Pilotlog Page 12
Somewhere in England - 1941
U6's pilotlog entry:
I gotta
admit This new "view limitation" thing is both
exciting, challenging, and scary as hell. I still can't make up
my mind about it totally. It's a whole new world out there and
it's getting scarier all the time :)
I just hope this thing will eventually work with Kali cause a lot
of us love Kali IPX play. Having some control over connectivity
is a very hard act to beat. (Tonight was lucky for me and Grizz.)
We used the latest CRC to fly our match.
_______
U6 Spit 1XC, Grizzly Spit 1XC
CRC limits the fight to within the cockpit. Damm! Talk about
scary! My only consolation was knowing that if I got on Griizly's
six he would have just as much difficulty as I did getting a fix.
In this match we turned and were basically re-learning how to
fly. Before I knew it Grizzly had a six on me and I had to do
barrel rolls looking at nothing but clear blue sky and praying
that he was having trouble with the shot.
I eventually got angles enough to determine where he was but my
head was bobbing back and forth so much I began to vomit into my
lap.
Grizzly found himself in front of me as we traded scissors and I
knew to stay low and behind him to make his job more difficult.
Ol Grizz almost got away but he (not knowing my exact position)
went for a reversal bank turn to the left. I was able to settle
into a tracking solution on him. Flaps out and pipper on his nose
I let em go to see smoke.
Match 2
We fly the hurricane now, U6 Hurricane, Grizzly Hurricane
Again Griz is toying with me by staying above me and taking head
on shots at my propeller. He got a few bytes
out of me but most of the bullets grazed off my wooden wing. Well
I couldn't do much at this time except try to
stay inside him low and wait for him to get slow. Finally did get
a few degrees and speeded her up a bit to do some mini low yo yos
while chipping away at him. Eventually Griz lost sight of me (I
think) and dove to bank his plane for a look see. I tried to get
on his six but he managed to pull into me and it was remerge
again. After that we
both had some trouble keeping sight and the fight deteriorated to
a series of head on passes with us both hoping we could shoot
better than the other guy.
As we passed for the third time at like 35 feet I lost tally,
turned around and saw Grizz waving at me from his new surfboard.
He was ok but his hurricane looked kind of wet. He said he had
not paid attention to the waves. (doh! that'll do it!)
Match 3
Now we try the P47C, U6 P47C, Grizzly P47C
Im not too familiar with this plane so I start pulling it around
the sky and trying to get some angles. After a few
passes we're both trying for the propeller shot. We both end up
low and slow near the waves. Fortunately, I had more speed than
Grizzly did and I was able to reverse in one of our scissor
merges.
Next thing I saw was grizzly in front of me apparently flying in a banked turn to the left. I had the angles and enough sep to work it into a six shot as he tried to make a problem for me. I was hearing that stall sound however, so it was close. (cudv been me at any time)
My pipper
managed to make it to the front of his plane and I watched him
fly through the bullet stream. His engine must have seized cause
he started flying straight after that. Just couldnt resist the
temptation to
give it some more just to be sure. Saw some fire there.
That was a great match. Grizzly is a great flyer and a super
sport. Thanks for being so patient with me as my internet conns
have not been the greatest as of late. Didn't mean to make you
wait so long.
In 2 of the matches Grizzly out maneuvered me and got on my six
very quickly. Keep it up buddy yer starting to scare me already.
:)
Vapors' pilotlog entry:
Longsaber, after his
last match with Road Runner, threw away his Heritage Collection
Cutlery and stayed up nights waiting for an infomercial that was
offering a Ginsu kife collection. He found it, and oh was he
excited! This wasn't your ordinary Ginsu Knife set. This was a
Ginsu of the 90s. Stainless, rustproof steel honed to a razor's
sharp edge AND an electric carving knife! Now he was ready!
He promptly challened me and we entered into battle last evening.
LS immediately went straight to the big stuff and pulled out the
electric carving knife. Whirrr went the blades and he quickly
carved my Spitfire into Sushi.
