecoming.

It’s not fun to lose a character, but the way Natty’s arc was going, a miraculous survival while losing Toma wouldn’t have worked for me. I don’t think she could get through that. In a way it fits, when she allows herself to love again, it is taken from her, and she can’t go through that sacrifice again.

War is a Stukka.

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30 Second TV Trailer-Teaser for the Episode:

Voiceover: “Previously,”

Clip: 1st Duty Station, Major Zubova, “Welcome to the 588th, you will be flying Night Bombing runs against the Germans.

Clip: Ashura, swinging her axe into a hog, “This war has taken my family, so I live for one thing, to kill Nazi Swine.”

Clip: Natty to Rasputin, “My wings are covered in ash and oil, but yours are covered in blood.”

Clip: 3rd Duty station, Sonya, “Yes, I will do that. I will do that too. I will do all of it, yes!”

So many planes crashing: Natty’s into the runway on the second Duty station, Rasputin’s into the field with the Germans driving up, Constantine on Fire, Natty’s plane flying into the church and exploding.

New scene: Dasha, hospitalized. 

New Scene: Sonya to Zubova, truth to power “You are the reason. You ask too much, to fly day and night with no sleep. this is your fault!”

New Scene: Angry Russian townsfolk, shouting in the streets 

New Scene: Two Naked girls, pole-dancing in close-quarters 

New Scene: Natty, approaching those girls 

New Scene: Toma, angrily to Natty, “I don’t take rejection well.” 

New Scene: Toma, standing in the pilot’s seat, flashing her breasts, daylight 

New Scene: Russian sailors, crowding on a deck, cheering, daylight 

New Scene: Toma firing a machinegun from the air at some German boats, daylight 

New Scene: Large emplacement guns, swinging and lowering to track fleeting shadows of planes, and firing. 

New Scene: Explosions, Explosions, Explosions, biplanes silhouetted.

New Scene: Promotion Ceremony with Sonya, Natty and Ashura. Zubova is applying a medal to Ashura “Outstanding Job”

Long Clip: Reflected image of the Modern Fighter, flying over dark water, moonlight reflections as it distorts over the ripples, with a Voiceover: “Night Witches. Don’t Miss.”

The Episode:

The mission briefing. Ashura is faced with an evil choice. The night’s run is to be a two pincer attack, with one plane flying over open water, requiring precision timing and expert navigation. Both Ashura and Sonya have issues flying over water. Dasha is still in the hospital, so C-section is a woman short. One plane will have to fly with a single crew-woman. Natty immediately volunteers, which upsets Toma who demands “Why don’t you want to fly with me anymore?” Is it because Natty enjoys sleeping with Mr. Caviar more? Ashura refuses to let Natty fly alone, Ashura is lead plan. Sonya and the Major’s girlfriend (Gallia) are 2nd plane, and Natty and Toma are Third plane. They get to the runway and take flight.

Their navigation is textbook. In fact, it’s better than textbook. Despite flying separately for hours on two different path’s (Natty’s, over water), both planes arrive within seconds of each other from opposite directions. Bombs are dropped, more bombs are dropped, Natty pushing her luck, taking Enemy fire and still coming out unscatched. Ashura is flying Constantine too low, and some of its canvass catches fire. All planes return, and land. At the debriefing, Ashura praises Natty & Sonya’s navigation skills, and their successes. Promotions and medals are in order.

There is an immediate, impromptu assembly. The Major Zubova praises Sonya, Natty and Ashura, for their expert navigation. Better than Textbook. So much better, the textbooks should be re-written. This is something they are assigned to do. The two girls accept the increased rank and the honour, then set about attempting to re-write the books. Natty is relying heavily on Sonya, as her navigation was more luck than skill.

However, Constantine needs to be repaired. Ashura is soon stymied, as there isn’t any canvass to replace what burned off. Dropping in on Sonya, this is communicated, and she goes looking for canvas and glue. The supply sergeant doesn’t have any canvass, and there is only paste, which will work fine “As long as it doesn’t get wet”. At that moment a seabreeze whips a spray of salt into her face. Dryness is difficult to come by in this cliff-top fishing village. Sonya wants “The Good Canvass, the Denim”, and proper glue. The Quartermaster agrees to supply the canvass if she can get the glue, because finding diamonds would be easier. Sonya uses the radio to call her son at the previous duty station, and makes arrangements for proper glue to be shipped in. Impressed and reluctant, he cuts enough bolts for her to help Ashura repair Constantine, then fluffs up the remainder and re-seals the box so it looks like none is missing.

