Nice moments in CMBB...

[Guest Sgt. Emren]

The Eastern Front, July 1941.

Dear Mom and Dad:

My nice friend Helmuth managed to capture me on camera while our unit were defending [edited by Das Heer], near the outskirts of [edited by Das Heer]. I assure you that I am well. Our Company commander tell us that the war against the evil Communists is almost won, and that we will be home by Christmas.

Love,

Fritz

--------------------------------------------------

Go ahead, show us your favourite postcard from the war...

[murpes]

I don't think I've ever seen a flamethrower alive before outside of turn 1. This is like a picture of Big Foot.

[MrNoobie]

I don't think I've ever seen a flamethrower alive before outside of turn 1. This is like a picture of Big Foot.

hahah so true

[Guest Sgt. Emren]

Getting a Flamethrower to kill anything, let alone TWO vehicles in one splosh is certainly a moment to remember!!!

[Maxx]

Hahahahahaha!

[Dmeek]

I was assaulting a fortified position from a CD scenario. After protecting my flamethrower like the queen bee and carefully plotting every move to make sure the crew and their precious cargo was safe, I was within 20 meters of a cement pillbox, ready, for the 1st time in my life, to actually use a flamethrower against something other than an empty wheatfield.

And then time ran out.

That sucked.

[blazethedog]

Same here when assaulting. I actually managed to leapfrog 3 teams from one crater to the next over a period of 15 turns, only moving them a short distance each time and being sure they were covered well. Finally made it into the woods with them in a QB at turn 32 of 40, right near the objective, and the AI called a ceasefire due to low morale. They work a heck of a lot better on defence but are practically worthless on offence.

[Tigrii]

Two things: one, the amazingly survivng FT had a yellow line, a casualty, and was shaken. 2: Imagine a FT-armed plane. :eek:

[Guest Sgt. Emren]

Yeah, I took a little artistic liberty with that postcard. The FT never survived this movie. But it DID cause two vehicles to brew up...

[OGF Keller]

I finished playing The Library -- AI out of the SP pack last night and, yes, Virginia, it is possible to keep the FTs alive long enough to do some damage. One of my German FTs snuck through the defilade side of the rubble from a Russian squad with their heads down, suppressed by a 2nd floor HMG. Target on the next turn, move to contact across the rubble, and WHOOOOOSH!!! fried Ivan.

I only won a draw, but that moment was truly worth it.

[Silvio Manuel]

Originally posted by Tigrii:

Two things: one, the amazingly survivng FT had a yellow line, a casualty, and was shaken. 2: Imagine a FT-armed plane. :eek:

Supposedly the IL-2 Shturmovik's actually had a weapon that dumped several canister of gasoline (or something similar) along w/ phosphorus so that it would ignite on contact (with the air? ground?). Too bad it ain't modeled...it would look really cool.

[Partisan Chief.]

I actually have used FTs with success in the assualt. A morning at the zoo and Hill 312 come to mind. My FT at Hill 312 deserved a medal, because he fried half the Russian defensive positions, and drove the Russkis out of the trenches to be cut down by my MGs. That was a nice moment.

Still, they're hard to use, no arguement there.

[Lumbergh]

Originally posted by OGF Keller:

I finished playing The Library -- AI out of the SP pack last night and, yes, Virginia, it is possible to keep the FTs alive long enough to do some damage. One of my German FTs snuck through the defilade side of the rubble from a Russian squad with their heads down, suppressed by a 2nd floor HMG. Target on the next turn, move to contact across the rubble, and WHOOOOOSH!!! fried Ivan.

I only won a draw, but that moment was truly worth it.

That's funny, cause in another SP battle, the german flamethrower attempted to shoot at my guys standing in the rubble with him, and REALLY MISSED. By REALLY MISSED I mean he put 2 squirts through the windows of the heavy building next to him, which was of course filled with a hmg34 and a couple of german squads. Not for long though.

[Nippy]

Supposedly the IL-2 Shturmovik's actually had a weapon that dumped several canister of gasoline (or something similar) along w/ phosphorus so that it would ignite on contact (with the air? ground?). Too bad it ain't modeled...it would look really cool.

VAP-250 from Il2-Sturmovik. I like the cluster bombs better though

[ December 02, 2002, 06:39 PM: Message edited by: Nippy ]

[Silvio Manuel]

Thanks for the pic!

THAT is what an IL-2 looks like? I was expecting something more... bomber-like- larger or more intimidating. I guess it's "just" an F/B and not a heavy bomber, though.

[ December 02, 2002, 06:56 PM: Message edited by: Silvio Manuel ]

[Lumbergh]

Originally posted by Silvio Manuel:

Thanks for the pic!

