On the way to answer the challenge!
Seahawk's pilot log entry:
Somewhere
in England:
" Well Joe, you were right. This energy fighting is the way
to go.", Seahawk put down his beer. They were sitting on two
jerry cans in the hanger door. The sun was westerling and painted
the sky a vivid red.
Joe had his bad knee propped up on a packing crate and there were
a few dead-drunk soldiers sitting between them. Seahawk had
returned victorious from his match a while ago and the two of
them had been tippling since. The familiar sound of banging and
cursing filled the air from the workshop behind them, and the
landing pattern was slowing down for the night. Across the way on
the other side of the field the night crews were working on
getting the P-61's up and running. Both Joe and Seahawk shook
their heads at the mechanics and crews of those crazy "Black
Widows". Neither one of them wanted anything to do with the
black planes.
" So anyway.....how many of these we had already, Joe?"
Seahawk asked, looking blearily at his buddy.
" A few, a few," Joe said, his southern drawl thicker
with the drink.
" Were was I? Oh yeah, anyway. I like this energy fighting.
It's the only way to beat that Spit 14. And it forces you to be
patient." He looked up at the sky. " Ain't like the
Pacific at all. These Birds got speed, and cannons! I love
cannons!", he crowed to the setting sun.
The mechanics in the hanger stopped work at the noise and looked
at the two friends. The pilot in his leather jacket and lined
boots, and the mechanic in sweat stained coveralls. They were
becoming a fixture and their nightly conversations almost
routine. After a second they went back to work.
" So you beat him, I guess," Joe's eyes twinkled
mischievously.
" Of course I did, of course!" He got serious for a
moment, then; " Almost had me though, and I almost started
dogfighting in that 190, for God's sake! Stupid of me but I
caught it before I got my butt kicked!"
He brought
one hand up and then the other, and then facing them towards each
other he said: " Started out at 10,000........"
Match 1
Seahawk Spit 14, Ninja Spit 9
" We passed, I extended so I was sure to get height and
distance. Then I slowly turned back and dove, smokin' his engine
on the pass. Then it was a matter of waitin' for the damage to
take hold then I blew him away!" He clapped his hands
together at the last.
Seahawk-1, Ninja-0
Match 2
Seahawk FW 190D-9, Ninja Spit 14
" This one we both got a little chicken happy. Guns blazin
we collided." Seahawk looked sheepishly. " Sorry I
messed up your bird, Joe."
Draw
Match 3
Seahawk FW 190D-9, Ninja Spit 14
"
This time I smoked him on the 1st pass. Hurt his engine bad, then
I just kept lining up above him and pecked away till he went
boom." Seahawks enthusiasm was waning the more beer he
drank.
Seahawk-2, Ninja-0
Match 4
Seahawk FW190D-9, Ninja Spit 14
"
Thish one wass eashy," Seahawk said, slurring his words. His
hands were laying on the
packing crate. Joe could tell that Seahawk's head was soon to
follow. " 1sht pass, hit 'ish ailer, ailer, ailerons."
He hiccupped. "Then he crashed!" Seahawk looked at Joe,
smiled a crooked smile, then put his heads on his hands.
Seahawk-3, Ninja-0
Joe took the half empty beer bottle from Seahawks hands. Seahawk
didn't notice. Joe limped back into the hangar, leaving the
snoring pilot to sleep awhile. He went into the back to the big
fridge where he had his stash of beer. Pulling out a case he
walked over to his assistant. "Give him awhile then send him
off to bed, okay?" His assistant nodded then asked: "
Where you going with all that beer, Sarge?" Joe spit a wad
of tobacco on the
floor. " To help that poor s.o.b who's gotta get Ninja's
birds flyin' again, were else?"
He winked
to his assistant, and limped out the hanger door.
Thanks Ninja. Great Match!
Goshawk's pilot log entry:
The fog
was just starting to lift. On the flightline, fitters and
armorers were hastily making the planes ready for the day's
challenges. The call for action was immediately answered by
Goshawk and Enforcer. Both pilots hastily made a path directly
for their waiting Hurricanes.
Dewdrops on the blades of grass were immediately flattened and
spread by the weight of the tires as they were crushed. They
would quickly grow back, however. Elsewhere, the water was being
blown or evaporated by the force of the propwash from the
Hurricane fighters. The popping of the exhaust stacks from the
big Rolls-Merlin awakened all of the pilots but Seahawk, still
passed out from the previous evenings sojourns and libations.
The Hurricanes accelerated briskly across the field, and began
bouncing ever so slightly as the air speed increased. The bounces
of the big tires became more and more pronounced until finally
with a definite "hop", the
wings of the old fighters caught and bit the air.
