Burning Sands- Paran Air Force AAR

[warbie]

After being a fan of SF2 series for a very long time, i decided to do an AAR on one of my campaign playthroughs here.

The requisites are; 

Desert4+ map

1959 - Operation Burning Sands start

SF2 Israel, Europe, NA, Vietnam and Exp 2 merged install

Modded planes are only allowed if they were extant or were being exported historically, (courtesy of their respective modders)

Realistic/Hard difficulty settings.

No mission restarts/refly's.  

 

Background

 My name is Fuad Bahri. I'm a Parani. As long as i remember. I always wanted to be a pilot. People have smirked at me. Fuad, son of a struggling fisherman from Riqdur, a pilot? I was born in a forgotten place, in a forgotten time. Before the revolution, people like me, could only dream about moving as far as the next village, not even flying. It was a sport for the very rich, and the occupying British.

Shah Komar rose up to correct the injustice, the wrongs they have done to us.Now a son of a simple fisherman like me, or even a son of a bedouin can attend schools. Women are not bound by the old ways anymore. Education, is not only for the rich now. And thus, i was able to apply for the cadet school for the fledgling Parani Air Force.  

 

 Apart from several bomber squadrons of big Ilyushins, manned by Soviet crews, we only have left-over Hunter models, from the time of the British protectorate and a couple of squadrons of new Mig-17s, small, slow but nevertheless nimble fighters. But cadets like me are not trusted with the new and valuable equipment. We were given even older planes! Meteor is an old plane. It was used by the British for "air policing", our flight leader told us. Mostly just to prevent incursions from other super-powers, and sometimes flying low to scare off unruly bedouin tribes. It borders on obsolescence, but it is a plane with ... a soul. You can feel every bolt and surface panel when you make a hard bank, and can kick you like a camel on a rough landing. 

 Some say, Paran has recently become a backdrop of a global chess-game: The Cold War. Other nations accuse us for getting help from the Soviets. They say we are unable to see the "big picture", and will only be pawns for global domination. There are garbled up news reports from the other side of the border. Many advanced US jets are starting to reinforce our despicable neighbour, Dhimar. There are even rumours of a rag-tag band of mercenaries, paid for by Dhimari King himself, to use newest aircraft against us. This morning, an aide ran into the squadron HQ, as if he is one of the mosquitos troubling us around. Special orders, we have been told, and i have seen our technicians attaching long-range drop tanks, never needed during our training flights. 

 I have very mixed emotions... my lifelong dream was to fly, and now my dream could very well spell the end of my life. It sounds like a folly to fight against an enemy, no, two enemies even, with obsolete aircraft. But may the mountains of Kerman be my witness! Wars are won with bravery and blood! I'm a Parani, and as our country rises from the dustbin of history, i will do everything to protect it from our enemies! 

 

Edited May 2, 2021 by warbie
syntax

[warbie]

Episode 1: September 1959 - The Surprise

 

It was September 1959, and the tension between Paran and Dhimar has reached new heights. We were going to war, and we would be the ones to strike first. Parani command decided not to wait for the build-up of the Dhimar's military strength. Waiting in the squadron mess, I was nervous. I finished a pack of those cheap russian cigarettes before our squadron leader burst into the room and assigned our first mission:

 

We were going to fly picket over the Agami Airbase, also known as D6 in military jargon. While the more advanced bombers would strike deeper.We took off from Kurzah, it was a long and uneventful flight until...

We saw the target airbase on our 3 o'clock. It was strangely empty. After our flight's repeated attempts to radio the control tower, they reported no contacts in our area. In our bid to surprise the enemy, and strike them before they can continue their military build-up have we been too hasty or have they been warned? After lingering for a while, we started to look for targets of opportunity. Full or not, we were going to attack the airbase's fuel depots and logistics, so newer enemy squadrons could not relocate!

[warbie]

After a couple of gun runs on the enemy base, we had destroyed the enemy's oil supply. Suddenly, our radio started to crack up: Boogies, 20 Miles, North!

The airplanes we were supposed to picket were intercepting the bombers several kilometres away, and with our ammo running low, we decided to call it a day and haul back to base.

Our first mission was a failure. After the landing, our squadron leader was furious! Bahri, all your leaves have been cancelled and you are cleaning the mess hall this week! If i see any more cigarette butts on the ground you will spend the weekend in a cell! 

War is never like what you expect it to be, but i had flown my first mission, and i was lucky enough to come back out of it alive! 

[warbie]

**I just noticed i shared an earlier screenshot for the briefing map for a single player mission to test aircraft/airfields on Desert4+ please ignore it**

[General PB]

looking forward to your next update ^^,

[warbie]

Episode 2: April 1960: The Escort

One thing people get wrong about the war is how monotone and boring it gets in between actions. Our squadron had moved from Kurzah to Jarimin at the start of the year, but the routine of military life, and waiting gets to you before the enemy does. After all everything is procedures, procedures and more procedures... ıt was a dusty April day when we were assigned a new mission. "See those those Russians in their Ilyushin's?" Our Squadron leader asked. We were supposed to escort them on a bombing run to a Dhimari oilfiled. 

We had met the "Bison" flight of two IL-28s over the ocean. For an untrained eye, we were even similar looking aircraft, two engines and two stubby wings. Both are not fast fliers either.

Flying as low as best as we could in a formation, we entered the enemy territorry, with occasional light flack lighting us up. Then everything fell silent, except the faint buzz of our engines untill the dreaded announcement was made. Bandits 12 o' clock, 7 miles, clear to engage! 

A flight of two Dhimari Hunters began a shallow dive on our fourmation, while i abruptly pulled the stick, the gain altitude, and most importantly, kinetic energy for the upcoming fight.......

Edited May 7, 2021 by warbie

[warbie]

I do not know if that Dhimari was stupid enough to not notice us, or just following orders. It does not make any difference in military terms. As both enemy hunters dived on our bombers, and emptying their cannons, i continued to dive on them and the second the one i was chasing strarted to pull up, my four Hispano cannons tore down his fuselage and set him ablaze.

He was my first ever kill.

As i was passing our bombers, which were riddled with holes, there was only one thought in my mind: If i passed the enemy's targets, his wingman must be right on my tail. I instinctively strarted to roll and bank when a second later, another burning Hunter flew right past my canopy. At that instant, the comms were flooded by the excited shout of my wingman: "I got one! I GOT ONE!!".

 

His joy was cut however, by more tracers lighting our cockpit mirrors. USAF planes had joined the fight. We recognised that they were F-8s. The last gunfighter Americans called it. It was a much faster plane than we were, so i decided to use our disadvantage in speed to take the fight at lower altitudes and rolled and dived close to the ground level. I could still the tracers passing me by few inches. 

I think after a few long bursts he had expanded all his ammo, but with the oilfield on fire in my mirrors, i knew at least one of the bombers had made it. It was time to get out. So i changed course and hugging the desert ground, engines and canopy glass covered in dust, made my way to the border, which was not for away....

 

 

 

[warbie]

After reaching the friendly territory, i noticed a string of smoke. ıt was the last remaining bomber of the BISON flight, the whole fuselage riddled with bulllet holes. But the rugged bomber was still flying.

 

So i headed back to base and landed on my own nervously. I had survived another mission. 

It was a success! 

Moments later, a Soviet staff car arrived to our HQ. In it there was a flight crew, covered in ash and smoke marks. He could not be older than his early 20s. I think his name was Vadim. Crew of the bomber that made it back. Jumped out of the car with a bottle of vodka in hand. He called me "Spasiba 'Dusty'" in gratitude. In the spring heat, i remember we got very drunk that day. I also had my first kill.