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MidReal Story
The De Havilland Mosquito
Scenario:In 1941, after Britain demonstrates the de Havilland Mosquito’s capabilities, the US Army Air Forces decides to pursue licensed production of the type by Beech Aircraft. The Mosquito then enters service with the USAAF in late 1942.
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Elliott Eisler
first_person_protagonist, male. He is a test pilot working for Beech Aircraft. He is adventurous, determined, and passionate. Eisler was recruited by the USAAF to test the de Havilland Mosquito aircraft. He was thrilled to fly such an advanced plane and worked tirelessly to convince the military of its capabilities. Despite the challenges of training on a new aircraft and the demands of his job, Eisler remained focused on proving himself as a skilled pilot.
Beech Aircraft
side_character, male. He is an American aircraft manufacturer based in Wichita, Kansas. He is innovative, collaborative, and industrious. Beech Aircraft was contracted by the USAAF to produce the de Havilland Mosquito under license. The company worked closely with de Havilland and the military to adapt the aircraft for American production conditions. Their efforts helped make the Mosquito available to the US military in significant numbers, contributing to the war effort and solidifying their reputation as a capable manufacturer.
William Pocke
side_character, male. He is a colonel in the USAAF. He is pragmatic, decisive, and openminded. Colonel Pocke played a crucial role in advocating for the Mosquito project within the military hierarchy. Despite initial skepticism from some officers, he recognized the aircraft’s potential and pushed for its introduction into service. His support was instrumental in overcoming bureaucratic hurdles and ensuring the Mosquito saw action in World War II, contributing significantly to Allied efforts.
In 1941, the United States Army Air Forces (USAAF) decided to have the de Havilland Mosquito plane built by the Beech Aircraft Corporation.
The first order was for 676 planes.
I was one of the first pilots to be assigned to test the new aircraft.
My first flight in the Mosquito was at the Iowa City Army Airbase, where I had been recruited by the USAAF to test the plane.
The Mosquito was a wood and canvas bomber, unlike any other plane built at that time, because it was made largely of laminated wood.
The USAAF had seen the capabilities of the Mosquito demonstrated by the British and decided they wanted some.
Beech Aircraft was licensed by de Havilland to build the Mosquito in the United States.
The first flight of a US built Mosquito took place on June 29, 1942.
I remember my first flight vividly; it was October 1942, when I flew a Mosquito for the first time.
The twin Vickers K/1200 cannons and eight Browning machine guns made quite an impression on me.
I walk across the tarmac toward the waiting Mosquito.
The wooden frame is painted in a camouflage pattern and glimmers in the morning sun.
Several ground crew members scurry around the aircraft, performing final checks on the landing gear, control surfaces, and propellers.
I climb up the short ladder to the cockpit and settle into the leather seat.
The maintenance chief hands me the flight checklist through the window, and I begin to methodically work my way through it.
I test each control surface, check every gauge, and run through the communication checks with air traffic control.
When I am satisfied that everything is functioning properly, I engage the starters and the twin Rolls-Royce Merlin engines roar to life.
While I wait for them to warm up, I glance over at the control tower and see Colonel Pocke standing there watching me.
"Colonel Pocke, what's the urgency today?" I radio over, sensing something unusual in his gaze.
"We've intercepted intel that the Germans are planning a surprise raid on our supply lines," he replies, his voice steady but urgent.
"So, this isn't just another test flight?" I ask, my heart pounding as the engines hum beneath me.
"No, this is the real deal," he responds, his voice firm.
"We have reason to believe that a squadron of Luftwaffe fighters is heading our way, intent on disrupting our supply convoys along the eastern seaboard."
I feel a surge of adrenaline as I process the information.
"Your mission is to patrol a 50-mile stretch of coastline and intercept any enemy aircraft you encounter," Colonel Pocke continues.
"This is your chance to put the Mosquito through its paces in a real combat scenario."
I nod, my mind racing with the possibilities.
"Roger that, Colonel," I respond, pushing the throttles forward and feeling the Mosquito surge down the runway.
The engines roar as I lift off into the clear morning sky, climbing steadily to 15,000 feet.
As I level off, I take a moment to scan the horizon, searching for any signs of enemy aircraft.
The sun glints off the ocean below, casting a golden glow over the landscape.
I take a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves as I prepare for whatever lies ahead. The radio crackles with scattered reports of unidentified aircraft in the area, but my sector remains quiet.
I check my fuel gauges and adjust my heading slightly, maintaining my patrol pattern along the coast.
The Mosquito handles smoothly at various speeds, its wooden frame gliding effortlessly through the air.
As I fly, I take note of any changes in performance or handling, mentally logging them for future reference.
The minutes tick by slowly as I continue my patrol, scanning the horizon for any sign of enemy activity.
The silence is broken only by the occasional crackle of static on the radio or the steady hum of the engines beneath me.