Both pilots retracted the landing gear in their own fashion.
Goshawk hesitated a bit, wanting to make sure the air would hold
steady, while Enforcer took to the notion that the gear spoiled
the looks of the whole thing. He raised the gear immediately upon
gaining 20 feet of air.
In the huts, pilots watched momentarily at the two fighters
taking off, then returned to their slumber.
Koko returned to Seahawk's bed, where she diddled and doted upon
her "Beefcakes". There she would stay until the next
victor returned to the base. She longed for the warm island
breezes of her native homeland, but knew that her duty was to the
men of the squadron, and her unconscious maternal needs.
Round 1: Hurricanes
Goshawk and Enforcer were hard at it immediately. Both pilots
turned their fighters at seemingly impossible structural limits,
yet, both knew that this would be necessary to be victorious. The
creaks and groans of airframes were the only sounds, save the
engine screams. No staccato of machinegun fire interrupted the
fight. The Hurricanes twisted and turned lower and lower until
both planes were skimming the wavetops. At one point, Goshawk
watched Enforcer's right wingtip bite into the surf, sending a
cascade of water aside and cutting
a swath through 50 feet of wave. The sudden influence of drag
upon the wing of the aged fighter was too much for the steed to
withstand. After a brief righting of the airframe, it was unable
to bite the air sufficiently to support the weight. Enforcer
skipped once on the water's surface, then the front of the
Hurricane nosedived into the icy English waters.
Goshawk - 1, Enforcer - 0
Round 2: Hurricanes
Lagging resulted in the calling of this round. No shots were
fired, no unpleasantries
exchanged!
Round 3: Hurricanes
Immediately after the pass, Goshawk pulled his plane vertical,
hoping to gain a modicum of advantage over Enforcer's craft.
Though a short stall and spin ensued, a firing solution was able
to be briefly gained on Enforcer. After several minutes of
twisted corkscrewing maneuvers, Enforcer was subjected to the
onslaught of the full impact of 8 .303" Browning machine
guns. Enforcer's craft exploded from the fury.
Goshawk - 2, Enforcer - 0
Upon checking in at base for the next round's planes, Goshawk was
accosted by the Sgt.Major. "Jewst wat th' 'ell you think
yew'ah doin' thayuh, suh, wit moy Spit?"
"Gonna take her up for a row with Enforcer, "SM",
hope you don't mind!", came the officer's reply.
"Yah brrrouwt tha' 'urri ba' ah full o' 'oles, ya did,
sah!", spat the crust old warrior. His attitude to officers
was not sweetened at all by the years he spent with the Gordon
Highlander's regiment in India. He especially took a dislike to
these Yank "fly-boys" and their seemingly unending lust
for the women.. Sgt. Major MacColloughy stared fixedly at the
middle of Goshawk's back as the pilot turned and walked to a Spit
IX parked nearby.
"Fu'in wankerrr!! I'm knackered from fix'n that bloke's
planes, I yam!", he whispered as he turned back to the
hangar.
Round 4: Spit IX's
Immediately after the merge, both pilots turned sharply to the
other, hoping to bring the guns to bear first. Goshawk spun,
still flying the smaller faster craft like the earlier Hurricane.
Enforcer took advantage of the stupidity, and took a position on
Goshawk's tail. Goshawk attempted a brief extension and a gain of
much needed altitude, but it was for naught. Enforcer caught
Goshawk rapidly, and dispatched him without mercy!
Goshawk - 2, Enforcer - 1
Round 5: Hurricanes
After much ado with turning, spiraling, looping, and passing,
Goshawk watched as both planes dove into the frigid waters of the
channel. Enforcer went first and Goshawk soon followed, unable to
pull out of the dive in time. Enforcer reported his end only
displayed me diving in, and him staying aloft. Due to the
conflict, the round was
declared a draw by both pilots.
Round 6: Hurricanes
Goshawk was able to gain an initial advantage after the merge,
and gained a position on Enforcer's tail. Try as he might to lose
the disadvantage, Goshawk was able to follow as if on a lead. The
full force of the Brownings upon Enforcer's airplane were
overpowering.
Goshawk - 3, Enforcer - 2, Draw - 2
Excellent match.
[Salute]
RoadRunner's pilot log entry:
Congratulations
on a killer victory.
I just past Koko. She's heading your way with a tanker of froth.
Or was she just frothing.
Maybe both.
"Yo Koko?" I yelled. She turned briefly and abruptly
flinged me the bird."No time RR", she yelled back.
"Gos is gonna show me a new game called
stick-in-rudder."
:....her duty was to the men of the squadron, and her unconscious
maternal needs.
