Pilotlog 18

Somewhere in England, 1943,,,

Goshawk's pilotlog entry:

"What're we gonna tell him, Gos?? He's
gonna have a bloody hernia over this flap, he will!" spoke Wolf as
he paddled the raft from the front.

In the rear, Goshawk was thinking. Thinking hard. He had to
come up with something, and fast. The English coastline was
looming larger and larger ahead, and the AirCommandSgt.Major
would be wanting a full report of the cause for the downing
of four Spitfire fighters, should he find out about them. Two
new XIVE's and two older, yet still quite effective, IXC's
found their final resting spots at the bottom of the icy channel
waters by now. Maybe the ACSM wouldn't notice. Just maybe....

Intelligence reported the Werewule'z "Greywolf" and "WileECoyote"
spotted over the eastern coast of the channel, and both Goshawk
and Wolf were so eager to find and destroy them, they had taken
off without clearance. The shock at seeing WileECoyote alive and
again at the stick of a fast Germen fighter filled the Brits with
dread. Consequently, they were easy prey for the practiced tactics
of offsetting B&Z moves. The desire to down these two had been so
intense that they had decided to take the fighters without clearance
from the ACSM. After losing the first two Spits and sneaking back
for two more, they were humbled at their inability to beat the
Germans and bring the planes back home.

Losing aircraft without "tasking orders" for a flight was not acceptable!

"Hey, Wolf, I got an idea!", shouted Gos over the sound of waves
lapping against the rubber raft. "We gotta create a diversion to get the aircraft
inventory book from the ACSM's desk!"

"Roger that!", replied the other Wing Commander. "This better be good 'cause he's
gonna boil us in oil and use our residue for loo seat lubricant if he
finds out."

By the time they returned to base, the sun had set and darkness had fallen
upon the field. Lights were out and most of the pilots were sleeping. Goshawk and
Wolf crept into their quarters and began their search for the tools they would need
to take care of the discrepancy in the inventory book that would surely be noticed at
morning inspection by the ACSM.

After several minutes of sneaky-pete'ing around their building, they were
sufficiently armed for the task at hand.

Belly-crawling to the ACSM's hut, they discovered the office window conveniently
open. Creeping up to the window, they were able to hear a faint moaning from within,
and upon entering through the window, there was no mistaking the sounds.

[Skreeek-skreeeek-skreeeek-skreeeek]"OH YES, ZEES EES ZO VONDERFUL,
SARGEANT!!" came the cries of Helga from within the next room.

Goshawk and Wolf, never ones to listen to such things, and both totally shocked
at the realization of what was happening inside, hurried to their task. They must find
the book.

After several minutes of searching, during interludes of squeaking springs, several
calls of "OUCH, that hurts!", along with sounds of whips slashing air, Goshawk
located the inventory book on a small table next to the furnace.

On top of the book, Goshawk and Wolf placed the fruits of their search from their
quarters, and as they turned to leave, several inches of open Hershey
bars now lay atop the book, opened to the "Plane Count" page. The last act
involved Goshawk's reaching and turning the temperature control of the furnace to
"HIGH". Both pilots returned to the protection of darkness outside.

As the sun crest over the treetops and brought on a new day, the temperature inside
the ACSM's hut was sufficient to not only allow the plane count to be totally
"fudged" over, but also enough that Helga's sharp accented shouts from earlier
were rendered to mere whisperings as she secretly left the hut and headed furtively
back to the medical tent.

The base was back to business as usual.

Dr. Bones' pilotlog entry:

9/7, 1005 hours--
I've noticed something strange today. The atmosphere in the clinic just seemed . . .
looser, more relaxed. Couldn't put my finger on it at first, then realized what it was.
Helga. The Teutonic Terror was a terror no more, it seemed. There was a spring in
her step, a twinkle in her eye, and she actually . . . SMILED at me as she bounced in
the door for work this morning! At first I dismissed it, but when she greeted her first
case of the day with a friendly, compassionate "Gut morning, Leutnant. How may I
be helping you today?" instead of the usual, "Yes, vhat ist botherink you? Out vith
it!" I knew something was up. Now if I could just figure out what it was . . .