LS 1, Vapors 0
We rejoined and I quickly rubbed Naval Jelly on my knives from
"Everything for a Dollar" as they started rusting from
my little swim in the channel. Since I was in a Spit I thought it
appropriate to use my little fruit paring knife. Swish swish
swish, the air was full of sounds as we thrust and parried trying
to get the advantage. Finally in a momement of weakness on LS
part, I quickly jabbed my fruit knife repeatedly into his engine
- whack whack whack whack - his engine was full of little tiny
holes and smoke began pouring out. He finally had to put his
wounded plane into the soup.
LS 1 Vapors 1
LS goes for his blade named Mustang but it didn't want to be
ridden, so it buck him into the ocean.
LS 1 Vapors 2
LS decides to invite a big fat ugly British woman to this fight
and calls for the Tempest. We dance as best as we can with these behemoths and eventually smash them into each other. Chunks of
fat and stretchy underwear fly everywhere!
DRAW
LS wants to dance with the large women again so we begin a
marathon dance with the tempests. After a great deal of thrashing
about doing what was supposed to be the Samba, I pull out a
cheese grater and whack him with it good. His splash was felt in
London!
LS 1 Vapors 3
Salute to LS for a fabulous and well fought match!
Gos - ahem - this FINALLY gives me 5 kills. Can I have my pass to
town now?
Locutis' pilotlog entry:
Flight log 1of 9 star
date 22939.7
This was supposed to be a routine assimilation. Our long-range
sensor sweep detected a minor colony of carbon-based life forms
on a small planet in an uncharted portion of the Gamma quadrant.
It was determined they were probable targets for assimilation.
However during our first orbit with the planet we found temporal
disturbances to be too high to risk entering the atmosphere with
our large sphere. Probable loss of a smaller cube was lower so I
was chosen to scout the area for an appropriate landing site.
Once I was through the planets upper atmosphere I found that the
sensor reported the temporal distortion incorrectly what I was
experiencing was some form of security grid that was overpowering
my craft quickly. My comlink to the collective was cut-off, I was
alone.
Finding a suitable
crash site was relatively easy but my small cube was useless now.
Undamaged I set off to scout for a suitable place to meet the
landing party whom I thought would send another scout soon. My
logic was flawed as days passed and no contact from the
collective was made. I had time though to scout a small city on
the edge of a great desert. The city was barren of any kind of
technology we would consider useful and I was beginning to wonder
why we had chosen to consider this place fit for assimilation in
the first place. Aside from the security grid this planet seemed
to be at the technology level of Earth in the late 20 th century
approximately 1945.
I was becoming weary from lack of regeneration so the time had
come to attempt to leave the planet. My ocular implants had shown
on re-entry that high in the atmosphere the security grid had a
weak spot in it. What I needed now was a native craft from this
technologically useless world to get me close enough to the
sphere to transport me back. I had found a military base with
aircraft suitable for the altitude I required. Most planes seemed
to be fighters but a few were equipped with strong engines for
long range flights. This technology had already been assimilated
long ago by the collective during the attacks on Earths recent
past. Those attacks failed but the data on these flying machines
was useful to us now it seemed…
Waiting till early daybreak I slipped into the cockpit of a
Spitfire and turned over the engine. It came to life with a roar
and I sped down the grass runway, many lights had come on during
my rollout. As I reached higher and higher altitudes I noticed a
craft following me, possibly closing in on me. I knew I
didn’t have time to reach my location and wait for transport
with a threat that close behind so I made a high bank and
prepared for the confrontation that was coming.
It appeared that another Spitfire had taken off and was
attempting to destroy me. As we merged at co altitude I noticed
my enemy accumulate Vertical energy and I followed , the data
racing through my head told me to avoid firing until I was within
200 yards. 198.7 yards was the reading when I initiated a long
burst of my weapon. Target disintegrated, no life forms detected
after debris landed. I had survived but I had wasted most of my
fuel. It appeared I needed a new craft in order to reach the beam
out point. I returned to the air base to see other pilots
scurrying to their planes, it took only a few short passes to
render their hapless planes to mere carbon. Landing was a tricky
job as the wreckage of my would be foes was everywhere. Soon
enough though I came across a single
Seafire 1A spitfire and quickly took control of that craft in an
attempt to rejoin the collective.