Natty, meanwhile, is looking for Toma, who was remained upset and silent despite their successful run. She finds her, and suggest they take a walk along the cliffs. A romantic thing, where they can look at the ocean and listen to the birds. Perhaps some memory of the parade celebrating her as “The Merina of the Sea” is in Natasha’s mind, and she feels it will be an appropriate, private place to talk. Toma opens up to her, “I ran away from my family, because they didn’t want me to marry Yakov. We went to St. Petersburg. I left everything. I had no friends. My friends, were his friends. We worked, hard. He drank. One night, he doesn’t come home, then in the morning he is there, with his new slut. He tells me, ‘Get out! You Nag! We are not married.’ Then I am alone, with no one. No Family. No Friends. I do not take reject well! I don’t like when you don’t want to be with me.”

Natty leans in, “Toma, In Chelyabinsk, my families factories were taken by the people. So, I came to this war following my love, Vladimir. On the first day, my flight training day, he is killed in an accident that I cause. So I build a plane and name it after him, so he will be around me when I fly, and Ashura renames it Constantine and takes it. I never fly Vladimir. I get the shiny modern fighter, a thing I am so proud of, from the men, and then I lose it because Nasty is a Rasputin and tests her luck like that man did. Everything I love, everything I want, is taken from me. I am afraid to feel for you, because then you will be taken too.”

They lean together, and other things like “I will never leave you” go unsaid but understood as they watch the waves and seagulls soaring.

Returning to the Aerodrome they are told there is a daylight mission. There are Russian barges, lost at sea in the fog, which need to be found and resupplied. All of C-section volunteers, even though Constantine is barely repaired and they are starved for sleep. They take off, and search. Again, it is textbook flying and navigation. The Barges are located, the flying is so precise that Ashura practically places the basket of supplies on the deck, by hand. The Night Witches circle, drop radios and communicate with the crew regarding parts they need. A specific gasket-head from Naval Supply. Natty and Toma retrieve it, and on the return dive at German ships and machinegun them to chase them off, before angling to the Russian barge and ‘bomb’ the parts to them with the gentleness of a stork making a delivery. By now, the decks are full of Seamen who have heard of the fantastic female pilots and their skills. Buoyed by an audience, Toma stands and flashes her chest at them, to loud cheers.

Sonya, who has located her last son, flies close, “I love you Son! You make me proud!” Both embarrassing and encouraging him.

Upon their return, the Night Witches could sleep or do other things. Ashura goes into town, where she discovers a large mob has assembled, and they are angry. They have good reason. They are angry that the Night Witches have taken their main street, set their church on fire by crashing into it, disrupt their days and nights by flying all the time. They are led by Mr. Caviar-Breath, who is agitating the worst, obvlious or unconcerned that the Politruk is stand in a doorway, fists on her hips, staring at him. Ashura, attempts reason, “We take your town so we can save your sons. They are on the barges, we keep them safe. Do you think the Germans would care about your town? They will take if for theirs. Do you think Gobbels cares what you think?”

Mr. Caviar-Breath, “They might take our town, they might kill us, but not even Gobbels would take my house and turn me out. Not like SHE does!” He points at the Politruk, “You ask too much.”

Ashura sizes up the situation, and leans in. Quietly she says to him, “She is much better looking than Gobbels. Perhaps, you could share. We are Russian, we share, and she would share a bed much more pleasantly than that Nazi swine. I hear she likes Caviar, perhaps this is an opportunity you did not think about.”

Mr. Caviar Breath thinks about the opportunity. He is suddenly much more positive about the Russian military presence in their town, “Yes, we are Russian, we will work it out.” Smiling, he approaches the politruk and hints that there are things in the house she may not have seen, his basement stores in particular, and he would like to show them to her. Intrigued, she accepts, and the situation is diffused.

Meanwhile, Natty is looking for trouble. Specifically, she is looking for someone that she can sacrifice to the Politruk’s demands for “Lesbians” or use as proof that pilots are flying drunk. Obviously, she’s not going to volunteer for the latter. Coming up to the Quartermaster’s supply, she discovers he has company. There are two new girls, giving him a peek and wiggle show, stripping down and pole-dancing. Nearby, a creaky phonograph plays scratchy tunes that punctuate their movements. Natty stares at the lantern-lit show, as the girls beg for sugar, and when the Quatermaster agrees, they ask for Vanilla Extract. He laughs, “You might as well ask for liquid gold. I do not have that! What do you want it for?”