My train of thought was again interrupted by the shrill screamings of the ACSM
outside the window. He was really in fine form this morning, but I wasn't sure about
quite what. Something about the plane inventory and chocolate bars . . .

Wolf's pilotlog entry:

...my crew chief checked around the side of the building and then motioned me
forward..."You know they hang people for things like this don't you"?Reggie
whispered in a low and very nervous voice.I replied as calmly as I could"Yes I'm
aware of that but after what the Jerry did the other day it's time to get even".I
watched the sentry till he was on the other side of the compound then turned to my
armorer"Cpl.Peters let's have those wire cutters"."Reggie do you have those fake
A/C transfer papers"?After glancing around furtivly Reggie said"I've got them,but
let me try to talk you out of this again,it's one thing to steal planes at our field,about
the worst that can happen is that you'll have to spit-shine the ACSM's loo,stealing
them from the main depot at Kent can get you shot"."I thought you said this forger
was good"I said as i looked the papers over.With a resigned sigh Reggie said"He's
the best that the east end of London ever produced,the papers are fine ,it's just the
getting them in the office that worries me".Trying to sound relaxed I said"leave that
to me and you two stay out of sight,no use in all of us going to jail".As the sentry
made his next round I moved to the fence,a few snips and I was inside.It wasn't to
hard to find the office but I had a tense moment or two before I found a window
unlocked,the deed was done in short order and all I had to do now was get back
outside the fence without getting caught.Creeping around in the dark was not my
stong point but i made it out just before the sentry came around again.I caught up
with Reggie and Cpl.Peters at the pub a few blocks down the street.The look of
relief was something to behold as I slide into a seat at the table."It's done,now the
only thing to do is get the orders on the CO's desk"I said.With a wry grin Reggie
pointed a thumb at the armorer and said"Kevin's already took care of that".I turned
to him and asked"How did you manage that Peters".He said"The CO's secretary
has a taste for good bourbon so I just passed a quart her way and she took care of
it".Seeing as how I had not even seen a shot glass of bourbon in months I was more
than a little curious "Where exactly did you come up with a Quart of
bourbon"?Peters,a big,good natured Welshman said with a grin"Sir,you don't want
to know"and he was probably right,I didn't...

The next morning the Duke called me into his office,he said"you've been ordered to
ferry some aircraft to Manston and Biggin Hill"."It looks a bit odd for you to be
moving captured Jerry planes to front line bases but that's what the orders say".As
I turned to leave the office he said"Oh,by the way,the ACSM was looking for
you,said something about Chocolate".I got the hell off the base as quick as I
could,Gos would just have to take his chances...

Reporting to the depot with paperwork in hand I was shown the A/C in question,a
nicely rebuilt FW 190A-8,fortunatly SOP called for the plane to be armed which took
care of one problem,now all I had to do was fly to France,find Greywolf and shoot
him down.Sounded like I was in for a long day...

Not to suprisingly,it took less time to find Greywolf and be shot down by him than it
did to paddle that damned raft back to England.

After 'aquiring' a Spitfire I went looking for him again,it looks like the Luftwaffe
High Command is trying out a new tactic,he was flying a captured MkIXC,this time
it went my way.Last I saw of him he was retiring towards France trailing a large
cloud of smoke.

I dropped the Spit off at the depot and picked up a second FW and went looking for
him again,I wished I had stayed at home.I'm getting quite good at getting out of a
sinking plane and into a raft now,I didn't even get my feet wet.

Borrowed a Spit at Manston and did a patrol,meet up with the Hun flying another
captured Spitfire over Beachey Head,I found out you can Boom n Zoom with a
Spitfire,he found out that the engine will explode if you push it too hard or for too
long.I hope he didn't get too wet getting into the raft.