LOL
RoadRunner's pilotlog entry:
The cab
pulled in front of the flat Koko and I had been living for over
month now. I swung open the door holding it to its stops with my
foot and reached in the back seat with aching muscles for my
flight bag. "Thanks for the lift partner". Chub's was a
local chap who ran a pub just outside the base. He offered me a
ride after he closing up.
"Right-O RR! Say hello to Koko for me." Chub's
responded cheerfully.
It was a raw night, I could feel the chill of the damp cold ground through the leather souls of my boots as I navigated around puddles of standing water up to the front door. Just as I was about to insert the key, the door swung open.
"Oh you're home?" I remarked.
"Yes
I Am." replied Koko with that recognizable
"I-could've-been-out-having-fun" tone in her voice.
"Listen Kok, I'm sorry for being late, got involved at the
base and just forgot about the time".
Staring me square in the eye with an accusing look, arms folded
she simply returned a cold "Ah-huh!"
"I heard all about it, that you ruined three of Kendo's
planes tonight." She said coldly.
"No it wasn't three. Kendo crashed twice on his own. The
third time was purely by chance" I explained.
"Hmm and how much "by chance" WAS that?" Koko
inquired sarcastically.
"Well he got in front of me, before I knew what had happened
he just blew up. I didn't realize I was pulling the
trigger…. It just happened".
Koko stepped from the door and pushed her way passed me and
walked toward the street muttering "You disgust me RR!"
Too tired to care, I called to her. "Where are you going at
this time of night?"
"Over to get the real story from Kendo!", she replied
over her shoulder.
"Wearing a towel?", I called after her.
"Well he might need one, heard he ended up swimming to shore
after you shot'em down….. by chance." Then added
"He's probably feeling just awful right about now."
"You don't even know him!" I shouted.
"Ok! Who is he then?", she asked after stopping and
turning around.
"Not really sure. He's a bush pilot from Canada." I
replied.
"A what?" Koko asked with peeking interest. A hint of a
smile crossed her face.
"Now Koko calm down it's not what you're thinking."
"Wow I never met a bush pilot?" "Buussh pilot,
BUSH! pilot, A BUSH PILOT" she murmured over and over as she
ran her thumb seductively along the overlapping flap of the
towel.
Flagging an on-going cabby, Koko yelled. "Listen RR don't
wait up for me I may be a little longer than I expect."
KOKO! Don't cheer'em up to much, I think he's flying in the
morning." I closed the door behind me, plopped into the
hammock Koko had setup in the den and fell unconscious.
Beaker's pilotlog entry:
Taipan:
(def) A venomous snake found in Australier.
Beaker: (def) 1. A glass vessel used in laboratories. 2. A
stuffed puppet appearing in reruns of The Muppet Show. Laboratory
assistant to Professor Bunson, Beaker's sightless backseater in
jet games.
Fangs out: (def) ACM terminology for actions a pilot takes when
he throws all caution to the wind and lives for the instantaneous
moment to try for a quick kill, at the expense of all other
concerns, including his own personal safety.
Similar: Beaker 3, Taipan 2
Round 1
Taipan picks the tried and true, and very stable Spit 1a. Beaker
tries to use the angles merge from Shaw's angles fight. Ends up
getting good lateral seperation and both early turned into an
angles fight. Pulling in excess of 210 mph (all IAS), Beaker
pulls into the vertical to get some alt and slow down a bit
closer to Vc. Pulls too hard and temporarily stalls it for about
10 secs in that floating thing the Spit does where it doesn't
spin, nor drop, but just flutters out of control for an eternity,
it seems. That was it, Taipan took advantage of that lapse and
got on the tail and hammers away. Beaker turns and turns weaving
back and forth taking strikes here and there. Finally,
while down on the deck and damaged, Taipan's bullets smoke the
engine and the Merlins loses power over time. We scissored for a
bit but each time, Taipan goes high and there was no way the
damaged Merlin could keep the nose up, eventually, resigned to
his fate, Beaker's spit falls out of control into the drink, too
low for the chute. Grizzly scene.
1-0 Taipan.
Round 2
Beaker chooses the FW-190D. At the merge, Beaker goes for speed
in a straight line, Taipan pulling into a flat 180. At 300 mph,
Beaker pulls into the vertical trying for the high side attack
before Taipan can get his speed up to keep the nose pointed high.
Being a hard plane to fly, Beaker of course, stalls it at the top
and drops like a rock. Taipan gets on his tail and chews away
with a short burst of cannon fire. Whump! Damn this guy is a
marksman. Engine damaged. Noticeable power loss. Nothing to do
but wait for the end, again. Drink again. Taipan is a good shot.
So far in both rounds, his fire were at 16% this round and 33% in
the first round.
2-0 Taipan.