Without the collective
I calculated the odds of survival at 10,000 to 1 and this seemed
all the more accurate as another enemy craft appeared in visual
range. Merging at co alt my enemy fired head on at me , bullets
ripped through my craft but no major systems were damaged.
Quickly we became engaged in a low altitude fight over a body of
water. My enemy had however managed to convert his craft to some
type of amphibian and disappeared beneath the waves. As I pored
over the data on these crafts I realized that none were created
within this time era that could accomplish both air and sea
travel and I quickly dismissed it as miscalculation on his part.
I had only moments to ponder this as another craft was quickly
closing in on me , another 1A had engaged me and soon I heard the
rips of small but effective gunfire fill my cockpit. Recalling
the previous flight and its outcome I
quickly pulled what I will now be calling the Locutis manuver ,
my enemy once again lay beneath the waves of his barren planet.
It was at this time
that I was pulled out of my feable craft and transported back to
the collective. This time away from the collective had been a
strange one…
1 of 9-reconnaissance scout Borg sphere Unit 003
Resistance is Futile!!
Grey Wolf's pilotlog entry:
After Action Report: Regarding 3 stolen and destroyed aircraft, and air to air combat actions over the base last night.
I was on the way back from the O-Club, when I caught a glimpse of movement near the flight line. Hiding under the wheels of that old B-17 sitting on the tarmac was a shadowy figure. I crept closer to see just what was happening, I figured "Hell this may be an enemy spy or something". Well the Shadow must of seen me, that or he heard one of my Wolves that I sent out at night to patrol the fence line. Well this shadow takes off and runs straight for one of the fully prepped Spit IX's setup for tomorrow mornings sortie. He hops into it, starts it up and heads for the runway. I give chase, and hop into another Spit and give chase intent on giving this Spy a really good what for!!!
At the Merge, I duck his first spray, go low and Immelmann over the top. I sprayed him a good one and we start a turning fight. I dont know if any of my initial shots had any effect, but eventually he loses control and goes plop right into the channel. I see this shadow in the water swimming back towards shore, get ahold of the MP's with his last known position and come in for a landing. After locking down the Spit, I figured I would head to my bunk... its been a long day.
Suddenly a Jeep full of pissed MP's comes roaring up to me, telling me a sob story about how they fished this Windigo guy outta the Channel and were heading for the Provost Marshalls office when he up and jumps right out of the Jeep. Damn Jeep was doing over 45mph when he jumped. Next thing I can hear one of the Hurricanes being throttled up, and suddenly me and the MP's have to dive out of the way to avoid being prop bait. This guy must be out of his mind I'm thinking.
Well I go and jump into the closest Hurri, and take off after him. Again we meet in the air, and at the merge.... I go low, duck under him and Immelmann again... going to full flaps at the top I bring all eight of the 30 cals to bear and give him a good washing over. This time I manage to stay on his tail for quite some time, spraying whenever I got within 600 yds. Eventually we work our way real low, and then he starts trying to run me down. Damn I thought I was back in the pacific with the Kamakazi's again. I now start to extend on him and he must have not realized just how close he is to the water.... he noses it in. Again I call the MP's and give them his position, and I land and lock up the Hurri.
As I'm walking away from the Hurri, I spot this Windigo guy racing down the flight line again, this time with about 10 MP's chasing him.... and he runs right for Goshawks prized 2 seater P-38J (the one Gos uses for those long night's aloft, alone with Koko). Windigo quickly gets it started and rolls onto the tarmac, taking off heading for the coast. He was screaming something about having to make it to Switzerland just as he roared past me. I again hop into the closest 38J and give chase .... AGAIN .... Well this time, I know the 38 isn't my favorite bird... especially with the Immelmanns so I take it a lot slower this time. We start a high alt turning fight, and I slowly get position onto Windigo's six. Again every time I close to within 700-800yds I pepper that Shiny 38. (Gos, I really tried to keep the damage to a minimum.) Finally after depleting all of my cannon rounds, Windigo finally gets near the deck. I figured I better be careful here, so I just tried to keep the pressure on by staying on his six, and keeping my IAS up. At the end, he tried to go high and take it over the top, but wound up losing control of the bird, and went spinning into the Channel.