THAT is what an IL-2 looks like? I was expecting something more... bomber-like- larger or more intimidating. I guess it's "just" an F/B and not a heavy bomber, though.

Do take note of the large cannon pods sticking out from each wing. I would find them highly intimidating, if I were a german.

[gatpr]

I was attacking some Italian infantry with an smg squad. they found some engineer types with a FT it was ugly.

[General Panic]

Originally posted by Silvio Manuel:

THAT is what an IL-2 looks like? I was expecting something more... bomber-like- larger or more intimidating. I guess it's "just" an F/B and not a heavy bomber, though.

What made the IL-2 "intimidating" is the amount of Fascist metal it turned into scrap.

[Nippy]

Originally posted by Lumbergh:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Silvio Manuel:

Thanks for the pic!

THAT is what an IL-2 looks like? I was expecting something more... bomber-like- larger or more intimidating. I guess it's "just" an F/B and not a heavy bomber, though.

Do take note of the large cannon pods sticking out from each wing. I would find them highly intimidating, if I were a german.</font>

[jdmorse]

My greatest FT adventurewas in CMMC, a bat size scenario. The British are hold up in a place called Chateau Villettes, in the upper left of this pic I had manuverd FT up near one wall and angeled the flame so the defenders could not get a bead on my unit. Burned them out and set the place ablaze

.

The battle was the inspiration for this bit of literature written by my opponent

Based on recent events at Villettes, apx. 0230 hours 17Aug44. Dedicated to J. Bailey, CMMC Guru.

*************

 

They had about thirty minutes. Thirty minutes to reflect back on their individual and collective lives. Thirty minutes to count their achievements, to number their regrets. Thirty minutes to wonder aloud the quick notes to family, best pals, wives, and girlfriends; to wonder because they would never be written.

 

They had about thirty minutes left to live.

 

Over 100 years ago Chateau Villettes was built as a testament to the Napoleonic Era. But now the images associated with the French Revolution were overshadowed by the reality of the Third Reich outside these second story windows. SS soldiers approached from the darkness, silently advancing onto the sweeping grounds and manicured lawns of the mansion. The rumble of several enemy halftracks had become all too familiar over the last hour, and two Panzer Vs crept forward seeking, waiting for the right targets of opportunity.

 

Captain "Fizzy" Fitzpatrick surveyed the two score around him, nearly a platoon of men in size, but in actuality a ragtag bunch of heroes joined by fate. Less than half the soldiers were lads from his own company. A half-dozen artillerymen squatted about, peeking through windows and whispering coordinates. A prayer mumbled between "Fire for Effect" echoed off the large chamber, perhaps a dance hall in happier times. A handful of crewmembers from both a Cromwell and Churchill attempted to seek refuge in this building not an hour earlier. Little did they know Chateau Villettes would be along the Germans main axis of advance-nearly 100 Gerry and several armoured units bearing down from the east. The Captain looked further around the room and sighted one of his own squads. He knew some of the boys by name. James, who had become a fine soldier, liked to play Pinochle, didn't he? Then he saw another team of his boys, those that had lost half their squad to reconnaissance seemingly just moments (or was it hours?) before. A Lieutenant whom he did not know, steel-blue eyes piercing even in this dim light, spoke to three wounded who struggled to right their weapons out any portal that could be found. They must have been from the company overrun in Feuguerolle before midnight. Fizzy would never hear this officer's name, nor speak one word to him, but a knowing glance and a nod sent the blue-eyed Lieutenant and his staff of three to the western corridors of the chateau. They would act as both a lookout and a woefully inadequate defense when, not if, the Germans surrounded the building. Fizzy glanced at his own men, his personal entourage, most who had been with him since Operation Overlord. Even in this hell of a war their had been moments of laughter, of near friendship. He was the OIC, true, but the unspoken respect his team had for one another transcended command, transcended words. He struggled to fight the water rising in his eyes, and did so successfully. He'd lead proudly to the end, as he always had.

 

Fitzpatrick then confirmed he had his brand new platoon in position. His wife would laugh at his self-imposed "demotion," but these were now his lads and his responsibility. The lack of training as a unit, as a blood-sweat-and-tears team, would have to be compensated for. He wondered aloud what that tanker by the fireplace would do with only a pistol. He certainly didn't have the firepower, but his posture and defiant gaze showed the will. Fizzy was satisfied. He could fight here, in this house, for the few precious moments that might help the rest of his company buy dawn and the coming RAF. He spoke just once to the group, a short speech that he knew would be his last. "Lads, most of us won't get out of here, don't you know. But every moment we have left, let's not squander it. Our boys, and those tankers outside these northern windows, are relying on each one of us to hold Gerry up for as long as possible. You don't need to be a General riding a desk to know the strategic significance of this ground we hold. The entire 43rd Division could be relying on just the few of us, so let's play it that way boys, shall we? What say you we give them a bloody good show?" Knowing nods appeared all around the room, knowing what, he was uncertain. Did they understand the importance of this final mission or did they only understand that this mission would be their last? Regardless, he was proud, damn proud of all of them.