As Hermann Goering said, in another context, "the jig is
up".
Round 3
Beaker not knowing the ROE so well, thought it was Taipan's turn
to pick the plane and obliged with the Spit 1a.
"Spitfire 1a, all the time, every time" it wud seem.
Beaker desperately does something highly unorthodox. Goes
straight on for a head shot, with both getting some hits, but no
real damage, it wud seem. Beaker, with good speed, goes for the
high side attack again, this time popping out the flaps to help
the pull over. Rotated while vertical and came down in lag
pursuit on Taipan's flat turning spit. A few hits struck Taipan,
but no real damage from the peashooters. We both scissored once
Beaker overshot due to the high speed. Both planes swept back and
forth taking slicing shots at each other at the passes. The
scissors eventually settled into the dreaded turn to the death.
Lower and lower we went until just about 300 ft ASL. Both planes
moderating flaps and stick, flying at the edge of stall speed,
round and round for maybe 15-20 turns. Slowly, Beaker's spit
gains angles, a few degrees per turn and finally gets a nice
close shot at 250 ft. Good strikes causing Taipan to reverse,
which set up a nice 6 o clocker at close range. Beaker sprays
peas in a wide barrage pattern until Taipan's spit smoked, lost
power and dropped in.
2-1, Taipan
Round 4
Taipan chooses the Spit 1a. Same merge as last, Taipan goes for
the turn, Beaker goes for the high side. Again, the high side was
poorly executed and the two spits engaged in a shallow spiral
dive, with Taipan getting the advantage, getting a few squirts
in, but no apparent hits. This got down to the deck as usual and
in the slow turns, Beaker slowly gains a few degrees each turn,
gets a shot and after several strikes from the 4 qtr, gets a
nice look up at point blank and flames the spit.
This turn and turn, not the best way to fight, but what the hey,
it works.
2-2 Evens
Round 5
Taipan chooses the Spit 1a again. The usual merge by now, Beaker
angles left and low to get some speed, Taipan shoots a burst head
on, but hard to push a Spit 1a nose low. Beaker goes vertical and
this time, pulls down hard into a successful lead pursuit diving
attack. This set up a 8:30 deflection shot, by errant luck it wud
seem afterwards, this burst put 53 rounds at 43% into the spit
with no apparent damage. Taipan goes fangs out, the first I've
ever seen this of the cold calculating killer. Instead of
settling into a series of turns, Taipan expertly scissors pulling
very hard such that he got a shot in each time we passed while
Beaker had trouble lining a shot in time. Taipan makes a series
of 5-6 slashing attacks, each time, Beaker ducks to Taipan's cold
side hoping to make Taipan push the spit. This also sets up an
early roll for the next scissors. On the last one, Taipan pulls
to extend instead of reversing. This gave Beaker the advantage
but not a good shot opportunity. Taipan, while very close, pulled
into a sharp climb to induce an overshoot. This led both planes
to stall. While stalled and spinning, Beaker's guns passed thru
Taipan's spit, and squirted a few shots, no hits registered.
After recovering, the spits
settled into the familiar flat turn on the deck, with Taipan
getting the advantage. Again, both planes turned, with Taipan
shooting a few high angle deflection shots. Eventually, Beakers'
spit eeks out that few degrees per turn again, and made it evens.
A short lapse at 200 feet and Taipan's plane stalled into the
channel.
Heck of a way to "win" such a tight fight which went
down to the wire, and on the deck. This last one was probably the
best of the lot. It was amazing, and scary, to see Taipan handle
that Spit so hard, all the while under control during those very
aggressive scissor pulls. Luckily, he ran out of NRG. Gotta learn
that move.
Beaks 3, Taipan 2
Wolf's pilotlog entry:
After taxi-ing back to the blast pen I stood on the left brake turning the Spit 180 degrees to facilitate either pushing the plane back into the revetment or making for a faster takeoff, should Jerry decide to show up. Reginald and Cpl Peters, my Crew chief and armorer respectivly, were sitting under the camo nets resting. After I had climbed down Reginald and Peters met at the tailplane.
Reggie said, "Well Sir, it's good to see that you came back with the aeroplane this time..."
Before I could frame a suitably sarcastic reply, Peters, who had walked around to the front of the plane, said, "the tape is off the gunports, so the question is not "did you use them", the question is, "did you hit anything with them?"
Leaning back on the stabilizer, I assumed a smug expression, however, before I could say anything, Godfree my wireless mechanic walked up and said, "Bout bloody time sir, I was beginning to get tired of working on them bleeding R/T's just so you could get em full of saltwater. I was listening to the set over at OP's".