This was the make or break,I had to get back to the base before somebody came
looking for me,the only thing sitting around that would run was another FW.I wasn't
real happy about it but it was that or nothing.At the start things went pretty much the
way i expected,I got hit hard on a head-on pass by a hail of cannon fire and was
leaving a long trail of smoke.The plane was in a bad way but it was still flying,after
several passes,Greywolf was setting up to finish me off.I did a split-s and gained
what speed I could,as he came down on me I pulled the nose up and fired a long
burst at him that obviously hit something vital because he went over me trailing fire
and debris,he got to swim and I just barely made it back to Dover.I caught a train
back to the base and left the remains of the FW sitting in a wheat field,let somebody
figure that one out.

Hopefully I covered my tracks well enough that they won't know who to come see
about those captured planes that vanished...now if I can just sneak past the ACSM
I'll be just fine........

As always,it was a pleasure and a challenge to fly with you Greywolf.I Salute you
sir,it was one hell of a match.
Again.

Goshawk's pilotlog entry:

The O-Club was busy, as the 609'ers stormed the bar, shouting for
their favorite libations. "Lowng Oiland Tea, please?" they seemed to
shout in unison. Behind the bar, the tender was hurriedly trying to
keep up. "There was a war on after all", he thought, "don't these sods
know anything about rationing, fer chrissake?"

But, the 609'ers and the German squadron with the "Scourge" team was
involved and certain things seemed to take priority, like getting plowed
in order to settle the nerves for the upcoming day's activities.

The booze kept flowing.

Outside, at the strip of grass usd for the takeoffs, two planes sat in
preparation for their flight in the morning. Goshawk and No609_Viper
checked their fighters over and over, each making sure that everything
was prepared just right for their match in the morning.

Neither could sleep.

In the wee hours of morning, both had made their way to the cockpits, and wasted no
time in starting the big Merlins. They were off.

Round one: a true snakefight. The steeds twisted and turned in a death struggle
likened to two cobras. Venom poured from both planes, and smoke popped forth first
from Goshawk's Spit.

Round 2 was more of the same, except that a well timed volley of cannon fire ripped
into the vital organs of Viper's plane. The likking toes of the Goshawk struck the
main nerve for the asp, and death was soon to follow.

Round 3 resulted in both pilots twisting their way to the deck, and as the Viper tried
to make an extension to gain a good angly, it touched its wingtip into the drink. The
channel waters, being as unforgiving as possible, quickly swallowd the snake up.

Round 4, the Viper tried an uncharacteristic P-51 and after several minutes of
angles and pot shots, managed to smoke the feathers of the Goshawk.

Round 5 brought the Spitfires back to the field of battle. In the tightest turning battle
to date for me, I was fortunate enough to place several rounds into the asp's head.
He died quickly.

Goshawk flew off with the prize in his talons!

Goshawk's pilotlog entry:

Slithering through the tall grass, the snake was nearly invisible.
It's coloration was nearly a perfect match with the brownish/green
blades, and if it had not been moving, it's camouflage would have
rendered it invisible to every other creature. But, the goshawk was
circling high overhead, and the slight movement of grass blades were
like a beacon to the sharp-eyed bird of prey.

The goshawk dropped like a rock, and a telltale shadow of wing alerted
the taipan to the bird's presence. It froze, motionless except for the
occasional sniff of a tongue. It's eyes did not need to find and focus
on the bird after the hawk landed. It knew where the hunter was by
smell and body heat. The taipan coiled and waited. It's head turned
ever so slightly, in time and space with the movements of the
approaching goshawk.

The goshawk side-hopped to where the snake was believed to be, and in
the process, was careless of the far reaching coiled striking ability
of the coiled serpent. As a result, the snake struck goshawk in the
leg, knocking him off balance. The bird went down hard, and took
several flaps and hops to gather it's composure to rejoin the hunt.

The venom spent on the goshawk left the bird slightly stunned, but not
defeated. It's eyes continued to focus and it's senses were still keen.
It decided to use it's greatest advantage, and it climbed into the sky,
high above the serpent. It spread its wings and waited for the movement
that would surely come.

The hunter was gone, to where the reptile knew not. It hoped that its
venon would soon render the bird incapable of flight, and in a state to
which the snake might swallow it whole. It had to now look for the scent
of the creature. The taipan turned its head to the right, then, before
it was able to turn back to the left, the goshawk struck from above. In
a flash, the snake was snipped. The goshawk carried the body, sans head,
to feast at a nearby perch.