In pleading explanations, the girls explain that they are new, and want to back B-Section a cake so the veterans will accept them. Natty, is now conflicted. Those girls and the quartermaster have conspired to steal sugar from the Commissar, but for a good cause. Natty wanders the camp, soliciting rumours. From what she can determine, they are good girls, desperate girls, and not a cynical scavenger like she is. B-company would benefit, giving them up to the Politruk, would not help.

Frustrated, Natty goes to town. She sees the aftermath of the riotious assembly but doesn’t understand the significance. Recalling that Vanilla extract has some medicinal properties, she goes to the apothecary with the intention of creating some excuse of a need by Medical Officer Labrova. She need not have bothered. She literally enters the Apothecary’s shop as the apothecary is telling a customer, “Just a minute while I dump this out, The extract has expired and I will put your medicine in its bottle.”

“I have a bottle,” Natty drains the last of her Vodka, “I will take that extract.”

She does, and hunts down the two strippers. Approaching them, she hands them the bottle of Vanilla. “This is for your cake.” They stare at her dumbounded, She knows about the Cake! How does she know? Where did she get it? Who is she? What does she want, “When you make your cake, make me a small one.”

“That’s… all?” 

“Yes, make me a small cake.”

They stare as she leaves. Tired, Natty hears the call for the mission briefing. She is exhausted, she goes. The major explains. They are attacking Kursk. This is a mission that could turn the war. The Army is preparing to attack, and take it, and German armory needs to be destroyed. This will be a difficult mission, as there are gun emplacements on the hills overlooking the city and the approach through the valley, and they have been modified to fire below horizontal. They are expecting the Night Witches, and it will be like shooting fish in a barrel.

The planes will be overloaded with ordinance. This is a hard target that will require several successful bombing runs. They take off, they fly to Kursk. Dasha has recovered enough she can fly. C-section has enough planes, but Nastya Rasputin is still being interrogated by the NKVD. So, Galia comes along again. It will be Ashura and Sonya. Galia and Dasha, and Natty and Toma. The Night Witches take flight.

Once again, their navigation is perfect. The Night Witches approach on the correct vector, on time. Unfortunately, the Germans are ready for them. They have the advantage, shooting down into the narrow valley that must be used for the bombing run. The first plane, Ashura’s, effectively evades the anti-aircraft fire and drops the ordinance. Huge explosions light up the night sky, the PT-01 silhouetted against them.

Gallia and Dasha are next, flying the constrained valley. They are barely kissed by bullets yet their plane goes down. A grazing shot, barely enough to rip the canvas shell, exposes and exploits a repair done badly. The whole tail assembly of the plane falls off, and the Night Witches are forced down into the streets and the close-quarters fighting. They land hard, the plane a loss, but not so injured they can’t scramble free, pistols in hand, fates unknown.

Natty stretches forward in her seat, leaning to kiss Toma on the back of the head, “One little run and we can go home, and I have a surprise for you.”

The third lit is the unlucky one. In World War 1, this superstition was created, and sustained. A lit match draws the attention of the sniper by the first cigarette. By the second, he has gotten his scope to his eye and his range adjustments. As the match is held to the third cigarette, he fires, and a man dies.

Natty and Toma are the third plane into the valley. The hill guns have a bead and know the track they will follow. They fire. Bullets rip through the plane, tearing through fabric and flesh. Already exhuasted, the airwomen are injured. It’s a miracle of will that the bombs drop, on target, and hit hard. Natty is passing in and out of consciousness as she pulls up. In the pilot’s seat ahead of her, she can see Toma, flying. Toma, will get them home. Toma will follow Ashura’s plane. Toma, is dead.

The two damaged planes bank for home. They have lost one already, how will that be explained. Ashura and Sonya lead, Natty follows, forcing herself to stay conscious. She will not abandon her lover, she will not slip into the dark. The return flight is cold, quiet, still, broken only by the drone of their engines.

Constantine comes in to land, and all the abuse, damage, and distress catches up. It is a hard landing. It is a bad landing. The biplane crashes into the street, exploding into a ball of flame. Sonya, is trapped in the wreckage. Ashura, Babba Hatchette, in a fury of desperation dives into the firery wreckage, ignoring the searing of her flesh, to pull her navigator free. Sonya, survives. Constantine, is destroyed.

On that long flight back, Natty, Natasha Rapina-Perova, slips into dream. The sound of her plane’s engine fades and swells. Not, because there is a mechanical issue, but due to her passing out. Moments of unconsciousness where she can’t hear the engine, followed by a flurry of bewilderment that she is still flying. A quick focus and re-adjustment to drag the controls so she can tail Constantine. “We’re going home, Toma.” Toma, never responds.