As I came in for my landing I saw the MP's dragging him out of the channel, and throwing him into an APC. Windigo, great fights.... when you get out of the Brig look me up for some more high flying adventures.
Respectfully Submitted,
Lt. Greywolf
Goshawk's pilotlog entry:
Goshawk awoke with a start. He had a recurring dream
that he lost one of the S/M's planes earlier, but the details of
it escaped him now. This was not too surprising for the old
timer, since it seemed that there was a plethera of other things
that had escaped his mind of late as well. He just did not recall
what they were.....
"Oh jeez," he groaned, "that was a Spit I
lost!" He spoke this aloud, then looked around hurriedly to
make sure he was alone. He mustn't have any of the lads see him
talking with himself, you know. "It would not be fitting for
a fighter pilot, don't you know!", he mumbled again.
"Gahzauk", called a voice from the outside. He
recognized the heavy domestic accent from the British rigger.
"There's a bloke 'ere says you're s'pose t' fly 'im today,
name's Eggsprat??"
It came rushing back to him like a freight train now. He recalled
it all. He grabbed at the front of his temples, as the pain shot
through the emptiness directly behind his eye sockets, and
running as far back as the rearmost
flap of ear tissue. The doctors were right. It was possible to
lose up to 70% of the brain matter and have no more effect that
an increase of one's sense of humor. He began chuckling at the
joke that came to mind, but before
he could think through to the terrific punch line, it was gone...
He was just finishing the chuckle as Xsplat walked into the room.
"Come'on Goshawk, we need to get this deed done. Let's go
fly it already!" His tone was testy since he thought Goshawk
was chuckling at him. Xsplat walked briskly from the room,
determined to put the old timer in his place, the drink!
As Goshawk started the engine of his "Hurryback", he
glanced over to the "goonie-bird" hangar. He hated the
looks of the rescue plane, and for the life of him, he could not
understand how anyone in their right mind would
call a plane a "Walrus", fer chrissake. He spotted
Solar Arrow standing near the starboard wing root. A couple
chippies were standing at his side, pawing at the leather jacket
and teal silk scarf around his neck.
"What do they see in that guy", he thought, "he's
not even a combat pilot, the sod!"
Solar Arrow looked toward the Hurricane, and cast his gaze upward
so that he appeared to be looking down his nose at Goshawk.
"God, I hate getting picked up by that bloke. Ever since he
gave up his barge for the "Walrus", he became
insufferable.", he groaned aloud as he climbed away from the
field and raised the gear of the plane.
Goshawk thought, "Well, ladies, I better get ready to
go", is probably what he's saying to those trollops.
"And he'll probably get his jollies before he launches that
kite of his too," Goshawk spoke aloud over the hum of the
fighter's engine.
Before he was able to put much more thought into the dashing
young "bush pilot" who has been rescueing the downed
lads, Goshawk was set upon by Xsplat.
As Goshawk drifted in the murk of the channel after the match, he
thanked the Mae West, but damned the luck!!
He would have almost welcomed the sight of a periscope of a
surfacing U-boat, more than hear the drone of the approaching
Walrus. The plane passed over twice before Goshawk would look up
and acknowledge it with a wave of his hand.
Goshawk was one of the first to suffer the rescue by the Walrus.
He would not be the last.
On the ride back to base, Goshawk received a critique of his
exploits, or lack thereof, in his recent dogfight, and wished
that the British government had the foresight to put two or three
engines on this plane.
He could not remember when he had suffered through a longer and
slower flight. Solar Arrow had arrived at the European Air War!
Puma's pilotlog entry:
(Hey gosh, for some
reason I cannot post to the message board. Do you think You can
post the for me. Thanx)
Puma V. Jabo
I stand at attention in the CO’s office as the CO gives me a
grade A ass chewing. My last several flights have resulted in
millions of dollars in property lost (not the mention pride) and
no victories for the squadron. I have been removed from combat
duty and relegated to remedial training. It has become apparent
to everyone in the free world that outside of a spit, I am an
easy mark. So my training officer for the day, Jabo, decides to
put me Luftwaffe planes for the bulk of this training session.