Turning to the other two Godfree said, "Golden boy 'ere finally got 'im self a victory"."Bloody good show sir, beginning to think you was going to make Ace the wrong way. "
Reggie then said,"let me get Campbell and Stewart,this calls for a "No Bloody Reason" party."
"I think I'll pass this time, Reg, too damn tired. Here's 10 quid, take the crew and go have a pint or three or four on me. Besides, I've got to go to de-brief... you know how the CO is."
With a
sharp salute and a wry grin Reg went to gather up the troops. As
I walked down the perimeter track to the CO's office I thought to
myself, "at least I won't have to take a dressing-down for
losing another plane...the stolen parts might be another story
though..."
All the rounds were pretty much the same...LONG!
ROUND 1-MkIXC Spitfire:Long looping , turning, rolling fight,
finally put enough rounds in him to shift his center of gavity
and his plane stopped flying.
WOLF-1, ENFORCER-0
ROUND
2-MkIXC SPITFIRE: Enforcer was doing some very pretty flying and
I couldn't match it,so I went for a swim.
WOLF-1, ENFORCER-1
ROUND 3-Mk
IXC SPITFIRE: After quite a bit of fighting for position I got a
snap-shot on him that got his engine smoking, decided to let
nature take it's course, and after about 10 minutes I thought I
was gonna have to go down and hit him with a brick! Best flying
I've ever seen, his keeping that bird in the air for as long as
he did with that amount of smoke coming out.
WOLF-2, ENFORCER-1
ROUND
4-Mk1A SPITFIRE: Another beautiful display of flying by Enforcer.
My plane decided to call it a day and go swimming.
WOLF-2, ENFORCER-2
ROUND
5-MkIXC SPITFIRE: Another long fight. We both floated over the
top of a loop and for once I had just enough speed to aim and put
a burst into his engine. I made a few more passes at him but the
damage was already done. Took quite a while for him to finally go
down.
Good fight buddy,I got lucky this time.
Till next time.
[SALUTE]
Goshawk's pilotlog entry:
The
goshawk was not as fast on it's feet as some birds, like the
scrawny legged roadrunner, or the thick-skulled seahawk, but it
could almost hold it's own in a side-hopping, snake-tugging polka
against a nighthawk or griffin.
So, when the gos got very hungry from plying it's trade upon the
bare cliffs of the Manston shoreline, it sought any kind of game,
large or small. It did not really care. It would have settled for
a seagull, as bitter and gristly as that bird is to the palate.
They always tasted like some thoughtless bloke doused a paper
napkin full of catsup, and, having then wadded it up, chucked it
up in the air at a circling seagull. The gull, being about the
dumbest creature to walk on or fly over the earth, then obviously
ate it in one swallow. That's how bad the gulls tasted, like they
was made of paper.
But, the goshawk was hungry. Bad hingry, and when it spotted the
small shell-like creature crawling in some rocks, he figured that
it must be something he could eat to stave off the ache in his
gut.
Not far away, the sounds of the big Rolls/Merlins were spooling
up for their final test, in preparation for the jousting practice
between two of the field's veterans, Scorpion and Gos. The hawk
made his first dive upon the creature as two P-51's lifted off,
then turned north, out over a wide spot in the channel.
As the goshawk landed among the rocks, it hopped to where it last
saw the reddish creature. He spotted a small curved hooky type
thing at the end of a tail on the animal, and noticed that it
curved over the back of the
beast. It had never seen a scorpion before, and the appearance
held him in awe momentarily. When the creature rushed out from
behind the rock and thrust the hooked thingie at him, the hawk
instinctively jumped sideways,
sensing that there was danger in the curved hook being thrust at
him. His appetite went into a frenzy, and before too long he
grabbed the creature behind the head with a claw, and removed the
hook from the tail with a quick snip
of it's beak.
Out over the channel, the first plane to fall was Scorpion's
P-51, having suffered a timely tail shot and loss of control.
Several rounds also perforated the engine compartment, creating a
black trail of oily smoke.
The goshawk enjoyed the exotic taste of the shelled creature,
although he did not know what it was for certain. He was more
used to the furry prey than the insect types, but this was
wartime, and meat was scarce. He decided
to try and find another to help ease the still-present pangs.
Before too long he spotted another, and hurriedly side-hopped in
bird-like John Wayne swagger-step fashion to the designated
dinner.
It noticed two Spitfire 9's speeding overhead, back out over the
channel to play. As it watched in wonder at the noisy obtrusive
man-birds, it felt a sting in it's bony foot.
"Damn, that hurts!", thought goshawk as Scorpion's
bullets tore into his plane. Billows of smoke passed out of the
cowling, and spatters of oil smeared across the windscreen. After
several minutes of trying to make it back to shore and the field,
he settled her in for a belly landing upon the surf. The plane
surfboarded onto the beach where it came to rest, not far from
the goshawk, pecking out a curved hooky thing from it's bony
foot.