Soon, another slight movement caught the goshawk's attention, and the
littany was repeated. After an initial strike by the taipan, the goshawk
turned the tables and devoured the slithery slinky cold-blooded low-bellied
side-winding rat-eating tongue-sniffing egg-sucking snake!

Round 5 resulted in the snake again coiling for an early strike, but as the
goshawk approached to within striking distance, the taipan sprung. The
goshawk, anticipating the strike, jumped for altitude. The snake tried to
follow, but its outstretched body and head made it merely a perfect target
for the sharp beak of the bird! The snake was caried away to be devoured
at the goshawk's leisure!

Great match, Taipan.
[Salute]

LLv34_Snefens' pilotlog entry:

Diary of Vääpeli Snefens, Danish voulenteer in the FAF (Finnish Air Force)

20th of September 1943

About a week ago a russian Lend-Lease spitfire, that had been forced down by our
airforce, was brought to our base. The time had been used to clear it up and put our
markings on.

I was assigned as test pilot and was scheduled to take her up in the late afternoon. I
was under specific orders not to go near enemy territory, but just in case they loaded
her up. When I later that night lay in my bed, I was very grateful my CO had made
that decision.

There was partial clouded, and practically no wind when I jumped into the cockpit
and prepared for take-off. The engine started with a roar and I began accelerating
up the airstrip. I noticed it was significant easier to control than my Mersu. It almost
took off by itself.

I was gaining height and put myself above the light cloud cover before I started
doing some rolls and sharp turns. Wow, this was completly different than humming
around in my Mersu. I was about to turn the nose home, when I in the distance saw 4
dots. I thought it might be 2nd Lentue returning from their afternoon patrol.
However, my hope of being able to tag along quickly vanished as I got a bit closer.
That was definetly not my yellow-nosed buddies, but grey/green russian spits.

With the sun coming from west I had a advantage. I Made a close frontal pass while
I saw the red stars flashing in the setting sun as I passed.
Apparently only one of the enemy pilots had seen my approach 'cause three of the
spits continued their flight west.

The last one made a split-s so I climbed up vertical. The Spit now had turned all the
way below and was climbing vertical up towards me. I watched my speed and
rear-view closely and let the nose drop just as he did the same. Now he was a sitting
duck.
I dropped down on him like a rock, with my guns blazing and saw with delight small
explosions indicating hits. I pulled back and climbed up again.
The pilot regained control and tried climbing for me again, I made the same
manouver and this time I noticed how his tail was shattered by my cannons.

I quickly oriented me and saw the remaining three spits coming right at me. They
passed with guns blazing and I dodged by doing small moves in the stick. As we
passed I saw one of the spits roll and do an agressive turn, but suddenly he started
rolling uncontrollable; this was my chance.
I turned my spit and was behind him just as he regained control. I opened fire with
all weapons and saw his right wing come clean off.

I noticed one of the spits below me and made a dive on him. Somehow he was
unaware of my approach and reacted by a split-s into the clouds. I was about to go
after him, as I suddenly felt my aircraft shake from gun hits.
Quickly I pulled the stick with all my power and my spit made a fast barrel roll. I was
suprised by the speed of this and all went black. When I was able to see again I
could still see the last spit behind me. With mostly uncontrollabe pulls in the stick I
was able to make him overshoot and now he was just about reachable.
He made a flat left turn and I followed him, but as we was flying in the same type of
plane I was not able to get him in my sight. My speed slowly dropped and I was on
the brink of doing some sort of break and head for the base, when I saw him loose
control over the plane.
I quickly lined up and pushed the trigger. Black smoke came pouring out of his
engine and I saw a shadow open the canopy and bail out.

Now I turned back, my fuel tanks almost empty. When I came back my CO was
standing next to my plane when I jumped out: "Well" he said, "anything to report".
"It flies well sir, but I miss my Mersu".

