Raffvantye
10-30-2010, 10:52
The Wing leader called in a vector change, and we turned to the north. Radar had radioed in that there was a contact and we were ordered to intercept.
Our wing pushed on, my Hurricane growled as the dots appeared in the distance, they looked to be 109’s. I counted six. I quickly looked left and right, counting our planes, flying in two ship formations. A French 520, four Hurricanes and a new Spitfire, going to the new ace of the wing. It looked graceful compared to the brutish looking Hurricane, and she seemed to slip around in the sky with a finesse that we lacked.
The Enemy 109’ closed and we saw them drop their external tanks, and we followed suit, save the Spitfire and his wingman Hurricane. My lead, banked us in to attack the middle two. I shifted back on his tail and slid from right to left a little above him, moving to better cover him. Contact was made, the two fighters to my right, went head to head with a flight of the two furthest 109’s and Jeff Frothingcrotch paid the price. I could see from where I was, the lead 109 riddled his plane full of holes, and his wingman finished the job, Jeff’s plane rolling over and heading for the water. His chute opened, and for the moment he was safe, but out of the fight. Drako and I mowed throw another pair, and my plane shuttered at the cannot hits to my plane. I fired, but in the chaos I didn’t see my strikes, if any. Drako, my lead, banked hard right, and I followed suit, as we tried to slide around on the two that shot Jeff. I glanced over my right shoulder and saw an explosion from the Hurricane that had not dropped his fuel tanks, and got too close to a 109. The orange flash lit up the sky and parts rained down. It’s now 4 to 6, not good odds. I turned my attention back on my plane and realized I had overshot my lead, and I was now in the lead, and had the angle on a third 109 that had wandered into my sites,. He was out of range, but with a little luck, I could get in. I banked left and opened the throttle. He continued to bank to the left, turning to the north. I kept the speed up and watched his wings get larger in my sites. I depressed the trigger and saw my bullets hit home. But the sturdy little 109 continued on. Banking harder, I hit him again. Still no joy. I heard my lead exclaim over the radio that he had two on his tail, and I back over to my left, and saw two 109’s on his tail. If I kept chasing the 109 in front of me, I would end up in front of those two. I chopped the throttle, rolled to my left and yanked back on the stick, banking hard, and getting a shot into the trailing 109. Don’t know if I hit, but I tried. In my zeal to try and free my lead, the 109 that I initially shot at had flipped back and stitched me, I could see holes in the wing and my canopy was cracked. The plane was still sound, but I could hear the wind rushing in. I cranked over, and dropped to the deck, running for home. I could see two more hurricanes coming in, pilots from another patrol coming to our aid. I kept diving for the water and then raced home at wave high.
After I landed, I wiped the grime away from my name, Sgt. Yorkshire Pudding, walking down my fuslage, counting holes, and putting my three fingers through a 20mm cannon hole near the tail.
Our wing pushed on, my Hurricane growled as the dots appeared in the distance, they looked to be 109’s. I counted six. I quickly looked left and right, counting our planes, flying in two ship formations. A French 520, four Hurricanes and a new Spitfire, going to the new ace of the wing. It looked graceful compared to the brutish looking Hurricane, and she seemed to slip around in the sky with a finesse that we lacked.
The Enemy 109’ closed and we saw them drop their external tanks, and we followed suit, save the Spitfire and his wingman Hurricane. My lead, banked us in to attack the middle two. I shifted back on his tail and slid from right to left a little above him, moving to better cover him. Contact was made, the two fighters to my right, went head to head with a flight of the two furthest 109’s and Jeff Frothingcrotch paid the price. I could see from where I was, the lead 109 riddled his plane full of holes, and his wingman finished the job, Jeff’s plane rolling over and heading for the water. His chute opened, and for the moment he was safe, but out of the fight. Drako and I mowed throw another pair, and my plane shuttered at the cannot hits to my plane. I fired, but in the chaos I didn’t see my strikes, if any. Drako, my lead, banked hard right, and I followed suit, as we tried to slide around on the two that shot Jeff. I glanced over my right shoulder and saw an explosion from the Hurricane that had not dropped his fuel tanks, and got too close to a 109. The orange flash lit up the sky and parts rained down. It’s now 4 to 6, not good odds. I turned my attention back on my plane and realized I had overshot my lead, and I was now in the lead, and had the angle on a third 109 that had wandered into my sites,. He was out of range, but with a little luck, I could get in. I banked left and opened the throttle. He continued to bank to the left, turning to the north. I kept the speed up and watched his wings get larger in my sites. I depressed the trigger and saw my bullets hit home. But the sturdy little 109 continued on. Banking harder, I hit him again. Still no joy. I heard my lead exclaim over the radio that he had two on his tail, and I back over to my left, and saw two 109’s on his tail. If I kept chasing the 109 in front of me, I would end up in front of those two. I chopped the throttle, rolled to my left and yanked back on the stick, banking hard, and getting a shot into the trailing 109. Don’t know if I hit, but I tried. In my zeal to try and free my lead, the 109 that I initially shot at had flipped back and stitched me, I could see holes in the wing and my canopy was cracked. The plane was still sound, but I could hear the wind rushing in. I cranked over, and dropped to the deck, running for home. I could see two more hurricanes coming in, pilots from another patrol coming to our aid. I kept diving for the water and then raced home at wave high.
After I landed, I wiped the grime away from my name, Sgt. Yorkshire Pudding, walking down my fuslage, counting holes, and putting my three fingers through a 20mm cannon hole near the tail.