"That little red-helmeted-foot-pecker done poked his last
goshawk foot", thought the goshawk. He did not know why, but
he instinctively figured that after getting the little hooked
thingie from the creature's tail stuck into his foot, he believed
that the beast was no longer a danger to him. He made a concerted
effort to find the little pricker, and eat him for lunch.
"THERE HE IS!", and he dove.
As Goshawk dove after Scorpion's new Spit 9, he planted several
cannon rounds into the opponent. A column of black smoke from
Scorpion's plane sealed the fate of this latest round.
The insect became the second meal for the hawk, who had room for
just about one more of the crustacean-type beast. Watch out for
that hookie thingie, he told himself.
Upon spotting Scorpion, who now was manning a Spit 14, both
planes made a high twist at the merge. Goshawk was able to get in
behind Scorpion, and as the planes made a high steep climb,
Goshawk blasted Scorpion's engine with several more rounds.
As the goshawk finished the third beast from among the rocks, he
turned back toward the channel, and took to the air. Other meals
need to be planned. Perhaps something of a foreign nature, maybe.
Maybe something cooked this time. Hmmmmm,,,
Goshawk's pilotlog entry:
"What's
up, Duke?", asked Gos of the base commander. "You
called?"
"Get one up quick-like, Gos. Reports have it that there's a
German Ace down in the channel somewhere, and Fighter Command
believes it might be either that scourge, Locutis (at this,
Goshawk's brow raised, and he was immediately at full alert), or
one of those other treacherous Werewulf bastards. They want that
man dead, Gos. This means that you might encounter any one of
those three out there."
"Jeeez, Duke, you really think it might be one of those,
huh?", asked Gos enthusiastically. "Who do I get for
wingmen on this one, Duke? How about I roust just a couple, huh?
How about ol' Wolf, MadDog, Scorpion,
Sabre, Kosmik, Yentl, Puma, Hawk, OzZiggy, Cajun, Meridian,,
uh,,"
"Forget it, Gos! This is a one-man shot this time. We can't
spare the planes or pilots. Besides, there's only likely to be
one or two of them still flying cover for the wet one."
Goshawk stared at the Flight Boss, hoping that a blank look would
draw enough empathy to allow the commander to acquiesce in the
accompaniment.
"You sure there's at least one of 'em in the water, though,
right Duke?" asked Goshawk tentatively. "I'd really
rather not meet any of those guys alone, but if there's two of
'em flyin', well, that's bloody murder!! You sure I can't try to
get a mess of our guys up for it?"
"Get outta here, Gos! By the way, we have a captured 109-G
in the hangar. Have the Sgt.Major get it warmed up, and hopefully
that'll keep any of the others from getting wise to what you're
up to."
As Goshawk turned to walk from the shack, Duke beckoned to him.
"Gos, if you see any rescue craft picking up that pilot, I
don't care which of the three it is, take that plane out!"
Gos' reply was drowned out by the loud popping of a Merlin engine
warming up on the field nearby. Off to the side, he heard a
strange new sound. The smooth, well balanced growl of a
Daimler-Benz engine sprang to life.
It's melodious resonance summoned Goshawk. Goshawk had never
flown one of these sky-eating beasts, but he heard that it's
climbing ability was second to none. He hoped that he could find
and finish his target before
he had to find out from experience against a trained German pilot
like Greywolf, or Wile Coyote.
Goshawk climbed into the German bird of prey, and toyed with the
throttle. The sudden increase in rpm's reassured him that this
was a plane of responsive cat-like abilities. With little effort,
the plane pulled against
the chocks.
"Brin' 'er ba' in one poyce, Gauze-hog!", called out
the Sgt. Major.
Goshawk climbed quickly away from the field, amazed at the
climbing ability of the captured bird. He sought the clouds with
hardly a care, and not having to use full throttle was a kindness
to his ears and stress.
10 Minutes later, he spotted a lone aircraft at 10,000 feet. In
the water below was the churning of a boat wake, obviously
indicating the location of the waterlogged Locutis. A smile
crossed Goshawk's face as he thought of
the cold and shivvering Locutis in the icy waters of the channel.
The thought of a 180 pound goosebump bobbing in the waves brought
a feeling of reverie to the old pilot.
The pleasant image in his mind was shaterred, however, as another
109-G passed perilously close to his port side. Goshawk caught
sight of the pilot in the plane as it passed within arms reach of
his wingtip. There was
no question about the pilot's identity. It was the feared Wile
Coyote.