Spectre's pilotlog entry:

The breeze was not quite stiff enough to blow the odor of exhaust from
inside the small hangar. The riggers were busy making final adjustments
on the Spit while the chief was checking the 7th cylinder for compression
n the big Merlin.

"Check's out OK, Lieutenant!" he yelled over the din. "She's purring like
a kitten now."

Inside the cockpit, Spectre switched the ignition to off, and listened
closely for a tell-tale sound of a backfire from the troublesome cylinder.

"OK, chief, I guess you're right, she just seems to lose a bit of punch
after a roll, and that's the one that's fouled the plugs in the past, is
all." He had a look of concern on his face, and his brow furrowed in
intensity. "Let's run 'er up one more time, chief. Just to make sure, ok?"

"Cheezus Christ Lieutenant, you're gonna bust a rod wasting it like that,
she'll hold I tell ya!", he scorned.

But before he was able to finish, Spectre called out "Contact", and the
whine of the flywheel began to sound in anticipation of the first cylinder
catching and thrusting the others to activity.

The catlike roar of the big engine filled the hangar.

Across the green expanse of the field, Aphid was also testing his machine,
getting ready for the mission that was soon to follow. He revved his motor,
and signaled for the chocks to be removed from the wheels. His Spit then
lurched forward as the throttle was pushed to full. Without needing to turn,
he gained speed and soon lifted off from the grass.

"Time to go, chief!" called Spectre. He looked to the riggers, who
responded with thumbs pointed up. The ammo trays had been filled, and the
chocks were soon pulled. Spectre watched as Aphid's plane reached speed, then
the wheels began their ritual double bounce, then lifted off. Soon the wheels
were retracted into their ports under the wings.

Spectre's were soon to follow.

Several minutes later, both pilots were knifing it out in the skies above the
channel. In round 1, Spectre was easing into a tight turn fight when Aphid
spun in.

Round 2 resulted in Aphid putting a quick end to the Spectre's quest for
victory. A tough round!!

Round 3 resulted in Spectre's watching the tight turning pattern of Aphid
instead of the water where he should have been looking. His left wing caught a wave
and the plane quickly augered in!

Round 4 ended quickly for Aphid when a well placed facial shot took out
Aphid's Spit during a looping pass.

Round 5 was a long affair that began with Spectre damaging Aphid's engine.
Although the smoke poured from his engine, he maintained a close distance, and
seemed to be able to match me stride for stride. Although I tried to extend
to allow him to die peacefully, but he soon was sending radio calls for me to
"turn and fight like a man"!

Upon seeing that he was not slowing down, I did. After a brief turning and looping
fight, Aphid went to the waves for the last time.

Salute! Aphid. You are one tough SOB, and the match was fun as could be!

OzHeat's pilotlog entry:

Results of Challenge between OzHeat vs MadDog.

After looking at the pilot roster I decided my first goal was to get the scalp of each
of the ranking officers above me. Starting from Flt Ltn, I slowly fought my way
through the officers of eaw ladder. The final top brass officer that I needed to add to
my collection was a Lt. Col. and MadDog was one. Jumping at the chance to
challenge him I have finally completed my collection.

Round 1. Hurricane.
At the merge MadDog kept on going as i had looped around to chase him, to my
surprise MD just kept on going extending and gaining alt. on me. After a few passes
MD had a very handy advantage on me and started to BnZ me. 10 or so passes later
my engine finnaly gave way to his mg fire. I had no choice but to ditch the plane and
learn from this encounter.
OzHeat 0 - MadDog 1

Round 2. Spitfire 1a.
Now that I know what MD style of fighting is like, I decided to extend and gain alt
after the merge. With both of us climbing, it was very hard for either to gain any
advantage. Slowly circling around we both come in for a h-h pass and then extend
again and gain more alt. Knowing that this could go on for a while, I decided to
throttle back slightly as my temperature gauge was starting to indicate red zone. 5
minutes later after a pass I see MD starting to head low and fast(beauty his engine
is overheating), with my relitive cool engine I could give back some treatment that
MD handed out in previous round. A couple of diving passes at him was enought to
tear his wing off his Spitfire.
OzHeat 1 - MadDog 1