Suddenly, a burst of static fills my ears as a voice comes over the radio.
"Unidentified aircraft spotted at 10 o'clock," it says, followed by a series of coordinates.
I quickly glance at my instruments and adjust my heading accordingly.
"Colonel, I've got a visual on the bogeys," I report, adrenaline surging through me as I spot the distant silhouettes.
"Stay sharp, pilot," Colonel Pocke instructs, his voice calm but firm. "Remember, you're not alone up there; the rest of the squadron is en route to support."
"Understood, sir," I reply, tightening my grip on the controls as I prepare for the encounter.
I bank the Mosquito towards the distant aircraft, pushing the throttle forward as my altitude drops from 15,000 to 12,000 feet.
Through the windscreen, the silhouettes sharpen into three distinct shapes - Focke-Wulf Fw 190s heading south.
I check my guns and maintain visual contact, the wooden frame of my aircraft creaking under the increasing speed.
The distance closes rapidly as I position myself above and behind the German fighters.
My hands grip the controls tighter, and I activate the gun camera.
The Mosquito dives, and I open fire.
After my initial burst of fire scatters the Fw 190s, I pursue the lead aircraft as it breaks formation.
Through my gunsight, I notice something off about its paint scheme - the Luftwaffe insignia appears too fresh compared to the weathered fuselage.
The German pilot maintains a steady southward course instead of engaging, unusual for the typically aggressive Fw 190 pilots.
I hold my fire and pull alongside for a closer look, maintaining enough distance to dodge if needed.
The aircraft's canopy seems empty, and its movements appear mechanical.
I radio Colonel Pocke about my suspicions, but the transmission is interrupted by static.
I line up my gunsight on the unmanned Fw 190's starboard engine, calculating the right angle to disable it without destroying the aircraft.
The Mosquito's wooden frame vibrates as I close in to 300 yards.
My thumb hovers over the trigger while I match the German plane's speed and altitude.
Through the windscreen, I can see oil lines and fuel tanks I need to avoid hitting.
The radio crackles with more static as I squeeze the trigger.
My cannons bark, sending tracers into the Fw 190's engine cowling.
Smoke billows from the engine as the Fw 190 spirals downward, confirming my suspicions of a decoy.
I circle above the smoking wreckage of the fake Fw 190, watching it burn in the water below.
The static finally clears from my radio as I adjust frequencies.
"Base, this is Eisler. Target destroyed. Confirmed unmanned decoy aircraft."
Colonel Pocke's voice crackles back, demanding details.
I describe the fake markings and empty cockpit while scanning the horizon for the other two planes that escaped.
After receiving new coordinates, I bank the Mosquito east and throttle up to full power.
I follow the colonel's coordinates, scanning methodically through scattered clouds.
Twenty minutes into the search, movement catches my eye - another Fw 190 with suspiciously pristine markings.
This one maintains a steady course at 10,000 feet, showing the same unnatural flight pattern as the first decoy.
I position the Mosquito 2,000 feet above it, watching through breaks in the cloud cover.
The German plane doesn't react to my presence, further confirming my suspicions.
"Colonel, I've got another one of those decoys in sight," I report, keeping my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me.
"Understood, Eisler," Colonel Pocke replies, his tone carrying a hint of urgency. "We need to find out who's behind these and why they're sending them our way."
"Agreed, sir," I respond, adjusting my course slightly. "I'll see if I can track it back to its source without engaging."
I maintain my position above the decoy Fw 190, tracking its mechanical movements through scattered clouds.
The radio crackles with new activity as three P-38 Lightnings emerge from the east, their twin booms distinct against the horizon.
Lieutenant Ross's voice comes through, reporting they've been dispatched by Colonel Pocke to assist.
The P-38s spread out in a wide formation, two flanking the German decoy while one stays high as cover.
I watch them expertly box in the unmanned aircraft, preventing any escape routes.
"Lieutenant Ross, can you confirm if there's any activity on the ground below?" I ask, keeping my eyes on the decoy.
"Negative, Eisler," Ross replies, his voice steady. "But we've picked up a faint signal from the direction it's heading—could be a control station."
"Copy that," I say, feeling a surge of determination. "Let's follow it and see where this rabbit hole leads."
I maintain position above the decoy Fw 190, monitoring my fuel levels.
They're getting uncomfortably low after the extended chase.
Lieutenant Ross's P-38s spread wider, scanning for any signs of ground activity.
The German plane's mechanical movements become more pronounced as we track it southward - it makes perfect 90-degree turns at exact intervals, a pattern no human pilot could maintain.
Through breaks in the cloud cover, I spot a remote stretch of coastline below, with what looks like a camouflaged structure blending into the landscape.
The decoy begins a gradual descent toward it.
"Lieutenant, can you confirm if that signal is getting stronger?" "Affirmative, Eisler," Ross responds, his voice carrying a hint of excitement. "Whatever is controlling this thing seems to be coming from that location."