Raffvantye
04-03-2011, 14:14
They upgraded our Hurricanes to new Spitfires, and these things handle like a dream. A flight of four of us was joined by two American P 400’s. A flight of JU-88’s escorted by a pair of Me 109’s and an Me 110 was on the horizon. Three of the Spits went to engage the 109, I cut across the front to go after that damn 110. The P 400’s went down the right side of the JU 88’s. The plane came in a little lower than me, I saw the markings on the side of the plane that I recognized, and the pilot is “Max Strudel.” I pulled a split ‘S; I got on the tail of the 110, and it banked to engage the other three spits. The distance was too great; I moved the throttle to the stops, diving down, closing and got a shot off, but the damage was light from the jinxing that “Max” was doing. He attempted to flip back on me, but spun out of control, and lost altitude. I flipped back to the bombers; the other two 109’s were above me, dancing
with “Doc” and “Captain Peckerhead.” “Adrian” banked the wrong way, and was trying to re-engage. I climbed into the blind spot of the Ju-88’s gunners, and started working my guns against the bomber above and in front of me. Looking at the flight, I saw that the P-400’s had worked over a few, their wreckage strewing black smoke as it plummeted earthward.
“Captain Peckerhead” broke off from the 109’s, and engaged the Ju-88’s. He had elevation on me, and got to the stream of bombers before me. He started working in on them; I could see bits and pieces flying off the planes. I pulled up my nose and opened up, chewing on a bomber that. I saw my bullets go into the bomber. “Peckerhead was to my left, and his second bomber just went down. I hammered again, and flames erupted from one of the engines of the 88. I had target fixation, and closed in too much, so I started snaking back and forth, slowing down to bring the bomber back into sight. That “Peckerhead” dove across, getting the shot off; the 88 rolled over and plunged earthward. “Peckerhead” called bingo ammo and headed for the coast. I goosed my bird to the next bomber in line, putting rounds into it. I saw in my Mirror that the 110 had climbed back up, and would get into range shortly. I hammered again, and
the bomber broke formation, banking off to the right. I kept the hammer down. The 88 reversed it’s turn, obviously looking for cover from the 110. I knew that I was low on ammo, and with that 110, I had not the ammo to take on either one. I banked away, watching to keep in the blind of the bombers, putting the throttle to the stops. I knew the 110 couldn’t catch me, so it was a quiet flight back to the field. I had only taken one burst of bullets, so damage to my bird was superficial. The Mechanic will be happy. Least this time I won’t have to read that damn ‘letter to the editor’ from that blasted frog Labeau over this mission.
Kill number five will have to wait till tomorrow……
with “Doc” and “Captain Peckerhead.” “Adrian” banked the wrong way, and was trying to re-engage. I climbed into the blind spot of the Ju-88’s gunners, and started working my guns against the bomber above and in front of me. Looking at the flight, I saw that the P-400’s had worked over a few, their wreckage strewing black smoke as it plummeted earthward.
“Captain Peckerhead” broke off from the 109’s, and engaged the Ju-88’s. He had elevation on me, and got to the stream of bombers before me. He started working in on them; I could see bits and pieces flying off the planes. I pulled up my nose and opened up, chewing on a bomber that. I saw my bullets go into the bomber. “Peckerhead was to my left, and his second bomber just went down. I hammered again, and flames erupted from one of the engines of the 88. I had target fixation, and closed in too much, so I started snaking back and forth, slowing down to bring the bomber back into sight. That “Peckerhead” dove across, getting the shot off; the 88 rolled over and plunged earthward. “Peckerhead” called bingo ammo and headed for the coast. I goosed my bird to the next bomber in line, putting rounds into it. I saw in my Mirror that the 110 had climbed back up, and would get into range shortly. I hammered again, and
the bomber broke formation, banking off to the right. I kept the hammer down. The 88 reversed it’s turn, obviously looking for cover from the 110. I knew that I was low on ammo, and with that 110, I had not the ammo to take on either one. I banked away, watching to keep in the blind of the bombers, putting the throttle to the stops. I knew the 110 couldn’t catch me, so it was a quiet flight back to the field. I had only taken one burst of bullets, so damage to my bird was superficial. The Mechanic will be happy. Least this time I won’t have to read that damn ‘letter to the editor’ from that blasted frog Labeau over this mission.
Kill number five will have to wait till tomorrow……