Round 3. BF109-k4.
Once again fight started like previous fights and both of us trying to get alt
advantage. With both climbing we approached 19000ft after 3-4 circling merges,
then after the final merge I see MD is loosing alt and spiraling towards the cold
water of the channel, thinking to myself he will pull out of spin I gain some position
to swoop on him. To my amazement he wasn't able to pull out and plunge in to the
channel. Thinking he may of been disconnected I ask MD what happened and he
replies to me "got in a spin and couldn't get out of it", damm he spun 19000ft in a
flat spin.
OzHeat 2 - MadDog 1

Round 4. P51d.
As per standard MD was going to try extend on merge so I set him up for an lead
turn, it worked and as I approached his 6 I was just 1500ft away from him. With MD
on his back legs all he could do was to try outrun me with his slight speed advantage.
As he tried to extend I kept climbing slowly and by time MD had extended far
enough I had a very handy alt. advantage. Swooping down towards MD I manage to
get a few hits and then regain my alt advantage. One final attack had me diving
towards him and MD climbing to me, a long burst from the 6 mgs saw that his engine
wouldn't make it back to land.
OzHeat 3 - MadDog 1

Great flying MadDog, you taught me a different style of fighting. I told you after the
first round that the channel was to cold for a swim. Till next time I hope you stay in
the blue skies(you are a pilot and not a swimmer you know).
Good Luck in your future flying.

Now for my next goal of that no. 1 spot :)

Goshawk's pilotlog entry:

"I still think we should be checking it, just to be sure", mentioned
Goshawk to Dr.Bones.

"That's a pile o' baloney, Gos", the good doctor complained. "You know
that he's just tryin to get checked again by WuWu, and she's got better
things t' do than stare at Taipan's locked up extended appendage".

"Can't she check it out by manipulation or something?" asked the Wing
Commander. "He's said in his sick-call memo that it hurts bad, and won't
bend anymore. It's gotta be something serious, fer chrissake. Have you
even looked at it, doc?"

Dr.Bones was fuming! Ever since WuWu's arrival, the boys at the field
have checked in almost daily with every conceivable malady imaginable.
He was tired of perusing the sick-call chit complaints.

"Jeezuz, Gos, you can't imagine the crud I've had to deal with", picking
up a stack of memos he thumbed through them.

"Listen to these, Goshawk! Just listen for crying out loud!" He began to
read, casting aside the ones he read from as he finished. The sheets
fluttered to the floor like leaves as he spoke.

"Diddle Do Disease"
"Balls o'Fire"
"Cranial Insertion Deficiency"
"Missin' Mum's Mams, can you guess who that one's from, Gos?"
"Here, this is Taipan's." He held out the white slip to the side to get
good lighting on it. "My pinkie's been straight and locked so long,
it aches. Can't bend it anymore. Can you help me relax it a bit?"

The papers continued to fall, as Goshawk interrupted, "Have you looked at
him, doc? Have you checked him out yourself?"

"Christ no, I haven't had time to stare at Taipan's "pinkie"! I have my
own medical problems to deal with and you promised that as soon as my
nurse showed, she'd be able to deal with my needs first. You promised!!"

Goshawk saw that he was in a difficult situation. Furthermore, he had not
expected his own sick-call memo to be used against him when he passed it
on to WuWu in the mess line.

"OK, doc, tell ya what, I'll fly with him, and if he's got a valid complaint,
you gotta promise to check him out, ok?"

"OK, Gos, but I do the checkin' of that bloke, I don't want him anywhere
near my nurse with that complaint of his. She's startin' to lose her focus
on real medical issues."

Goshawk turned and left the mash tent. He headed to Taipan's hangar.

As he arrived, Taipan was in his Spit, engine running. "Doc says ya gotta
fly it, Taipan. I'll be checkin' you out, though, and if you do less than
your usual, I'll ask him to ground you and put you in the infirmary."

"Right, boss!", yelled the pilot over the din of the Merlin. He signalled
for the chocks to be jerked, and pushed full on the throttle. As the Spit
began its roll out, Goshawk climbed aboard his own.