Classic 1v1 engagements head on pass. The first sortie was in
Spit 9’s. “Hmm Jabo is feeling charitable today,”
I think as I walk to my mount.
We make a clean first pass with Jabo going to the pure vertical.
I high slice and try to catch him on the downward leg of his
loop. I time it just right and rip off a long stream of cannon
fire. Jabo’s engine belches flame and then a long stream of
black smoke. I circle high above trying to judge his energy
state. When I feel the time is right I dive down and administer
the coup de gras. Puma 1 Jabo 0
All right so much for charity. Jabo puts me in a FW190A-8. Not a
turner for sure. We merge and this time look over my shoulder to
see Jabo in the vertical again. I follow suit and a series of
vertical loops ensue slowly I start to gain angles on him and
after several minutes Jabo realizes that he is losing this
turning fight. He breaks to the deck with me in pursuit. I fire
rounds all around his aircraft but can’t seem to hit
anything (have to work on that). Jabo starts a scissors maneuver
and I almost over shoot. He pulled me into point blank range and
I finally make contact. The plane explodes and plummets to the
earth. Puma 2 Jabo 0.
Ok now for the ME109. I go pure vertical and Jabo hesitates for a
second and then goes vertical. I come down as he is coming up and
we repeat this a few times. I slowly start to take it horizontal
and Jabo plays along. As we turn in the horizontal I start to
gain the upper hand. Jabo reconizes this and takes appropriate
counter measures. The chase goes on for several minutes but in
the end it is death to Jabo. Puma 3 Jabo 0
I barge into the CO’s office. “Sir I am ready for
combat” I proclaim proudly to the CO. “Sit down Puma
you still suck!” is the response. “Jeez sir don’t
hold back,” I say. “You got lucky today, Jabo had an
off day. You have proven exactly squat! I’ll tell you when
your ready for combat. NOW GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!”
Jabo, thanks for the great match.
Solar Arrow's pilotlog entry:
"So
go do your round again!!!!!", said Goshawk. "He is
still missing!!!"
"Ok ,ok I know I am indispensable but how the heck am I
going to find him in this weather? it's been a dud lately",
asked Solar Arrow in reply.
"Look for a black and white mass of clothing, apparently he
takes it off because they shrink with the salty water, and always
for some reason he floats around here", showing the spot in
a map of the English Channel.
So I get
on the ol' Walrus and start looking for Tuxedo.
For about 3 hours I was "crabbing around" and searched
up to no avail. The weather was clearing, suddenly , yep I saw a
black sargazzo sea of tuxedos floating in the water, and floating
in a raft, was a soggy weed-covered Tux. So I pankake the plane
over the waves and open the door.
"Get in!", I shouted. "There are some blankets in the back. So what happened??? Man you must do more synthetic flying!!! Also try to get on one of those regular flight suits your bill must be stratospheric buying all those expensive suits to fly, or do you lease?"
Tuxedo
glanced around, and spotted my air nurse/stewardess, Kiki,
anxiously awaiting to tend to his aches and pains. He let out
with a sound somewhere between a grunt and a groan. I wasn't sure
which. She let out with a "cooo" and a whistle, hoping
that the extent of his injuries rendered him capable resisting
her medicinal procedures.
Suddenly, I saw a white blur and "Shit, a chute!!!"
A lurch
and a tendency for the Walrus to the left told me we had caught
something. "Look through the window. Is Jabo!!! He must have
bailed out before being shut down!", I called out.
So again carefully I turn around and touch down upon the waves.
We pulled him aboard. He was tangled in a ball of seaweed and
some of Tux's old suits. "Shoot, we have to clean this area.