 

Then it began, the staccato ripping of a heavy MG42- no, two MG42's- and the all too familiar sounds of bullets finding brick, mortar and flesh. A supporting SS squad had crawled from the forest and opened up less than forty meters away. Fitzpatrick's squad returned fire, but even his ten men did not have the tremendous up-close firepower of the eight Krauts crouched among the tree trunks. A quick glance to his left showed a lone Churchill VI in the rear yard of the Chateau moving to engage the machine gun emplacements. Fizzy clicked his flashlight on once and got the commander's attention. In the light beam he gave the hand signals "2" then "P." He was acknowledged with only a salute. The CO apparently knew there were two Panthers nearby, knew his iron steed was no match for one, let alone two cats, but he moved forward nonetheless, buttoning up as the hull and coaxial machine guns roared to life and a column of fire spit from the '75. A geyser of dirt erupted near the adjoining MG emplacements, and the enemy scrambled to find cover from the steel behemoth.

 

Behind him, to the west, he heard the crack of small arms fire, then more machine guns, then finally the sickening woosh as if the furnace doors of Hell itself had been opened. A flamethrower unit had maneuvered into position and set the house alight. The living quarters were apparently going up quickly and he doubted the brave blue-eyed Lieutenant would survive.

 

Mere moments passed, blurring together where seconds seemed like hours, minutes like eons. Then just the images seemed to remain as a war raged on around Captain "Fizzy" Fitzpatrick. His rifle fired in apparent sync with the thundering gun of the Churchill whose targets were so numerous the turret swung from left to right like a metronome. A picture of James with a hole in his neck that he could have put his fist through; James who would never pick up a deck of cards again. The distinct whistle of artillery shells landing much too close, called down by his no-name artillerymen still huddled in darkened corners. He didn't remember deciding, but next he was headed down stairs to rally some boys who had just had too much. As he passed a first floor window he saw the barrel of a German tank breach the backside corner of the chateau, the muzzle like an all-consuming maw rotating toward the Churchill's rear. The sound of grinding gears and lurching tank was heard, but Fizzy needn't stay to see the results, only one hundred meters separated the two foes, and a Panther pounces quickly. He wished he could have thanked the tanker crew, but understood they somehow knew, they knew just like his boys.

 

More moments, the sights and sounds of war, and as each moment passed and as each man fell and died, a hero was born. Fizzy took a bullet to the side and went down, his vision and hearing blurred and became one. He saw the voices of nearby Germans barking orders, heard the sun racing toward the horizon, and accepted that soon he would be like the wind, holding aloft his RAF brethren who would stop these evil men and their machines with the coming morn.

 

Thirty minutes is all he asked, just thirty minutes of Purpose. Thirty minutes is what was earned. And in those few moments, as the personal reflections of dying men faded like stars in the approaching dawn, their hopes thoughts and dreams scattered to join the winds. But dreams, like heroes, never die.

 

Fizzy saw the wind, he heard the sun, but most importantly he knew, just knew, the men of Chateau Villettes had made a difference.

[Guest Mike]

The IL-2 WAS a big aeroplane for its time - it spanned 47 feet and was 38 feet long.

compared to:

F4U Corsair at 40 ft span and 33 ft long,

Stuka - span 45 ft, 36 ft long

Hs 129 (twin engined) span 46 ft, 31 ft long

Spitfire VA 36 ft span, 29 ft long

P-51 Mustang 37 ft span 32 ft long

[Major Jerkov]

LoL JDMorse, that guy was sure attached to his virtual troops.. What an imagination.

[Engel]

One thing that makes flamethrowers so hard to use is imho borg spotting, it's very hard to get close enough to potential targets when you are so easily detected. Also, if the game had Einstossflammenwerfer, they might be more useful even if they were fire-and-discard -type weapons.

[Guest Sgt. Emren]

Come on, don't anyone else have any funny screenshots!?

[Tigrii]

I have a good Flammpanzer vs. Bunker MG screenshot, but since I have no clue how to post it, it isn't avaliable (see my post: Screenshot help (2))