Soon, both birds of prey were coursing their way into the sparsely clouded
sky, leaving the white cliffs behind as they clawed for altitude.

Taipan merged with Goshawk in a fast diving pattern, spending a stream of
cannon rounds at Goshawk's bird in doing so. Goshawk pulled hard and looped
over, catching Taipan at a slow climb and away. As Goshawk turned into the
propwash of Taipan's bird, Taipan tried to turn away. His engine was quickly
smoked by the cannon rounds from Gos' Spit.

"Hmmm, if he does that again, I'll call this match and put him on recoup
duties", thought Goshawk. "He's a better turner than that!"

As Goshawk returned to base, he did his customary victory roll over the field,
much to the delight of KoKo, waiting at the door to his hut. Gos landed,
and waited for Taipan to return.

As Taipan stepped from Solar Arrow's walrus, he waved KiKi off, yelling "No
time for that!". He strode straight to his hangar where a Typhoon was waiting.
As Goshawk ran toward the hangar to check on Taipan, he was off again.

Goshawk followed close behind, and after reaching altitude, Gos again downed
the snake after a less-than-adequate turning performance by Taipan.

Taipan again took off from the field before Goshawk could check the complaint
out, and he decided to finish the match. Both pilots took to Tempests this time,
and in a similar situation to the other rounds, Taipan was downed by a faster
turning Goshawk.

As the walrus landed with Taipan in it the third time, Goshawk met Taipan as
he stepped from the plane.

"Show me that appendage, Taipan. This better be good!"

Taipan held the swollen rod-straight "pinkie" out in Goshawk's direction.
Goshawk, upon looking quickly at it, then turning away, ordered Taipan
to sick-call.

"Tell the doc I said you're grounded 'til that gets fixed!"

Taipan turned to head to the mash tent.

Terrific match, Taipan, considerin' the physiological dilemna you were flying
under! I'm amazed that that thing didn't get in your way more while
you were flying. Hope the swelling goes away son. Doesn't that hurt???

No609_Relent's pilotlog entry:

Well that was fun chaps! I think I'm
gonna try that again ;-)... Request
bolter! (MORE...)

Posted By: No609_Relent <jcam_0@my-deja.com> (e249.nas22.sonic.net)
Date: Thursday, 30 September 1999, at 9:46 p.m.

It was 0400 as I staggered out of my quarters towards the briefing hut, pitch black,
wet and cold this "fine English September morning", huh! I started thinking about
that crazy mission over 3 years prior...

I was just a pilot officer then, but a German speaking one - sheesh just my luck.
Jerry surprised the heck out of us with that butcherbird 190, and we had to get a
working copy pronto. So just my luck, I'm "volunteered" to be dropped behind
enemy lines, 10 miles from a Jerry airfield in Metz, in eastern France. The French
underground had uncovered a staging airfield where 190's were being ferried to
airfields closer to the French coast.

Man I should have just said "...put me in the brig now, 'cause I ain't goin'". Huh,
"luckily" for me, our C.O. IcePick convinced me it was possible, that "we" might
just pull this off...huh, yeah right, "we"! He didn't warn me that if I didn't, I'd likely
be shot on site, if the Germans caught up with me. After a night drop, and some
brisk walking, I lucked out on the approach to the airfield - hearing a motorcycle
approaching from the east. I quickly unrolled a length of rope I had in my survival
pack, and tied it to a tree across the road, and ran to the near side, pulling the rope
taut after tying it around another tree. It was still early, the sun hadn't quite come up
yet, so it would be hard to make out the rope strung a few feet over the dirt
roadway...

Riding the motorcycle onto the airfield, with my new uniform on, official id, and
papers to deliver, I felt confident I could get into the base without raising any
eyebrows. After dropping off the papers to the base commanding officer, I made the
rounds chatting with the pilots and ground crew, trying to look interested. Sheesh,
one of the mechanics was beaming about "his new bird", and couldn't wait to show
me. He even let me climb into the cockpit of a 190, and described some of the
instruments before his "sgt. major" just about ripped him a new back side while I
was told in no uncertain terms to "get the hell out of that plane". That character was
a mean one, Greywolf I think was his name (I had a feeling I'd be seeing more of
him sometime - but in the air). But it was just enough information for me to figure out
how to get one of these planes up and out of here...