It is beggining to look like an oil slick"
After untangling Jabo , he was semi concious saying something about "no no, my perfect record , my perfect record"
"Here, have some whiskey, chum", I console him. "And don't worry, you may still make it into the Golden Aces group"
"Man they all are flying like Erks. At this pace we all be speaking Gerpannese at the end of the war. By the way, I think the Sargeant Mayor wants a word with both of you for taking the birds out on this dud weather. And Kiki is very excited."
Solar Arrow's pilotlog entry:
"[Yawn] So,
finally I got time to get a suntan, if the sun at this latitude
can be called sun." said I, as I at last got leisure time.
No silly erks in the waters for the past day.
"Ahem!"
I looked back and saw Goshawk. "Another one is missing!", he states.
"Ahh come on, let
me get 2 or three. That way I can kill 3 birds on one
shot.", I complained.
"You now that he will freeze to death if you dont get
him...." Gos said.
"Who is this time? I hope it's none of those borgs. They try
to "assimilate" Kiki and get short circuited when they
touch her..." I said.
"No no, this time
Fox1 dumped Burning Valley into the channel", he replied.
So here I go again on my rounds when I see an oil fire in the
water near the old tuxedos. "Mmm that must be him, well at
least we will not have to clean the tuxs now..." So I go
into the waves where in the middle of the flames sat a very wet
and sooty Burning Valley.
I got him inside the walrus and said "well now you now the
meaning of crash and burn..."
" Man what
happened, two pancakes into the drink, were you hungry or what,
always take breakfast before going up?", I asked.
"Mumble mumble" was his only response.
As the ol' Walrus lifted off the murky waters, the flames started
to die and the twilight light fadded as the sun set. So much for
a suntan...
SA Rescue out
Locutis' pilotlog entry:
The harsh noise of the
squadrom alarm bell rang out into the night. "dammned
Anglanders
bombing our airstrip ill bet " I slured as I grabbed my
helmet and headed for the bomb
shelter. Running for the shelter I noticed Greywolf standing in
the middle of the camp
watching a lone FW 190 fly off into the night. " Locutis a
downed RAF pilot has escaped
his captors and made off with one of our new FW 190's ! Get your
suit on and catch him
he has a full tank to your half full one he will have to turn and
fight as you catch up tp him.
If he gets too far away turn back ...if you must..."
Grabbing the intended plane I scrambled down the runway in an
effort to catch up with the
rouge fighter. After a good hour of flight at full throttle my
enemy finnally figured out i was
lighter and faster than he was and made a hard turn and head on
run. As we passed I got a
good look at himin the rising sun of a new day. He appeared to be
the same Pilot our boys
had captured and lost some days back. Yentle was his name and as
of yet he had not even
given his rank to us. As we passed we both grabbed as much
altatude as we could.
"Strange that this Anglander knows these manuvers I said to
my self" I had half way
expected to see him turn and try a futile turning effort to
destroy me. He was obviously a
well trained pilot I soon came to believe as a rain of bullets
ripped through my fusaloge.
Once again grabbing as much altitude as I could I managed to get
into position for a great
deflection and "boom!" his rear section exploded. As I
pulled away I watched his craft
make a slow course adjustment and noticed that there were some
lights low on the water
in the channel below, a rescue operation had come to meet the
talented pilot. "At least he
wont get our plane" I said almost outload. I turned to
return to my base fuel dangerously
low.
No609_Kosmik's pilotlog entry:
..round one (similar)
..As i was taking a nap in the cockpit of my trusty spit9...
i heard a faint engine noise...
Could it be??....YES!!..
the nice roar of an ennemy ship approaching....good i was getting
bored.
he is way high....after a long climb..i see him...He sees me
too...
no surprise party here.
I pick up speed with a shallow dive...we get
closer..closer...then as we can see each
others grin...
i yank the stick...!! way we go..!! wayyyy up..straight up....
at the top of the climb..my engine is puffing under the
abuse...80 mph...
full flaps...get the nose down...look around...there he is 2 k
below me....
the sun is in my back...all i can think now is to get on his
6....on his 6....
..on his 6....i say to myself..i start a slow spiral..engine
iddling....he spots me...he goes into
a climb!!...
..darn..full power...full flaps..yank hard..pull some gs....and
some geez too...
