Hiding behind a large tree, you peer out through the branches and catch a glimpse of the side of the fast moving pair, their bomb doors open, ripping down the far edge of the field where six Stuka replicas sit parked, tails in the forest. You smile… “Stupid Brits!”, you think, “We fooled you”. You watch from half a kilometer away as several oddly slender bombs drop away from the two Mosquitoes and tumble weirdly to the ground. Instinctively, you flinch from the impending explosion, withdrawing behind the tree. But there is nothing. Maybe there was a sound… but it was not an explosion. It sounded like a series of heavy thumps.
You look around to your friends. Everyone shrugs. After a few minutes, you see other airmen across the field walking near where the bombs were dropped. You cross the field to where several men are standing. One feldwebel is holding one of the bombs. Warily you look it over. It is not made out of metal. In fact it is simply a four foot length of wood… a log with the remains of four crude wooden fins at one end and a sharp end that reminds you of a pencil. There is writing down one side… “Wood for Wood”. The English-speaking sergeant translates “Holtz für holtz”. For a moment everyone lets this soak in. Soon they are all laughing and so are you. But as they chuckle away and collect the other logs, you realize something. All your work has been for naught. The English, they are on to you. Above all… you have a nagging thought which, for the first time, begins to gnaw away at the far reaches of your mind – you cannot possibly win this war.