"Oh shit!", stated the startled Goshawk. He twisted his
head as far around as he could to try and regain sight of the
opponent aircraft. He cranked hard on the stick, sending the
plane into a sudden stall and spin. After
a few spins, Gos regained control of the bird, but fell within
the sights of the stalking Wile.
Goshawk was quickly downed by the experienced German
"Ace". The captured 109 barely made it to the English
shoreline before Goshawk was able to bail to safety.
Climbing into a warming Spit9, Goshawk took off again, intent
upon downing the German who had just pummelled him from the sky.
After several minutes, Goshawk found his prey and dispatched him
quickly with an onslought of 20 mm cannon rounds. Gos turned away
from the smoking craft, then checked his guages.
Goshawk returned the Spit to base upon noticing that there was an
oil leak and only 10 minutes of fuel left in the plane's tanks.
He scolded himself for not having pre-flight checked the plane
before taking off.
After landing, Goshawk found that the only plane available to fly
on his mission was a P-51 that had just landed by an American
pilot. Goshawk waited until the pilot climbed down and headed to
the ops shack. Goshawk
climbed aboard, nitoced that there was almost half of a tank of
fuel remaining.
He took off, intent upon finding both pilots now in the surf. He
giggled gleefully at the prospect of strafing two of the crack
German pilots as they tread water in the channel. His hand pushed
forward on the throttle,
and the stalion in the plane responded accordingly.
Goshawk was shocked to find that Wile had also found a means to
acquire one of the American birds, and sprayed a path of bullets
at him when the planes merged. After several turning maneuvers,
Wile's bullets found their mark. Goshawk was again removed from
the fight, and the German pilots were stillalive and/or afloat.
"Holy cow", thought Gos. "This is one tough
assignment!"
Upon landing the smoking, coughing, bullet-ridden Mustang back at
base, he ran and climbed into the only available plane he saw, a
Spit freshly rolled out of the rigging shed.
Taking to wing, he again sought the venerable Wile, intent upon
finishing him off. As both planes met above the disturbed waters
below, Goshawk made a quick-climb, and came around on his
opponent's plane. Several seconds of cannon fire brought a
resounding fireball and smoke column from Wile's plane.
Goshawk dove to the surface to find the floating Locutis. Two
patrol boat in the area shot their machineguns at him to scare
him off. As he turned to fire upon the boats, his guns jammed.
Throttling up and climbing away from the guns below, Goshawk
decided that his only hope was to find something with a lot of
firepower. He needed guns, and lots of them. His thoughts turned
to the possibility of nabbing a Hurricane from Hornchurch, but
wanted something with bigger bullets. He realized that there was
only one plane that would afford him the firepower he needed to
take care of the boats, as well as any planes in the area. He
needed a P-47.
He passed over Beachy Head, and spotted a squadron of the big
"jugs" parked along the edge of the field. He landed
quickly, and was soon aloft in the noisy big bird.
Goshawk caught up with Wile, and a long turning battle ensued. He
knew that he had to save some of the bullets to deal with the
boats and pilot below. Trying to conserve his shots, he watched
the enemy plane closely. As the planes got lower and lower to the
water, bullets whizzed by the cockpit from the boats below.
Goshawk passed across the bow of Wile's plane, and both planes
separated. Goshawk turned his head in time to spot Wile going
into a spin. The big bird fell fast, spinning into the surf.
Goshawk leveled off, and gained speed. He realized that his
chance to finish off these deadly pilots was now at hand. He
turned the big stud of a plane, and brought the crosshairs to
bear on the forms in the water.
As he passed through a curtain of bullets thrown up by the patrol
boats, he dropped his altitude to only 100 feet. He squeezed the
trigger to lay a swath of bullets across the forms in the water,
and was met with a loud
click as the guns jammed.
As Goshawk passed overhead the pilots in the water, Wile raised
his hand in salute to the victor. Goshawk, thankful that the
mechanisms failed this time, returned the salute. He turned and
climbed away from the still-tracking bullets from the boats.
He had beaten Wile, this time. He felt certain that he would have
to meet the guy again, and probably Locutis too. Better to shoot
them in the sky than in the water though, he thought.
Great match Wile. [Salute]
Tail Gators' pilotlog entry:
Details of
Round 4 of the 2v2 fight between the Puking Dogs and the Tail
Gators
Details first, then a quick summary of the earlier rounds
Maddog/Scorpion = PDogs
U6 257/Beaker 257=TGators
PD take the Spit 14
TG take the Tempest
Lots of tactics and quick thinking in this one. The 4 of us had
been fighting team fights back
in our FA days, paired up the same way. As a result, each pair is
pretty comfortable with
the flying styles within the teams. So, we had expected good
teamwork here too. As one
side had difficulties with voice comm, we all agreed it wud be
fair to drop voice comm for
this fight. None of us would feel proud to call a true win in
which both planes did not
survive (hmm maybe Maddog would since he used a nuke in Vietnam,
grrrr), as
technically, the survivor would have let his friend down. This,
after all is what 2v2 is all
about.