..i managed to outturn him!!!...tak tak tak....engine is
smoking....in circle we go....tak tak
tak...
..down he goes...as a dying bird on a chilly morning...he plunges
in the channel...
,,as i look below....i think of all my fallen comrades...which
had the same faith....
crazy war....but we will not be defeated!!!...i look inside the
cockpit...
There is the faded picture of my angel...such a nice
smile....baby i m comin home!!....
as i bank my plane...to head home...like a ordinary worker after
a day s work.
..BUT wait!!...far at the horizon...a small dot...as seconds
passes by...it becomes an
obvious menace.!
..the menace of the unknown rushing toward me...no please let me
go home!!...
But home is between my plane and that .?.wait a spit 1A
!!??....what the $%$...
the Bastard!! its the spit stollen from my friend OZ last
week.!!.right under our nose at the
base!!...
NO WAY! you are NOT going home buddy!!..not in this plane..our
plane!!..no way!!...
...DAM it.. he just saw me....he dives ...i follow...he is all
over the sky...i follow...
..my eyes are glued to our squadron color...i feel like fighting
my own squadron...
strange...
He keeps going lower and lower...i follow....he cranks the poor
spit with no respect.HEY
this is not a toy..or a german machine!!..its a real flying
machine you got there
..stupid!!....right, left...
I follow....you are NOT going anywhere buddy..but DOWN in the
channel...finally
..he almost stalled...time is up!!...i press ..no i squeeze the
trigger so hard my fingers hurt.
...tak tak tak...i see flying debries all over my wind shield....
i have at the same second a grin and a sad feeling....i look at
the falling friend.OZ s
plane...going down in flames...
our squadron colors..i feel sorry....i dare you !!....nobody
flies these but us!!....
...Now i am going home.....the sun is setting at the horizon....i
feel calm...
i finally arrive at dusk....no ammo left...my head is numb... my
stomack is empty...
...time to refuel and rest the old boddy..i say to myself as i
climb down from my other
self...my trusty spit.
...i decide to sleep at the airport...since i have an early
patrol in the morning... ...dam
you..axis boy!..its all your fault.!.
..
.The weather is clear..the air is crisp...i ve been on the patrol
for one hour..nothing...i climb
to 10 k..
...all of a sudden..from the corner of my eyes...i get a glimpse
of a flash...
..i bank left...go around the big puffy cumulus....ahhhh!!..i was
right....a lonely 109!!...
i look around...where is the wolf pack??....hmmm....i have the
sun in my back...
LETS do it!!....i pick up speed...i look at the gages...they
shake under the stress of the
engine...
...i m getting closer by the seconds....closer..closer!!...as im
ready to move my fingers over
the trigger...
...the 109 goes for a quick break..did he see me???...i dont
know....but bad move...
He stalls it...way he goes...its murder to go in a stall in one
of those machine..!
..good!!..as i say to myself...good for you !!...i ll save my
bullets!!...
..but still i dont take any chances...i pulled back on the
throttle...get the nose down...i circle
around him...
...4k....3k...2k....he is dead...1k....500 feet...i just wait to
see the splash in the channel...
..what!!???...dam it!..he just recovered!!!!....i am mad now...
...i just shove the stick down to get some speed..slam the
thottle..full...
..he is just skimming over the waves...trying to get away..to get
some speed...
hahaaaha!! no way ...you are not going home today..!!.
i get on his 6....admire the sleek silouhette of this fighting
machine.one last time..
i enjoy the few seconds on silence ..before letting the thunder
of death hit him...
thump thump thump!!!!...black smoke fills the air...the smell of
victory...
that burning oily smell..that says game is over..!..
..the 109 noses down...banks left..go inverted...and splashes
into the dark..unforgiven cold
water...
...i circle few times....nothing...silence...empty waters ..empty
sky...
...i bank the plane towards home....this time its still
early...and i am going to see my
angel..!!.
..i hope she ll be waiting on the front porch....its quite a
sight...
to see her silouhette ...her smile..waving at me..then for a
brief moment.in her arms.i ll
forget ..I ll forget the war.. and my fallen friends...
...until the next morning.....