It is on this return from sleep that Natty sees Constantine, in flames, lighting up the town’s main street. She is angled to fly into the wreckage, deviating, she would fly into the houses of the hamlet. Keeping her path and pulling up, she would fly into the Church. Again. No. She will not do that a second time! She is the Merina, she can land by the sea cliffs. Squeezing her hands on the yoke, pulling to bank, her Biplane screams by the church and banks towards the barren cliff-side. The rocky roost of seagulls which she will use as her runway. In the light cast by Constantine’s holocaust, she sees that Toma is dead.

Natty’s biplane turns, descending to land. Ashura can see the nose is up as it sinks, trying for a wheels down. Somehow, the plane misses. It passes from sight, sinking below the edge of the cliff and flying into the light. Natty’s last moments are filled with the sound of the sea, the gulls, and her engine, and then the Merina slips beneath the waves, returning to the water with her lover. Together, forever.

The wreckage and their bodies are never found.

Sonya, regains consciousness. She storms into Major Zubova’s office, “You did this! Your demands! Flying day and night! You killed them! They’re dead, they’re all dead because of you.”

The major takes it like a stone wall, and says nothing.

Dasha, returns in the morning. Gallia, does not return for several suspicious days.

“One more thing,” said Major Roskova, as the weary ladies rose to leave the debriefing.  The airwomen of the 288th suppressed groans.  They had spent the night bombing their own airfield, fending off attacking German ground forces.  “Orders from Central Command.  We are to paint red crosses on our medical and barracks tents.  I want this done today, C-Section.”

“We used up all the red paint on the patriotic mural that YOU had us compose for Lt. General Miroshnichenko’s visit,” said Shura.  And you left us to find paint anywhere we could, she didn’t say out loud.

“Our supply registry shows 24 litres of red paint in stock.”

“It’s not… really…”

“Are you telling me that there is a problem with our quartermaster’s record-keeping?”

“No, Major.”

“Get it done.  Dismissed.”

————–

Outside in the light of sunrise, Shura divided up her section.  “Sonya, get to bed, you need to rest before you die of Communist zeal.  Toma…”  Toma was already sleep-walking to the barracks, ahead of Sonya.  Shura ignored the insult this time.  “Anastasia and I will be repairing planes.  Natty, take Liza, paint the crosses.”

“With what paint?  We all know know that the “red paint” in the quartermaster’s store is mostly used motor oil.  It’ll never dry, the red crosses will be drippy brown blotches!”

“Do you know why most barns are red?  The paint is made of two common ingredients: white-wash and rust.”

“Rust we have in abundance.  I’ll see if I can scrounge some white paint.”

“Good girl.  But don’t be at it all day.  You need your sleep, too.”

—————

In the supply tent, Natty got into it with the quartermaster, and then her player rolled snake-eyes on the scrounge move.  The quartermaster was livid.  “I told you your stunt with the red paint would come back to bite me, and now it has!  You’re going to get me thrown in the gulag!  I have no white paint!  Don’t ask me for any more favours!”  He stormed out.

Natty stood in the store, racking her brain for options.  Oily red paint.  The blood congealing in the bodies of the German soldiers outside.  Anything else?  Anything?

[I moved the spotlight to someone else while Natty decided what to do next.  When I came back to her…]

Natty grabbed a screwdriver and went into a frenzy, puncturing holes in all the cans of doctored red paint.  The diluted mess ran out all over the stockroom floor.

[We were all stunned.]

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That evening, as the airwomen gathered for mission briefing:

Major Roskova: “I don’t see any new red crosses on the people’s tents.”

Natty: “Major, I’m sorry to report that, during the Germans’ attack yesterday, all of the red paint was shot by enemy gunfire.”

.

A favourite moment from last night’s game of Night Witches.

Anastasia watched the liaison’s P-02 until it cleared the tree line — to her great relief — and disappeared from view.  C-Section, short a bomber, had borrowed the plane for the previous night’s sorties.  It had taken AA fire, and this morning Anastasia had been unable to fix the damage, only cover it up.  She hadn’t been sure until now that it would even take off.  And now she had nothing to fly tonight.

Later, at sunset that day, the visiting Lt. General posed for a photo-op in front of one of the 586th’s gleaming fighters.  The Night Witches’ bi-planes took off in the distance.  As the photographer set up his camera, the fighter unexpectedly roared to life.  The Lt. General jumped away, and turned in time to see Anastasia smile and wave from the cockpit. The fighter throttled up and rolled towards the runway.

As the plane receded, an army truck approached from the access road.  The muddy tail section of a P-02 hung out the back.  The Lt. General’s liaison was in the truck’s passenger seat.

A favourite moment from last night’s game of Night Witches.