After about an hour of wandering and looking interested in all this, I was able to
sneak back towards a row of about 20 190's. I picked one second from the end, so
my movements could be covered from both sides. I climbed into the cockpit, keeping
my head low so I could keep out of site just a little longer... Remembering what the
overly-enthusiastic mechanic had told me, I primed the engine after confirming this
bird had full fuel tanks - and ammo to spare ;-). I was ready to rumble...

Unfortunately for me, that engine did rumble! No sooner had I cranked up the rpm's
then about 20 men started running my way from a nearby hanger. Uh oh, I guess
they've got this all scheduled - that's "efficient" Jerry for you! I pushed the throttle
to the stops and the butcher bird started rolling on freshly paved asphalt. I could
hear gunfire now, as a slug crashed through the canopy - still slid back on it's tracks.
As I picked up speed and started my rotation into the air, I could feel how nimble
this bird was - no wonder our Spit 1's and 2's were having a tough time with this girl -
sheesh!

I kept her low - under 200 feet - to stay below German radar that was sure to be
scouring the countryside looking for me. The plan was for me to fly north through
Belguim and Holland, then fly north west towards and over the North Sea, and then
west to England and safety. After about 30 minutes of hugging the ground, a shwarm
of 109's was vectoring towards me from the west - some ground observers must
have spotted me and gave my general direction - damn! I pushed the throttle to the
stops, picking up speed past 600kph - wow this bird is fast too. The first two 109's
made a boom and zoom pass, but luckily they didn't hit anything. I kept my speed up,
hugging the ground to make it hard to pick me out against the backdrop. Then the
next two came at me, but they had to slow down for fear they wouldn't pull up. Just
at the right time, I rolled the plane 90 degrees to left - man! this thing can roll! As I
pulled back on the stick, rolled 180 and pulled back, I was behind them! I lined the
rear 109 up and fired the guns. Oh my Lord! What the heck is this think packin?!
The 109 literally blew up! As the forward 109 started jinking, I was able to pull lead
and fire a burst into the left wing root. Man, it must have 4 20mm or more, as the
wing just tore off!. Hmmm we could use this bird across the channel ;-) I was able to
zig zag enough that the first two 109's lost sight of me while they were extending to
gain altitude from their dive. From then on it was clear sailing through the rest of
Belgium, through Holland and over most of the North Sea...

As I approached the English coast, I radioed that "butcher 1" (my call sign) was
approaching Martlesham, to make sure they didn't shoot me down as a German
raider. Just as I broke throught the clouds at 5000 feet, I could see the airfield
ahead, about 10 miles. Then out of the corner of my eye I could see 3 spits
screaming down on me at 4 oclock high.... Dammit, they didn't warn them!! I rolled
the butcherbird over and split-S'd to get some distance between me and my
"comrades", but they were good and didn't let me extend very far. I could see
tracers flying all around me, the excellent roll rate of this bird certainly saving me
today. As the first spit raced past me, I could make out the "PR" in front of the
roundrel - I was gonna be killed by my bloody own 609 mates!!! I got on the radio
and started yelling that I was british, that I just stole this plane from the Jerries!
Then I heard a familiar voice reply - "Rel? Is that you?" - It was Kos! "Bloody well
right" I said, "and Ice will have your hide if you put another scratch in this bird!"...

With that pleasant thought, I walked into the briefing room - a strange feeling
coming over me. Instead of the usual bunch of chaps mumbling about the next
mission, only a handful were in the room, including IcePick, Compans, and Kos.
"Rel", Ice finally said, "Jerry has come up with a new bird - no props, but some kind
of jet propulsion". "OK", I said, "But..." then Ice cut me off, "Rel, you're gonna
have to go back and do it all over again..."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!..."

;-)

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