We agreed to use the 40k seperation, 12kft alt limit start. Scorp
was nice enuf to let us call
"fights-on". Immediately, PD's take the high ground,
'cuz they could. The Spit 14 is a
tremendous climber. TG's execute the preplanned lead-lag
pre-engagement.
We close to 10k, Beaker in the bait (errh lead) position at about
15k, U6 6.5kft behind
and about 16.5k, the PD's are about 18kft up, slow, climbing and
ready to pounce.....
Beaker eases the throttle forward to the max and begins a shallow
dive. The PD's see a
quick opportunity to gang up on U6 and both attacked, bracketing
U6 from high and from
both sides. That was a classic and well executed attack to try
and quickly take out a plane
while leaving Beaker out of the fight below. U6 manages to dodge
the guns with twists and
turns, done wildly to buy time. It is not easy, nor wise, to
engage 2v1 against two well
flown Spits with a Tempest in a turning fight. Beaker zoom climbs
while this happened but
fell short of the higher planes. U6, being wise (he's old too),
saw this and dove to bring his
tormentors down. Beaker catches Scorp and gives a burst to get
his attention. Scorp
breaks of his attack on U6. Beaker gets good position on Maddog,
who was saddling up
U6 at the time. Maddog twists madly to evade. Scorp by now has
turned around and lines
up on Beaker to save Maddog. Beaker gets a few more pops in but
no visible damage to
Maddog. By now, Scorp is in range and putting a few rounds of his
own into Beaker's
plane. pthwink!!!
U6 had managed to regain his orientation while rebuilding NRG
used up when evading
twin Spits. The PD's and Beaker are now engaged in a wild turning
2v1 NRG fight, with
Beaker chasing Maddog, and Scorp chasing Beaker. After Scorp
starts hitting Beaker,
Beaker twists into a vertical barrel roll while diving and pulls
up neutral to Scorp, beginning
a rolling scissors with Scorp. Maddog had quickly recovered by
now and was lining up on
Beaker. This forces Beaker into another Split-S/Barrel Roll combo
to break Maddog's
lock, only to come out seeing Scorp chasing U6 (at Beaker's 9-8
region, 5kft away).
Maddog was 5kft behind Beaker at this point so Beaker broke left
to assist U6, who was
taking bursts from Scorp..
In the best inadvertent execution of the Thatch weave, U6 breaks
right low pulling Scorp
through Beaker's line giving a 10-2 snapshot at Scorp's 2.
Missed. Beaker does a high G
yoyo and right rolls back down into Scorp's 4-5 and gets a low G
look up shot at Scorp.
A good burst smokes Scorp's engine. Beaker breaks low to extend,
expecting an attack
from Maddog. U6 took aim for Maddog's 4, while Maddog was rushing
to assist Scorp.
Just then, Maddog's Spit blows up. U6 caught Maddog's Spit from a
4 low shot.
Relief. Wipes sweat off my brows with my silk scarf. Both planes
still flying, albeit a bit
holier than at the start. U6 flies by and waggles his wings.
Salute, old chum. Good to see
you back on the ladder again, and thanks for saving my butt,
again.
Commentary:
The PD's actually flew a better fight, having twice achieved that
Holy Grail of 2v2, a brief
"power play" of 2v1 while the 4th guy is out of
position. While the Spit 14 is an agile, but
temperate thoroughbred, the Tempest would be the equivalent of
the English heavy horse,
a true brute. Thus was this fight between very different planes,
forcing very different
strategies and tactics, all in real time without a chess timer.
Thanks for the fights Maddog and Scorpion.
Beaker out.
==========================================================
Don't remember much of these early fights except that Pharoah is
a darn good wingman.
He scored most of the kills as I remembered it.
Round 1
Maddog/Scorpion = PDogs
Pharoah/Beaker = TGators
TG takes the Tempest
PD takes the Spit 14
1-0-0 TG adv
Round 2
Same teams
TG takes the Tempest
PD takes the Spit 14
2-0-0
Round 3
Same teams
TG takes the Tempest
PD took the Spit 9
2-0-1
Draw, probably cuz Pharoah and Scorp ran out of ammo after a long
fight. Maddog and
Beaker having a conversation and a smoke while dangling from the
chutes. Beaker's chute
catches fire when he errantly threw the ciggy butt upwards.
Beaker falls to his death.
Splat!!!